Page 14 of You Started It

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I come down the stairs to find Amo Eli waiting. “Wow,” he says, fanning himself. “You look stunning! Those legs! Are you sure we share the same gene pool?” he asks, looking down at his own with a frown.

“Would you like me to explain genetics?” I ask, in earnest. It would mean I could kill some time before driving myself to Axel’s cousin’s wedding. I’ve been filled with dread all day, mostly regretting my decision to be Axel’s date. My fight with Ben hasn’t helped put me at ease either.

I spent the hour-long walk home from the mall last night re-examining my goal to win Ben back, and I came to the conclusion that I’m not so sure I want to get back together with him anymore. Why would I want to be with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be with me? The majority of our interactions since breaking up have been unpleasant, and that’s putting it mildly. Most of all, even if we did get back together, I don’t think I’d be able to trust him. Then again, the thought of him being completely out of my life forever makes me sad. I just don’t see a clear path for us anymore. So where do I go from here?

“I didn’t study biology in high school for a reason,” Amo Eli says. “But maybe I should have. The teacher was hot! He looked like a young Tom Selleck.”

“Who?” I ask, scrunching up my face.

“He played Monica’s boyfriend, Richard, on Friends ,” Mom says as she walks into the foyer carrying a pie to bring to the Camerons. “You look gorgeous. And who did your hair? It’s fantastic.” She winks and grins, clearly proud of herself.

I check myself out in the hallway mirror. I do look hot. “My hairstylist talks a lot but she’s pretty talented.”

“Watch it,” she warns, admiring her handiwork. “This crown braid makes you look ethereal.”

“And that hemline makes you look dangerous,” Eli says. “Have you practiced sitting in that thing?”

“It’s not that short!”

“It’s not that short, she says, like I can’t see the tiny birthmark on her tushy,” he teases.

“Stop,” I say, instinctively pulling down the dress. “And I don’t have a birthmark on my tushy!”

“Take it from someone who changed hundreds of your diapers. You have a birthmark, right here,” he says, gesturing to the side of his own butt.

“Oh my god, I’m leaving.”

“When will you be back?” Mom asks while Eli giggles to himself.

“I don’t know,” I say, nervously fiddling with sleeves. “Midnight?”

“Midnight?” Amo Eli folds his arms over his chest. “You’ll miss the seafood buffet.”

“What do you know about any seafood buffet?” I ask.

“Um, hello. I work with your lover. He tells me everything! I wish I could be there to see his face when you enter the hall. You are going to give him a heart attack. That boy has it bad, Jam-e.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s going to be too busy socializing to notice me. I’ll just sit at the table and read on my phone. I don’t even know why he wants me there.”

“Don’t be so obtuse,” Eli says, before sizing me up again. “And don’t forget your purse.”

“Why?” I ask, picking it up from the console table. “You want me to fill it up with shrimp?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.” Mom chuckles. “Let Jamie go. Be careful, and call if you need anything.”

I nod and turn to open the door. Behind me, Eli shouts, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Just kidding, do it all!”

“Bye!” I say in an annoyed yet kind of playful tone before heading out.

On my drive to Fantasy Farm, the venue where the reception is being held, I can’t stop myself from going over the complexities of my relationship with Axel. It would be easier if I knew where Axel and I stood, both business-wise and…not business-wise.

The lines between fiction and reality are getting blurrier the closer Axel and I become. Even though Ben irritated me at the mall last night, I haven’t been able to get his words about Axel out of my head. Is Axel just a distraction, and are these feelings swirling around inside me just based on a (mutual?) attraction?

Perhaps I’m falling victim to what so many other teens before me have. Choosing a partner based on physical attraction. But the thing is, if Axel had been in a lineup with eight other guys, I don’t think I would have gone for him. His looks didn’t jump out at me at first—at least in a good way. The attraction grew over time and continues the more we get to know one another. And is he really a big distraction? Since being with Axel I’ve checked two big items off my bucket list: Wonderland and a concert at Budweiser Stage. And both those nights have been the most fun I’ve ever had.

Fun.

That’s what Axel is.

It’s also what Ben isn’t.

And something I didn’t think I was.

