I got to the hotel around 9 pm. I had rushed to my room, changed into a fresh outfit – a grey jacket, black shirt, and trousers, paired with neat Nike Air Forces. I rarely wore them, but tonight was an exception. After putting on two cross chains, I sprayed heavy perfume on myself. Almost got lost on the way, but eventually made it. The entrance was buzzing, and I was relieved to be fashionably late. The hotel was crowded, people going in and out. I hoped to spot someone I knew to chat with since I came solo. The hotel was fancy, all white, and it looked like the party was on the ground floor.
I walked into the scene, and suddenly, the room went dark. The only light came from a disco ball, Rema playing in the background accompanied with some wasted MC's voice singing along. Out of nowhere, Sewa appeared in front of me. I had totally forgotten she came. I'd been too busy searching for Maxwell. Sewa looked amazing, rocking a simple red gown that highlighted her features. Unlike before, she let her locs flow freely instead of tying them into a ponytail, and she kept her glasses on with little makeup.
"So you came?" Sewa yelled over the music. "I thought you would go for awoko alone."
"No..." I also wanted to add I came because of Maxwell, but she didn't exactly approve of our friendship, so I held back.
Sewa apologized once more for canceling last minute, but I wasn't too bothered. If she hadn't canceled, I wouldn't be in this situation. A fair pretty girl named "Bukky," I believe from our department, came over and interrupted us. I didn't know her well, but I recognized her.
"Ehis, why aren't you guys dancing?" She seemed intoxicated, "Why you con dey buga oo?" She began singing along to 'Charm' by Rema, lifting her shoulders high, and pulling us onto the dance floor.
As the music slowed down, Sewa swayed her hips against Bukky, and Bukky danced behind her. Seeing the girls freely express their sexuality without judgment made me envious, I tried to join in with a clumsy attempt at dancing, but my awkward hand movements didn't compare to their enjoyment. Peering beyond them, I spotted Prudence seated with her boyfriend and other guys in a VIP lounge, but I couldn't spot Maxwell. I thought about going to ask them, but I didn't want to embarrass myself and didn't want to leave the girls either.
Prudence noticed me looking at her, and she smiled back at me. I responded by raising my eyebrows at her. My body fought against walking up to her, but just as I was considering approaching her, Rasheed tapped me on the chest to get my attention. I was glad to have another guy to hang out with. We shook hands, he exchanged greetings with the girls, and then Rasheed signaled for me to join him at the counter.
"Ahan, just you and how many girls?" Rasheed teased while we perched on the counter.
"You know Sewa and I are just friends," I replied, teasing me about my best friend felt oddly uncomfortable.
"I'm talking about Prudence; I saw the two of you staring at each other." Rasheed remarked. "Don't let Investor catch you."
I playfully punched him, finding his persistent teasing about Prudence increasingly annoying.
I wanted to avoid continuing the conversation, so I asked Rasheed, "Have you seen Maxwell?"
Rasheed admitted uncertainty about Maxwell's whereabouts, speculating he might be with friends, which I already assumed but I couldn't see him at the VIPs lounge. My eyes scanned the crowd, and that's when I thought I spotted someone, I thought was Kennedy. I was tired of seeing his face everywhere, though I couldn't be sure if it was really him—it felt like his face was etched into my mind.
I pondered how long it would take for Kennedy to stop appearing everywhere in my life, dreading the thought of enduring it for the next four years. "Still no sign of him," I told Rasheed as I kept looking. No response came, likely drowned out by the music, so I didn't bother repeating myself. Suddenly, a hand touched mine, as if caressing it. When I turned, I found Rasheed already engrossed in making out with a girl – precisely what I feared about the party. Annoyed, I got up, sighed, and headed outside the hotel for some fresh air.
Outside, more people were still showing up. I noticed a bunch of girls, all excited, screaming, and snapping photos together. I stared for a bit, and they called me over to help take a picture of all four of them. I went over, ready to assist. They handed me a familiar, fancy iPhone 14, instructing me to step back a bit to capture their entire outfits.
