Masqué Chapter 20

Hope you enjoy this chapter. :D

Dedicated to M_Qassimi, it was his birthday yesterday and he had been waiting patiently for this chapter. Happy late birthday, sweet sixteen!:D Hope you enjoyed it to the fullest.

Any comments?x

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It's been a whole day since that awkward day with A7mad and Saif. A7mad teased me further about getting Asmaa included into the conversation but I dodged his questions and played it cool that day.

I made up a lie about Saif falling on top of me and hurting my arm. This also got me out of Gran's birthday zwara, I had the excuse to leave early and go home to tuck myself in bed with Baskin Robin's chocolate mousse ice cream as my companion.

I was supposed to meet Fawaz and Ghalia today. My mom wasn't the controlling and over protective type but she still had rules. She told me I'd be able to meet with Fawaz if only he would be attending our dinner party with everyone else present.

It wasn't like she was going to allow me to go to a public mall with him and Ghalia, society would get the wrong idea. Two girls with one guy? I wasn't comfortable with it either. We got to invite Fawaz and his father over to our house for the dinner party. Ghalia didn't have her parents with her so she came alone.

I needed a distraction from everything and Ghalia was my distraction. Mom didn't tell me who she invited from our family but she assured me she didn't invite that many people I didn't know. I had a feeling she was lying, Mom loved big parties.

For some reason, Mom had dinner parties every week on Wednesdays. She'd invite her friends, Bibi and Turki would invite theirs and they would all be family friends in one huge table eating a Kuwaiti cuisine.

"Amal, wear this!" Ghalia gushed, pulling out a dress that was long enough to reach my knees and casual yet elegant enough for a dinner party. It had multiple patterns that held the colours blue, violet, white and black. The sleeves reached to your elbows and was conservative yet chic enough for something you'd wear with your friends.

"You always had an eye for fashion." I smiled at Ghalia. She had a short sleeved white dress that reached a little over her knees, it complimented her tan and it had a belt along the waist. Ghalia had come two hours early to help me get ready, it was the first dinner party I was going to attend with the whole family.

I wore the dress Ghalia picked and put my hair up in a high slick ponytail. I used dark blue eyeliner that framed my oval eyes, thick mascara that accented my long eyelashes and a dark violet shade of Rebel Mac lipstick that brought out my bronzed cheeks. I clasped my Tiffany eternity necklace around my neck before wrapping my Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet around my wrist.

"Banat, khale9taw?" Mom knocked against my door before pulling the door open to step into my room. Mom had one of her beautiful summer dresses on. This time, it was a Paul & Joe tribal patterned dress that swished over the floors of our house whenever she walked. She paired it with her Cartier accessories and a beige veil that covered her hair.

"Yah yah, kashkheen." Mom smiled, her eyes raking over our outfits.

"Halla khalti, shlounich?" Ghalia smiled.

"El7amdellah zeina 7bebty, entay shlounich? W shloun el derasa wyach?" Mom walked over to greet Ghalia, she hadn't seen her when Ghalia first came to the house.

"Tamam." Ghalia replied politely, returning the greeting.

"Yalla ta3alaw ta7at, Bibi lal7een ma khale9at. As usual." Mom rolled her eyes.

The house was filled with vases with white delicate orchids. Mom's dinner parties were her specialty, she had to have everything perfect. The lights were dimmed so the rooms weren't so bright and it made our surroundings even more prettier. The pillows were fluffed and put against each couch to make the house look cozier.

Dad was sitting by one of the couches, his hands holding onto his cup of coffee as his eyes were absorbed into watching one of the Euro2012 matches.

"Ibrahim, yalla 3ad goum w sa3edna shway." Mom switched the TV off midway through the soccer match.

"ZAINAH LAAAAAAA!" Dad growled, his hands reaching out for the TV. "ITALIA LA TEKHSOROUUUN."

"Shd3waa, kela korat 8adam." Mom rolled her eyes once again, trying to hide her mocking smile.

"Allah y3afy twitter." Dad grabbed his Samsung phone and clicked over twitter to check the scores on the match. "GOOOAAAL!"

