The couscoussier burned your palms as you hesitated outside the green door. Your aunt's warning hissed in your mind: "Knock and leave! That El-Amrani boy chews up good girls like gum."

You raised your hand—

The door swung open. Yanis leaned against the frame, shirtless beneath his linen shirt, morning sunlight gilding his stupidly handsome smirk. "Salam, little mouse," he purred.

"Did your aunt send you to save my soul?"

Behind him, last night's whiskey bottles winked beside a well-worn Quran– Contradiction. A woman's perfume lingered in the air, followed by a slutty laugh from the bedroom.

"Just returning this—"

"Stay." He took the pot, fingers brushing yours. "I'll make you mint tea. My mother's recipe. I promise to behave."