Something is off about him today.
He has been looking everywhere but at me, since we came to the beach and standing unnaturally still like if he took in a breathe, a bomb could go off. His disposition was a familiar one, as a memory from four years nagged at me. It was from the day we met for the first time.
I had gotten into a huge fight with my mum, so I took a walk to clear my head in silence. Ironically, I spent the entire length of the walk screaming obscene things that I dared not say to my mother’s face. It wouldn’t matter that I was her daughter. I would simply be dead in a heartbeat.
I was so engrossed in my ranting that I failed to see the ball flying across the sky until it landed on my head. Kpom!. The conflict at home was quickly forgotten as stars danced around my obscured vision. If I thought I knew what pain felt like before, I was in for a rude shock. Long strings of curses flowed from my tiny little mouth as the throbbing pain in my head progressively got worse.
Damn! Somebody was going to die today.
“Are you okay?” my annoyance was temporarily forgotten. The voice was deep and the accent, thick. The very things I was a sucker for.
It was the Christmas holiday and Christmas holidays meant the “Innit” folks were back in Nigeria to visit family. When the connection clicked in my head, I was flung back to a time when my daydreams were filled with fantasies of an innit boy that would one day sweep me off my 16-year-old feet.
Well, that innit boy just threw a ball to my head. That jerked me back with painful anger.
“Am I okay, AM I OKAY??!! Well, what do you think?!” I screamed, spittle flying. I was sure my face looked ugly. It always did when I scrunched it up.
Had I known what was to come after, I may have just clung to my fantasies in peace. But of course, I did not. This was by far the most embarrassing moment of my life as I winced at my flimsy attempt to match his accent. Stupid Innit folks.
“I’m so-so-sorry. I tr-tr-tried t-to c-c-call your attention”.
British accent and deep voice aside, that singular statement got me madder than mad.
“What is wrong with you?!” I said to the owner of the deep voice whom I was still yet to see.
He seemed undisturbed by my outburst and offered a hand to help me up. I took it shamelessly. They were soft to the touch. He got me to my feet and I busied by myself ridding my cloth of dirt.
I was prepared for another verbal attack until my eye caught his face. Oh!
My face must have shown my shock.
“What was that?” He asked, his handsome face lined with sincere concern.
I just stared at him.
“Is there a place I can take you to? How many fingers am I holding up?” He held two of his fingers up.
“10” I lied. I needed the ground to swallow me up. Why had I chosen to wear faded and worn-out clothes complete with holes today of all days?.
“Jumoke,” I berated myself audibly. My grandmother must be writhing in her grave.
Now he looked really worried. I was sinking myself deeper into this hole. ” I’m so sorry about this”. He did not stammer this time.
“Just watch where you throw the ball next time”. I mumbled to him and started walking away.
“Wait” He called to me. I wanted to keep running but I hesitated a bit till his footsteps sounded really close. I turned around to see that pretty-boy face one last time. At, I hoped it would. That I had waited for him pleased him because then he smiled. It took my breath away. My initial embarrassment giving way to dumbstruck.
“I didn’t tell you my name, I’m Chike” he held out his hand to me for the second time today. I took it and relished the softness of his palms. I began to wonder about other parts of him that would be soft. My face heated again in embarrassment. Clearing my throat, “Jumoke” I said. When he held on to my hand a bit longer, I simply could not breathe again.
That was 4 years ago. Standing in front of me now, that pretty boy face just got prettier every day while I stood at the sidelines nursing my unrequited love while also parading myself as his best friend.
I studied him closely now, his eyes looked carefully blank. He must be struggling within himself about something. What, I didn’t know and I wasn’t going to be patient this time.
“Spit it out,” I said. Deep down in my heart, I didn’t want him to because I was afraid of what would come. Was he planning to get together with his ex? I didn’t want to hear it. My heart could not take any more unintended heartbreaks from him
Which was the very thing that bothered me in all the years I secretly loved my best friend. I was not a very good liar and Chike could easily read me. Was he acting clueless or was he really clueless about how I felt?
“W-what are you talking ab-bout?” That stutter again.
I took a step toward him, meaning to invade his space. Standing this close to him, I could smell a whiff of the oud scent I got for him on his last birthday. It tickled my nose deliciously. Making me yearn for more, more that I was not sure he could give.
“Now,” I say, lifting my face so I could look at him squarely in the eye.
One minute I heard Chike say “Oh what the Heck” the other minute his warm breathe was in my mouth as his lips claimed mine.
They were soft and gentle like his hands were 4years ago. All those years of wondering and fantasizing were finally coming to be.
He lifted my head gently with his palms spread on my neck, the heat from his hand burning my skin. He angled my head in such a way that he could deepen the kiss. I took and took what he offered to me, never once minding the implications of what was happening between us. Was this a dream?
I did not realize I had voiced my wonder out loud until the kiss was brought to an abrupt end. No!
He chuckled against my lips. “No, this is not a dream. This is real. Look at me”
He tipped my head up with his finger forcing me to look at him. When I did, what I saw in his eyes sent tantalizing shivers down my spine. I couldn’t speak, I could only stare
“I have always wanted to do that!”
I couldn’t think, I just did what I had always wanted to do from that day 4 years ago. I stood on my toes and closed his lips with mine, tasting him and drinking him.
Mine. He was finally mine.