"Waiii3, ana ashaji3 Spain." I crossed my arms over my chest, giving my Dad a challenging look.

"Ghal6ana benti, ghal6ana!" Dad growled again, his eyes serious about his football matches.

"Ana ashaji3 Hawaii!" Ghalia butted in, her smile wide.

"Ghalia, Hawaii isn't a European country." I hissed to Ghalia, bumping her shoulder with mine. I tried to hold back my laugh. Dad gave Ghalia a "Oh dear" look.

"Oh. Uhm, I'll go help your Mom with the food." Ghalia said in an embarrassed tone before scurrying off to the kitchen.

"Ta3alaay." Dad patted the space next to him on the couch. "Bakhaleech etshaj3een Italia, just listen to me shway."

"Ohoo, bida Ibrahim." Mom entered the living room as fast as she could once she heard her husband start his long speech about Italy. "Amal abeech et9ereen el host shway, ana mashghoula bil ma6bakh. Answer the door, okay? 7atan el khedam mshgouleen m3a el akil, allah y3eenhum."

"Okay." I laughed, giving my Dad an apologetic look that said "Sorry, you heard the Boss."

"Next time, next time." Dad grunted, his eyes glued to his twitter account. I took a peak and noticed he was following 570 people and had only 6 followers. His timeline was filled with football related topics, I couldn't help but laugh again.

Ding dong!

"AMAL, ANSWER THE DOOR." Mom yelled from the kitchen. 

I hurried over to the door with my heels click clacking against the naked floors. I turned the gold knob and pushed the door open to find Shamma (my Syrian friend from KU) in a beige long sleeved cocktail dress. Her hair was in a simple bun and she was holding a tray full of sweets.

I couldn't help but notice that there was a new scar on her. A freshly new one that sliced over her cheek. I could notice the overly put foundation that was trying to cover up the scar. I was growing curious about Shamma's scars.

"Hey Amal, thanks for inviting me. This is for you." Shamma gave me a sweet smile, handing over the tray of sweets.

"Mashkoura!" I tried to eliminate my questions out of my head and smiled back at Shamma, taking the tray from her hands.

The guests kept pouring in, I greeted every one of them with a smile. Most of them I didn't know, they were friends of my mother that regularly came for her dinner parties.

"Shlounich Amal?" Fawaz grinned, his father standing behind him as I held the door open for them next. I couldn't help but notice that Fawaz's father was inspecting me, as if I was a vase he was ready to buy. It was strange.

"Zeina el7amdellah, entow shlounkom?" I replied politely.

Fawaz was wearing a Hollister shirt and casual shorts while his father was wearing a dish dasha. His father had the same shaped eyes as Fawaz's and the same dark curly hair with milky skin. I couldn't help but notice that Fawaz was clutching onto his Hollister jacket, the one I found back in his Silverado car on that Bidi3 day. The jacket I used to try to brush of strawberry syrup off of Saif's cast.

After a while, I grew tired of having a smile plastered on my face for an hour. My cheeks were aching and my dimples must have been all over the place. Bibi finally was done with wearing her Fendi dress and hurried down to take over hosting. Most of the older people sat in the living room that was furthest from the kitchen.

The younger people sat in the second living room which was next to kitchen. This meant we also got first dibs over the little cakes and appetizers. I sat next to Ghalia on the couch, staring off at the multiple faces of Bibi's and Turki's friends. Fawaz sat on one of the other couches, next to Turki.

But of course, both living rooms were fairly close to each other so the adults could see us in plain view since we weren't being blocked off by a wall. So it didn't feel like a mixed crazy party with all your guy and girl friends, most of us were silent and the atmosphere felt awkward.

The adults seemed to have been chattering non stop on the other end of the large room. I could hear their booming voices, discussing Kuwait's politics and how the young generation has been so different to their own generation.

"Amal, someone's at the door." Ghalia nudged my shoulder with hers.

"Huh?" I was staring off into space.

"Ma sima3tay the door bell?" Ghalia laughed. "Bsir3a!"

