HIM

c h a p t e r 3: Club

Beverly

He stretches from the driver's seat for a kiss, and our lips meet before I unbuckle the seatbelt on the passenger's seat, "I'll see you after classes, okay?"

"Okay," I reply, opening the door of his white Mercedes G-wagon and alighting from the vehicle. I shut the door and wave at him while he drives off to his faculty.

He studies Theatre Arts. Jackson wants to be a star, he loves attention and he is pretty famous in school and on social media because of the lifestyle he displays there. He is the most talked about student because his lifestyle is what most people dream of, he is that one boy that every girl will happily throw herself at and every guy who isn't in his clique, aspires to be.

His father is a famous, reputable pastor who owns a private jet, fleets of cars and branches of Jesus Never Fails Ministry all around Nigeria, while his mother owns a very expensive secondary school in Lagos.

It's funny how Jackson hates church and is more of a sinner than Mathew the tax collector and Judas put together, but his father acts like he sells tickets to heaven.

Everyone on campus was jealous of our relationship and that's why it broke in the first place. I tried to ignore rumours concerning him and other girls but it was hard when there was new information every day, and everyone wouldn't keep my name out of their mouth.

Then, one day, something happened and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to break up, and now we're back together after less than two months of being away from each other, I know the whole of campus is ready to talk again. I don't even know what my friends' reaction would be. Clara knows, but Idia doesn't. I mean last week, I was single and this week I'm in a relationship with the same person I swore I was done with forever. Show me a better clown, I'll wait.

"Beverly Hills!" Someone calls, obviously referring to me. There was only one person who called me that, and it was Idia. Wherever you see Idia, you'll see Clara and then, you'll see me. We were inseparable triplets a.k.a the golden trio. We've been friends since the first day of uni and it all started with a fight over a chair on orientation day.

They were both extroverts, while I was an ambivert, I used to be an introvert but I can't possibly have two outgoing friends and somehow I'd be an introvert. My friends killed off my social anxiety, although it comes around when I'm without them, and that's one of the reasons I was always seen with Jackson, he was one of the people who made me comfortable. But him around me today, resurrected my anxiety. I lost that with him. I shake that observation out of my head.

"My babes!" I exclaim when I pull them in a hug, "what's up?!"

"I have a test starting in like twenty minutes," Clara announces when we are out of our group hug, "God knows I didn't read anything all weekend, Idia and I were out partying with Tiwa and her clique on Saturday, there's this guy that came into the city, and babe," She taps my shoulder excitedly.

"He was spending money like it was paper!" They say in unison, and I just stand there confused as they squeal and smile sheepishly, "then I had this massive hangover all through yesterday," Clara continues.

She goes on to recall their weekend and it's honestly the last thing I care about because she always has something interesting to say about her life. She is an IG baddie with over 300k+ followers on social media, gets all the attention from guys and lives for Snapchat and Instagram, and also abides by the motto: baby geh for life. Toke Makinwa and Gigi Hadid were her favourite celebrities to keep up with.

During our first year, Clara went through a bad breakup that made her lose track of her studies, which eventually dropped her grades badly and ever since, she never bothered to take boys seriously; all she did was party, have an almost unhealthy amount of sex (she didn't have the heart to commit to anything called relationship) and pay her way through nearly everything. She came from a privileged family, so it was easy for her to get her hands on money.