Pantie Rule

10 | Meet Me

I walked the length of the library thinking about that boy. The way he had looked at me in the shop. Those stubborn, brown eyes.

Then I shook my head like the thought of him could fall from it. I moved on to reading the various section names hanging on the ceiling. Our library was really large and impressive. The school spends a bulky percentage of its budget on updating its catalogue and making sure the library delivers it's best reading experience. I stopped at the one that read:

Novels(Foreign and Indigenous)

Then I wondered why the 'indigenous' did not come before the 'foreign'. Small things like this usually catch my attention. Nigeria's or shall I say Africa's exclusive preferment of 'all things foreign' makes my brain sting a thousand times. Just the way most Nigerians appreciate Foreign books above indigenous, Nigerian books.

The truth is, I love foreign; American and all, but that doesn't alter the fact that I should appreciate indigenous books too. I think that's about the same problem in every African country. I don't know, but right then I was going to read, Storm and Silence.

I had heard about it from a friend at home who had claimed it was a very hilarious read with loads of emotional roller coasting. Remember when I told you I hated romance? Well... not this one. This one was different, from the first chapter I had fallen victim. This book practically, enslaved me.

There was just one copy in the school library and I hurried to have it before another victim found it. I gave an exhilarating sigh of relief as I saw it standing, poised in the shelf, tall and exuberantly elegant with the title in bold and the middle binding bearing the name of the author in elegant cursives:

Robert Thier

I grabbed it, but it wasn't moving. It pulled again, but no. It resisted. Then I peeped to see if anyone was- Oh my God! Another person's hands(not hand) were on it, at the other side of the shelf!

Oh, damn!

"If you would excuse me-" I started

"Yes, I would excuse you, " A familiar voice. "If you loosen your grip on this book."

What the heck! My village people are surely pursuing me! It was the damn boy! The beautiful halfcaste!

"Look, I have no time for frivolities, just give me my book." I said in total disgust.

He smirked. "Last time I checked, you're not the book's author. And just in case, the library owns every jot and tittle in here, bestie." He added, annoyingly.

My chest rose and fell in quick successions as anger bubbled in me like lava. "I thought..." I stopped and sighed from total exhaustion. "I thought you were eating at Mama Sugbero's cafe!"

"Yes, darling, but like everyone that eats, I got satisfied and walked away." He answered in annoying sweetness.

I glared, but there was that impunity that he seemed to have against my anger, and that frustrated me the more. So, what would I do now, would I take this book by aggression or I'd rather walk away. But, I couldn't leave Lilly Linton for the weekend! It was Friday for Christ' sake! The only time I had was now, or never and the days between now and next week are synonymous to never!

"If you think your glares are anything like Ambrose's. You better have a rethink." He said gripping the book harder.

Damn! This boy is the stupidest thing in my life right now.

"And to think that you're just as menacing as Lilly Linton is an understatement! You're the devil himself, also considering your blackness." Wait, but come to think of it, why do people think the devil is black?