I don’t understand why things are so confusing. The plan I concocted seemed simple, but nothing is working out the way I expected it to.

When I arrive at the reception hall, I park my car and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. Am I sending mixed signals to Axel by coming here? By wearing this dress? By continuing to play the role of adoring half-Arab girlfriend? Not half Arab. Just half girlfriend.

I step out of my car and take in the sights before me. This place is giving magical, fairy garden vibes. It’s the kind of wedding venue where the girliest of girls get married so they can live out their dream of playing princess for a day. But there is something romantic about it. It’s like being in the middle of a forest. Tall trees line the path, covered in the bright reds and oranges of autumn leaves. You’d never know this wedding hall was nestled in the city, right off one of the busiest highways.

I walk up some steps and follow the signs leading me to the Dahini wedding. Axel’s last name. A pang shoots through me at the thought of Axel marrying another girl one day. I wonder if he’s ever dated an Arab girl before. But like, for-real dated. I bet he has and I bet she was a lot more beautiful than I am and probably fit in really well with his family.

He probably only dates girls who love to dance as much as he does. Girls who don’t give him mixed messages. Girls who march right up to him and let their intentions be known. Axel already has his choice of almost any girl, but whenever we’re together, his attention is always one hundred percent on me. We’re not always together, though. And I’ve seen what can happen when people spend time apart.

I walk into the hall and, to my surprise, it’s mostly empty. This is not the loud, Arab reception I was expecting.

Elaborate floral centerpieces in red, orange, and yellow adorn every table, bringing the atmospheric fall-foliage vibes inside. The rust-colored tablecloths match the seat covers. The head table is flanked by gigantic floral displays and large candelabras, set against floor-to-ceiling windows. I stand in the doorway, unsure of what to do or where to go. I’m one of the first to arrive. It’s just the DJ playing around in his booth and waitstaff placing bottles of water and wine on the tables. But the invite Axel gave me said to be here for five thirty, and it’s quarter to six.

“James,” Axel calls from behind me. “You’re here.”

I turn to find Axel in a three-piece suit and black tie. It’s the most clothes I’ve ever seen him wear. His hair is gelled, which seems to be taming his curls. He looks good. He looks great. But he doesn’t look like Axel.

“Hey. Am I early?” I ask, glancing around the mostly empty hall.

“No. Arabs run on different time. Come on, let me show you around. We just got back from taking pictures.”

He takes my hand and guides me around the venue.

“Where’s the bride?” I ask.

“Fighting with the groom. They’re holed up in the bridal suite.”

I laugh. “Well that’s a promising start.”

“It’s more like their foreplay. My cousin drank too much in the limo on the way here and couldn’t make a straight face for any of the photos.” He loosens his tie as we arrive at a large window, overlooking the grounds. “I can’t wait to rip this suit off. I’ve been walking around like a penguin all day.”

“You actually look really nice,” I say. “Like an Arab Ken doll or something.”

“I’m a fool.” He steps back to take in the full sight of me. Then takes my hand again and makes me spin for him. “Jamie T-F. You are a fox.”

A blush rises through me but I try to find the simmer button. “It’s just a basic black dress,” I say.

“Maybe on anyone else, but on you, it’s fire.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I look away from Axel, twisting my heel into the shiny tile.

“You’re not so good at accepting compliments, are you?”

“I just prefer the ones that have to do with my brain.” I smile.

“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Your legs look very intelligent in that dress.”

We both laugh and it’s nice. It’s like no one else matters. Just us. I wish it could stay that way. “So, what should I expect tonight?”

“A loud, elaborate entrance by the bride and groom, followed by twenty minutes of nonstop dancing to Arabic music. A lot of the guests join in for that. Then food. Speeches from the wedding party, but most of the Arabs won’t pay attention and will likely talk over them. And then entertainment followed by more dancing.”

“What kind of entertainment?”

Axel shakes his hips. “A belly dancer.”

“Oh. Isn’t that kind of old-fashioned?”

“It’s pretty typical at Arab weddings. It’s not sexist, despite what some people say. Belly dancing is an art. And it’s empowering.”

