Intaw yanaytaw?
EE intaw yalle ga3deen tegroon!!! Kilokom!!! All of u who are living on Q8y soil and head over heels reserving numbers!!!
3lamkom?
Ma 3ndokom mobile phones?
Ma 3ndokom numbers?
Kil wa7ed o wa7da itha mo one line has two o three, o numbers min a7la ma ykoon…
Eshtaboon b3d?!
Shino hal mania ilee 7ashat kom… min sema3taw reservation o numbers [...]

Dear readers, I need your help:

My new friend, a talented chef, who cooks the most magical Chicken Soup everrrr, doesn’t quite believe in herself!!

Her Chicken Soup is not made to be tasted with your tongue, it is made to fill your mind, heart and soul.

Don’t get it?

I ask you to go visit her blog, and come back and tell me what you think, because the problem that I want you all to help me with is to convince her to get published, for she had humbly dismissed the thought claiming that no one would buy her book.

So pls, go now. And if you like what you read, come back here and say “I’ll buy it! “

.
.

A small note to you:
Won’t let this drop until I come to your book signing @ Virgin!

;-*

Please send a blank e-mail to my e-mail for further details about my next story
flana.alflan@hotmail.com 
Thanks
Love Flana
xoxo

I walk down the busy streets of Paris lugging my heavy portfolio and trying to balance my 4 inch heels between the cracks in the pavement, out of nowhere a scooter zooms past me knocking my portfolio out of my hand, sending all my drawings in different directions. “Je suis desole” he shouts in the [...]

“Walla ana akthar Flana… Walla ana akthar” I remained quiet “Flana don’t let go” “I really need to leave” “Flana please let me hold you” After about a whole minute of silence I let go of him and he walked me back to my car, I sat with my feet outside the door and he [...]

I held the phone in my hand waiting for his reply, but instead, Fahad called.“Were you checking your email last night when we were talking?” he asked trying to hide a sneaking chuckle.“I was not!” I replied defensively, and then with a giggle, …

To their surprise, McDonald’s was emptier than usual, and they decided to dine in rather than take their food to-go. Sitting on the cold metal chairs, Jawhara and Fajer told Mbarak and Wahab what they would like and waited for them to give the McDonald’s employee their orders.
They all sat down and within minutes, their food arrived. Jawhara quietly picked at her salad, trying to stop the throbbing in her head.
“Shfeech, Jojo?” Mbarak asked, shaking the golden french fries out of the bright red packaging.
She shook her head and replied, “Nothing, Barook, rasi yi3awerni.”
“Ekleelich shay mufeed! May9eer bes sala6a – eklay french fries; tabeen?” he offered her a couple of his fries from his puckered fingers, giving her no option other than to accept them.

Wahab eyed Mbarak’s flirting techniques and decided to try it out for himself. Fajer, who’d been devouring her meal hastily, stopped chewing her Spicy McChicken sandwich and gawked at Wahab. He had already mixed his barbecue sauce with a packet of sweet chili sauce, and had started to squeeze a sachet of ketchup into the maroon concoction. He picked up a french fry and used it to fuse the sauces into one another, completely engrossed in the decorative swirls of red the ketchup was making.
“What are you doing?” Fajer inquired, her eyebrows raised.
Wahab pushed the Styrofoam package containing the mixture towards Fajer, “Jarbeeh; tara walla 7ilo!”
Fajer squirmed as Wahab ate the sauce covered french fry, “No, thank you.”
“Jarbeeeeeh! Walla 7ilo, Fajoor!”
Jawhara giggled at their situation, even more so when Fajer looked at her helplessly.
Mbarak interposed, trying to defend his friend and his weird sauce, “Tara 7ilo, imjarba min gabel.”
Fajer sighed and gave in, dunking a small fry into the combination of sauces. It took a while for her to appreciate the tart flavor, but after a few seconds of Jawhara, Mbarak, and Wahab staring at her waiting for a response, she nodded with a tiny smile.
They all conversed happily over their meals, and when they finished eating, they quickly piled into Wahab’s car and headed back to the chalet before night fell. As soon as they arrived, the girls thanked them for the wonderful time, and headed back to Jawhara’s chalet.

