Alara

One day left.

I haven't slept. I've been in this building, surrounded by books and strange devices. My brain hurts, but things are slowly starting to make sense.

In the trials, they test three things: science, technology and art. I'm good at none of those.

I'm screwed.

If they would ask me to run, however, I would ace it. I've been running my whole life.

My brain is on overdrive from the amount I have been thinking. It all feels pointless. These trials are designed for people who grew up here, whose brains have been trained to think the way these trials want them to think.

If I don't get this wish . . .

A loud horn goes off, blowing so loud that it makes the floor vibrate. I stand, looking around, but there is nobody.

Going through the hallways that the guards had lead me through yesterday, I rush forward to the source of it, curiosity pushing me faster.

Why would they blow a horn? It has to be an emergency. At home, they'd ring bells to indicate a fire or weather issue.

What would a weather issue be here? An underwater tsunami? A sand storm?

When I reach the front door, I have to push my way out through the crowd. What the heck is this?

I don't bother to ask anyone, because they wouldn't understand me and it might just highlight me as an outsider.

Rig he now, I'd rather blend in.

They're all wearing beautiful clothes; whites and creams. It almost seems like a wedding except everyone is the bride and groom. They're so elegant.

I'm wearing a plain white pants and top that was left for me in my room. I threw my hair into a bun because I needed to spend my time preparing for the Night Trials that start tomorrow evening.

People are gathering around tables and eating different kinds of delicious-smelling foods. There are white tables lined with more food than I've seen in my life, even at the Hakeem's ma'duba which feels like it was lifetimes ago.

I have no idea how long it's truly been. It could have been days or months. I spent so long trying to get out of a routine and now everything is unexpected and I wish I knew what would happen next. For once, I just want things to not feel crazy.

The food. I can't stop staring. Plates and containers filled with all kinds of seafood and other things that I've never seen before.

Is it stealing if I take some, or is everyone allowed to have?

I forgot to eat today. I've always been used to skipping meals, so it means nothing, but to see this food . . .

My stomach twists. So I step forward and take a plate, dishing a bit of everything.

I try to move off to the side of the crowd and lean against the wall of the building I had been studying in.

People around are eating with their hands, so I copy them. As soon as the food is in my mouth, I'm melting. This is so good. No ways.

A moan leaves my lips and I immediately shovel more into my mouth, unable to wait for my next bite.

With a clean plate—I'd lick it if there weren't so many people around—I search for a place to put it. But nobody seems to have eaten as fast as I did. I walk over to the rows of food, wondering if I should take more food just to avoid standing around awkwardly.

A hand takes ahold of my arm. "Come."

His face is covered with cloth so that only his eyes show.

"What?" I ask. He speaks my language.

I immediately tug myself out of his grip, almost bumping into someone behind me. I am not going with a random person again. I have learnt my lesson.

I put the plate on the long table behind me, not caring if it's decent manners because I need both hands to fight.

It could even be him—the man who tried to lock me in his room. I knocked him out but didn't kill him. Maybe he is here to get back at me somehow. Or to take me back to that room.

"Yallah, Alara, let's go." He knows my name. I step closer, my heart tugging.

Why am I being vulnerable like this again, letting my guard down?

Because, there's this—He grabs my wrist and starts tugging me.

No! No, I can't. No more fighting. I try as hard as I can to resist, and eventually he turns to me, evidently frustrated.

He tugs me into his body. "It's Zayen. Obviously."

I stare at him, too stunned to point out that no, it is not obvious because his face is hidden.

"Zayen?" What? That's—How?

He nods and starts to drag me away. This time, I let him.

I stare at his back. His grip stays on my wrist. The white cotton shirt he wears fits his broad shoulders. Yeah, it's him.

When we make it away from the crowd, and the sounds of chatter and laughter is only a distant sound, he takes a turn down a narrower and shadowed passage.

There's another fountain. I guess the amount of fountains here makes sense, since we're under water. Does Zayen know?

"We're under water, Zayen. What do we do? This is insane? I keep getting this feeling that I am going to wake up and be in my house with my mom asleep on the couch and all of this being an insanely long and unending dream. But at the same time my imagination would not possibly make up something this insane."

Zayen nods, stopping to unwrap the turban from his head. He seems calm. Way too calm, so this isn't new information too him.

I shake my head, my heart racing. "How did you get here, because I got here through near drowning and then a random lady washed me and I was attacked and then Akilah—Akilah is here and there's this trials called—"

Zayen throws the cloth over his shoulder and steps closer to me, pressing me back against the wall, his chest pushing against mine. This brings back so many memories of us together.

I feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply. "Alara, breathe."

Being here, with him pressed against me and his hands on mine, it takes me back to the day we met. He caught me stealing that necklace and pulled me to where nobody could see us.

He still smells intoxicating. I lean my head back against the rough, textured wall and stare up at him. He's the same, but different. His beard is shorter and his skin lighter—probably from the lack of sun. "How long have you been here? How much do you know?"

He shakes his head, his hand cupping my jaw. "We'll talk about all of that later, okay?"

"Later? No. We don't have time. The Night Trials. They're tomorrow. What are we going to do if we—?"

"Could you just shut up for a second?" He is clearly fed up. I'm not sure why, but I don't care because I feel like I am being caught in the middle of a tsunami.

"Shut up? Excuse me. Wh—?" His index finger presses against mine, his hands pulling my waist so that I am pressed up against him.

His arm slips behind me to hold me closer against him, but it is physically impossible to get any closer. My heart races with excitement, like a race horse headed straight towards him. It's been so long since we've seen each other. Finally, he's here.

He reaches out and gently brushes my hair behind my ear. I close my eyes, feeling his warm touch, and smelling his cologne. For some reason, having him this close makes me feel like I am closer to home.

Our breaths mix together, making me wish for more. His lips brush against mine, and all I want is to pull him closer and kiss him hard.

I won't give him the satisfaction of making the first move.

He smiles, as if he can read my mind and sense the stubbornness of my actions.

Then he kisses me, and my heart melts beneath a flame. Oh. I lift my arms, sliding them around his neck because if I don't my legs might give in.

It makes him chuckle against my lips. No, stop laughing. I want more. I kiss him harder, trying to show him without words how much I missed him and how glad I am that he is here.

He tastes like mint tea. It must mean that he has had time to relax; maybe he does have more information about where we are. I hope—I hope I don't taste like seafood.

The kiss gets deeper and more intense, making me forget myself. Everything falls away, his lips like a drug that I can't let go of. It feels perfect, the way his body presses against me and moulds against mine.

Zayn gives me one last, excruciatingly slow and taunting kiss and then pulls back. For a moment, there is nothing but deep breaths that fill the air between us.

The air feels charged with a thousand bolts of lightning.

He smiles, closing the space between us again. "I missed you," he breathes against my lips.

~~*~~

What would you do if you found yourself in a new world where you know nobody and don't speak the language?

It feels a lot like travelling abroad. It's scary and lonely sometimes, but it also provides so much space for growth and adventure. It allows you to align your reality with who you really want to be.

T w i t t e r : xPineappleGirlx
I n s t a g r a m : laylaawrites
Y o u t u b e : xThePineappleGirlx

Lots of love and jelly tots - xThePineappleGirlx