“I guess I never saw it that way. Probably just some leftover antiquated rhetoric from my mother. She has me believing every aspect of the Arab culture is embedded in misogyny.”

“Well, she’s wrong.” He takes a step closer as more guests arrive and whispers in my ear, “Will you dance with me tonight or is that too antiquated?”

I swallow, his lips inches away from mine. “I did agree to play the role of adoring girlfriend.”

“Or…” He pauses. “You could dance with me because you want to.” His eyes sear into mine and I get lost in their light-brown hue. The little swoop of curls resting on his forehead. Those very pillowy lips. Snap out of it, Jamie.

“Maybe if you sneak some alcohol into my cup,” I joke.

“You don’t need alcohol. You’ve got me.”

You’ve got me .

But do I? I want to ask.

“Axel,” a groomsman calls from behind.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll come find you once my duties are over.” He starts to leave, then comes back and places a kiss on my cheek. “You really do look incredible.”

The warmth of his words spreads through me and I can’t fight the smile that wants to come out. A moment later, my phone buzzes in my hand. I open it to see a notification from Instagram. Axel tagged me in a photo. Dread fills me as I open it. He snuck a picture when I wasn’t looking and captioned it, “My date.”

I wonder if Ben will see this. Just to be sure, I share the photo to my Stories.

Axel wasn’t lying when he said the reception would be elaborate. His mother dragged me from my spot at the table to join everyone else on the dance floor to cheer on the bridal party after their introductions. Once I got over the fear that everyone was watching me (they weren’t), I clapped along and cheered with his family. About ten minutes into dancing, Axel removed his suit jacket, vest, and tie and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He kept stealing glances at me, smiling each time. There was a small part of me that wanted him to pull me into the dancing circle to join him (must have been the adrenaline), but I understand he has his own role to play tonight.

Over dinner, Axel and I text back and forth, me at the table with his family and him at the head table with the bridal party. At one point his mother walked right up to him and made him put his tie back on. I took a picture of the interaction and sent it to him. In return, he sent another candid photo of me, this time chatting with his sisters.

The food is never-ending, and I get up halfway through the (second?) main course to use the restroom. Axel’s in the foyer with his cousin and his new wife, their heads close together. The bride looks upset. When I come out of the restroom, I find Axel in the foyer alone.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He runs a hand through his now loosened curls.

“The entertainment canceled and the bride is freaking out.”

“What? You can’t just cancel last minute, especially at a wedding. Your cousin should sue!”

“The belly dancer went into labor.” Axel holds back a laugh.

“They hired a pregnant belly dancer?” I ask, feeling my eyes grow.

“Well, they obviously didn’t know. Belly dancers are supposed to carry around extra weight in their mid-section. Just not typically an entire human being.”

“Okay. Fine. No entertainment. Is it a big deal?” I shrug. “They can just move right to the dancing portion.”

“The belly dancer kicks off the party. Engages the guests. It’s supposed to be this whole big thing, and Arabs talk. They’ll complain my cousin had a boring wedding if there’s no performance. Half of them are probably already talking about the fact that my cousin hired a DJ and not an Arab band.”

“This has not been a boring wedding,” I say. Axel sighs while pacing back and forth. “Why are you letting this bother you so much? It’s not your wedding.”

“They want me to do something,” he says, stalling in front of me. “They want me to put together some sort of performance.”

“That’s great,” I say, nodding enthusiastically. “I can film it. We can add it to your account.”

“No, Jamie.” His eyebrows furrow. “I’ve never danced in front of my parents before. Much less in front of three hundred Arabs.”

“You danced in front of everyone at Wonderland. You have TikToks with over a million views!” I remind him. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is Arabs. And my father. Aren’t you listening? What if I embarrass him?”

“The guests will love it. And so will your father.”

Axel’s arms are crossed over his chest. I place my hands on them and loosen his arms, holding his hands in mine. “Come on. I can help you figure something out. It’ll be a bop.”

He laughs. “You’re such a dork.”