Back at Mbarak’s chalet, Wahab and Mbarak sat out on the patio, and before Wahab was about to play his 3abood 5owaja tape, he asked Mbarak when the girls were set to go back to the city.
“Walla, madri, a3tiqid bacher. Laish?” Mbarak asked, puffing his cigarette.
“Bes, chithee, as2al,” Wahab pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the brown tobacco turning into a fiery orange tip. He took a deep drag and exhaled, watching the acrid smoke curl into the breezy air. He let the music play, and 3abood 5owaja’s quavering voice sang to the submissive sea.
There was something about listening to 3adaniyat while relaxing by the sea that soothed Wahab’s edgy nerves. Studying law was so stressful, and coming to the chalet with Mbarak every weekend helped him escape the constant pressure he faced from his parents and university. Even with his busy academic life, Wahab rarely had time to chase girls or be in a relationship, let alone fall in love. Sometimes it bothered him, but more often than not, he’d tell himself that love and being emotionally available wasn’t a necessity.
He envied Nawaf, who was engaged. Nawaf had graduated college within three years and settled down with a wonderful woman. It wasn’t so much the ‘woman’ part that made Wahab spiteful, but rather the stress-free independence that he rarely experienced.

Mbarak and Wahab remained in their positions for an hour; like a still life painting, they didn’t budge an inch and just stared out at the disappearing tide, both of them deeply immersed in their private thoughts.
Mbarak suddenly sprang from his stationary position, “Jawhara wainhi?” He hopped down the steps leading to the beach and trudged to Jawhara’s chalet, where he saw her picking up her towel and shorts from the garden benches.
“Shga3da tsaween?” he called to her.
“Ga3da asawi my bag; binrid ba3ad shway!” Jawhara replied, folding her towel.
“Wain itrideen?” he asked, disappointed.
“Ildeera, Barooki,” she walked over to him, hugging her towel against her chest, “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No,” Mbarak scowled and walked up the steps, “You’re not going.”
Jawhara wanted more than anything to stay; the three-day escapade was fabulous, but one or two days more was all she needed to really clear her head. But convincing her mom would be the hard part; Um 5aled had already made a fuss about letting the girls go to the chalet without a parent or family member to chaperone, and Jawhara asking her for a couple of more days’ grace would be the icing on the cake.
Mbarak cupped Jawhara’s tired face in his hands, “Please? 3ashani, latroo7oon.”
“I’ll try my best, I promise,” she smiled, “5al akalem ummi and we’ll see what she says.”
“Ok, Jawharti; i7na na6reen bilchalet,” he said as he turned to walk back to his chalet.

After several minutes of waiting impatiently for an answer, Mbarak saw Fajer and Jawhara walking towards his chalet.
“She said OK!” Jawhara hollered at Mbarak, and she could see his special smile beaming in the dark night.
“Si2leeh, wain Wahab?” Fajer whispered shyly.
“Barooki, wain Wahab?” Jawhara repeated as they neared the patio.
“Tawa dash gabel shway, yi9alli oo yirid,” Mbarak turned the radio volume down to a soft tone.
A smile crept on Fajer’s lips, and for the first time in what seemed like centuries, her stomach did a tiny somersault. At that moment, for Fajer, a new light shone on Wahab. Sure, he was goofy and had a totally different approach on how to flirt with a girl, and his style did not match up with Fajer’s at all. But in the long run, he made her laugh, and best of all, he prayed. Fajer’s mother had always told her, “Illi yi5af rabba, ra7 yi5af 3alaich.”
“Inta 9allait?” Jawhara raised her eyebrows playfully at Mbarak.
“Il7mdilla,” he replied with a warm smile.
“Taqabal Allah,” she prayed.
“Minna oo minnich,” he said as his hand found hers in the shadows of the patio roof.