I arranged their poses for a crisp shot, cheering them on about how stunning they looked to capture genuine smiles in a candid photo. "Yes girls!" I felt at ease with them, momentarily letting go of any assumptions they might have had about my sexuality while I hyped them up.
They huddled together around me as I scrolled through the pictures, each speaking rapidly about whose phone they were getting the pictures from. "Don't worry; he'll send me everything," I caught what one of the girls said, even though she was speaking quickly. I wasn't sure who the "he" she referred to was.
The girls stepped aside for the phone's owner, and I turned left, presenting the phone to Maxwell, smiling after finding out it was him. It made sense now why the phone seemed familiar. He took it, winked at the girls, and as they left, Maxwell leaned down toward my neck as if intending to whisper something. Despite the music not being too loud, I would be able hear him, but I couldn't fathom why he bent down to speak to me.
Maxwell complimented, "You smell really good," as he lifted his head.
I playfully responded, "No such thing as too much perfume." Wanting to return the compliment, my gaze moved beyond his flashy outfit, and then upward to his new hairstyle. He had pulled his dreads into a small ponytail at the back, leaving two strands down. "No more Travis Scott styled dreads," I remarked, realizing it was an inside joke only I understood, which explained the confused expression on his face. "I like what you did with your hair."
Maxwell thanked me. Though I had initially thought about mentioning my search for him, I decided against it, not wanting to inflate his ego. Instead, he told me, "I was actually looking out for you when I came out, before people started asking for my phone to take pics. When did you arrive, and how did I not see you?" It turned out Maxwell himself had been anticipating my presence.
"Maybe you were giving someone your phone at the time" I speculated. Maxwell nodded and shrugged in acknowledgment. He then suggested that we head back inside.
When we entered, we walked all the way to the VIP lounge. Passing by, I noticed Sewa immersed in the company of other girls, seemingly oblivious to my presence. Rasheed had abandoned the counter, no longer engaged in heterosexual behavior. Joining a new group, especially of guys I wasn't well-acquainted with, made me nervous. Maxwell diligently shook hands with his five friends when we got up to them, and I nodded when they asked "how far?". I particularly greeted Prudence separately, as she knew me, and because Maxwell had left her out during the handshakes.
I sat beside Prudence and her boyfriend, Investor, while Maxwell occupied the other side of the circular seat with the rest of the guys. The lounge was impressive, and I suspected Investor footed the bill. Anticipating Sewa noticing me soon, I made a conscious effort not to glance in her direction.
Investor greeted me enthusiastically, hyping me up as he introduced me to the guys, although they already knew me from being in the same department. Seeing the camaraderie, Investor called for more drinks. Unprepared to consume alcohol when I arrived at the party, I hesitated. At 18, I was of legal drinking age, so I knew declining wasn't an option.
A waiter swiftly delivered the liquor and glass cups, pouring it rapidly. Wanting to get it over with, I took a quick gulp, downing everything in haste. The intense burn down my throat and the overwhelming bitterness made me question how anyone could enjoy it. Maxwell and the guys laughed, advising me that I wasn't supposed to rush it. I wished I had just declined; it would have been less embarrassing than what unfolded.
We continued with more rounds of shots, and I worried about the possibility of getting high and tipsy. Prudence took charge, bringing out her camera with the flash on. She encouraged us to raise our glasses together for a cheers moment. Following her instructions, we lifted our glasses, and she recorded the video, even turning it into a boomerang. It was captivating to watch, especially with her well-manicured fixed nails adding a touch of elegance to the video. She later shared it on her Snapchat story.
A guy in our midst named Jude, not the most pleasant sight, was discussing his desire to approach Sewa, claiming she had been checking him out on the dance floor. I wasn't sure if I heard correctly; maybe he meant he was the one eyeing her, or Sewa might have been looking at me, and he assumed it was him. Either way, he planned to make a move. "I don't think..." I started to intervene, but I stopped myself because, truthfully, I hadn't thought before speaking. Was I attempting to discourage a guy from making a move?
