The Pull of Destiny (33 page)

Luckily, I was
saved by Shazia, who threw a cushion at Robyn. “Yeah, she did. He apologized in
Science class, remember?”

Robyn stuck her
tongue out at Shazia. “Oh, yeah. My bad.”

“Oh, you know
what?” Shazia clapped her hands. “Go put the dress on and I’ll go call Ahmed. I
think he’s back.”

I stared at
her. Randomness was definitely catching. Robyn caught it from Luke and was
passing it along to Shazia.

“Yeah, I heard
him come in,” Robyn said, rummaging in her bag for her hot iron.

“But- why?” I
asked.

“To give his
opinion on your outfit, duh,” Shazia said, rolling her eyes.

“Um, you guys
already gave your opinions. Unless you and that saleslady were lying,” I said.

Robyn shook her
head. “Nope. But we’re girls. We need to know how good you look from a guy’s
point of view.”

I laughed in
disbelief. “So you want me to parade in front of Ahmed while he tells me what
he thinks?”

“Precisely. And
don’t act like it’ll hurt. At least you won’t be parading in front of a crowd
of strangers like Shazia’ll be doing tomorrow,” Robyn said, smiling snidely at
Shazia, who threw another cushion at her.

“What if he
disses me?” I worried. Shazia rolled her eyes as she pushed me off of the
dresser stool.

“Then he’s a
bigger fool than I thought. He’ll probably love it just like we do. Now go put
it on!”

Shazia shoved
me out of the door and I walked to the bathroom to put the dress on. I came
back just as Shazia was opening her bedroom door to call Ahmed.

Robyn squealed
when she saw me. “Damn, girl, with the makeup and the dress, you look fierce!
Tyra Banks- watch out! I’m officially jealous.”

Shazia
snickered. “You would be,” she said as I stood in the middle of the room,
feeling like a mannequin.

“Ahmed!”

“What?” Ahmed
yelled back.

“Come here!”

“Why?”

Groaning,
Shazia shouted, “I need to show you something!”

“What?”

Plugging her
hot iron in, Robyn said, “He is so difficult.”

“We need your
opinion on something,” Shazia continued.

“What?” Ahmed
asked.

“Just come
here, Ahmed, it won’t take long!”

Grudgingly,
Ahmed shouted, “This better be good!”

Footsteps in
the hallway then he appeared, looking tousled and very shirtless.
Yummy!

Shazia stood
aside to let him in as he rubbed his eyes. “Okay, honest opinion,” Shazia said,
pointing at me. “How does Celsi look?”

As Ahmed’s eyes
lighted on me, his mouth fell open as an expression of mingled shock, surprise
and amazement crossed his face. His dark brown eyes widened as he gave me a
head to toe look.

From the bed,
Robyn muttered, “I guess that’s a good sign,” dryly.

Shazia elbowed
her big brother and he snapped out of the Celsi induced daze. “Well? Speak! How
does she look?” she asked him.

Ahmed shook his
head (presumably to clear the cobwebs) and said, “She looks- you look very
nice.”

Very nice.
Coming from Ahmed, that meant amazing.

I smiled at
him, feeling a satisfied glow and happy that the girls had bought me this show
stopping dress. “Thanks, Ahmed.”

“What’s the
occasion?” he asked. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of me.

“Luke invited
her to the gala,” Robyn divulged.

Ahmed frowned
slightly, dragging his eyes off me to look at Robyn. “Luke? Luke
Astor
?”

“Yeah,” Robyn
nodded, a teasing grin on her face. “Surprised?”

“Really?” Ahmed
asked me, scratching his head, a look of stone cold disbelief on his handsome
face.

I nodded.
“Yeah.”

“Oh. I didn’t
know you two were that tight,” Ahmed said, giving me a weird, inscrutable look
that I couldn’t decipher.

