After hanging up with Ayat, Asmaa stays seated where she is, her bag beside her, and she WhatsApp's Rory.

Hi, Rory! This is Asmaa. My sister told me she told you about me already? I hope so ha. I'm an old friend of Lira's.

And Asmaa presses 'Send' on the message and waits, wondering what the hell she'll eat for dinner tonight since every single pound she's hoping to save for her rent...

When her phone chimes in her hand.

It's Rory.

Hi, love! Yea, Li told me! You're in London already?

Asmaa's heart soars. She responds instantly.

Ya! Been here a few months actually :)

And conversation ensues.

Perfect! Let's meet up ya?

Oh my god, yes.

Asmaa is close to telling her that between working and school, she had made friends but none that she actually wanted to hang out with. Both activities took up the majority of her time, and she felt like she'd been working so hard to stay afloat that she really hadn't been very social.

And London was just gigantic.

She didn't realize how lonely she'd been.

And dating? Boys? Social life? Forget about it.

Ha ha :) Well if you're free tonight, I'm going out with some girls. Wanna come?

FUCK YES

XD

YASS !

Ok. I'll come pick you up. Message me the address. Be there at like,7.

Perfect :)

And Asmaa hops from the bench, messaging Rory the address. She's smiling at everyone she passes on campus as she hurries to the Tube. She had to go home and get work done and get dressed because for the first time in a long time, she was going out.

Asmaa was going out!

Oh my god she was so excited.

__
The first thing Asmaa notices when she gets the, I'm here! text from Rory, is the car parked out front.

From her second-floor apartment, Asmaa had a pretty good view of the street, and she knew that in the neighborhood she lived in, on the outskirts of town, Mercedes-Benz like this were few and far between.

So, the shiny black G-Wagon had to have belonged to a newcomer.

The doorbell rings.

Asmaa hurries to the door, pausing in front of the hallway mirror to adjust her camel-colored, oversized sweater, jeans, and green hijab. She grabs her black Converse and hurries to the door, throwing it open.

A brown-skinned girl with almond-shaped eyes stands outside in a cream-colored, strappy bodycon. She grins broadly, her long acryllic nails holding onto a giant black iPhone.

She holds it up. "Asmaa?"

"Rory?"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

And there are hugs, now, as Rory's arms wrap around Asmaa's body and pull her close.

"Oh my god, come in," Asmaa says, and as Rory steps into her tiny apartment, Asmaa thinks just how out of place this young woman looks in her small apartment. "I'm sorry it's shitty," she sighs. "I just moved from Marrakech, and it was all I could afford."

"Believe me, I get it, hun," Rory nods empathetically. "I completely uprooted my life, all the way in Oakland to come here. I had nothing," she stresses. "And the pound, dollar conversion rate was a fucking crime."

And although Asmaa completely appreciated Rory's nonchalance regarding her place, she couldn't help but wish she wasn't bringing over what she hoped to be a new friend into this pile of trash.

And, the place wasn't dirty -- Asmaa was a neat freak -- but it was still wrong to see this new girl inside of it, despite how cool and understanding she was about it.

Rory was...shiny.

Like, she reminded Asmaa of the girls she's seen on tumblr, with her cute Chanel clutches and strappy nude heels. She's got a pretty smile, flawless makeup, a cool American accent...She looked like the type of girl who'd be dating a ball player, or actor, or musician; anyone famous.

"You left?"

Rory hums.

"Why?"

"Probably for the same reasons as you," Rory laughs. "I wanted to travel, to try something new. I decided after undergrad I'd leave home, do my best to see the world, make a foreign man fall in love with this chocolate..." She laughs, sitting across from Asmaa at the table. "I applied to grad school here and thought, no matter what, if I get in anywhere overseas, I'm going."

Asmaa is beaming in admiration--Rory literally just described her own story. "That's amazing."

She snorts. "Try explaining that to my mom."

"Oh, tell me about it," Asmaa groans. "My sister and I have a game going to see who she calls the most now that we're both out of the house."

Rory grins. "Cut from the same cloth, your mom and mine. I swear if I don't talk to her every day she'll call British police to send out a search party."

And Asmaa laughs aloud, giggling with Rory, who, she realizes at once, that she likes. A lot. She reminds her of Lira, who always made her feel warm and welcoming and comfortable.

