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Julia and Omer had virtually nothing in common—except the fact that they both liked science, and both loved having sex with each other.

Julia and Omer had their first introduction during an incredibly boring seminar while working through their degrees in chemical engineering. They hadn’t met each other before, though they had been in the same major at the same university for three years. They were put into a group together at this particular event, and they had an hour to develop a very basic design for an environmentally safe method of…whatever…

They both didn’t even remember the subject matter of this little assignment. They were staring at each other the entire time, while everyone else in their group shit a brick trying to figure it out. They were the assholes trying to initiate awkward conversation with each other over sheets of loose-leaf and chewed-on pencils.

After the seminar, which had lasted for most of the afternoon, Julia waited outside the door for Omer. She pretended that she was texting someone very important when he finally appeared. He stopped for a moment to glance at her. When he saw that she was so preoccupied with her phone, he supposed that she was waiting for someone else…so he went away.

A couple of months went by, and they both sort of forgot each other.

Julia was out at a bar with some of her friends one Saturday night after bombing a few tests. She was doing shots of bourbon, and trying to avoid the advances of some bro-types lurking around the pool tables. She got up, and told everyone she was going outside for some fresh air.

It was warm outside.

She was out on the sidewalk, standing amidst more drunk college students than she could really count. That’s when she turned, and saw Omer sitting on the window ledge of the neighboring building, surrounded by some of his friends. She was a little drunk, and feeling a bit in her element, so she smiled and gave a little wave.

He smiled back.

She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans, and moseyed over to him.

It was probably a mixture of her desire and the alcohol, but he looked fascinatingly good-looking. His hair was a huge helmet of curls around his gold, chiseled face. His eyes were two black marbles peering out at her from narrowed brows. He was wearing a black turtleneck and black pants. He looked like some rich guy who owned a loft and made sculptures of naked women.

She was incredibly aroused.

After brief introductions, his friends took off in favor of leaving the two of them alone together.

Julia stood in front of him, teasing him with her eyes and her smirk. Naturally, he couldn’t help but intensely admire her tight-fitting tank top, her bright hazel eyes, her shoulder-length dark, straight hair, her slimming jeans… He was nervous when she leaned over, hovering her lips over his.

“Your name is Omer, right?” Was her sultry whisper.

“Yes. You’re Julia…”

“That’s right.” She smirked. “I’m Julia.”

“You’re beautiful, Julia.”

“You’re observant, Omer.” She took his hands, and placed them on her hips. “I’m glad we’re acquainted.”

She leaned in and kissed him first. It was a deep, soulful embrace of the mouths. Of course he had kissed women before, but he hadn’t experienced one with the sort of intensity she was offering. It covered him over, and yanked him in. He was instantly intrigued, his innards blazing.

It wasn’t long before they were in the back alley behind the bar. She was perched on a wobbly trashcan, and he was standing up in front of her. Their pants were down around their ankles, and they were clinging to each other, the warmth around them suddenly burning their flesh. It was a wild, feral, full fifteen minutes of freedom.

From the whole thing beginning this way, it seemed it was all an extremely typical situation—but it wasn’t at all.

Julia’s last name was Steiner, and she was from Massachusetts. Her mother was a lapsed Catholic, her father was Jewish—she considered herself more neither than either. She was raised in a large farmhouse on a rocky piece of land in the country, in a somewhat progressive environment, with a lot of outside knowledge available to her at her whim. Her older brother Max was gay, and her parents were entirely cool about it. She was a cat person, and her favorite beer was Amber Bock.

Omer’s last name was Asani, and he was originally from Turkey. His parents were both Muslim, and had moved to the United States when Omer was too young to remember the details. He considered himself a moderate follower of his parent’s faith. He was raised in a household traditional of his culture, with strict routines and little room for negotiation. He had three brothers, and one sister—all older, and all married. He was forbidden to have pets, and forbidden to drink—and therefore had never developed a taste for either.

They knew nothing of each other outside of the physical. 