Jude persisted in wanting to know my thoughts, and I casually joked about how Sewa might reject his advances. Despite my attempt at humor, he continued boasting about his ability to charm any girl, asserting that "Babes wey dey form hard pass, na them dem dey bang wella". My brain short circuited hearing him speak in such manner, Prudence was irritated, she rolled her eyes. Maxwell cautioned Jude about his language and issuing a warning about Sewa, citing it as "speaking from experience."
It was only a matter of time before the conversation would have shifted to asking about my "girl" or any girl I had my eye on, and I needed to act fast. Feeling the urge to leave, but staying back for Maxwell's sake, I leaned in to whisper my plan to him – I wanted to depart before midnight, a realization that hit me as it was already past 10. Maxwell agreed and suggested I let him know when I was leaving because he wanted us to go together.
Sewa's gaze finally met mine, and we locked eyes briefly before Prudence diverted my attention. She was attempting to capture a video of all of us, and I turned to face her front camera with a slightly awkward smile. Meanwhile, Jude stood up, likely assuming Sewa's gaze was directed at him again.
Maxwell proposed heading to a spot where some guys were gathered around a smoke pipe, but he quickly grasped that I wasn't interested in such activities. He expressed the intention to stay back for me, while the other guys agreed to go smoke up. However, I requested him not to, as Prudence had already decided to stay back and offered to keep me company. Investor, after seeking permission from Prudence, apologized and left to join his friends for a smoke. Now, it was just the two of us remaining in the VIP lounge, singing along to the music.
I posed a rather foolish question, asking, "Don't you want to go and dance?" It was clear if she wanted to, it would be with her boyfriend.
She reassured me, saying, "Don't worry, I'll stay here with you," her tone seeming a bit off.
Jude approached Sewa, and they stood facing each other, dancing. Sewa appeared unfazed, so it seemed I was mistaken; Jude was fortunate she was in a good mood. My attention shifted as the boys smoking shisha became noisy. I wasn't sure how high it got them, but it was evidently sufficient for Investor to take off his shirt, leaving him in a white vest, swinging it in the air. Prudence found it amusing, laughing at his pot belly as it swayed. It was the type of laughter that indicated she found him entertaining. I couldn't help but envy what they shared.
"What is this stupid boy up to now?" Prudence remarked, and I initially thought she was talking about Investor.
Turning to where she was looking, I saw Jude attempting to approach Sewa from behind. Sewa rejected his advance and hit his hand away when he tried placing it on her hips. In response, Jude raised his hands in the air, as if surrendering or under arrest, and slowly backed away. It served him right. Prudence suggested we go check on Sewa, standing up with her purse clutched. I promptly stood up, trying to catch up to her, but she reached Sewa before me.
"Prudence, what's going on?" Sewa maintained a smile, appearing completely at ease.
I was the first to ask, "Did he touch you?"
Sewa reassured, "Oh, that foolish boy? No. Relax, I'm fine," she moved her hands rhythmically, calming us down as we seemed agitated.
"Who be that black boy wey those babes dey drag for there?" The MC joked, his voice echoing across the room, drawing everyone's attention to us. The comment felt insulting as I wasn't that dark skinned.
I stood there awkwardly as people now assumed that Sewa and Prudence were fighting over me, all because the MC couldn't keep his mouth shut. Maxwell tried to signal the MC to stop, but he continued. Investor, standing with the shisha, felt embarrassed, realizing they were talking about his girlfriend. Someone informed the MC that Prudence was Investor's girlfriend before he shut up.
"Oh abeg sorry boss no vex" The MC apologized after causing a disturbance at the event.