"Okay okay." I laughed too, hurrying over to the door to answer it. I avoided Fawaz's stare, his eyes kept looking at my dress. I grew uncomfortable.

"Welcome." I said without looking at the person.

"Mashkoura." I heard a familiar voice. I looked up and found Saif in his Polo shirt, holding onto his crutches. Nawaf was in an American Eagle shirt and shorts, standing next to Saif. I couldn't help it but my cheeks reddened at the sight of Saif. He had shaved off his stubble and his face was cleaner now and more adorable. His tan was back and he didn't look so pale anymore.

Nawaf handed me a box that had little mango and vanilla cakes in them and walked past me to look for Bibi. Saif stood in front of me, not saying a word for a few minutes.

"Tara Nawaf knows." Saif murmured quietly.

"Ha?" I gasped.

"He found out about the acting about having amnesia thing from the bidi3 situation." Saif kept his eyes on the ground, not looking into my eyes. I found it gentleman-y of him not to straightly look at me.

"Aha okay." I said. I felt relieved that Nawaf knew about it. At least now I could count on Saif to be himself around Nawaf whenever I was around.

"Amal." Saif's masculine voice grabbed my attention.

"Na3am?" I was still holding onto the box that held the little cakes, I felt the plastic material of the box against my fingers and tried to concentrate on that.

"You look beautiful mashallah." Saif whispered softly, his eyes finally meeting mine for a few seconds. Before I could reply, Saif moved his crutches and began to walk into the living room, leaving me behind, holding the door open for no one anymore.

I pressed my fingers against my cheeks and felt how hot my cheeks had grew.

Shd3wa, you didn't blush like that when the other guests complimented you.

I ignored the tiny voice in my head and shut the door closed. I went back into the living room and found something strange.

"Fawaz! Radeit men Sweissra akheeran! 7amdellah 3la salama, shlounik 7ubi?" Saif grinned, his arms wrapping around Fawaz for a hug.

"Allah yisalmik, eee radeit! Zein, enta shlounk? Shloun reelk al7een?" Fawaz's voice boomed with happiness.

"A7san men gabel. Shitsawy ehny?" Saif suddenly grew curious, his eyes looking down at Fawaz's jacket, the same jacket I used on Saif a few days ago.

"ENTA shitsawy ehny?" Fawaz switched the question around and aimed it at Saif.

"Hatha bait khalti yal thaky." Saif chuckled. "Hey, ma giltly 3an you-know-who."

"Oh, tara ehya mawjouda ehny, ush la tesma3 bas." Fawaz chuckled and tried to lower his voice but I heard every word. Non of them turned to look at me, they were absorbed into their own conversation.

"Yalla 3ad mnu ehya? Yayib obouk ba3ad, akeed bitekh6ebha? Mu tawik 9gheer?" Saif grinned, patting Fawaz's back.

"Ana bagoulk mnu ehya lema enta etgouly mnu el bent ely kent ga3d etsoulif 3anha gabel chem youm 3la bbm wyay." Fawaz challenged Saif with a smile.

Didn't Fawaz know Saif was acting to have amnesia? I guessed not and Saif wasn't trying to act like he had amnesia either.

"Ehya ba3ad mawjouda ehny." Saif laughed.

"On the count of 3, we'll look at the girl we're talking about, deal?" Fawaz looked excited. I grew curious too, I couldn't help but eavesdrop. I made myself look like I was trying to place the tiny cakes over the table for the people to eat.

"1, 2, 3!" Saif hissed.

After 3 seconds, I felt two pairs of eyes against my back. I turned around to find both Fawaz and Saif looking at me.

Fawaz and Saif turned around to look at each other in shock and disbelief. Saif finally looked down at Fawaz's jacket again, remembering that the jacket was Fawaz's. Saif's eyes were full of one emotion.

Saif was hurt.

"Amal?" Saif said in disbelief, his voice was dosed with jealousy.

"That's the girl?" Fawaz asked Saif, not keeping his voice quiet anymore, his voice grew angry.