Caught Between by Rima Jean

her to ask Ash, "Are you guys talking about Syria?"
    His mouth fell open in surprise. "You speak Arabic?"
    " Only  a little," she said. Ash and his friends exchanged looks, and one of the girls, a dark-haired beauty in purple eye shadow named Selwa, shrugged.
    "Tell her," she said. "If you think she will understand."
    Ash looked at his hands for a long while before saying, "Marya, our world is changing quickly. We -- " he swept his hand, indicating his Jordanian friends, "-- are ready for change. We are hungry for it. Jordan may be in a better place than Egypt or Syria, but is still has major problems -- bad economy, corruption, the lack of political freedom. Jordan is not a true constitutional monarchy. It's a sham. We want reform, and we are doing something about it."
    Marya felt her pulse quicken. "What are you doing?"
    "In the beginning, we held peaceful demonstrations, organized as university students," Selwa said in impeccable, if heavily accented, English. "It was a peaceful call for reform, not a revolution, but the police beat us with their batons." Her pretty face was tight with anger.
    "If the monarchy wants revolution," Ash added, looking at Selwa gravely, "they shall have revolution."
    "It hasn't gotten to that point yet," one of the other young men quickly interjected. "We will do what we can in a peaceful manner for as long as we can."
    They continued to talk in this vein, switching from English to Arabic. Marya listened quietly, observing the faces of her new friends. Young, rich, idealistic. Their faces glowed with fervor, and they spoke as though they were ready to throw all their wealth away for a chance at democracy.
    Marya wondered if, when push came to shove and people began dying, they would follow through.
    By the time Ash drove Marya back to ACMER, it was approaching midnight. He stopped the car at the gate and looked at her. "Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I hope you had a good time."
    "I'm going to hurt tomorrow," she said with a laugh, "but it was totally worth it. Thank you for taking me out. Your friends are amazing. You are amazing." She meant it -- she'd seen another side of Ash tonight, and she was impressed. Beneath the designer duds was a passionate young man, perhaps even one of action.
    He was looking at her now, and something in his eyes made her squirm. He must have sensed her discomfort, because he averted his gaze. "So, can I come visit you again soon?"
    Marya nodded. "I would love that. And next time I'll dress more... appropriately."
    "I told you," he said, "you look beautiful. So much so, that I'd like to kiss you." He looked at her and smiled shyly. "That is, if you want me to."
    She did. If only to drive Luke from her brain. If only to see if Ash tasted as good as he smelled. "Yeah," she said softly.
    Ash leaned across the center console and touched her face with his hand, and she leaned in to meet him. His kiss was whisper soft against her lips, soft and warm. He lingered against her, as if d ebating whether to do more. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could feel his hesitation. In the end, he backed away and swallowed, exhaling slowly. "I'll walk you up," he said.
    He took her hand in his as they climbed the hill in silence. When they reached the door of the hostel, he let go and said, "Night, love. Sleep well."
    She didn't let herself watch him leave. She tossed on her pajamas and curled up in bed, trying not to wonder why Ash liked her, whether she liked him as much, or why Luke still hovered in the back of her thoughts.
    ***
    Heaving the sledgehammer high over his head, Luke blinked the sweat from his eyes. He brought it down -- hard. Pieces of rock splintered off in all directions, and he was relieved to see a crack beginning to split the rock in two.
    "Nice job!" Yusef cried, rubbing his palms together. "My turn."
    Luke was happy to pass the sledgehammer and goggles to the eager Bedouin. He was exhausted. He grabbed his water bottle and collapsed in a