I boop his nose with my finger. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Axel and I retreat to a quiet corner in the foyer and go over potential ideas and numbers. We debate a long time over the right song and, shock of all shockers, he agrees to go with my choice. I find myself having to play the role of reassurer, reminding him he’s got this and will blow everyone away. It’s an odd shift in our dynamic. It’s always felt like I’ve needed him more than he needed me, and, in a strange twist of events, I kind of like having him depend on me.

After he does a quick run-through in front of me while I play the song on my phone, Axel’s confidence grows. He smiles wider. His shoulders stop slumping. His cocky demeanor has returned.

“Thanks, Jamie,” he says, while removing his tie again and rolling up his sleeves.

“No need to thank me, yet, anyway.” I grin while helping him unbutton a few snaps of his dress shirt. I run a finger from his neck to the start of his chest. “Give the ladies, and some of the gents, what they want. You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he says, looking down at my lingering finger. I remove it from his chest, sucking in my lips.

We walk back into the hall together. I speak to the DJ and tell him what song to play once Axel begins. Axel wanted to go with an Arabic song at first, but I thought it would be more surprising to go a different way.

I stand at the end of the dance floor with my phone, ready to film. Axel picks up the mic and takes a deep breath. “Ahlan, everyone.” He waits a few minutes for the guests to stop talking. He whistles with his fingers into the mic when that doesn’t work. “Thank you all for attending Samir and Reema’s wedding. For those who don’t know me, I’m Alexander Dahini, the groom’s favorite cousin. Unfortunately, I come bearing bad news,” he says, nervously raking his fingers through his hair. “The belly dancer they hired can’t attend tonight because, well, she’s currently giving birth to a little belly dancer.”

Silence envelopes the room before a sea of laughter erupts. Axel shoots me a tentative glance, but I know he’s going to nail this.

“So instead, you get me,” he continues. “Some of you may know dancing is a passion of mine, and I’m not afraid to admit that.” His shaky laugh following that statement tells another story. “I hope you’re able to enjoy this performance and embrace that people of all genders and ages can and should dance. Regardless of ability.” He winks at me, his confidence clearly having returned, before taking a deep breath.

The lights dim and colorful spotlights shine on the parquet dance floor. Axel places the mic on the head table and returns to the center of the room. He runs his hands through his hair again and down his body. A few murmurs and some throat clearing echoes throughout the hall before “Adventure of a Lifetime,” by Coldplay begins.

Immediately, Axel moves with the upbeat strings of the intro. His feet pound the dance floor before he bounces on his tiptoes, twisting and sliding all around. His hips move in sync with his feet and it is obvious to everyone that Axel is one hundred percent in his element. People rise from their seats, clapping along and cheering him on, standing in front of me and blocking my view. I give up filming and put my phone down on the table.

Axel’s father is the only person still seated. I walk over to him and extend my hand. He starts to shake his head. “It would be rude to say no to your son’s girlfriend.”

Mr. Dahini sighs before rising, albeit grudgingly. I lead him to the dance floor where Axel is still wowing the crowd. We stand with Axel’s mother and sisters, who all have proud smiles plastered on their faces.

“He’s good, right?” I say to his father.

He doesn’t respond at first, only observes Axel dancing and how much joy it seems to be bringing the whole wedding. The bride and groom are clapping enthusiastically from their perch at the head table.

“He is good,” his father finally acknowledges. “Hey,” he calls out to the man in front of him. “That’s my son.”

The man gives him a thumbs-up. His father picks up his phone and snaps a bunch of photos, transforming before my eyes into a stage dad. Another drama averted.

Axel approaches us and, for a second, I think he’s going to pull one of his family members onto the dance floor, but instead he reaches his arm out to me. Surprising myself, I place my hand in his without hesitation.

He whispers. “You and me are going to start a dabke line. Ever been in one?”

“Um, no,” I say.

“Then I’ll go easy on you. Just follow the best you can. I’ve been doing it since I was five. I led a dabke for the first time when I was seven.”

“Seven?” I squeeze Axel’s hand tight. “We’re not all naturals. I don’t know how to dance,” I remind him.

“Everyone messes up. That’s how you learn. Just try to sync the beat of the music in your head and go with that.”

A part of me debates ripping my hand away from Axel’s, but all eyes are on us. He adjusts his grip, holding my hand, and says, “Always start with the left foot. Watch me: left, left, back, forward.”

