Wahida Salman of Egypt

"In my Islamic faith, it's considered perfectly okay for the men to marry women of other faiths, other cultures and other backgrounds, since it's up to the man to spread the faith, but the women are prevented from doing so, it's simply the norm," Wahida Salman said with a casual shrug. The young woman looked at her good friend and classmate, then shrugged fatalistically.

"Wahida, don't you think that's an ugly double standard?" Floyd Mayberry asked, and the tall, dark and handsome, bald-headed African American scholar stroked his goateed chin and looked at Wahida thoughtfully. The two of them were seated inside the lounge located not far from the University of Calgary library. It was a cold day in mid-November, and snow blanketed the bulk of provincial Alberta, drowning the landscape in whiteness.

Even after living in the City of Calgary for four years, Floyd Mayberry was still getting used to Alberta's rigorous winters. The place was nothing like his stomping grounds of metropolitan Atlanta, Georgia. The southern winters were mild compared to the Albertan ones. Floyd moved to Alberta after graduating from Morehouse College with a bachelor's degree in Computer Science, and ended up working for GAM Tech, the rising technology giant that was taking Alberta by storm.

Floyd initially impressed the Canadian tech giant with his programming skills, and ended getting a mid-level management with them. In order to stay sharp, Floyd enrolled at the University of Calgary to get his MBA, and along the way he met Wahida Salman, a beautiful international student originally from El Bagour, northern Egypt. The two of them struck an unlikely friendship, and had been in each other's lives ever since.

Floyd had grown to care deeply for Wahida, and the short, curvy, raven-haired and bronze-skinned Egyptian beauty amazed him with her charm and wit. Wahida completely shattered Floyd's initial assumptions about Middle-Eastern women, and people from the Islamic world in general. At first, during his initial interactions with Arabs and other Muslims in Calgary, Floyd thought of them as a strange, forbidden bunch.

Along came Wahida, the feisty Muslim gal destined to be his companion, and she shattered all of Floyd's misconceptions about the Islamic world. Thanks to Wahida, Floyd learned that Muslims weren't a homogenous group but a kaleidoscope of cultures, races, ethnicities, sects and nationalities. Wahida was simply the most liberal Muslim woman that Floyd had ever met. The curvy gal wore the Hijab...and also liked to chug down Alexander Keith's beer like it was nobody's business. Wahida was fun, vibrant and cool, and Floyd liked those things about her.

"Floyd, I don't make the rules, I'm just telling you that my ex, Salim, dates white girls because he can, and that's his right," Wahida replied, and there was a hollow, haunted look on the young Middle-Eastern woman's lovely face. A few weeks ago, her former boyfriend Salim Ali, a young Arab man whom she once saw herself marrying dumped her because, well, he found a better deal. Apparently, Wahida was too conservative and boring for Salim, and white girls were more fun.

When Salim dumped her for that white chick, Emily something or other, Wahida was pissed. Salim's hypocrisy irked her, especially since he used to be the one who would confront her over everything from drinking alcohol ( sociably, not wantonly ), to her fondness for wearing tight leather pants plus the Hijab at school. Wahida was considered too freaky for a Hijab-wearing Muslim gal, but too boring for her hypocritical ex-boyfriend Salim, who apparently craved slutty white chicks. Oh irony of ironies...

"That's bullshit, Wahida, you have a right to your own happiness, and a woman as beautiful as you shouldn't waste time on a fool like Salim," Floyd said hotly, and Wahida smiled faintly at him, and gently laid her hand on his. Floyd sighed deeply and flashed her a cocky grin, forcing himself to be calm. They'd been friends for years, and Floyd absolutely hated to see Wahida in pain. If it were up to Floyd, he'd go after Salim, but Wahida wouldn't allow it...

Floyd thought of last year, when he was going through his own heartbreak, thanks to his breakup with a Latin American cutie named Lena Coloma. The tall, brown-skinned, curvy and exotically beautiful Colombian gal dazzled Floyd when he ran into her at a meeting for MBA students at U of C, and they clicked. After a whirlwind romance, Floyd thought that he and Lena were going to go the distance, until he caught her in the arms of another woman.

