𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

~TWENTY-ONE~

“Yes.”

“Really, sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure you are not gonna laugh?”

“Heck, yes!”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “Then let’s frown together.”

I sat back, crossed my arms, furrowed my brows, locked my jaw and scrunched my nose, staring intently at her.

After one minute of both of us trying to remain stoic, she broke character and cracked up, laughing uncontrollably. I smiled.

Mission accomplished.

“Ore.” laughs, “you are.” laughs, “a goat.”

“A spec,” I replied smugly.

“A goat and an actor.” She kept laughing.

Her laughter was somehow infectious so I joined in too and laughed along with her. I’m sure we got weird looks from the other customers because of how we were laughing like mad people.

“Did you see your face, you looked like a freaking zombie!” She exclaimed.

“Some zombies might be fine but I’d rather say I looked more like a handsome werewolf.”

“Yup, you kuku know that you are related to dogs. Point taken.” She nodded in mock understanding.

I shook my head and chuckled. “But I wasn’t kidding about the, you-look-beautiful part, you know?”

“Yeah, right. Be whining me oh. God dey!”

“I’m not whining.”

I wasn’t whining at all. She did look beautiful. She had her braided hair let down with a grey face cap on it but turned to the back.

Her naturally dark eyelids sort of matched with the black plain tee shirt she had on. Her face glowed in all its melanin glory and her eyes had their natural shine. But what occasionally got me distracted was her lips.

For some reason, maybe because of the harmattan, she’d decided she’d start using lip gloss and that has made her lips, very noticeable. Very, very noticeable. I had to stop myself from staring at them.

But it’s been real…hard.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She exhaled. “Thank you for…making me laugh on my worst moments.”

“Don’t mention. Friends help each other.” I winked at her.

She smiled to the side.  “Can we take a break?”

“Of course.” I nodded and ordered something for both of us to eat.

Bolu was silent as I ate my chips and ketchup. She didn't touch her food. And that was a whole new for her. I knew she was a foodie.

I watched as she kept fiddling with her fingers, sighing occasionally, then inhaling and exhaling deeply. I decided not to say anything because I figured she should say whatever she wanted to when she wanted and if she wanted.

“How do you do it?” she looked up and spoke after what felt like an eternity.

I wiped my mouth with a serviette and raised a brow. “Um… do what?”

She sighed. “How do you, you know…get all those good grades? I mean, you laugh, play and all. You’re Ore Jumai! How do you pull off being so good and perfect at everything you do?”

“Perfect is not what I’d call me…” I replied. If only she knew.

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. You are the most popular boy at our school, head boy, star athlete and football player, you don’t play basketball but you’d probably be good at it if you tried, best student in physics, math…all subjects__”