The DJ switched to Ayra Starr's 'Rhythm and Blues,' and Maxwell climbed onto the counter, taking the microphone from the MC. He sang along flamboyantly, even tying his shirt around his waist as if it were a short skirt, capturing everyone's attention. With the lyrics "My rhythm, my blues, my heart is beating, your rhythm from Sunday to Monday," he acted hyper-feminine, gazing into the eyes of girls as he sang. Some blushed and laughed at the effeminacy. Sewa found herself laughing at him, which brought me a sense of happiness as she now saw him in a different light.
Maxwell strutted over to me, continuing to sing while looking deeply into my eyes, "Carry my love, put it all on you." I chuckled and averted my gaze to avoid any perception that I might be gay for returning his stare. Despite my attempt to disengage, he persisted with his act, making me increasingly nervous and uncomfortable. To signal my departure, I subtly mouthed, "I'll soon be going" Unsure if his nod was a response or just part of the performance, I laughed again and excused myself to the restroom. I hoped I hadn't let him down by leaving abruptly like that.
The restroom wasn't too far away. The first stall I attempted to open housed a couple making out, so oblivious that they didn't notice me accidentally opening the door on them. I quickly shut it and proceeded to the last stall.
Sitting on the toilet with my trousers still on, I sighed and pulled out my phone. I felt the need to talk to someone, but at almost 11, I wasn't sure whom to text. The idea of going home alone crossed my mind; I didn't want to spend the night at the hotel, growing anxious about their potential late-night activities. It slipped my mind that my apartment gate might be locked by then. I decided to call Ossai, hoping he wasn't asleep, as he always never seemed to be available whenever I needed him during such situations.
I opted to dial Ossai's number instead of messaging him on WhatsApp, suspecting he might not be online. His phone rang, and after the third beep, he answered, bringing me relief.
"How far?" Ossai asked.
"I'll be coming soon; I need you to be awake to open the gate for me," I informed him.
"You want to return at this time? Just stay overnight."
I declined, but Ossai, concerned for my safety, suggested I stay back, worried that it might be unsafe for me to be out alone at that time of night.
"I'll find someone to follow me."
"Or do you want me to come and pick you up?" Ossai proposed, and I murmured a pleading yes. "Are you okay? Stay back. I'm not awake o." Ossai said, which irritated me. I wanted to try convincing him, but I disliked having to beg anyone. I grunted and hung up in frustration.
Exiting the stall, I approached the door, only to collide with Kennedy, who was entering as I was leaving. I lingered at the doorway, contemplating the idea of returning to the restroom to speak with him, but it seemed futile. I doubted he even recognized me as he passed by.
I noticed Sewa, Prudence, and other girls seated in the VIP section, and it was apparent that Prudence had invited them. Feeling a bit uneasy as the only guy, I approached them. "Are you girls spending the night?" I asked, realizing how suggestive it sounded.
Sewa replied, "Yeah, you can stay with us." Despite Sewa's kind offer, I wasn't comfortable staying in a room with so many girls, even though it would have been safer.
"Is Rasheed still around?" I inquired, hoping to leave with him.
"I think he's already gone," Sewa replied, extinguishing my last bit of hope.
Suddenly, Maxwell approached from behind. "I was scared you've gone." he said, still with his shirt tied around his waist.
"I'm leaving now," I declared.
Prudence was surprised, "By this time?"
I nodded, feeling somewhat foolish for wanting to leave so late, sensing unspoken judgment, but not from Maxwell—he was willing to go with me. "I'm going with you. Just chill first." Maxwell excused himself to inform his friends that he was leaving.
When Maxwell approached his guys to say his goodbyes, Investor called out my name, raising his hand to get my attention. "You no wan stay?" he asked. I shook my head slowly, smiling, disliking the fact that I was being questioned. I didn't want anyone persuading me to stay because I didn't feel comfortable spending the night with so many people. Maxwell quickly fabricated an excuse for me, and they allowed him to leave before he walked up to me so we could depart together.