Julia invited him over to her place the next weekend, after they were done with the intense Monday through Friday routine of tests and assignments. Omer agreed to go. The door to the apartment was closed behind them for barely five seconds, and Julia’s legs were wrapped around him, their mouths tangled together, and he was carrying her to the couch.

“Do you—ah—do you have roommates?”

“Yeah—mmm—why?”

“Are any of them here?!”

“No, of course not.”

At this point, he was under her. They were on the couch, sort of. They had fallen awkwardly in the heat of it. She was on top of him, beginning to open his pants, when she noticed that he had stopped. Julia paused, and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“Omer? You okay?”

“Yeah…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just thought you should know something…before we, you know, keep going.”

“Okay, what’s that?”

“I’m sort of…engaged, kind of.” He muttered, looked up into her blank expression. “Before you think what I know you’re thinking, hear me out. It’s a culture thing. My parents arranged it with her parents. It’s going to happen after we graduate. I don’t really know her—”

“You don’t really know me, either.” She replied. The corner of her mouth twitched. “I have a boyfriend too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She slid off of him, and they sat next to each other on the couch. There was a moment of silence. They didn’t look at each other. Julia’s hair was sticking up in odd shapes. Omer’s shirt was halfway up his torso. They sat there, staring at the wall ahead.

“I’m Jewish, mostly.” Julia spoke, after a thought.

“You know what I am.” Omer replied, with a slight chuckle.

“Not all Middle Eastern people are Muslims, Omer.” She responded, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I am…of course…” Omer smirked. “I would have to be that guy.”

She shoved him playfully with her hand, and a swatting war commenced. When she raised her hand to take another slap, she noticed something on his torso, and moved his arms out of the way. It was a tattoo of a phoenix. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes lowered and mysterious.

“You didn’t say you have a tattoo…”

“There’s a lot I haven’t said yet.” He told her with a soft smile, tilting his head a little. “Like, how I want to go somewhere with you.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know, but I want to take you somewhere. Let’s go to a movie. Let’s be friends.”

Julia smirked, and held out her hand.

“Okay, friend.”

*          *          *

            Omer and Julia went to the movies once every couple of weeks. They had lunch together at least once a week. They called and texted daily, and the conversations were always either very sexual or very humorous—or a weird combination of both. He once text her telling her she was giving him a hard-on in his most difficult class, and of course she had to reply with a picture of a chemical model shaped like a penis.

            They were having sex every other day, at the very least. Most of the time it was in random places. They would meet up in the evening, and walk around campus or the park until it was dark outside. One night, they found themselves on top of a parking garage—and the sound of their lovemaking prompted a homeless man to yell out,

‘What the hell is going on up there?!’

            Julia’s on and off boyfriend, Grayson, was nothing like Omer. He was a solid W.A.S.P—blonde hair, blue eyes, Protestant, from Michigan. He was a mathematics major, and pretty stoic apart from a weird pension for internet humor. Grayson started noticing Julia’s waning affections right away. When he confronted her, she didn’t tell him everything—in fact, she told him nothing. She just broke it off for reasons she had been collecting for months.

            Neither of them, to be entirely frank, was upset about the split. 

            Julia’s attention was on Omer, and Grayson’s attention was on bitcoins.

*          *          *

Julia didn’t think much about it when one day Omer didn’t text at the usual time she had become accustomed to. She did start thinking more about it when another day went by, and then another, and another. Finally, a week had turned around and she hadn’t had a single call or text. She didn’t try to contact him, out of fear of seeming desperate…but she was a little miffed.

            Then, finally, on the ninth day of having no contact at all, Julia finally happened to run into Omer completely by random. She was at the mall with some of her friends, and she happened to spot him in the food court. Despite having snuck around for the better half of three months, her friends didn’t know a thing about who this guy was or what was going on—the only slight indication of his existence came from the sound of the headboard in her bedroom banging against the wall.

Omer didn’t notice her, but Julia could see he was accompanied by who appeared to be members of his family. They were eating pizzas together, and enjoying one another’s company. He was also with a girl. She was very pretty—olive complexion, dark eyes, and a turquois hijab to match the blue accents in her blouse and pants.