Wahab walked out of the chalet and onto the patio; he’d changed into an Abercrombie T-shirt and cargo shorts, and Fajer couldn’t help but admire how nice he looked.
“Taqabal Allah,” Fajer and Jawhara said in unison.
“Minna oo minkum 9ale7 ila3mal,” Wahab replied, grinning from ear to ear. He was ecstatic that Fajer was finally feeling a little more comfortable around him, and he figured it would be a good time to make a more subtle move, “Fajer, mumkin akalmich digeega?” he asked as politely as he could, hoping for a positive answer.

**Tawni sema3t salfa o 7addy I got upset. Will write about it tomorrow inshaAllah.

**Got into a mini fight with X.

**Dear you who I saw you today wearing UGGS,
Pls la itkhar3een ilbard!

**Was he hitting on me? Or was he being helpful?

**I’m employed ib a7la shaghla:
Arranging Sweetness’ wedding :-)

He quickly let go of my hand, I’ve never felt so abandoned… I put my head down and looked at my two hands in my lap, I could feel my cheeks turning the colour of my nails, a light shade of crimson. “Dalal – nice to meet you” she said as she stuck her hand [...]

Just then, Wahab, Nawaf, and 3ammar had arrived from their jet-ski run. Wahab was dazzled by Fajer, and was so excited that Jawhara was awake. ‘Maybe if Mbarak wakes up anytime soon, we can all hang out together and I can get to know Fajer better,’ he plotted. He smiled at the girls and Jawhara waved back at her new friends, and asked where Mbarak was. Wahab signaled that he was sleeping by resting his cheek on the back of his hand, and Fajer chuckled at his silliness.
The smell of the sea invigorated Jawhara. “Hatha ildiwa, wala balaaash!” she shook her head at the calm surface of the gulf.

“9a7 inoooom!” Wahab came running towards the girls.
“9a7 ibdenik,” Jawhara replied, nudging Fajer’s arm. Fajer had obviously forced a smile when Wahab greeted her, and she needed to stop being so uptight.
“T’3adaitaw?” he asked.
“She just threw up,” Fajer interjected, referring to Jawhara.
“Waiiih! Salamat! Min shino?” Wahab frowned, and instantly Fajer admired his caring nature.
“Min ams; mo seba7na ana oo Barook? I think ma5tha bard,” Jawhara explained. She was too tired to talk, but she didn’t want to seem rude.
“Ma tshoofeen shar, walla!” he prayed.
“Allah eyerrik 3an ilshar,” she replied, resting her head against Fajer’s bare shoulder.
“Inzain ta3alaw t’3adaw?” Wahab offered, “Nwayef oo 3amoor by7adroon ba3ad shway. Lama Barook yigoom. Shraykum?”
“Mmmm.. Madri; Fajoor shrayich?” Jawhara put Fajer on the spot.
Fajer shot her a glance and gritted her teeth. Why, oh why was this happening to her? “Yalla, foga,” she accepted.
“Fooooga, ba3aaad!” Wahab poked fun at Fajer’s slang, “Ya7lailich Fajoora!”
“Ya7lailik inta!” Fajer mocked him, but he took it as a compliment.
Wahab rubbed his goatee and smiled, “Ashoofkum later, then?”
“Inshallah,” Jawhara replied before Fajer could say anything else.

After Wahab had left, Jawhara slapped Fajer’s arm, “Intay shfeech?”
“Maaa feeni shay, Jojo, bes madri!” Fajer sang.
“Weren’t you the one that told me to go for it two days ago?” Jawhara frowned, a smile creeping on her lips when she remembered the moment at the McDonald’s drive-thru.
Fajer shrugged, “Yeah, so?”
“So, I took your word and everything is going really well. Now he’s being polite and asking us to lunch, so just go along with it – for me.” Jawhara pleaded.
A long uneasy silence settled between them for the first time in days, but to Jawhara’s delight, Fajer broke the silence with “OK. But just because you asked.”
Jawhara squealed with pleasure and thanked Fajer repeatedly, anticipating their lunch double-date.

