“How did it go last night?” Alim asked me. We were perched at a cafe, our cappuccinos cooling off in front of us. The foam had strung along Alim’s mustache, making him look like a teenager sipping coffee for the first time.

“She’s a guarded one, that American,” I said, considering the woman I’d met at the entrance of the school. She’d followed me out onto the sidewalk, interested, yet filled with secrets. “I think I would have gotten somewhere with her if she hadn’t been called back into the school.”

“Ah, that’s a tragedy,” Alim said, snickering slightly.

“Don’t think I’m going to give up on her,” I told him. “Seriously. I think I’ve got her on a line. It’s just going to be a slow fishing expedition.”

“Not exactly hanging on your every word, like most women in Al-Jarra? That’s shocking,” Alim said, his eyes glittering. “It’s almost as if my theory is already proving itself.”

“I don’t think this woman would have followed me even if I’d been Prince Charming himself. Like I said, she wasn’t having any of my nonsense.”

“I told you. American women can smell it from three miles away. They proved it on one of those nature channels.”

“I forgot you got really into those nature channels that year you didn’t get any dates,” I told him, snickering.

“Ha-ha,” he pretended to laugh.

“It’s true. But all women can smell it from at least two miles away.” The barista danced forward with her own opinion, her eyes sparkling. “Including women in Al-Jarra. They just might be a little enticed by all that money flowing from your robes.”

“Finally, someone on my side!” Alim said, smacking his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“It isn’t just my charm, then?” I asked, flashing a perfect, cocky smile. I winked at the barista, grinning as she blushed. “Ah. That’s what I thought.”

“You’re going to need more than that,” the barista said, twirling back. “A few more tricks up your sleeve, as the Americans say.”

After finishing our coffee, Alim and I wandered down the road, killing time after lunch. Alim told me about the screenplay he was writing—an action flick that would almost certainly never be picked up. He considered himself the “artistic” one of our friendship, and forever tried to persuade me that that was indeed the case. How hard he worked. The colorful language he could use, when he tried.

“I think you couldn’t pay someone enough to make such a stupid movie,” I’d told him, watching as the red sprung up on his cheeks.

“You’re going to be proven wrong in the best way,” he’d replied, waggling his finger. “Just wait.”

Alim and I parted ways a little after 4. Heading to my car, I drew out a pair of jeans, a nice button-up, and changed into them in a nearby bar. Before darting away, I took a shot of tequila, enjoying the wave of confidence that rushed through me. After giving the bartender a ten-dollar tip, I walked down the street with swagger, knocking my shoulders back before arriving once more at the entrance of the elementary school.

Sure enough, the raven-haired woman waited at the front gate, helping the kids as they got ready to leave. I watched her crouch down, buttoning up a girl’s jacket. She winked at another, squeezing his nose. There was a warmth to each of her gestures that verged on maternal.

I hung back for a while, peering at my phone and peeking up from time to time. Just after the last student scrambled into the back of his parents’ jeep, I moved up the sidewalk. With a lurch, I watched her eyes find me and then fall away from me. She recognized me, but she wasn’t terribly pleased about it.

“Hi!” I said to her, my voice deep and warm. “I wondered if you’d be out here again today.”

She looked at me incredulously. “I work here, don’t I?” she asked, sounding almost sassy. There was a wall between us. One I’d have to break down.

“I guess that’s right, although I don’t know much more,” I said, trying to butter her up. “You’re a secretive one, it seems.”

“I don’t know what else you’d want me to share with you,” she said, her nostrils flared. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll be—”

“Going out with me? No, no,” I said, waving my hand side to side. “Of course not. I just have this curious mind. I know there’s something to you, something different than most of the women around here. And I just—”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, isn’t it?” the woman said, giving me a wry smile. “Telling me I’m different. That I mean more to you than others, because there’s just another layer to me. Another dimension.” Her eyes gleamed, showing her intellect.

Not for the first time, I felt a genuine wave of curiosity for her. But I couldn’t give into it, knowing that the minute I started feeling “into” her, I’d lose the game. It was now a game between me and her, and between me and Alim. I had to juggle both.

“Come on, now. Just tell me what your name is,” I said, my voice earnest. I wanted to make her think I was losing my mind. I wanted to give her the idea of more power, without actually relinquishing it.

She moved toward me, ever so slightly. Behind her, I could see an older woman watching us, only half-concealed by the door.

“My name’s Angie,” she finally told me, sounding begrudging.

“Angie.” I nodded, giving her a soft smile. “That’s a pretty name.”

