𝐌𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

THE FIRST thing I did when I woke up in the morning was check whether Aretta texted me.

I was too curious to know what she thought about that video call.

“Luca, I am so sorry I had to make you pretend to be my boyfriend. I may have overstepped my boundaries, so I am sorry.”

Why is she apologizing?

“You don’t have to apologize. I agreed to this so I don’t mind. In fact, I had a lot of fun talking to you. Are we going to talk again?”

I texted her early in the morning so I did not expect her to reply quickly. So I put my phone on my bed. But the moment I did, I heard a buzz from my phone, so I picked it up and saw another text from her.

“I enjoyed talking to you, too. Can’t wait to call you again. Can I call at the same time again today?”

I smiled.“ Yes, you can call, but how the hell are you up this early in the morning?”

“Luca, I am a school-going child. I have to study.”

“Oh, wouldn’t want to disrupt your studies then. See you at school.”

“Actually, I won’t be able to make it to school today. So see you when I call you.”

“Okay.” I typed, fighting the urge to ask why she wasn’t coming to school. From what I observed about her, she isn’t open, so asking such a question would overstep my boundaries.

I immediately dropped my phone on the bed and then entered the bathroom to prepare myself for school.

******

“My fufu?” James said the moment I told him everything that transpired during our video call.

“Yeah, isn’t it a cool name?”

“No bro. That’s lame. Fufu is gross. So you’re saying she is gross.”

“You’re wrong. It’s really tasty. It’s my favorite dish and coming to think about it, Mrs. Okorie said she found it cool.”

“Luretta makes sense. Or maybe Areca or maybe...” He rubbed his chin. “Girls are usually good at ship names. I am not so good at this.”

I laughed. “Are you shipping us?”

He smirked deviously. “I have been shipping you from day one.”

“Well, James, we are just friends, and it ends there.”

“Denial is the first stage of love.”

“No, it’s the first stage of grief.” I snickered.

“Love and grief are the same thing. It’s torture.”

“Love isn’t torture. It’s beautiful, and it feels great.” I retorted.

“So you’ve been in love before?”

“Oh no, I don’t even know how to tell when one is in love, but I know it must be lovely just by seeing how it was with my parents. Have you ever been in love?”