To say that Floyd was devastated by Lena's betrayal would have been an understatement, but when Lena began dating Lily, the hot-to-trot Jamaican chick whom she cheated on him with, the brother became the laughingstock of the campus. A lot of other students, especially Floyd's 'homeboys' began teasing him about Lena and her new lesbian lover, and only Wahida's steadfast support got him through it. Thankfully, Lena and Lily transferred to another school, and the story stopped being a thing once they were out of Floyd's hair.

For this reason, and many others, Floyd was eager to help Wahida deal with the aftermath of her split with Salim, but the stubborn Egyptian cutie wouldn't let him. She's smoking hot but her head is harder than a rock, Floyd thought, remembering Wahida's fiercely independent streak, which often put her at odds with the more conservative Muslim students at the University of Calgary.

"You are right, habibi," Wahida said, smiling and she licked her lips, a gesture which registered with Floyd's masculine anatomy. Floyd shifted in his seat and Wahida smiled, knowing the effect that she had on him. The brother from Atlanta had that unique swagger common to black men from the United States of America, but she definitely knew how to push his buttons.

"Hold on, did you just say I'm right?" Floyd said, and he laughed and poked Wahida on the arm, causing her to burst out laughing. A woman just admitted that a man was right, that's one small step for man, one giant leap for brothers everywhere, Floyd thought, faintly amused by what Wahida just said. They were laughing pretty hard inside the lounge, and nearby students glanced their way, but Floyd casually ignored them.

"Well, Floyd, it had to happen sometime," Wahida said, and she suddenly leaned closer, until her face was inches from his. Floyd blinked in surprise, and his heart skipped a beat. He looked into Wahida's eyes and saw amusement in there, amusement...and a challenge. Floyd smiled, and Wahida returned his smile, but said nothing. Filled with inspiration, he closed the gap between them.

"Good to know," Floyd replied, and then he kissed Wahida, who returned his kiss with a passion that surprised him. Once they came up for air, the two friends sat there, and stared at one another. Floyd grinned goofily, and Wahida narrowed her eyes and looked at him. And then both of them burst out laughing, in spite of the seriousness of the situation. They'd just crossed a line, the one that separated platonic friends from potential lovers, and nothing would ever be the same.

"About time you kissed me, Floyd, what took you so long?" Wahida said, flashing him that grin of hers which was both come-hither and devilish. Floyd smiled and then gently took her hands in his, and sighed deeply. Wahida looked into his eyes, and nodded. Her heart was going pitter-patter because he'd just kissed her, but it felt oh so right. Definitely better than Salim's kisses, in spite of its brevity...

"Well, Wahida, just wanted to wait for the right time to shut you up," Floyd replied, and Wahida laughed and slapped his arm, hard enough for it to sting. Wahida was about to reply when one of the other students in the lounge, a pimply-faced white guy, loudly shushed them. Before Floyd could stand up to correct the bozo, Wahida actually beat him to it.

"Hey, buddy, you don't tell us to shush, we pay to study at this school just like you, got it?" Wahida said hotly, and she stood there, glaring at Mr. Pimples as though daring him to say something. The guy looked at her, shook his head and said nothing. He then buried his face in the book he'd been reading. Floyd looked at Wahida, astonished by her boldness.

"Hmm, that was so hot," Floyd said, and he winked at Wahida, and slowly started clapping. Wahida grinned, and then sat back down. Floyd went and got two Pepsis from a nearby vending machine, and then handed one to her. Wahida nodded and took one from him. Sitting opposite him, the feisty Hijabi looked him up and down. What a woman, dammit, what did I get myself into? Floyd thought with a smile.

"Floyd, I am a handful, just so you know," Wahida said, as though reading his thoughts and Floyd nodded in agreement. He looked at her, and at their surroundings, and then all of a sudden, he wanted out of the lounge. When Floyd suggested they go for a stroll around campus, Wahida hastily agreed. Hand in hand, they began walking around the hallways of the University of Calgary. A most unexpected but wondrous, new and undefined but oh-so right 'something' was starting between them...