            Julia put two and two together, and figured that the pretty girl was Omer’s…whatever she was.

            After seeing that, Julia was prepared to give him up. After all, he had stopped contacting her. They had laid down the situation to one another very early on in their tryst. They knew it was going to happen eventually, she just hadn’t supposed that he would be the first to break free. She hadn’t supposed that she would be so bothered by it, either. She was actually truly upset, but determined not to show it.

            She was really surprised when one night, about two weeks after she had last heard from him, Omer popped up at her apartment right before she went to bed. He looked slightly distressed, and Julia was pretty surprised to see him. She had just showered and didn’t have a bra or makeup on—though she didn’t know why she cared so much, he’d seen her in less.

            “Sorry it’s kind of late, I’m kind of freaking out a bit, I just—”

            Julia stood there, her arms cross over her chest. Her hair was up in a towel. Her face was so clean from the rigid exfoliation that it shined. She wore an oversized grey shirt, and men’s boxer shorts. Omer’s jaw tightened up, and he couldn’t finish his sentence.

            “Come on, sit down.” She insisted, pulling him over to the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

            They sat down.

            “No, I’m okay. Well, I’m not okay.”

            “I know.”

            “I missed you.”

            “I know.”

            “You missed me.”

            “Yeah, I did.”

            He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair with anxiety.

            “I want you more than I need you…and, I need you pretty bad.” He spoke, his hands sliding down to cover his face. “I felt like a dick for not calling, I am a dick for not calling…”

            “Omer, stop. Come on.”

            She reached over, and took his hand. She held it in hers. She did it because she knew this was it—this was the doozy. This was the defining point in their very small, very strange relationship. A relationship between two people who were the stragglers in each other’s lives—the ones in the middle, the ones who were on the outside looking in.

            “I want you to know that I have feelings for you. I have a lot of them, and they’re extremely complicated. It feels like love, Julia. It hurts like love is supposed to.”

            “Come on, Omer. Come on, don’t say that.” She shook her head, trying to make reason out of it. “I know it’s my fault. I made the first move, I know that. It was all me, and I don’t care. I’m glad it happened. But it’s past tense, you’re in the process of moving on—”

            “I’m not. I’m really not.” He insisted, shaking his head. “I know you want me to say that we’re just fucking, but we’re not. I thought about you every day, all day, when I didn’t call. You know I mean it.”

            “I know.”

            “Then what?” He asked her. “We can make it work.”

            “No, we can’t.” She told him, quietly. “I’m drawing a line in the sand here. You’re on that side; I’m on this side. You had a plan before I came into the picture, and you’ll have one after I’ve walked out of it—I’m not the chosen one. I’m not the one who is going to interrupt your…arrangement…”

            “Julia…” He muttered. “You don’t mean it…the whole, your side my side thing…We’ve been acting like we’re together. I think we’re together. I think you and I are, you know, more.” 

“Let’s just leave it as it is, for what it is. I mean, we’re incredibly fucked up individuals for what we’ve done…” She hesitated, she pressed her hand against her chest. The tears were streaming down her cheeks and into the creases of her mouth. “We were close, we were damn close…”

He moved to reach out and touch her, but she stood up.

“Omer…I’m not going to say it, so...Just go, okay?”

He stood up with her, and they walked over to the door. They stood together in the threshold. Omer grasped her hand, and brought it up to his lips. He kissed the top of her knuckles, and inside of her palm. His eyes met hers, and she smiled faintly.

He wanted to hug her. He wanted to touch her. She wanted him to touch her, too. She was hoping he was going to try to reach out again, pull her in, and give her another reason to really regret it. This was their most personal moment. This was their most personal contact—nothing touching at all, but their hands.

He nodded, biting his bottom lip, and he left.

It may, or may not, have been worth it to let go…because they didn’t really let go at all. She closed the door, and she felt like a window was open somewhere, waiting. He walked down to the bus stop, still biting his lip so hard the inside started bleeding in small amounts.

They were both slumped up against a wall with broken hearts that afternoon, and they stayed that way for a while.