I study his feet and follow, trying to ignore that the song is now on its second run and that there are hundreds of people observing this very public dance lesson.

“Okay, once you’ve got that down, pause, and move to the next level of dabke: forward, back, forward, back, tap, tap.”

“Wait, why am I pausing?”

“So the rest of the central train can catch on. Think of all of us as one big train. If one cart goes too fast, we crash.”

“Who’s all of us?” I watch as others begin walking toward Axel and me. An older man holds my right hand, and then Axel’s sisters join the line, along with their husbands and the bridal party. The train is literally going off the track and I’m second-in-command.

“Follow me,” he says, stroking my hand with his thumb before planting a kiss on my cheek.

I swallow and nod. Everyone makes mistakes. I guess I didn’t realize up until now that mistakes aren’t the end of the world. I tend to hold back on new experiences, afraid I’ll crash and burn, so what’s the point? But all that leads to is me missing out on fun things. Exciting things. Embarrassing things. Maybe there’s beauty in the process, in the mess.

The dabke line grows longer, and it starts off simple enough: left, left, back, forward. We do that for a while, until an older gentleman challenges Axel to do more complicated moves as the leader and passes him a napkin to twirl around. “Don’t let go,” he says to me as he starts to stomp and kick with more velocity than he had before, waving the napkin in the air with his free hand. Now he’s on the ground, one leg out, bouncing on the other, and everyone watches in awe. He rises, facing me now, and grins so wide, it melts me.

Axel passes the napkin, like a torch, to the man next to me and pulls me into the circle. “What do we do now?” I ask, almost breathless.

“Dance like no one’s watching.”

I nod and just let my body do whatever it wants. Axel laughs and mimics my moves. Soon we’re woo-hoo-ing along with the lyrics, moving closer and closer until we’re nose to nose, hand in hand. I could kiss him. Right here. I want to kiss him. He wants to kiss me too. I can see it in his eyes. Feel it in how he touches me.

The song comes to an end and we remain standing in the middle of the dance floor, still. The DJ plays an Arabic song that must be popular because everyone cheers. The dabke line continues to grow and encircle us.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks.

“Can you?”

“My job here is done. The dancing will go all night and I’d rather hang with you.”

“Really? Don’t you want to continue to be the star of the show?” I tease.

“I’ve made my point. They all know I’m amazing.” He smirks like it’s a joke, but it’s not. He is amazing.

“Grab your things, I’ll grab mine and meet you in the foyer,” he says.

Thankfully, when I return to my table all of Axel’s family members are nowhere to be found. Probably lost in the horde of other dancers enjoying the party. I collect my belongings and race to meet Axel. I’m still on a high from that moment, dancing with him, in front of everyone, his family included. Lit from within, I decide that tonight there will be no more rules. No more thoughts of Ben Cameron. Whatever happens, happens . At least for one night.

Axel comes out of the hall. He cocks his head to the main door. We head toward it together.

“You drove, right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Wait, are we sneaking out?”

He raises a shoulder innocently. “Kind of. Where’s your car?”

“Follow me,” I say, heading down the front steps. It’s pitch-black out but there are a few light posts dotting the path, circles of light shimmering on the ground. We reach the parking lot and I unlock my car. Axel tosses his suit jacket, vest, and tie into the backseat before taking his seat up front.

“When are you going to get your license?” I ask as I take my spot in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t need it. I prefer riding my bike.”

“And apparently being my passenger prince.”

“Yeah, that too.” He grins.

I turn the engine, pulling my dress down a bit.

Axel reaches into the backseat and grabs his suit jacket, draping it over my thighs.

I smile. “Thank you.” I start to drive, not sure where we’re going. “Any place you want to go in particular?”

“Yes.” He opens his map app and types in an address but won’t let me see. “Just follow Siri’s instructions. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“No problem,” I say, following the first directions and turning left out of the venue.

“No problem?” he asks. “No offense, but are you okay?”

“No offense taken. I’ve decided for tonight, one night only, whatever happens, happens.”

And may the consequences of those actions not send me into a spiral I can’t get myself out of.

