Sara Farizan: Hi, my name is Sara Farizan and I am the author of If You Could Be Mine. I'm going to tell you a bit about how I came to write this book and then I will share an excerpt with you.

I began writing this book because I thought about how much I struggled with my sexuality and coming out and what would it mean for someone like me to grow up in Iran, the country my parents are from, having the same feelings I had but being unable to express them as openly as I can in the US.

I was hesitant to write about Iran because I didn't grow up there and didn't want to become a mouth piece for any group of people. But my inner teenager still wanted the book that she had wished for in years earlier, and so this book came about. I'm going to read an excerpt from Nasrin's engagement party and Sahar is going out to comfort her.

I exit through the kitchen and into the backyard. Nasrin sits by the swimming pool, her face illuminated like she is some divine creature from the ocean. There is a giant fence surrounding the yard so no prying eyes can see Nasrin tan in her bikini during the summer.

I take off my high heels and sit down next to her, tipping my feet into the pool. "I don't know how you wear high heels so often. My feet are in agony." It isn't a funny statement, but it's all I can do to make her feel a little better. "He's ... Well, he's nice. He loves you too which is interesting." I don't know why I'm comforting her. Someone should be comforting me. "He's very nice. I am a lucky woman." "You don't sound lucky." "There's nothing wrong with him. He is a little boring but he's handsome. He has a good job, he helps people, and even gets along with my mother. He listens to her stories like they are fascinating." "Your mother should divorce her father and marry your fiance instead." "If only."

Nasrin finally looks at me and puts her hand over mine. It's never felt so heavy before. "He's a wonderful man but I don't feel anything for him the way I do for you, and that terrifies me." I gulp at her admission. I will replay her saying it over and over in my head tonight.

"Don't marry him." I whisper it just in case anyone finds us in the darkness. "And what would you have me do? Mary you?" "Yes." She squeezes my hand. "Stop living in a fantasy. You might make me too start believing and I can't afford to do that." I don't say anything else after that.