Twisted

6: Neon Lights

For someone who is not a clubgoer, he seems to be enjoying the loud music and the jubilation from the crowd which he finds chaotically entertaining, and from the grin on his face, one can tell he loves the scene.

Abruptly, his grin disappears and his heart stops for a second when he recognizes one of the hundreds of people on the dance floor.

Is it her? He questions himself in denial because he knows the answer to that. He knows that he can recognize her anywhere, day, and time. He knows that he can identify her even in the darkest of nights. He knows he can hold her hands and know it was her just from the shape of her fingers, and that he can trace her facial features blindfolded and know her. He knows it's her. This man knows her, so, yes, even with the neon lights flashing everywhere... her body in that skimpy dress doesn't help his denial. It is her.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

His body goes rigid and a lot of memories swarm his head: The last time he saw her. The last time he made love to her. The last time he held her. The last conversation they had—which plays in his head in the mornings after he dreams of her or the nights before he goes to sleep. The 'last of the last' of everything.

That green dress she has on that illuminates under the neon lights is hard to make him lose track of her. His gaze is fixed as she grinds and moves her hips against one of her girlfriends. His trouser feels tight. It's bad. The effect this has on him is bad but he can't stop, he has the urge to watch her all night. 

She is having the time of her life, surrounded by people she loves, soaked in a vibe so contagious that Zayyad can almost hear the laughter escaping her throat when she thinks of something funny.

On the spur of the moment, for reasons known to the world, she looks in his direction and in no time freezes. He freezes, too.

Her expression is unreadable because of the flashing neon lights but he can tell she's shocked as soon as her dancing slows down. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to stop looking nor does he want to continue, so he just stares, emotionless on the outside but blazing with tension on the inside.

.
On Beverly's end, her heart is in her throat, ready to jump out and take the next flight to Jigawa. His presence is melting her body, his eyes wouldn't leave her and that has always been one of the many tricks that made her fold under him.

Her body begins to stiffen because her emotions are creeping up to her chest, about to get the best of her but she fights it off so her friends don't notice the change in her energy. 

A man I have not set eyes on since the night we parted two years ago can not come out of the blue and ruin my night, so, if he wants to watch me all night, I'll give him a show, she mentally declares.

She looks away from him, flips her waist-length braids, seductively lowers her upper body, and resumes grinding on her friend; this time it's slower, much more erotic as her gown hikes higher and she almost doesn't care.

He doesn't know if she's drunk but he figures that she's giving him a show and... Damn! It's wild and he's definitely here for it.

Her friends begin to cheer, some caress her ass, and one of them starts to shower minted N500 naira notes on her. The girls love the sight of her as much as he does and he smirks, mentally asking God to bless whatever part of her brain told her to do this because even though this was aimed to spite him, he could watch her do this all night.

God! Look at her, mehn. Setting eyes on her again is like spotting a fresh tulip after winter, finding a pond in the middle of the desert, or rainfall after a long time of drought.