She was growing more and more excited to go out with Rory; to start the night.

"So," Asmaa begins, as she falls into a chair to put on her shoes, "can I tell you that this will be the first time since I got here that I'm going out?" She laughs to herself.

"Yeah, I get it," Rory nods. "When I first started school, all I did was eat, sleep, and breathe computer science, and--"

"Holy moly," Asmaa sits up, untied laces between her fingers. "You're a techie?"

Rory laughs, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "Guilty."

"You like, work for Google, or something?"

That would explain the car and the expensive everything dripping from Rory.

"Not exactly," she winces, and Asmaa is confused again. "I'm still working on my post-graduate at UCL. Lira said you were starting at King's, right?"

Asmaa nods, turning back to her shoes.

"I've got a really great friend there," says Rory, and Asmaa perks again.

"Seriously?"

Rory giggles, her manicured nails covering her mouth, "Yeah. You'll meet her tonight, and you'll love her," she purses her lips playfully, "if you ever could get ready."

"Sorry, sorry," she grins, turning back to her shoes. "I talk when I'm excited."

"Couldn't tell, actually."

Asmaa looks up, narrowing her eyes. "Ha. Ha."

Rory giggles again, the sound muted behind her hand. "Girl," she tuts, "if you don't get on..."

"Okay, okay," Asmaa laughs again, this time, stringing up her shoes.

And she pops up.

"Okay," she stands. "Ready! I just have to get my bag..."

"Umm, Asmaa?"

And Asmaa frowns as Rory's eyes gloss quickly over Asmaa's outfit, "So, I know I said we were going out for drinks tonight, but..."

"But?" Asmaa fiddles with the end of her sweater, self-conscious all of a sudden. "But, what? There's something wrong?"

"No!" Rory exclaims. "Just that, it's kind of a celebration tonight, and we kind of always dress up when we go out, so--"

"I'm under-dressed?"

"Just a bit," Rory nods, her tone almost apologetic. "Makeup is poppin', though!"

"Um..." Asmaa eyes herself in the hall mirror. "Okay..."

"But, have no fear! Rory is here," she adds quickly, and Asmaa smiles a bit.

Rory rises from the table. "Lead me to your closet, love. I'll help, I'll help."

They settle on a different pair of jeans; ones Asmaa had forgotten she'd even owned. They were skinny, black, high-waisted, and ripped, and she wore them with her oversized sweater. The Converse were left at home, with Rory insisting she pair her ensemble with a pair of heels.

"Um..." And Asmaa had literally combed through her closet. Aside from a pointed black pump she used for professional attire, or a little kitten heel she'd worn out to family events, she didn't really own heels.

Not like Rory's, anyway.

"What about these?"

"Oh, wow..." Asmaa grins as Rory pulls from the depths of her close a pair of strappy black sandals. "I think those are my sister's. I don't even know how they got here."

"Fate," Rory laughs, slipping the shoes into her hands. "It was meant to be."

And Asmaa slips into the shoes before grabbing her things and allowing Rory to lead her outside, and into her car.

"Let's go," she exclaims, and Asmaa gets excited again. Rory's turned up her radio and Asmaa had (hopefully) made a new friend and oh my goodness she was so excited.

They get to the bar, and Asmaa is instantly glad she changed. She would have been completely out of place when it came to the attire of the other women Rory immediately drags her towards.

Rory explains on the car ride over, that the party is for Blaire, who apparently, had found some rich man and was getting married and hence, no longer working at the place the rest of the girls all worked at.

Rory mentioned a club. That was all Asmaa knew.

She wasn't pushing for information, but these girls apparently did something that definitely allowed them to shop, based on their appearance.

And a part of Asmaa was jealous.

She wanted to know. She wanted to be a part of whatever secret society these girls were a part of that afforded all this, especially when it was a struggle for her to scrape up £800 each month.

"So, we all work together," Rory says, motioning towards the other women clustered near the bar, "but, these are my friends," she explains, a bit loudly to be heard over the music, before dragging Asmaa behind her to a small table filled with girls.

"Girls," she announces, as three women look up from their drinks at the booth, "remember I told you about my guest tonight? Well," she continues before anyone has a chance to answer, "this is Asmaa. Asmaa, these are my friends. That's Chikezie--"

"Please," she smiles widely, shaking honey-brown hair that ran down her back in two french braids, "call me Kezie."