Mbarak woke up feeling bleary and exhausted, but he knew he had to shake off the sleepy feeling if he wanted to spend time with Jawhara before she headed back to the city. He ran his hand over his shaved head and drowsy face and dragged himself into the bathroom for a steaming hot shower.
As the hot droplets trickled down his face and chest, Mbarak felt his tense muscles ease up. Steam billowed in the shower, creating moisture on the glass shower door. Mbarak traced his finger along the damp surface, making large spirals and writing his name in Arabic. Beside it, he wrote Jawhara’s name, and then stood under the water pressure to examine how they looked together.
مبارك جوهرةHe decided that he liked how their names looked side by side, and before turning the shower off, he quickly swiped his hand to wipe away both of their names, hiding from his friends any evidence of his hopeless romantic side.
There was nothing more strenuous to him than having his heart broken, and though he’d experienced it only twice, Mbarak’s heart grew weaker than it had ever been.

Wahab bolted into the chalet and found Mbarak with a towel wrapped around his hips, reclined on an armchair in the bedroom.
“Inshalla ma t5athel,” Wahab teased.
“Dayi5, Whayeb,” Mbarak stretched his arms out in front of him and raised them high over his head.
“Inta 6ool 3umrik dayi5,” Wahab laughed, “Yalla, tara gilt 7ag Fajoor oo Jawhara yit’3adoon wiyana.”
“Fajoor? Ashoofik 6aya7t ilmiyana! Midaaak?” Mbarak looked up and chuckled at his friend.
“Ee, medani!” Wahab said, irritated, “Yalla!”
“Shino – wain yalla? Ma giltluhum yisawoon ‘3ada hnee. We have to go somewhere.”
“Ee 3adi, yalla, elbis!” Wahab persisted, hopping up and down.
“Shfeek mista3yel? Taw innaas!” Mbarak cried.
“Ya7laaaila! ‘Taw innaas’ yigool! Agool, taw innaas 3alaik inta, 7abeebi, isa3a 5! Yowa3a! 3ala fikra, Jawhara ta3bana; Fajoor tgool inna she was throwing up gabel shway,” Wahab rambled.
“Ha?! Shloon??” the worry consumed Mbarak.
“Ma5tha bard or something, shdarani!”
“Inzain e6la3 digeega 5al abadel,” Mbarak shooed Wahab out of his room.
“Eeeeeh! 7ag 7abeebtik tetla7la7, bes lama ana agoolik…!” Wahab poked fun at Mbarak’s soft side.
“E6la3 yam3awad la nit2a5ar!”
“6ale3, 6ale3!” Wahab called from the bedroom doorway.

Out on the beach, the sun had almost set, and the girls’ stomachs were grumbling hungrily. They waited on the masannah, watching the buggies and dirt-bikes zoom up and down the shoreline. The sharp scent of the sea mixed with the exhaust fumes of the motors gave Jawhara a natural high, while Fajer hid her nose in the neck of her oversized sweater. Her patience was about to grow thin until Mbarak and Wahab strolled out onto the patio, greeting them with warm smiles.

“Joojti mareetha?” Mbarak asked as he wrapped her into a giant hug.
She nodded and looked up at his kind face, “9a7 inoom, dabdoob.”
“9a7 ibdenich,” he replied, kissing her forehead.
“Wain taboon takloon?” Wahab asked Fajer.
“Madri, kaifkum,” Fajer replied shyly.
“Uhwa fee ‘3air McDonald’s?” Mbarak asked rhetorically.
Jawhara cringed at the thought of food; McDonald’s? She’d just thrown up and there was absolutely no appetite, especially for McDonald’s. But she was outruled by her three companions and had to endure a bumpy ride in the back of Wahab’s Lexus jeep, trying to hold her stomach together.

AUUUUUUGHHHHHH
Thank you god thank you… FINALLY ITS REALLY RAINING FOR REAL…
I know every one knows it’s raining… but this is for those of us who are cooped up someplace without windows, except internet… you see i would have appreciated if on safat i read from any blogger that it was raining… i would have ran [...]