“He asked her
coz she’s helping him in Science,” Shazia was quick to explain. “You see, some
people appreciate other peoples help.” She smirked as she got in a thinly veiled
barb at her brother, referring to the time I helped him with his Socials
project and he repaid me with nothing.

Ahmed bit his
lip and exhaled loudly. "Cool. Have fun," he finally said, the
unreadable look still in his eyes. I decided not to think of it or it would
drive me crazy.

"Thanks,"
I said again. I pointed to my face. "I'm going to wash this stuff
off."

As I walked out
of Shazia's room, Ahmed asked her, "Is that all you wanted me for?"

In the safety
of the luxurious guest bathroom, I slumped against the sink. Ahmed thought I
looked nice. The same Ahmed who never had anything nice to say to me, thought
that I looked nice!
Imagine what Luke will say, then.
Hopefully,
something positive. I mean, the dress cost a fortune. The way I saw it,
something good had to come from it.

I carefully
took off the dress and put it in the bag before I cleansed my face.
I don't
want to get it wet, that would suck!

As I was
wriggling into my PJ bottoms, there was a hesitant knock at the door. I opened
it and found myself staring at a still shirtless Ahmed.

"I'm
almost done," I babbled, gathering my stuff.
Doesn't he have his own
bathroom? Odd.

"Actually,
I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second," he said, surprising
me even more with the shy voice he was using. Ahmed was never shy around me.

"Sure,"
I said, gulping as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Why was I always shut into rooms with hot, unavailable guys?
You're lucky
and unlucky at the same time.

"Are you
really going to the gala with Luke, or was Robyn just running her mouth as
usual?" he asked me, looking serious.

I blinked.
Didn't we just
have
this conversation? Was this deja-vu?

"I'm
actually going with him," I replied, clutching the dress bag like it was
my shield. I wasn't nervous of being alone with Ahmed in the bathroom, but I
was nervous about the way he was behaving.

He nodded
slowly. "So he asked you out?"

Generally.

I bit back that
answer and settled for a nod. Last thing I needed was for Ahmed to think I was
a smart ass.

"So, I
guess it's my duty to tell you to be careful around Luke."

I laughed, my
laugh sounding shrill in the enclosed room before I realized that Ahmed wasn't
joking. Well, he wasn't laughing, so I guessed that he wasn't joking.

"What?"

Frowning, Ahmed
crossed his arms over his muscular chest, looking as stern as Shazia sometimes
got. "He's smooth. I guess I could say- he's been around the block a few
times. He knows how to play the game."

Either I was so
tired I wasn't following Ahmed, or he was speaking in riddles.
And I'm not
tired.

"So?"

"So he
might get you to do something you don't want to do." Ahmed frowned darkly
at me. "He didn't get his reputation by accident, you know."

I rolled my
shoulders, trying to keep up with Ahmed. "Are you saying that Luke could-
violate me?"

I wanted to
laugh again at my choice of words but Ahmed had a somber expression on his face
and I thought it was best if I just held back.

"Not
exactly," Ahmed said quickly. "He's a good guy. But- he plays dirty.
Just-watch out. Watch yourself. Okay?"

I didn't
understand. Was Ahmed (gasp) jealous?
Why else would he be warning me about
Luke's rep? He usually hates me!
Was it the dress that brought about this
sudden turn of events? Ahmed scared that Luke wouldn't be able to resist me
when he saw me and would ravage me right there at the gala? I bit back a smile.
Not gonna happen.

Plastering a
grateful look on my face, I smiled up at Ahmed. "Okay. Thanks for the
warning."

Ahmed smiled at
me, the first real smile he'd given me in years. "No problem.
Goodnight."

"Goodnight,"
I said as he opened the door and let himself out.

I turned back
to gaze at myself in the mirror. I looked as bemused as I felt.

Ahmed, jealous
of Luke? Because of me?

Not
possible.

Luke’s Point of View

A slamming door somewhere
in the penthouse jerked me out of a deep sleep. I opened an eye drowsily,
feeling out of it as I raised my head to glance at the alarm clock on my
bedside table. Maybe I was still sleeping and this was an extremely vivid
dream, because there was no way it could be 6.00pm already.