"--Blaire, the bitch who's leaving us--"

The dark-skinned woman laughs, her smile perfect and white as she tosses her head back. Her coarse hair is pulled into an effortless bun, "Leave it to Rory to be extra."

"--and Desirée," Rory finishes, pointing to the Latina, who gives Asmaa a quick, sideways glance.

She purses her lips, eyeing her nails. "You're really pretty."

"Uh..." Asmaa hesitates. "Thank you?"

She shrugs. "Mhm."

"Don't mind her," Rory interjects. "She's actually being nice, but with Desi, you can never tell."

Desirée clicks her teeth, rolling her eyes. "Fuck you, Rory."

"See?" She grins. "You heard 'Fuck you,' but I heard 'I love you,'" she laughs and even Desirée smiles. "You'll get used to it, Asmaa. It's a whole other language."

"That is true," Blaire nods. And she looks up at the girls, "Wait, stop standing! Come!" She scoots against Desirée. "Sit. Drink."

And Asmaa slides into the booth, getting sandwiched between both Kezie and Rory.

"Oh!" Rory's eyes light up. "Asmaa, Kezie's the one who goes to King's!"

"Oh, yeah?"

Kezie snaps her head up from her phone. "What? You're at King's, babe?"

Asmaa nods.

"Studying what?"

"Law," she replies. "You, too?"

"Oh, no..." Kezie grins, laughing. "I wish I was better with words. I can kind of add, though."

And Asmaa laughs, as Blaire snorts on her other side. "Don't listen to her, Asmaa. She's a genius, okay?"

"Aren't you like, a brain surgeon?" Desirée asks, reaching for her drink. "Or something else equally pretentious?"

"More Desi-speak," Kezie whispers against Asmaa, and she chokes on a laugh as Desirée flicks her drink at her.

Kezie only laughs. "Yeah, I'm in Cardiology," she says. "I wanna be a cardiologist, but now," she sticks her finger down her throat, "Bleh. All I do is sit in lectures and do research."

"That's still amazing," says Asmaa. "You really must be a genius."

"She is," Blaire adds. "Oh my god, she is."

"Thanks, guys," Kezie grins adorably. She laughs, reaching for her own drink, "Love you, too."

Asmaa stares between the girls, grinning as conversation continues around her. Holy crap, did they all work as engineers or something, somewhere? Between Rory, who did computer science, and Kezie, a freaking cardiologist? It seemed like every one of them was working in a lab somewhere.

And then, she sighs, blowing a strand of her thick hair from her eyes, "Med school's expensive as fuck."

"Tell me about it," Asmaa nods. "This might be the first time I'm eating today."

And the women laugh around her, but Asmaa is actually completely serious.

"Eat, please," Blaire says, quickly identifying herself as the mother-figure of the group. "Go," she shoos her towards the bar before Asmaa can say a thing, "I have a tab open. Just say you're with Blaire and go get whatever you want."

"But," Kezie grins, "you have to get drinks."

Blaire nods. "The only rule."

"Well, you don't have to tell me twice," Asmaa grins, rising from the table. "I can definitely eat."

"Same," Desirée says, surprising Asmaa. She holds up her empty glass. "Anyone want?"

"Oh! Margarita, please," Rory smiles. "Thanks, love."

"Yes, your highness," Desirée replies, garnering a laugh and a middle finger from Rory. "Whatever you want, your wish is my command."

And Asmaa follows her to the bar.

In fact, she's trailing behind Desirée, the girls walking in silence, music blaring across the space, when out of nowhere Asmaa watches a gigantic palm reach and slap against her ass.

Asmaa gasps, watching as Desirée whirls around, fuming, her glare pointed at her. "What the fuck, was th--?"

But, the hand reaching from the booth has tugged Desirée away from Asmaa, and it clicks in her mind that the gigantic, drunk man laughing with all of his drunk friends is the one responsible for harassing her.

Desirée is obviously shocked; as shocked as Asmaa, who watches her tumble into the man's lap.

"Hey, lovely," he breathes, "Take a load off--"

"How about I don't," she grits, pushing herself out of the stranger's lap.

