Chapter 2 Love Is Growing

Ali Ahmed POV

AJ or, as he was properly called, Ali Ahmed or Ali, had never been this happy.

It had been about three weeks since his dinner with Kyra at the Lebanese restaurant. Since then, they'd seen each other almost every day. First, it had been hushed study sessions in the library. Then, after being shushed a few too many times, they'd moved their study sessions to the plush rug on the floor of Ali's dorm room. Ali would make them a cup of instant hot chocolate and they'd sit with their papers spread across the floor, listening to music and chatting while they studied. When one of them needed a break, they would go for a walk through cold and windy plaza, their hands occasionally brushing, their breath forming twin clouds as they walked.

There were only two problems. The first was that Ali was keeping secrets — more than a few. All his life, people had talked to him just because he was the son of a Sheikh and because he had more money than he knew what to do with. It was tiring. Ali loved his father, who was the current sheik, and his mother. And he had to admit that having plenty of money was no hassle. But after the twentieth kid had tried to befriend him in school just so that he could visit Ali's family's palace, it had all gotten a little old. That was why Ali had begged his parents to let him spend a year studying at the University of the Philippines, where there was little chance he'd be recognized.

Kyra didn't know any of that. To her, Ali was just AJ, a Dubai exchange student, study partner, and maker of hot chocolate. It was amazing to talk to someone who liked Ali for himself, instead of for the family he'd been born into. Still, every time Ali gave Kyra a half-truth, his heart clenched a little. Lying just didn't feel right.

The other problem was that Kyra was beautiful. Jaw-droppingly so. She had green eyes with tiny gold flecks and long, wavy hair that was always down around her shoulders. Even in her overlarge sweaters and leggings, she was stunning. It was equally clear that Kyra didn't know how beautiful she was. All Ali wanted to do, while they were studying and walking and laughing, was point out how lovely she was. And then maybe kiss her.

But Kyra had shown no signs of being interested in a romantic relationship. Maybe she wasn't attracted to Ali. So, Ali didn't say anything about how beautiful Kyra was, and the weeks rolled by, filled with books and walks.

One evening in early February, Kyra was sitting on the floor of Ali's dorm, her feet tucked under her, leaning over a piece of French homework that they were working on together. Her hair was falling forward alongside her face and every few minutes, she tucked it back behind her ear. Ali kept holding himself back from reaching out to do it for her.

"Kyra," he said and she blinked, straightening up. She was wearing leggings and another one of her oversized sweaters today, along with a pair of thick, colorful socks.

"Yes?"

Ali didn't have a question. He just wanted to see Kyra turn those big green eyes towards him.

"Want some hot chocolate?" he asked, and she laughed.

"I always want hot chocolate. Do you have those little marshmallows again?"

Ever since Kyra had commented on how much she loved the little multicolored marshmallows, Ali had always had them on hand. Even though he'd had to walk nearly one kilometer to the nearest supermarket to pick them up one windy afternoon.

"Let me see," he said, instead of sharing that particular story. Ali got up and grabbed two mugs from the drying rack beside his kitchenette sink. He'd negotiated his way out of bodyguards or a luxury apartment, wanting to live a normal life for just one year, but his father had finally put his foot down when Ali asked to have a shared dorm room. Instead, Ali got a spacious single with a kitchenette, a private bathroom, and a huge picture window with a breathtaking view across campus. Ali wasn't sure what Kyra's dorm was like, except that she was sharing with a roommate who usually snored. He imagined it must be at least a little smaller.

Humming to himself, Ali poured milk into both mugs and popped them in the microwave. When he turned back to ask Kyra if she wanted regular or peppermint hot chocolate, he saw that her eyes were full of tears. Forgetting the drinks, he dropped to the floor beside her.

"Kyra? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, AJ." She wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her sweater and looked up at him, green eyes extra bright. "It's just, I got an email about the parents' weekend in March and…"

She trailed off and Ali studied her face, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd seen the email about an hour ago, just before Kyra had arrived, and had decided right away not to invite his parents. He missed them dearly, but a sheik and sheikha arriving on campus would completely blow his cover. Kyra would never look at him the same way again.

"Kyra, you can talk to me," Ali said when it was clear that she wasn't planning to say anything else. He reached out, wanting to take her hand, but pulled back. This wasn't the time to make any move that could be seen as flirtatious. He settled for knitting his own hands together and looking at Kyra with all the kindness he could.

"It's embarrassing," she said. She wiped her eyes once more and took a deep breath, straightening up a little. "My family isn't really… around."

Ali tried to imagine that and couldn't. His family was always around. As an only child, he and his parents had been close. Almost all of his childhood memories involved the two of them: eating dinners together, splashing in the pool at the palace, climbing into his mother's rose-scented arms when he was sad, and attending functions in his small suit, feeling like the most important person in the world. Kyra's family wasn't around? What did that even mean?

"They aren't around, like they live far away?" he suggested.

Kyra shook her head, taking another deep breath. "I don't really like to talk about this. You're going to start looking at me differently."

For a moment, a completely illogical thought flashed through Ali's head: Was she some kind of royalty too? But the thought disappeared like a soap bubble. There was no way Kyra was royalty. He'd seen the holes in her clothes and her secondhand textbooks. Royalty or not, there was no way Ali was going to look at Kyra any differently.

"I won't," he said. Now he did reach for her hand, which she gave him willingly. Her palm was so soft and fit so perfectly in Ali's hand that he had trouble concentrating for a moment. "I promise."