Wahab stood at the foot of the stairs leading to Mbarak’s patio, staring at Fajer and saluting. Fajer’s eyes widened and she quickly threw her towel over her waist, trying to cover up her glistening tummy.
“Shloonich?” Wahab called out to her, the flirty tone of his voice echoing against the soft rumble of the sea.
Fajer sucked her teeth and shook her head with a chuckle. To Fajer, everything about Wahab was wrong – the way he looked was nowhere near her usual standards. Sure, he had a handsome face, but unlike his friends, his hair was grown out to a medium length and was adorned with a string-thin stretchy headband. Fajer hated long hair on guys – she loved her men with shaved heads and neatly trimmed goatees. At least Wahab’s goatee looked neat. His body was well on it’s way to being toned and defined, but there was a tiny hint of a karsha remaining. ‘Must be all that machboos,’ Fajer thought.
Wahab stared at her through his reflective aviator shades and smiled. He pointed at the sea with his thumb as if to say ‘Are you coming?’.
“Ba3dain!” Fajer called to him across the distance, and as if to mock him, she pointed with her thumb at Jawhara’s chalet.
“Ah, okaaaay!” Wahab grinned, and called Nawaf and 3ammar out to help him wheel down the jet-skis.

Fajer slumped back onto her towel, trying to figure out how to get the oil out of her iPod. She shook it upside-down and patted it against her towel, but the clickwheel had stopped working and the screen was frozen with 3abdelmajeed’s song “Haibat Malik”.
“Wai3!” Fajer complained out loud, “iPodee!!” She shot a glance at Mbarak’s chalet, where the boys were already pushing the second jet-ski down the masannah. Wahab’s long arms were flexed, grabbing onto the handle of the jet-ski and pushing it out to the eager sea. ‘Why does he seem so attractive?’ Fajer pondered with a small smile. She pulled her shorts down just a centimeter to check if she’d gotten a tan; she still needed about an hour to get the color she wanted, but the carrot gunk was working it’s magic.

After the third jet-ski had been thrusted into the sea, Nawaf and 3ammar pushed against the tepid waves and climbed onto the first two. Wahab kneeled at the shore, cooling off his burning hands in the salt water. He looked over at Fajer, who was still baking under the warm sunshine. On impulse, he sprang up from the wet sand and hopped over to her. “Fajoor?” he called.
Fajer raised an eyebrow and squinted at the voice. “Hi,” she replied nonchalantly, and immediately asked, “How do you know my name?”
Wahab plastered a cheesy smile on his face and pointed his thumb at Jawhara’s chalet, as Fajer did earlier. ‘Jawhara! I’m gonna kill her!’ Fajer thought.
“I’m Wahab,” he introduced himself casually.
“I know,” Fajer replied, shielding her eyes from the sun rays.
“How do you know my name?” Wahab teased, rubbing his hand down the back of his neck. He could feel the sun burning his upper back.
“I just know,” Fajer replied with a mischievous smile.
Wahab laughed, “Well, fur9a sa3eeda. Tirkebeen jet wiyana?”
‘Is this guy forward, or what?!’ Fajer thanked him and politely declined, explaining that it would be unfair to leave Jawhara out of the fun. Truth is, there was no way Fajer or Jawhara would ride a jet-ski with a guy she didn’t even know. “Maybe next week?” she suggested.
“7ayach anytime! Oo nice tan,” Wahab wrinkled his nose, smiled, and waved at Fajer before he ran back to his waiting friends.

Fajer sighed as an uneasy feeling settled in her chest. She scolded herself for her selfish tendency of pushing guys away, even when they were so obviously interested in her. “One heartbreak is enough. I don’t want or need another one,” she’d tell Jawhara.
“But how do you know that he’s gonna break your heart if you don’t give him a chance?” Jawhara would reply, and Fajer would dismiss the subject, saying something about how stupid men don’t deserve any chances.
At that moment, she remembered Jawhara. Jawhara was a perfect candidate for someone who’d had their heart broken repeatedly, and a prime example of a fighter who kept going to war with her mind when her heart was too weak to say no. ‘But look at her now,’ Fajer mused, ‘One smile, and she’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her!’
Was it because of Bnaider? Would she have been this happy if this whole scenario had taken place back in Kuwait City? ‘No’, she decided, ‘It must be the chalet. This doesn’t happen anywhere else.’

