CHAPTER | FIFTEEN | UMAYMAH | POV

Just as the bell rang for school, I found myself heading to the parking lot waiting for Shoaib so we could go. People around me still stared, much to my disappointment, but I let it go considering that would have been me too if I saw the sudden drastic changes in Shoaib.

No more than two minutes later Shoaib himself emerged from the crowds and made his way towards me with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Simple things like that still made him look good and I wondered how he did it without having to put any effort in.

"Ready to go?" He asked as we both slid inside the warm car. The smell of expensive leather and his addicting cologne hit me as I sighed, content with the warmth of the car.

"In a bit." I was excited to go but for a few minutes I just wanted to stay in the car while it wasn't moving.

"Are you okay?" I felt his finger brush my cheeks as my eyes were still closed.

"I feel so tired. Today's definitely worn me out." I said with my eyes still closed.

The obvious stares and whispers were too much for me to handle on a Monday morning. To top it off, nearly killing Maryam while she had her hands on my husband tired and aggravated me even more.

"We can always go another time." He suggested.

As much as I wanted to say 'no' and go to our parents house, it felt like it would only take five minutes of being inside that I would have dozed off into a deep slumber. He was right, we should go another time. Preferably when I would be in my right senses.

"Urgh I just want to go home." I whined and heard him chuckle beside me.

The car started and without a word he drove while my eyes remained shut. Sleep didn't come and instead I felt myself relaxing while the car sped home and the sound of Shoaib's steady breathing beside me calmed me more. Like always though, I wasn't one to stay quiet for very long.

"So how did you find it today then?" He turned around to look at me before turning his attention back on the road.

"Like you don't already know." He scoffed with a small smile on his lips which in return made me smile too.

"No. I know how it was for me though. Annoyingly tired and stressful with people testing my patience levels to a point where I wanted to strangle them. But how about you?" He laughed at that and I felt myself smirking.

"Remind me to never get you mad. And well I learnt stuff today so it was good. Well apart from what happened at lunch."

"Next time I wouldn't mind swinging at her." I said truthfully and bitterness dripping in my voice.

Never had I been so angry and protective over someone until now and it scared me. If I wanted to scratch her face for just touching him and being close, I wonder what I would have done if she did anything else. This boy brought out the good and bad in me.

"Next time I won't stop you." The car came to a halt outside the house and I groaned, not wanting to get up. "Want me to carry you?" I could just imagine the smirk on his face as he said that.

"I'll manage." I said and unwillingly got out the car with my bag trailing behind me on the floor.

The sight of that must have made Shoaib laugh as I heard him behind me. Ignoring him I opened the door and walked to the living room where I fell on one of the coaches, glad that it was comfortable and soft beneath me.

"I'll be right back." I watched him put his bag down on the small table in front of me and head upstairs.

I was about to close my eyes again when a piece of paper caught my eye. It was sticking out of his bag and normally I wouldn't be interested in what this was, because it could have been homework, but from where I was sitting I had a clear view that it was a letter addressed to him.

My curiosity levels were high but it wouldn't be right to snoop around in his stuff. The sound of his feet coming down the stairs snapped my attention the door which me now walked back in through.

"Hey do you mind if I read that?" I asked pointing to the letter. He shrugged and I took that as permission to read it.

Dear Shoaib

We have been told your grades are slipping and it is too late for you to catch up on any additional work. The only possible way for you to get through senior year is by dropping science and choosing a sport. Having seen you in PE I would recommend the football team. Let me know your decision as quick as possible as game season is in a few months and we need to practice.

Sincerely, Coach Henderson

After reading the letter I turned to face Shoaib. The smile was gone and instead he stared at the now on TV. Images of cartoons were showing but it's like he wasn't even concentrating.

"I don't get it. Don't you want to join the football team?" I asked, placing my hand on his arm and scooting closer.

"And be like those dumb jocks? No thank you." As he finished his sentence I whacked his arm as my brother was a jock too.

"Not all jocks are dumb. Abdallah isn't." I said defensively and tried moving away but he held on to my waist, pulling me back to him.

The sudden force nearly made me gasp but I didn't. I was slowly getting used to him touching me.

"I didn't mean it in that way. Being a jock is just gonna give me unnecessary attention." I knew the double meaning behind his words and also knew he chose to say them on purpose.

There was no denying the attention he would receive from even more girls, especially Maryam. On the other hand, him getting through senior year and graduating was a top priority to consider. He had to take the offer of being a jock.

"As long as you're not paying them any attention then it's fine." I said with my arms crossed as my final decision.

I trusted him enough that when it came down to girls throwing themselves at him that he would walk away, uninterested. Today's event at lunch proved my trust when he didn't want anything to do with Maryam. Unintentionally a smile made its way on my lips realising he was in fact loyal.

"I'll join on one condition." He said with his arm still wrapped around my waist. I would have pried it off a long time if there wasn't the small detail of me being too tired to move.

"And what's that?" I asked.

"You'll cheer me on at every game." I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Going to the seasonal games our school had against other schools weren't my favourite thing to do with my time, thus me never actually going. It didn't make a difference that my brother played on the team because he knew I had no interest in football anyway, so he never took it to heart.

