Amahle's Diary 1

Chapter 17

In what universe does a guy refuse sex? Aren't I pretty enough? I won't lie; I was hurt by what he said.

"What?" I questioned.

"Baby, you're not ready. You're going through stuff, and if we do this now, you might have regrets later on. I don't want you to go through that. Please understand," he explained.

"But I want to," I insisted.

"You're hurting, and you're hoping sex will make you feel better when, really, it will only make you worse," he reasoned.

I won't lie; I didn't understand, but what he said made a lot of sense to me.

"Okay, fine, then," I conceded.

"Suqumba kaloku. Come wash your hands; you're going to peel and chop veggies for me," he said. I didn't realize I was sulking.

"Put me down, kalo," I grumbled.

"Yatefa yeses (you're such a cry baby)," he teased.

"Qheliswe nguwe (you're the reason I'm like this)," I retorted.

"Yeah, whatever, cry baby," he said, putting me down, and we went to the sink to wash our hands.

"Don't you want to take off your uniform and wear something comfy?" he suggested.

"I don't know where your room is, remember," I reminded him.

"Oh, right. Follow me."

We went up the stairs, and it was the last door down the passage on your right. We went inside, and to my surprise, it was big and clean. I was shocked because he's a rugby player, and he seems too arrogant to clean up after himself—maybe their helper cleaned for him. He had a double bed, and the cover matched the curtains. It was a beautiful room.

"This is me," he announced.

"It's so clean," I remarked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"No offense, but your room doesn't look like you," I explained.

"I'm so offended," he faked a sulking face by pouting. I kissed his cute lips and apologized.

"Well, best believe this is my space," he said.

"Who cleaned?" I inquired.

"Me, obviously. I clean my own room. Can't have people going through my stuff. You're the first girl to ever come in here; even my sister doesn't come in," he revealed.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you girls are snoopy. The minute you enter a guy's room, you feel like a kid in a candy store. You don't even know where you're gonna start searching for things previous girls have ever left in a guy's room," he explained.

"Heh, so it's like that," I commented.

"Pretty much. So you won't snoop around, right? Actually, you know what, make yourself at home."

He went to his closet and came back with a long white T-shirt.

"Will you be comfortable in this, or do you want boxers?" he asked.

"This is fine; thanks, babe," I replied.

"Okay, see you in the kitchen. Don't take forever," he teased.

"Chill. You wear boxers kanti," I said.

"That and briefs. I wear boxers when I'm home or going out," he shared.

"Interesting," I mused.

"What is?" he asked.

"Nothing. Bye now."