The starting of the jet-ski engines interrupted Fajer’s thoughts, and she watched Wahab, Nawaf, and 3ammar swerve off into the aquatic mass. The jet-skis created a foamy white trail as they zig-zagged through the waves. Fajer smiled; to her, this was what Bnaider was all about – the correlation between the body, the heart, and the sea. When they all worked together, it heightened the experience of escaping the buzzing city.
“Wainhi Jawhara?” Fajer asked herself, “Ma 9arat hal nooma!”

Rose burst out of the chalet’s glass door, “PUJEEEEER!” she called in her nasal voice, gesturing with her hands, “Jawhara seeeeeeck!”
“What’s wrong?!” Fajer shouted, springing up from her towel and running back inside the chalet.
“Too much vomiting!” Rose looked scared.
“Where is she??” Fajer cried, her eyes searching the living room.
“Bat-room!” Rose replied. Fajer ran into the bathroom and found Jawhara hunched over the porcelain toilet, retching and crying.
“Jawhara!” Fajer knelt next to her best friend and pulled her hair away from her face, “May5alif, 7abeebti, Jooj. Breathe; relax.”
Jawhara sobbed, “I feel disgusting, Fajoor, a7is ba6ni bye6la3 min 7alji!”
“Inzain wash your face oo shirbay 7aleeb; you’ll feel better!” Fajer advised.
Jawhara grunted and picked herself up off the bathroom floor, and Fajer led her to the kitchen where she poured her a warm glass of milk. Jawhara drank slowly, and leaned against the kitchen counter, resting her head against the dark granite.
“Do you wanna go outside?” Fajer asked. The sun wasn’t as strong as it was earlier, but the warm rays might help Jawhara feel a little better. Jawhara nodded and put on her Abercrombie hoodie, and they both walked back out onto the beach.

“Intay gayla 7ag Wahab ismi?” Fajer asked, raising her eyebrows.
Jawhara smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, the drowsiness thick in her voice, “Bes he’s a cutie oo he likes you, fa laish la2?”
“I know, yishaweg, bes a7is he’s too forward. It’s either that, or inna ma yadri wain Allah ga6a!”
Jawhara couldn’t help but laugh, “Laish, sh9aar?”
Fajer told Jawhara about the morning’s incident, lamenting over her deceased iPod and explaining the way Wahab had just walked over and asked her to ride jet-skis with him.
Jawhara snickered – she knew that Wahab was a little 3abee6, but that’s why she figured he’d be a good match for Fajer. In Jawhara’s opinion, Fajer needed to loosen up a little and let someone in. “Give it a shot,” Jawhara shrugged her shoulders, “He can’t be that bad. Can he?”

I have not eaten much all day. Im so hungry and craving a falafel sandwich from Kel7a… we go by car, bu tootee is about to go inside… all i wanted to do is one simple falafel sandwich to last me all day and fill me up…
Bu Tootee: What do you want to order?
Daddy’s Girl: [...]

Jawhara recognized the blond girl she’d seen earlier that morning. Her chest constricted, and as if to boast her title as Mbarak’s girl, she wrapped her arm around his torso and lightly lay her head on his shoulder.
“Shfeech, Jojo?” Mbarak asked Jawhara lovingly, “Bardana?”
“Ee,” Jawhara lied, as Reem walked closer to them.

