A/N: My first ever sequel! Dedicated to Vipoul, who gave me this blog’s first ever request. A bit more romantic than the earlier one, but I hope you’ll enjoy it just the same!
Ps. I’m quite aware it’s called Islam and not muslimism, but I figured the speaker wouldn’t. Anyway, Enjoy!
Janne Nielsen had had a crush on Zayan Hakeem for far longer than she cared to admit. It hadn’t taken long for him to catch her attention. Not only was he, at least in Janne’s personal opinion, extremely attractive with deep, dark eyes that always seemed to regard the world with an honest fascination, and thick, black hair that kept falling into those eyes no matter how many times he brushed it away. No, not only was he more attractive than what should really be allowed, but he was also extremely intelligent, though not boastful about it. That had actually been what had made Janne give in. She’d met intelligent men before, but Zayan was the first one who hadn’t seemed to think his intelligence made him better than other people. He was… humble. And sweet. And funny in an understated way. And a million other things, which all served to make Janne’s heart beat just a little bit too fast and the palms of her hand turn just a little bit too sweaty.
Palms that she was currently wiping in her favourite pair of jeans as she was waiting for Zayan to actually show up for their date. He’d offered to pick her up, but she’d declined; saying it would be rather pointless when she lived two blocks away from the theatre. Now she wished she hadn’t. Somehow she had ended up being there twenty minutes too early, and twenty minutes was really much too long a time to be nervous.
“Janne!” a voice called out, and Janne looked up, blushing as she caught sight of Zayan. She’d been besides herself with joy when he’d finally asked her out, and judging from the broad grin on his face, she wasn’t the only one excited about their date. She felt herself grin back in return, almost involuntarily.
She’d been worried that they wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but she found to her relief that her worries had been for naught. Their polite inquiries about school had quickly turned into anecdotes about shared teachers, which had turned into a conversation about hobbies, and when the movie started Janne’s nervousness was almost entirely gone.
The movie was definitely one of the better ones. They were both marvel fans and both had Iron Man as their favourite character.
They’d gotten each their own drink – sprite for him and cola for her – and had shared a ridiculously large popcorn, which may or may not have caused their hands to, entirely coincidental of course, occasionally brush up against each other. When the movie ended Janne felt like she was walking on air, and she grinned broadly up at Zayan as he took her hand in his, blushing ever so slightly as he did so.
Then a voice cut through Janne’s pleasant thoughts.
“Have you seen that couple over there?”
“Shameful. I can’t believe she would date such a guy. To think her parents has allowed it.”
“They probably haven’t. Would you allow your daughter to date someone like him?”
“God, no! Can you imagine?! Bringing him to my house, expecting me to be polite to him as if he belonged at our dinner table!”
Janne glanced over. The speakers were two men, whom she deemed to be in their forties or so. They were looking, or rather scowling, at her and Zayan with obvious displeasure. She glanced up at Zayan, hoping he hadn’t overheard the two men, but judging from his clenched jaw she hadn’t been so lucky.
“I’m honestly shocked he’ll have her,” one of the men continued, either unaware or uncaring that they were overheard. “I thought they expected their women to be covered in those ridiculous costumes of theirs.”
The other man snorted. “Oh, they’re good at playing pretend. You’ll see. After a couple of months he will suddenly ask her to wear skirts instead of pants, and before she realises what is happening she is covered from head to toe and converting to muslimism.”
”I know. You hear about it all the time. It‘s really disgusting. I can’t believe they let those kind of people into our land even though they know that they’re brainwashing our girls.”
“I know. I’ll tell you I’ve made sure my little girl would never go for a man like that. She knows better.”
“Well, you’ll have to be pretty damn dumb to fall for their lies if you ask me. I mean, just look at him! He‘s obviously not a real Dane.”
Janne felt Zayan hand tighten around hers, and she gave him a comforting squeeze back.
“I wish they’d just go back where they came from.”
“Or at least not drag our women down with them. Haven’t they gotten enough of their own?”
Another snort. “They probably want three wives each. Perverts the lot of them.”
“I wonder what the girl over there would say if she knew she’s going to be expected to join a harem.”
“He’ll have her completely brainwashed before he tells her, I’ll promise you that.”
A pause. For a short second Janne thought they were blissfully done.
“It looks ugly doesn’t it? Brown and white together I mean.”
“I know. Brown is never going to be a nice colour, but to ruin that girl’s offspring? Likes should wed likes, that’s what I’ve always said. I certainly couldn’t ever marry a nigger.”
“I know what you mean… though I suppose if she’s pretty enough, I could give her a fuck or two. But I’d cut my own dick of before I let her genes affect my children.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable touching one of them. I can’t believe that girl lets him touch her. Doesn’t she realise there’s plenty of Danish guys out there?”
Janne took a deep breath. Enough was enough. Tugging gently at Zayan’s hand, she met his frustrated eyes with a stubborn look in her own.
“What do you say we show those imbeciles over there exactly how little I’d mind you touching me?”
For a moment Zayan only looked confused. Then understanding dawned on his face, and he grinned down at her.
“With pleasure,” he answered, before he leaned down to kiss her.
The two men’s conversation after that only worsened, but neither Janne of Zayan could find it in themselves to care. For them, if only for a moment, all was right in the world.