“You’d have said that no matter what I told you,” she returned, giving me a bemused look. “So, I’ve done it. I’ve given you my name. Now, it’s your turn.”

“I’m Rami,” I said, reaching for her hand and shaking it. “It’s nice to meet someone from abroad. And especially nice to welcome you to the area, since you said you’re new here.”

“Sure. Yes.” She drew her hand back, swiping it through her dark hair. For a moment, her smile sparkled, before she forced it away. “I’d better be getting back inside.”

“Why don’t you let me show you around sometime?” I heard myself ask her, leaning closer. “When prying eyes aren’t watching us so closely?”

“Show me around where?” she asked me.

“Around my city. I’ve lived here all my life,” I told her. “And if you’re new, then there’s nobody better to show you…”

“I’m not so sure,” she said, waving her hand. “Although, I mean, thank you for the offer. It’s obviously very kind of you, thinking of it. No matter your real reason.”

Suddenly, she swung back toward the school ground and swiftly walked away. I felt smacked across the face, failing yet again at a thing I’d felt was my specialty: flirting.

Somewhere behind me, I heard a bright, familiar laugh. Rushing around, I watched as Alim pulled up in his car, his eyes burning with glee.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, my face growing sour.

“Just watching you fail, time after time,” he said, tossing his head back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so pronounced before; she’ll hardly look at you.”

“That’s not true,” I told him. “She gave me her name.”

“Oh? That’s step one.” Alim patted the seat beside him in the car. “Come on, buddy. We can’t all get lucky today.”

But I wouldn’t give up. Over the next few days, I found myself drawn to the school—no longer even doing it for the bet, but just for my own, personal drive to succeed. I tried everything. I brought Angie flowers, and wrote her cute little cards. One afternoon, I borrowed Alim’s adorable golden retriever puppy and walked him to the entrance. I watched as Angie crouched down, gave the puppy a kiss. But still she refused a dinner date with me, telling me she had to make a phone call with her parents.

Each day, Alim was in the background laughing at me. “Not today, my friend,” became his catchphrase, as I sank into the front seat of his car and hung my head with anger. I knew my tactics needed to change, but I’d never had to try so hard before.

“I told you. They’re too headstrong,” Alim said, darting the car toward my penthouse apartment and parking in the garage below. “They know what they want, and they certainly know what they don’t want. It kind of sounds like you’re edging on the ‘don’t want’ list. Doesn’t it?”

On the following Monday, I made up my mind to stop screwing around. Donning a black button-up and a pair of jeans, I set my sights on Angie at the end of the school day, marched up to her, and said in a firm-yet-kind voice, “Listen. I’m sorry I’ve been so abrasive this past week.”

Angie’s smile faltered. She looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in several days. Her pink lips parted, hunting for something to say, but I continued before she could.

“I like you. I think we would have things to talk about, if you wanted to give it a chance.”

“It?” she asked, her eyebrows coming together in the center. “What do you mean, it?”

“I just mean…walking down to the market and letting me buy you something from your favorite street vendor. Surely you like to eat. And if you don’t like anything there, then you just haven’t had the right thing yet. I can show you,” I told her. From where I stood, the air hung heavy with the smells and spices from the market. I knew they filled her nose, too.

After stuttering for a moment, Angie glanced toward the door. For the first time all week, the other woman wasn’t poised there, watching us. After a long, anxious pause, she finally answered.

“I’m kind of hungry, sure,” she sighed. Her smile fluttered, then fell. “I can meet you out here in ten minutes. If you can wait?”

God, could I wait. I felt over the moon.

I tried to play it cool, nodding slowly. But I sensed, as she darted back inside the school, that this was my way in. The beginning of me finding a way to make her fall in love with me. I spun on my heels to find Alim in his car. I gave him the first thumbs up of the week and he drove away, tossing his head back with laughter.

He still thought he was winning. But I felt determination stirring in my stomach. I wouldn’t let myself lose.

Some twenty minutes later, Angie appeared back in the doorway. She was dressed differently, having donned a bright yellow dress and a pair of sandals. She swept delicate fingers through her black hair, then joined me, giving a small nod.

“Sorry. That took a bit longer than I expected,” she said, her eyes shimmering. She was inspecting every inch of me. And I let her, taking a step back. It felt, suddenly, that something big was about to happen. But I allowed the feeling to pass.

As we began our stroll toward the market, I considered all the things I could buy for her. All the things that would show her that falling in love with me could have lucrative benefits. But as we stuttered into the beginning of our conversation, I reminded myself that I wasn’t Rami, the Sheikh. Not right now.

Rather, I was a normal guy, who was smitten with a normal girl. I had to keep my wallet to myself.