"Okay." Kyra bit her lip, flipped her hair over her shoulder with her free hand, and fixed him with a determined look. "My parents died when I was six. I grew up in foster care."

"I'm so sorry," Ali said, squeezing her hand. "I can't imagine losing your parents that young."

Kyra shook her head. "It wasn't easy. I still miss them so much. So, when I saw the email, it hurt. I didn't mean to be so dramatic about it."

"You weren't being dramatic." Ali shook his head firmly. "It makes sense to be sad about your parents. What were they like?"

"I don't remember them much," Kyra admitted. "They both worked a lot. We didn't have much money. But I do remember my dad bringing home little pieces of wood that he thought I'd like from the construction site where he worked. And I remember my mom singing to me at night." She took another deep breath and smiled at Ali, a small, sad smile completely unlike her usual one.

"Were your foster parents kind?" Ali asked, a little worried to hear the answer.

"They were kind, in a way. But none of them really wanted me." She gave a little shrug that spoke volumes. "They were always introducing me as their foster daughter, not their daughter. And the biological kids always got nicer gifts and more attention than I did. I know it sounds silly, but when you're a kid, this stuff hurts. I always felt like they were ashamed of me."

"Who could ever be ashamed of you?" Ali asked, shaking his head slowly. "You're amazing."

Kyra gave a little laugh that was halfway between sad and amused. "Well, I appreciate you saying that. Anyway, what's happening with that hot chocolate I was promised?" It was a clear signal that she was done talking about this for now, which Ali accepted.

"My apologies, my lady," he joked, trying to bow but ending up with more of a clumsy head bob since they were both sitting on the floor. "I'll get it now." He didn't like standing up and leaving Kyra alone, but a nice cup of hot chocolate would probably make her feel better. At the very least, it would distract them both from the sadness of the story she'd just told.

The milk was cold by now, so Ali reset the microwave and busied himself with the hot chocolate powder and marshmallows. When he turned back with the full cups, Kyra was looking up at him with a curious expression.

"Are you close to your parents?" she asked. "I mean, I know you call them every Saturday."

How did Kyra know that? It wasn't like Ali Ahmed had mentioned it. She must have just noticed. He felt a little thrill at the thought that she was interested enough in him to take note of what he was doing and when. Still, Ali bit his lip, not sure how much he could say about his family without giving away who he was.

"Yes, we're close," he finally admitted.

"Will you tell me about them?" Kyra accepted her cup of hot chocolate, wrapping her hands around the mug and looking up at him with interest. Ali was happy to see her looking more cheerful, but he didn't want to get into his family.

"There's not a lot to tell," he said after a pause, sitting back down on the floor next to her. "My parents are great, both of them. They're both very traditional and love family." He took a sip of hot cocoa and saw that Kyra's smile had turned a little sad again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about my family when you've lost yours."

She waved him off. "No, it makes me happy to hear about good families."

Still, she looked upset, and on instinct, Ali set down his mug of cocoa and reached for her, pulling her into a hug. It was a little awkward since they were sitting on the floor, but Kyra still felt right in his arms. Her hair smelled like coconuts, probably because of a shampoo, and her head fit perfectly on his shoulder. After a moment, she set down her mug and wrapped her arms around him in return. If the circumstances hadn't been so sad, Ali would have counted this among the best moments of his life.

Ali pulled away just a little to see that Kyra's tears were completely gone. Instead, her green eyes were wide and her perfect pink lips were ever-so-slightly parted. Suddenly, the whole atmosphere changed from comfort to something much more charged. Ali freed one hand to tuck a strand of her long hair behind her ear and hesitated.

"Kyra," he said, very softly.

She sounded a little breathless when she replied, "Yes?"

Ali tilted her chin up, skimming his thumb across her soft, flushed cheek. She leaned towards him by a fraction of an inch.

"I was wondering if I could kiss you," Ali said, wishing that he knew a way to be more sophisticated about this.

"Yes please," Kyra said, and then they were kissing. It was everything that Ali had dreamed of. The little sound Kyra made when their lips met sent a wave of happiness through his whole body, from his head to his toes. And once they were kissing, her lips were soft and warm and tasted a little like hot chocolate.

Ali pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her pressing against him. Kyra's hands reached to tangle in his hair. Kissing her felt like freedom, like adventure, like the promise of better things to come. Like being seen. Ali never wanted to stop kissing her.

Yet when they slowly pulled back, seeing Kyra's wide eyes and her shy smile was almost as good as the kiss had been. Ali skimmed a hand along her arm, finally tangling his fingers with hers and sitting back a little for a more comfortable position.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he admitted and Kyra flushed even pinker.

"Me too," she told him. Then, more sternly, "but this can't affect my studies. I worked really hard to get here and I won't let anything get in my way."

Ali Ahmed laughed a little, putting his free hand up in surrender. "Yes, ma'am. Don't let me distract you. I think we have some irregular verbs to review, don't we?"

Kyra nodded, then glanced away before peering back at Ali. She looked a little nervous. "But maybe, if we get everything finished, we could try that again? This kissing?"

"Yes, please," Ali said with feeling. That Kyra had found the kiss as powerful as he had was amazing. Ali was sure he would never get tired of kissing Kyra, no matter how many times it happened. And he hoped that this was just the first of many.

With a quick movement, Ali leaned forward and kissed Kyra once more on her soft, flushed cheek. Then he let her grab her large, battered French textbook, setting it between them with a blush and a stern expression.

He was sure that the feeling of happiness bubbling through him couldn't be erased by anything, not even some confusing French grammar. Not even by the fact that he was keeping too many secrets.

XXX