The outside area was less busy than the last time we were there, with only a few people scattered about. Though the street lights were on, signifying some visibility, many had already retreated indoors. We contemplated waiting for a bike, but none seemed to be approaching. Eventually, I suggested we walk instead, convincing myself that it was safer than risking boarding a "one chance" bike.
As we contemplated the walk to my house, approximately a 10-minute stroll, the realization struck me, "Wait, how will you get to your place?"
Maxwell chuckled, disclosing that he planned to stay over at my house for the night. He explained that he was still residing in his hostel, and by the time, the campus would likely have already been locked. It hadn't occurred to me before. One of the primary reasons I was eager to leave the party was to have a night of solitude, and now, I had an unexpected guest.
It was a relief, though, that it was just one person rather than ten; otherwise, I might have ended up sleeping on the floor instead of a bed. We continued our walk, sticking to the sidewalk, and the gentle night breeze played with my jean jacket, lifting it into the air.
"God, it's so cold," Maxwell exclaimed, then paused and looked at me. "Aren't you going to offer me your jacket?" he said, jokingly crossing his arms and pretending to shiver.
"You're stupid. You better put on your shirt," I replied with a laugh. After a brief silence, I brought up another topic. "So, you like Ayra Starr?"
"I LOVE Ayra Starr!" Maxwell enthusiastically affirmed.
"I can see, from the way you were dancing to her song. You no fear say people go think say you be gay," I said in pidgin, unintentionally giving off a homophobic vibe, though I meant it as a joke.
"Wetin dem wan do? Dem wan beat me?" Maxwell retorted, causing me to burst into laughter.
Silence settled in again.
"Do your guys know how you use to bomb?" I asked about his fraudulent schemes involving gay men.
"They do, but they don't really care as long as there's money in it." Maxwell's point was clear. It was funny how people could stop being homophobic once money was involved.
"Why gay men sef?"
"Because they'd pay for anything. I mean who wouldn't pay for someone like Bolu Okupe?" He mentioned a queer Nigerian OnlyFans creator, and there was something in the way he said it that carried meaning.
"I swear, he's hot as fuck." I said, hoping my response would lead the conversation in the direction I hoped for.
"I'm telling you, I want to have his babies." Maxwell concurred, confirming my suspicion. I playfully punched him, nearly pushing him towards the main road.
In that moment, it seemed as if we had always known we were gay. Yet, despite this unspoken connection, a myriad of questions lingered in my mind, particularly about how Maxwell had come to realize his own sexual orientation. However, I felt compelled to defer these inquiries, opting to patiently await a more opportune time when our bond had deepened through further shared experiences and a longer period of knowing each other.
"Thanks for following me home" I mentioned as we reached the next street leading to my house.
"I had to. I don't want to be hearing 'justice for Ehis' tomorrow" Maxwell quipped, always injecting humor into the conversation.
"I hate you" I laughed.
"I know you love me." Maxwell teased.
Maxwell and I shared a laugh, but the mood quickly soured when a group of four boys emerged from a nearby petrol station we were approaching. These guys exuded an intimidating aura, resembling a rough crowd. My heart began to race, compounded by the lingering effects of the earlier alcohol consumption. It was imperative for me to present myself in a way that wouldn't make us come off as gay, as I harbored concerns about a potential hate crime, and the situation seemed to hint at criminal intent.
Regret filled my whole body. I could have avoided this if I'd listened to Ossai, Sewa, Prudence, and Investor when they tried to stop me. But because of my social anxiety, I thought it would be impossible for me to be with people for a whole night. Now, I'd not only put myself in danger, but Maxwell too. And all of it was my fault.
Maxwell doubled his step, positioning himself in front of me as if to shield and protect. Meanwhile, my instinct urged me to consider crossing the road and making a hasty retreat. The approaching boys appeared menacing, and the thought of potential theft crossed my mind. The most valuable possession I had was my phone, and I entertained the notion that I'd rather die than lose it because I couldn't fathom living without it. As the boys drew nearer, everything became blurry.