Dawud.

Chapter 2: The First Encounter

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

***

'Hey! It's fine, we were just leaving.'

I nodded and stepped aside with my eyes glued to the floor. I watched the line of bulky boots march through the exit. The store was now filled with silence.

'Sorry about that. The book 'The Sealed Nectar' just came in and it's nearly sold out.' An animated voice spoke from the front desk. I glanced upwards, encountering the boy Warsan told me about. I mean, he was your typically handsome twenty-something-year-old. His eyes were a dewy brown. His smile was straight out of a toothpaste commercial. His brown hair was pulled back into a man bun.. and thats where it ends. I didn't find him to be my type, which I found hilarious. I smiled a bit, imagining Warsan and Muna's reaction as I told them that he was alright.

'Could I have a copy?' I asked him. He gestured for me to come forward and I did.

'It's twenty-five dollars, sister.' He told me. 'Hey! Dawud! Toss me a copy of The Sealed Nectar.' The man shouted, squinting his eyes to see past the bookshelves. I paid from my debit card and leaned against the counter, tapping my foot. A few moments later, the silhouette of an employee appeared behind the shelves, pausing slightly to grab the book before walking over. I shifted my eyes slyly to catch cashier's name. I knew the girls would want details after hearing about today. Akhlaaq it read.

'It's the last copy, Akhlaaq.' The employee said, appearing from behind the shelves. I froze, asking myself how a voice could be so enchanting. Not only was it deep, but it was raspy too. My stomach dropped the second we made eye contact. He had long and dark brown hair, which curled under the baseball cap he wore backward. The subtle curve of his nose was covered in light freckles with piercing green eyes and lush eyelashes to match. He was tall and thin, carrying a beauty I couldn't comprehend, even if I tried to. I didn't even let my eyes trail down to what he was wearing. I lowered my gaze immediately, feeling my cheeks grow hot. I watched his feet shift awkwardly in those navy blue Vans. What was wrong with me? This wasn't normal behaviour for someone like me. A second ago, I could write an entire essay on all the reasons I hated men, but now, I wasn't so sure if I possessed that same ability. 'We have a few old books we're giving away for free if you were interested.' He said. I swear I could listen to his voice all day. Dawud. That was his name wasn't it? I loved it. Honestly, it was—Wait. Was he speaking to me?

I looked up, eyes wide with shock. Gulping once, and then another time, I began to chuckle sheepishly. 'I'd love some.' I blurted, a little louder than intended. Akhlaaq shook with laughter, attempting to be discreet by turning away from me. My smile faded. How embarrassing.

'They're just sitting in the back.' Dawud said walking towards the storage room. His words fell from his mouth carefully. It was clear that he was someone who thought before they spoke. I nodded and stayed put next to the counter. He stopped abruptly and turned around with an amused grin plastered on his face. 'You're not coming?'

I began to cough, out of shock I suppose. Whatever the reason, I was too frantic to care. I regained my breath and shrunk into my big winter coat. 'In there?' I asked warily. Akhlaaq looked between the two of us as we exchanged dialogue, as if he was sitting in the front row of a play.

'We have around fifteen people unpacking, lifting and stamping books in there right now.' He said, biting back a smile. 'It's pretty spacious.' He added, attempting to set me at ease.

'Oh.' Was all I could say. After adjusting my winter scarf, I followed closely behind him. The reason that caused my hesitation was that as a Muslim, one should not be alone with a non-mahram (someone you are eligible to marry). It was narrated in Tirmidhi that the Prophet Muhammad (saw) said "No man is alone with a woman but the shaytaan is the third one present." I truly believed this and forced myself to follow it because I fell into the devil's trap once before, when I wasn't a practicing Muslim. I pushed away the memories of my past and skipped forward to match Dawud's pace. 'What kind of books are they?' I asked him after some time. We entered what looked like a factory of some sort. Around us were men and women carrying and dumping boxes. Just a meter away was a torn up box filled with crushed and scratched books.

'They're pretty old books on marriage. Surprisingly enough, I'm the only one who seems to make time to read them.' He told me.

'Really? It's so odd hearing that from a guy!' I blurted without thinking. Instantly, I bit my lip in regret.

Dawud chuckled. 'The knowledge helps when you're looking for a wife.' He said coolly. I felt my heart rate increase exponentially.

I looked down at the box spilling with books of all sizes and lengths. 'I want all of them!' I told him, pressing my hands against my cheeks excitedly. They were damaged goods calling my name. I looked up to see his amused grin again. 'If that's okay...' I shrunk. Maybe I should just duck-tape my mouth.

'Sure. I just need your name and address.' He said timidly. 'They'll probably be at your doorstep on Saturday.'

I nodded and watched him pull a notepad from his pocket. I told him my name but just to be safe, I gave him my father's address. I'd be there for the weekend anyways, so there's no harm in that, right? 'How much do you charge for shipping?' I asked him, rummaging through my wallet.

'Seven dollars, but it'll be free for you.' He said softly, gesturing for me to put my wallet back into my pocket.

'No way. There is no way you're going to give me twelve books for free and-'

'If anything, you're doing us a huge favour. We'll have more space for new books.' He explained and I complied. Apart from his alluring demeanour, he did have a point.

'Okay, thanks. Assalamu'Alaykum, Dawud.' I said shyly, before walking off.

'Wa Alaykum Salam. See you on Saturday, Jannah.' He said quietly. It seemed like he was saying it more to himself than to me.

I made my way back to Akhlaaq at the counter who wore a cheeky grin on his face. 'Got what you wanted?' He asked me. I took my book from his large hands and raised an eyebrow accusingly as I slipped it in my purse. 'Salam.' I said, sure to flatten my voice.

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about Dawud. Everything about him caused my insides to churn. I began to chuckle, slipping under my covers for bed. 'Dawud.' I repeated, for the fifth time that minute. 'Dawud.' I said again, quieter. 'Dawud...' I trailed off, before slipping into slumber.