"Ah, have some fun, love," he grabs her again, gripping her waist. "M'not gonna hurt ya--"

"Excuse me," Asmaa interjects, grabbing Desirée and hauling her from the table, "Keep your hands off my girlfriend."

Desirée blinks, watching as Asmaa stares down the man.

"Whoa, whoa. Didn't know she was taken, babe."

"You didn't ask, you pig," she bites. "Don't fucking touch her."

And Asmaa hauls the girl from the table, only stopping when they reach the bar.

The girls wait behind the line formed at the register.

And they wait.

And they stand in awkward silence, before finally, Desirée clears her throat, turning, offering her a watery smile.

"Thanks," she says. "For that."

"Oh," Asmaa blinks, "it was nothing. Really."

But, Desirée laughs bitterly. "I swear, you think that I should be used to it, right? It's like, no matter how many times that happens I still will never ever get used to being treated like a fucking sex toy..."

And she shuts her mouth, obviously noting the concern on Asmaa's face.

But, Asmaa shakes her head. "Hey," she grins, "I don't really care if it's happened before, I'm not the girl to sit by and watch it happen again."

The corner of Desirée's lips turn up in a small smile. She leans against the bar.

"Margarita?" She asks, "Since Rory's planted the seed."

"And some chips," Asmaa whines. "I'm fucking starving."

"Oh yeah, you should definitely eat, then," Desirée laughs. "'Cause knowing Blaire, she's not gonna let anyone leave until they've had at least three drinks."

Asmaa is tipsy.

And she keeps having to pee.

Because she keeps drinking margaritas with Rory and the girls, who have her laughing her head off in the booth.

She's so glad she got out, tonight.

Like, really.

She's so glad she met Rory.

And as she stands, staring at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, she thinks that she'll have to thank Ayat. She'll have to call her, because she was feeling too drunk to text. She'll have to thank her and have her thank Lira for setting up this connection. 

And Asmaa gets out of the restroom, eager to return to her friends, when she walks in on a conversation.

"...I like her, Rory."

"Gasp! But, Desi, you literally hate everyone!"

"Shut up, Blaire."

"Yeah, she's a cutie."

"Does she know, though?"

"Might as well tell her."

"So, what? So Lira could find out?"

"Who says she'll tell?"

"It's too close to home, Kezie."

"She could be one of us, though."

"And what? Take your spot, Blaire?"

"I mean, maybe! If she wanted."

"Her ass is fucking ah-mazing--"

"Uh..."

And the girls jump back from the bar, startled, obviously not noticing her return.

Asmaa looks between them, confusedly.

Were they talking about her?

"Did I miss someth--?"

But, Blaire lifts her arm, getting the attention of a bartender. "Another round of shots!" She exclaims. "On me!"

So, as drinks literally get shoved into Asmaa's hands, she lets the moment pass and decides instead to knock back shots.

And she gets, as Blaire says, "totally white-girl wasted."

But, not like Rory.

In fact, Asmaa has to help her into a cab. She has to instruct the driver to her home. They have to leave the G-Wagon parked somewhere near the bar in SoHo, because Rory is far too inebriated to pretend to drive.

And when they pull up to Rory's flat in St. James, Asmaa has to help the stumbling girl from the car.

"C'mon, babe," she grunts, as the giggling girl falls into her side. "Almost there..."

And somehow, they make it up the elevator and to the right apartment, and despite being a bit tipsy herself, Asmaa can't help but think just how nice this neighborhood is and how nice this damn apartment is and how ridiculously nice Rory's apartment is once she finally gets her motor skills together enough to stick the key into the door and they get inside.

"Good night," Rory says, before she's stumbled down the hall and into her bedroom.

Asmaa hurries after her, because she really should drink some water or something before bed, and she needed to make sure she's not lying in any compromising position in case she needed to throw up, but that was easier said than done, as Asmaa watches Rory kick off her heels and covers herself in bed.

"Rory, uh--"

The brown-skinned girl opens her eyes momentarily, blinking up at her.

She murmurs incoherently, and Asmaa has to lean over her to begin to piece together the drunken syllables and sounds.

To her own tipsy surprise, Asmaa makes out two words.

"Please stay?"

Asmaa hoped she'd really made new friends.
__

i am like, in love with this story guys  i cannot help myself.

don't worry, the boys are coming back but here's like the intro to asmaa and her friends and their lives.

comment and vote. <3