**Chapter 4**
"You need to stop letting his words get to you; you're literally fuming," Owais said, grabbing the menu from me.
"Can we not talk about him for one day? Just one day... I can't feel my legs, and now every brain cell I own is fried," I sighed, punching him lightly.
"Okay, okay... Don't kill me, please. Where's Zamin when we need protection?"
"If you don't shut up!"
"You'll what?" Omar interjected, taking his seat across from me. "Finish the sentence now?"
"I would like to see your invite... I don't recall adding you to the group chat," I said, turning away with a hint of irritation.
"I told him to come over," Owais said, smirking mischievously.
"Traitor..."
"We're sorry we're late. My sister insisted on picking something up for you guys before we arrived, and Saleema had to study," Zamin explained as he took his seat.
"Studying?"
"Did you tell her about your plans to join my sister abroad soon?"
"Don't stress her out; studying engineering and ballet isn't easy."
It had been a while since we all sat down together to enjoy good food, courtesy of Zamin's generosity. It was a shame Saleema couldn't make it.
"So, we have a new friend in our midst," Zamin remarked.
"My apologies for not introducing him properly. This is my sensei, who Owais somehow invited over. And don't mind his grey hairs; they're probably from dealing with his temper," I quipped, playfully grabbing the menu from Omar's hands.
"You seem quite opinionated today. Usually, all I hear from you is the panting after a single lap around the dojo," Omar retorted.
"I think it's time you guys learned some table manners. And that comment didn't sound appropriate, Sensei Omar," Zakira interjected, placing the food on the table.
The eye contact between Omar and me was intense; it felt like we were becoming arch-nemeses. There's a theory in Islam that suggests souls that got along in the spiritual realm get along well on Earth, while those that don't never maintained a connection. Dealing with Omar daily made me realize how frustrating it could be, especially his habit of gesturing with just one hand during arguments.
"Thank you all for behaving yourselves. We'll take our leave now. And don't forget about Zamin's tournament tomorrow," Zakira announced, leaving with Zamin.
"Yes, we'll be there," Owais confirmed, playfully punching me as he ran off with Zakira and Zamin.
"Just don't come over next time," I teased Omar with a smile.
"Why not? Everyone else seemed fine with it."
"You know, I misjudged you. I thought you were a quiet saint, but you turned out to be a talkative attention seeker!" I pushed him lightly as my private taxi arrived. As I headed towards it, a sign from an abandoned coffee shop almost collided with me, but Omar pulled me away just in time.
Into his arms. No one had ever risked their life to protect me before.
"Thank you..."
"You're welcome... Next time, keep your eyes open," he said, brushing off our clothes.
"I take it back..." I said, sticking my tongue out at him as I entered the taxi.
I hope he didn't get hurt.
I still had two months left before I could remove my cast.
~
The next day, I arrived late to class. You couldn't blame me; it felt like I was in the military with classes even on Sundays. Omar arrived dressed casually, looking a bit pale.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. "Did you get hurt last night?"
"I should be asking you that," he replied, looking down at his bandaged arm. "Shall we start the class then?"
Returning to the ring, we began our practice. Three hours later, he still smelled of his bubble bath while I reeked of sweaty socks.
"Now that the class is over, can we talk?" I hurried over to him.
"It's childish to bicker over everything..."
"I didn't come here to bicker with you. I know how to be professional. I just wanted to ask if you'd join me for my friend's ballet show. My friends can be a bit overwhelming."
"And you think our bickering won't cause a scene?" he asked, folding his arms. "Especially sitting next to a big mouth like you."
"Just be your quiet self; it's not that hard. It's as if you get verbal diarrhea whenever you're around me... Anyway, just think about it, please."
"You owe me big time," he remarked, taking his leave.
It was probably the first time since our confrontation that he had been civil, and we had agreed on something. I sent him the digital ticket with the location and date. It would be the first time I'd see my childhood friend Saleema since she left to pursue her dream of becoming the White Swan. Maybe I should have invited Zamin instead... They had a lot of catching up to do.
Saleema was always elegant, with an amazing scent and a perfect figure. I was somewhat similar, except my previous careers required sweat and hard work, leaving me feeling like a rag next to her. Despite the differences, I missed her terribly. It hadn't been easy for me to make friends with girls growing up, and I felt blessed to have kept her in my life.
"You still here? Let's go get some ice cream," Owais suggested.
"I'm sorry, but I don't accept ice cream from a snake."
"Come on, it was just dinner. Besides, I actually intended to help you two reconcile. Listening to both of you complain about each other is not easy."
"So he talks about me behind my back now? Interesting."
"That's not what I meant. Anyway, if you want ice cream, put it on my tab. You guys just met a week ago; this is childish."
"Says the guy who acts like Zakira's personal servant. If I were you, I'd be worried about that."
"Whatever, honestly. I'll just call Zamin over instead."
"No, I already booked Zamin..."
"Nice try. Look who's heading your way. Enjoy!" Owais said, playfully pushing me back.
Instinctively, I toppled over someone, keeping my eyes closed. When I opened them, I saw Omar holding onto me, staring into my eyes.
"Let go!" I demanded before he dropped me.
He dropped me.
"You're welcome," he said, waiting for me to stand on my own.
"What do you want?" I asked rudely, turning away.
"You took my car keys during our conversation..."
"Oh, I didn't realize. I'm sorry," I said, handing them to him.
"You'd better be; that was so childish."
"Wait, I'm childish?"
"As-salamu alaykum!" he exclaimed, running towards his car after tossing a bandage towards me. He really knew how to provoke me.