"If you want to." I said after seconds of consideration about it.

He beamed at me which meant that he wanted to. I shook my head and slightly laughed at him before putting the letter back in his bag. I had never actually seen him play football or any other sport since our classes were strictly boys and girls, which I was grateful for. Coach seems to think he's good enough to play though and who am I to go against that?

"So wait, what position are you playing?" Even if I didn't have any interest in the game or the team, I knew that all positions were taken.

"Well I have to challenge the other person for the spot, but quarterback is what coach wants me to be." My eyes went wide at this.

Like any other school we had our beloved golden boy as quarterback and everyone knew he was good at it. Xavier had been quarterback for two years running and everyone loved him because of it, even coach. So it made no sense now that coach out of all people wanted Shoaib to be quarterback.

"But, but how are you supposed to win against Xavier?" It was definitely outrageous. Either that or because I hadn't seen him play, I was already thinking of the worst.

"Thanks for the support." He retorted sarcastically and withdrew his arm away from me.

"No. Thats not what I meant. It's just that, I thought Xavier was really good at what he does." I said as I looked him in the eye.

If Shoaib is as good as coach had said in the letter then I'm sure that he would be able to get his position as quarterback, but I was also sure that Xavier wasn't going to go down without a fight. His position gave him popularity which I doubt he was ready to let go of so easily.

"He is. But I'm better." He gave me his infamous smirk which in return I gave my infamous eye roll at.

Sometimes this boy was too bigheaded for his own good. I sighed and shrugged off our conversation by looking at the time. It read 4:00 pm which meant that I had some time before I needed to cook dinner.

I still needed to change my clothes though and in a swift movement I got up and stretched, trying to feel more awake than I was at the moment. Sitting down didn't help that I was tired and if anything it wanted to make curl up even more and sleep.

"I need to get changed." I informed him and went up the stairs to our room.

From living together for three days now he was used to seeing me dress bizarrely in sweatpants and mismatched socks. In my defence, I always put both pairs in the wash but only one comes out, so wearing odd socks was better than wearing none.

I huddled the dirty clothes together and brought them downstairs where the washing machine and dryer was. If I was told two months ago that I was to be married and doing all these chores then I would have laughed, but here I am.

"Let me do that for you." Shoaib had already grabbed the washed clothes and placed them in the dryer before taking the dirty clothes from my hand and putting them in the washing machine. He was definitely helpful today.

"Thanks." I said approvingly.

"What, no kiss this time?" I had to laugh at him pouting and reaching on my tip toes, I pulled myself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well since you're being so helpful, you can make dinner tonight." I said casually with a shrug.

I waited for him to refuse and back away saying he'd never cook before in his life so why should he now? Instead he gave me a smile and reached towards the fridge getting out ingredients he wanted.

"Wait are you actually going to cook?" I asked dumbfounded by his actions.

"I don't know what you take me for, but I can cook you know." He said with a laugh.

He carried on assembling ingredients for his dish and it made me wonder what exactly he was about to make. Throughout the days we've been living together, he has been helping me cook but I didn't think he could do it himself.

"What exactly are you cooking then oh so great chef?" I asked with a smirk.

"Chicken tagine." He replied simply and turned his back to me and focused on what was in front of him.

During these twenty minutes I watched him cut, mix and taste whatever it was that he was cooking. It felt exciting to be tasting his food and especially as he was making something I had never heard of before. Spices were being thrown around in bowls and pieces of cutlery mixed and stirred the content.

From where I was sitting I had a clear view of what he was doing and by now the dish was done and ready to come out from the oven. The realisation of how hungry I really was, hit me as soon as the dish came out of the oven and all the aromatic smells filled the kitchen.

"This smells so good!" I rushed over to where he was standing with a smile on his face and peered over to see what exactly he had made.

Even the chicken itself looked appetising surrounded by vegetables and the steam coming from it. There was no denying how much I had wanted to eat straight from the massive bowl but temptation has to be resisted.

"Why thank you." He said and gave a mocking bow which I laughed at.

Shaking his head he grabbed two plates and filled each one with his cooking. After one was done he handed it to me and I gratefully took it as well as waiting for him to get his own serving.

Sitting down at the table I noticed he was looking at me and when my gaze met his, he only motioned for me to start eating. He wanted to know what I thought of it. Without hesitation I grabbed a fork full of chicken along with peppers and popped it into my mouth.

Again I had to resist temptation but this time it was from moaning because of how good this tasted. It had all the right flavours and had just the right amount of Salford and spices so it wasn't over the top. Now I'm no chef but this was delicious and much more than I had expected from him.

"Honestly, at this rate you can cook me breakfast, lunch and dinner. Heck I'll even wake you up in the night for more of your cooking!" Hearing him laugh made me laugh as well. The compliment was genuine and I meant every single word. He could cook for me forever and I wouldn't be fed up at all.

"Thanks, but you still have to help." I couldn't help the pout that made its way to my mouth at that and once again he laughed while I carried on eating more of the chicken.

"No but seriously, where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Mom used to teach me how to cook because she said Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) used to help around the house. I guess she didn't want me to treat me wife like a slave." He said as a matter of fact and I couldn't help but silently thank my mother in law for raising such an incredible boy.