She was wearing close to nothing, but at least she was a little more covered than she was in the morning. A sheer black tunic draped her body, showing off a skimpy white bikini underneath. ‘Does this girl own any clothes?’ Jawhara wondered, feeling a little ashamed for Reem.
“Hi.. Mbarak?” Reem called, ignoring Jawhara’s presence.
“5air?” Mbarak replied coldly. The butterflies in Jawhara’s stomach turned into giant wheels, turning and churning until she felt sick. Why was Mbarak talking to her?
“Shloonik?” Reem flirted, a hint of excitement in her voice. She stood about two meters away from them; close enough for Mbarak to hear her, but far enough for him to get a good look. Much to Reem’s dismay, Mbarak didn’t look in her direction at all. He ignored her question completely and turned to Jawhara, who was staring at the sand and shuffling her feet, just as she did when he first met her.
Mbarak stroked Jawhara’s wet hair, sensing her discomfort. “Ngoom?”
Jawhara nodded quickly, and they got up slowly, their muscles still tense from the cold sea. Mbarak bundled Jawhara into the fluffy towel and put his arm around her protectively.
“Tara 3aib tgoom wana ga3da a7acheek,” Reem snapped loudly, still standing in her place.
Mbarak ignored her once again and led Jawhara to his chalet. Enraged at the blatant rejection, Reem stomped back to her chalet, looking back one last time at Mbarak hugging Jawhara. “In ma 6ayya7tik, ma a6la3 bint ubooy,” Reem said to herself.

At Mbarak’s chalet, the boys were still sitting out on the patio like they always do.
“Good to see you came back with the right girl,” 3ammar teased Mbarak over the crackling music.
Jawhara managed to smile at his joke, and Mbarak then introduced her to his friends.
“Wain rifeejtich?” Wahab asked, unabashed.
“Moo chithee ashkara, Whayeb!” Nawaf kicked the plastic leg of Wahab’s chair.
“3adi, shino ya3ni,” Wahab bit his tongue mischievously.
Jawhara whipped her head around to look at him and grinned, “Fajoor nayma.”
“Fajoooor!”, Wahab exclaimed with a wide smile, “Gooleelha ‘Wahab yigoolich noom il3awafi Fajoora’,” Wahab chuckled.
“Yo9al inshallah,” Jawhara laughed.

Mbarak and Jawhara didn’t say a word to one another while Nawaf, 3ammar, and Wahab chit-chatted over 3abood 5owaja’s songs. Mbarak’s heart panged with guilt – he knew that replying to Reem was a disrespect to Jawhara.
“La tiz3eleen minni, Jojo,” he spoke softly into the curve of Jawhara’s neck.
Jawhara flinched – she wasn’t sure if it was because she really was annoyed that Mbarak talked back to Reem, or if it was because of the clash of the cold night air and Mbarak’s warm breath. “Ana mo za3lana,” she shook her head, “Ana bes ba3aref shino bainik oo bainha?”
“Wallah ma baini oo bainha shay; min 9ijjich, Jawharti?” he said defensively.
She couldn’t help but melt when he called her ‘Jawharti’ – ‘my jewel’. She peered into his eyes for a hint of deceit, but was won over by the earnest glint in his eyes. “Then?” she demanded to know.
“Ihya min ziman chithee. Killa tshoofna nazleen ba7ar oo min ziman she’s been trying to get my attention.”
“Shmi3na inta?” Jawhara inquired, almost accusingly.
“Shdarani!” Mbarak exclaimed, “Walla, ma li shi’3il feeha!”
“3ayal laish trid 3alaiha?” Jawhara’s voice quivered. She was afraid that her sensitivity would overcome her strength and that she would start to cry.
Mbarak’s face softened and he wrapped her in his muscular arms and kissed her on the crown of her head. “Ba3ad 3umri!” he pleaded, “La tiz3ileen minni! Walla radait 3alaiha because I didn’t want to be too rude! Ma shifteeni 7egart’ha oo mishait 3anha?”
Jawhara nodded silently, her trembling chin rubbing against the smooth crook of Mbarak’s elbow.
With his face inching closer to hers, Mbarak whispered, “Jawhara.. Jawharti.. Joojti..”
“Hmm?” Jawhara whimpered, her heart softening at the sound of her name from his lips.
“Tiz3ileen min Barookich?” he coaxed.
And with that, Jawhara gave in – there was no possible way she could resist his charm. She shook her head with a smile and mustered up the most serious facial expression she could, “La t3eed’ha mara thanya.”
“Walla I wont,” Mbarak smiled sincerely, so happy that she wasn’t upset with him, “Shli bilnujoom dam ilgumar ma3ay? Ay nujoom, ba3ad, hathi ma tiswa charaqi!”
Jawhara giggled, nudging him playfully. He kissed her freezing fingertips and rubbed them with both his hands.