Dragging myself up from my
bed, I ran a hand through my freshly washed hair as I rummaged underneath my
bed, looking for a pair of clean sneakers and yawning as I did so. My original
plan had been to take a short nap during the afternoon so that I would be alert
during the gala, but somehow I had managed to crash for two hours.

Good job, Astor
, a voice in my head said sarcastically
as I stood up and walked to my closet to grab my outfit for the night. Ignoring
the voice (which sounded like my dad on a really bad day) I went to my bathroom
and took a quick shower.

At least I wasn’t tired
anymore, especially after my late night at Wendy’s house. She had tried to hook
me up with her hot cousin, since I’d been ‘single forever’, according to Wendy.

“You can take her to the
gala, since you don’t have a date,” she said perkily, patting my arm while
Lynn, the hot cousin, giggled like she’d been doing
all night long
.

I didn’t even bother
answering her, smiling lamely as Wendy prattled on about the gala. She had no
idea that I had a date already, since I hadn’t exactly told my friends that I
was taking CiCi. I knew what the first question would be when they found out-
why? And since I didn’t know what my real reason for inviting CiCi to be my
date was, I preferred to deal with the questions (I knew there would be tons
when I walked into the banquet hall with CiCi on my arm) as far into the future
as I could.

At 3am (Ahmed had left
before midnight, but Wendy would just not let me leave) when I finally
convinced Wendy that I had to get home before I passed out, she made me write
down giggling Lynn’s number and promise to call her in the morning.

Splashing a little bit of
aftershave on, I hoped that Lynn wasn’t sitting around waiting for my call.
There was only one person I wanted to go to the gala with, and it wasn’t her.
Sure, she was beautiful and sexy, but when it came to chemistry, we had zilch.
There was no way I wanted to spend my night listening to that annoying giggle
and chatting about Jersey Shore (which was apparently the only TV show Lynn
watched) when I could be sitting with CiCi, making her jump every time I
touched her. She probably thought I hadn’t noticed that she did that, but like
I believe I once told her, I notice everything.

The voice in my head spoke
up again.
Do you have chemistry with CiCi, then?

“We’re just friends,” I
told myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

But you wish you could
be more
, the voice
persisted.

I bit my lip, wishing the
voice would shut up but intrigued by the question it posed nonetheless.
Did
I want to be more than friends with CiCi?

Shaking my head, I laughed
derisively as I pulled on my tux pants.

“No way.”

So why were you
thinking about her when you were making out with Joanna? And why do you lose
track of your thoughts whenever you look into her eyes?

Her unbelievably gorgeous
eyes.

Before I could come up
with a suitable reply to those uncomfortable questions (great, now I was
holding a conversation with a voice in my head) there was a knock at the door.

Thankful for the
interruption, I yelled, “Yeah?” as I put on my new, crisply starched white
shirt.

Faith opened the door and
bounded in as I was buttoning up the shirt.

“Hurry up,” she demanded,
a smug look on her impish face. “I’m already dressed.”

She did a little twirl,
holding out the skirt of her pink dress.

“So am I,” I replied,
sticking my tongue out at her playfully as I attacked my messy hair with a
rarely used comb. I hated combing my hair. Chase Crawford I was not.

Leaning against the now
closed door, Faith looked at me solemnly, her thumb stuck in her mouth. “You
look strange.”

That didn’t help my mood
much.

I stopped in mid-brush,
looking at Faith’s face in the mirror. “Strange? How?” I asked curiously. It
was the pants and shirt, had to be. The last time I wore something this formal
had been at Shane’s funeral; usually, I lived in band t-shirts and jeans.
‘You
look strange’
was probably Faith’s polite way of saying I looked like an
idiot. And if she thought that, what would CiCi think? Hang on, why was I
making such a big deal out of it? And why did I care about what CiCi would
think?