I look at my cousin. His eyes light up, but then he replies like a decent Muslim.
“Orange juice.”
“Please,” I add, because I am fed up with Amir’s cocky attitude.
I like respect and I like being served, but I don’t appreciate cockiness. Plus I owed him one anyway.
She sharply turns and walks away.
Amir lazily inspects her retreating figure and stands up.
“Just a second.”
“Amir!” I shout but he is gone.
I can’t believe this! What does he want?
I can’t begin to imagine the situation. He can be very direct in certain matters; then again, so can I. Five minutes later he is making his way back down the aisle. I glance at his clothing but there’s no sign of disarray.
He plops down next to me grinning.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing,” he says but I can see that he nearly pisses himse