The deep azure sky that was sprinkled with stars washed into a purple haze, the stars fading into space. Somehow, the splashing sound of the waves grew louder, although the deep blue tide was still high. A single seagull flapped in the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn, and it wasn’t long before the first ray of light sprouted from the edge of the sea. ‘Sub7an Allah,’ Jawhara thought, ‘How the entire setting and mood of the ba7ar changes in just a couple of hours!’
With sleepy eyes and a weak smile, she greeted the break of day. Even though Mbarak’s arms were still wrapped around her, holding her close, nothing gave Jawhara warmth more than seeing the start of a brand new day at Bnaider.
“Di5t,” she sighed.
“7ita ana, walla,” Mbarak confessed, trying to suppress a yawn, “Bitnameen?”
“Ee walla, ta3abt,” Jawhara yawned.
“Yalla, 5al awa9lich,” he offered, getting up from the ridge of the patio and extending his arm to Jawhara. She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, and in an extreme state of dizziness, she toppled against his toned body.
He supported her with his left arm and helped her walk back to the chalet. This time, he walked her to the glass door, where he could see her walk into the living room and fall into a deep sleep on the couch.
Assured that Jawhara was safe, Mbarak walked back to his chalet and fell asleep on the couch without changing his clothes or washing the white traces of sea salt that decorated his back.

The morning sun rose and shone through the giant windows of Jawhara’s chalet. Fajer was surprised to see her sleeping best friend draped on the couch, still dressed in the adorable ensemble she had worn on her date.
“Jojo,” Fajer hummed, shaking Jawhara gently.
“Mmm..,” Jawhara mumbled.
“Goomay, Jooj, warana ba7ar – today’s our last day!” she reminded her.
“Fajoor,” Jawhara groaned, “Rasi byinfijir oo I think ma5tha bard.”
“Haa! Salamat, babe, min shino? Shsawaitaw ams?” Fajer asked.
“Siba7na bilail. It was amazing; I’ll tell you everything lama agoom,” Jawhara croaked. “You go,” her hand flopped on her pillow, “I’ll catch up.”
“Akeed?” Fajer worried. Jawhara nodded her head against her pillow. “ROOOSE!” Fajer yelled, “Make tea for Jawhara, please!”
Jawhara frowned at Fajer’s shrill voice and drifted back to sleep, thinking about Mbarak and hoping he didn’t feel as horribly sick as she did.

Fajer walked out to the seashore and decided she would lay out and tan until Jawhara woke up and swam with her. There was no fun in swimming alone, at least for Fajer.
She spread her towel out on the hot dry sand and sat down, greasing herself up with three different tan-enhancing products. Her favorite was the carrot gunk, as she called it. It felt so buttery and rich on her skin, and always gave her the best tan.
Almost an hour passed with Fajer baking under the sun – though her eyes were closed, she could hear and feel Bnaider waking up, chalet by chalet. She wished Jawhara would wake up and enjoy it, but she knew they’d be back next weekend.

“Ya 9aba7 ilward!” Fajer heard a voice call out. When she sprang up to see who was talking, she knocked the open bottle of Johnson’s baby oil over, spilling most of its contents on her brand new iPod nano.
“WAAAAAAY LA2!” she almost screamed in anger, dabbing her iPod with the corner of her towel, trying to get most of the baby oil off. “Moo 9ij!!”
Grunting in frustration, she looked up to see who the culprit was. For that instant, Fajer forgot about her ailing iPod, and felt her insides turn to mush.