Omar is the tallest with tight spiral curls and a scruffy beard. Bahar’s hair is short on the sides, slicked back on top. His eyes are the same dark brown as Omar’s and their brotherhood is obvious. Magdi is the shortest and the most handsome of the three, with hair that’s close-cropped all over and a wide, happy smile.
“They look nice,” I say, giving the phone back. “Are they?”
Adam laughs a little. “Most of the time.” He tucks the phone into his pocket. “Bahar has ambition. He keeps a small book with his life goals, but the list has only things like finish university, get a job, find an apartment, get married. We say, ‘Bahar, why can’t you keep this in your head? Do you think you will forget to finish university without a list?’?”
“What does he say?”
“That the list is a reminder that anything not on the list is not important.”
“Who can argue with that?”
“Exactly,” he says. “We call Omar rad”—Adam pronounces it like “rod”—“because he is easily satisfied. He sometimes grumbles about politics and wages, but he enjoys his job and now his mother is beginning to talk of finding him a wife. He says okay to that, too.”
“He just goes with the flow, huh?”
Adam cocks his head as he considers. “I like that. Yes. He goes with the flow.”
“And Magdi?”
“He never has any money because he spends it on clothes and going out to clubs,” he says. “He likes dancing, smoking shisha, playing football, and meeting girls. He is my best friend.”
“Really? I would have guessed Bahar.”
“My mother would be happy if that were true. She thinks Magdi is a troublemaker, but we have been friends the longest time.”
“Can I meet him?”
Adam’s eyebrows pull together and there’s a little line of worry between them. Like maybe he’s jealous. “Perhaps that is not a good idea.”
“Why? He sounds like the friend least likely to freak out to see you with a girl.”
“This is true.” He runs his hand up through his curls and that same worried look passes across his face again. “But he can be very charming.”
“I’m pretty sure I can resist his charms.” I pause to gather a little courage. “And there’s no way I could like him more than I like you.”
Adam’s worry softens, and when he smiles, the boundary between us shifts to a new place that’s both scary and exciting. I have never been a girl who pursues boys—Owen clicked into my life like a puzzle piece—so I’m unsure how to proceed with Adam. I look at our empty glasses. “Should we go?”
I leave money on the table for the drinks and we step out into the hazy sunshine. If I were with Owen, we would hold hands, but I am with Adam, we are in Egypt, and what’s happening between us is too fresh to test in the middle of downtown Cairo. Also, there are way too many eyes watching us.
“You should know that Magdi is a shameless flirt,” he says as we take a side street to the next major road. “Whenever he comes to my home, he flatters my grandmother and makes her giggle.”
The computer shop is a tiny storefront with refurbished laptops for sale in the window. We step inside, where a guy sits behind a worktable, his dark head bent over a motherboard. He looks up and I’m startled by how much more handsome he is than in the picture. Magdi’s eyelashes are deep black and so thick it’s almost like he’s wearing eyeliner. Adam’s worry makes more sense to me now. I doubt his best friend has any trouble meeting girls, because it almost hurts to look at him. He appraises me silently as he stands and comes out from behind the table, then grins at Adam. The two friends greet each other with a hug and exchange words in Arabic.
“What did he say?” I ask Adam.
Magdi grins. “I ask him if he brings this girl for me, but he says not every girl is for me.”
Adam rubs the back of his neck—a boy-bashfulness tell that seems to be universal—as Magdi laughs, clearly pleased to be embarrassing his friend. “Adam tells me Caroline”—he pronounces it care-ooh-leen—“is lovely but he lies. You are much more beautiful.”
“The only thing better than your eyesight is your gift of flattery,” I say, and Magdi doubles over with laughter.
“Her, I like.” He says this to a stone-faced Adam. “Too good for you. She should be with me.”
“You have already too many.”
Magdi winks at me. “I think perhaps you are for him.”
My face is still warm as the afternoon call begins and he locks the door and puts up a sign like the ones in the Khan. CLOSED TEN MINUTES FOR PRAYER. Adam and Magdi excuse themselves to the back room, leaving me alone in the tiny showroom. I take a seat at Magdi’s worktable, and through the doorway I see them as they take turns going into the bathroom to wash, then as they start their prayers. They stand, quietly reciting prayers. Bow. Kneel with their heads to the floor. Even though they are praying together and within my sight, it feels too intimate to watch. I look away and play a silent game on my phone, matching colored fruit as the two guys worship.
Magdi comes out first to reopen the store. “Adam has not yet finished. I think he says extra prayers so I will not steal you away.”
“Fil-mi?mi?h,” I say, which cracks him up all over again.
Magdi places a hand over his heart, trying not to laugh as he feigns sadness. “I am a broken man.”
Adam emerges from the back room, the ends of his curls damp from washing his face. “We should leave the broken man to his work. If he loses his job, the shops at the mall will surely suffer.”
“We will see you later?” Magdi asks Adam, eyebrows raised as if they’ve already discussed plans for the evening.
“Perhaps.”
“Lovely Caroline,” Magdi says, kissing the back of my hand. My stomach aches from all the laughing this guy has made me do. “When you are finished with Adam, you will find me waiting here.”
CHAPTER 19
I sit in the front seat of the car for the very first time as Adam drives us to the next somewhere. Somewhere he claims I will like and I believe him because he hasn’t been wrong yet. He drives with his left hand and rubs his right hand down his jeans-covered thigh. I want to reach over and hold his restless hand, but I don’t because all of this is totally new to Adam, and I am not entirely comfortable being the “experienced” person in this relationship.
“So you talked with Magdi about me,” I say. “What about Bahar?”
“Bahar reminded me that becoming a chef is my goal and that one day my family will expect me to marry a Muslim girl,” Adam says. “He says at best you distract me and at worst you are a sin.”
“That’s pretty harsh.”
“The imam at the masjid would say that the devil does not whisper things you do not wish to hear; he tells you a beautiful story that you want to believe.”
“I’m not a devil,” I say. “And I don’t want to be the Western girl who lured the good Muslim boy into the woods. Do you think we should stop this before we even start?”
“No.” He says it quickly and with a certainty that makes me smile.
“Okay, so what do you think?”
“Before you came to Cairo, I had very little interest in girls,” he says. “So why now am I interested? Why do you turn my head?”