“I like it. Sounds like my daily mantra.”

“Perhaps I’m learning something from you after all,” I say as I take another left turn.

We drive north on the highway for just over ten minutes before Siri tells me to take the exit at Lawrence Avenue East. After a couple more right turns, Axel tells me to park. He hops out of the car first and comes around to open my door. He helps me out and places his jacket on me before taking my hand.

We walk on a trail for a few minutes and I’m still unsure of where he’s taking me. While I hear cars, I don’t see them. I know I said whatever happens, happens, but taking a stroll in the middle of nowhere at night wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Soon we’re walking through a tunnel with painted murals. Once we come out the other side, Axel tells me to turn around. Despite the darkness of the night, an arc of colors appears. He brought me to the Rainbow Tunnel.

“I believe this was another item on our bucket list.”

My stomach sinks. It is on the bucket list, but it was supposed to be “kiss Ben under the Rainbow Tunnel.” What could…wait. Is this…? Does Axel want to…? Breathe, Jamie.

He holds my hand and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I know the name next to this goal wasn’t Axel.” He bites on his lower lip, then pauses. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or suggest you do something you don’t want to, so if this is a green apple moment, just say so. But I really like you. And I’ve been fighting the urge to kiss you for a long time now.”

I swallow and nod, taking in his words. “I…I won’t be needing to use the green apple at this time.”

He looks down and smiles. “I think there’s something special between us,” he goes on. “Sure, we came together in an unorthodox way. I mean, who knew I’d fall for the girl who destroyed Betty White.”

“You’ve fallen for me?” I ask, my heart racing a million miles a minute.

“You know what I like most about you?” he asks as his eyes sparkle. “How adorably clueless you can be despite being the smartest person I know.” He takes a step closer and stares so deeply into my eyes it’s like he’s seeing into my soul. “Yes, Jamie. I have fallen for you. Hard. I think about you all the time. I can’t wait to go on new adventures together. The reason I’ve refused to sign the contract is because I don’t want to admit to myself or you that any of this is fake. Because it’s not. To me.”

“It’s not to me either. Anymore.”

He leans in, then pulls back ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“If we do this, if we kiss, that means the contract is null. It means Ben is null. And it means…” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait.” He steps up to me so his eyes are level with mine. “I don’t want to start something we can’t finish, because the truth is”—he looks down for a moment before his eyes meet mine again—“I don’t know if I could handle losing you.”

My body feels as if it’s been hit with an electrical charge so strong I could probably power an entire city. “Hey, Axel,” I say, deadpan. “Will you help me check another item off the bucket list, and kiss me under the Rainbow Tunnel?”

The corners of his mouth curl, but they stop before forming a full-blown smile. “What about the original plan?”

I lift my shoulders slightly, cheeks burning. “Plans change.”

He releases my hand and snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Our foreheads bump and we laugh. Our eyes meet again and we stare at one another, long past what is comfortable for most people, but with him, it’s my safe space. Axel is nothing like I expected. He’s brilliant. Funny. Sweet. Confident. And he likes me. The real me.

Our lips inch closer and, just like that, we’re kissing. It starts off slow, like we’re feeling each other out, which, to be honest, I am. I’ve never kissed anyone besides Ben, and this kiss is different from all my kisses with Ben. For one, my entire body feels it. I want to kiss him harder, faster. I basically want to absorb him within me. My hands move around his back, bringing him closer. He smells so good. His lips are so soft. This is complete sensory overload, in the best way possible. Under the moonlight with a cool autumn breeze. His warm body against mine. I never want this feeling to end. This is greater than the adrenaline of the roller coaster. More intense than dancing in the rain at the Blue Rodeo concert. More liberating than doing the dabke together at his cousin’s wedding. This isn’t for show. This is for us.

Axel pulls away slightly, and there’s a twinkle in his eye.

“Hey, Jamie?” he asks.

“Yeah?” I answer, studying his lips, wanting to kiss them again.

“I think we should burn that contract.”

“I think we should go back to my car and kiss some more,” I say.

“That too.” He leads me through the path back to my car, where we kiss in the backseat for a really long time.

And there’s nothing fake about the way Axel makes me feel.