As I chill and blast Burna Boy, my mum suddenly calls out my name, demanding an African feast. "Zahra," she says, "Go to Ahmed's shop and buy me some beans." Annoyed, I reluctantly get up and get dressed.
And there he is, the lad I had that brief encounter with. He's rocking a plain white tee, shorts, and a pair of fresh Jordan's. Gotta admit, he looks pretty fine. But again, I don't know him, and I'm clueless about how to get to know him.
I walk past him, making sure to keep my distance on the other side of the road. Seems like he's waiting for someone. Suddenly, he spots me and crosses over, attempting to strike up a conversation.
"Hey," he says, sounding a bit shy.
I respond casually, "How have you been?"
"Good, and you?"
"Doing good, even better since I've seen your face," I quip in my mind, but I don't let it show on my face. It's nice to know my presence can brighten someone's day, even if it sounds a bit cocky.
"You free?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
"Yeah, why?" he replies, seemingly intrigued.
I don't even know what made me ask that question. Now, I'm stuck wondering what to say next. Thoughts race through my mind until I blurt out, "Wanna chill on a rooftop?"
"Yeah," he says, smiling and revealing a set of perfectly aligned pearly whites.
He attempts to get my number, but I play it cool and just give him my Instagram handle instead. "Where are you going, by the way?" he asks.
"To Ahmed's shop," I respond.
"Can I come along?" he asks eagerly.
"Sure," I reply. We head into the shop, where I grab the beans my mum wanted and a little snack (Pringles). Glancing out the window, I notice the sun is setting. I better hurry home, I think to myself. Dave tries to pay for the groceries, but I kindly refuse, telling him I can manage on my own. He even offers to help carry the beans, but I politely decline. As I'm about halfway home, I hear footsteps behind me—it's Dave, running to catch up.
"Amina! You forgot this," he says, handing me the Pringles.
"Thanks," I say, appreciating the gesture. We walk the rest of the way home together. No point in declining his company now.
Upon arriving home, I jump right into helping my mum with the cooking. It dawns on me that there are two cans of Pringles. He's got some good game, I think to myself, a small smile creeping onto my face.
***
Weeks have flown by since that encounter with Dave, and he's been nowhere to be found. I reckon he doesn't live around here, perhaps just visiting. He didn't sound like a local either—maybe from Essex? Nah, can't quite figure out where he's from, and I guess he's equally clueless about me.
But as I'm lost in thoughts about him, his scent catches me off guard. Grey tracksuit, looking all fine. He approaches me, exuding a newfound confidence. "How you doing?" he asks, his words laced with self-assurance. "I'm fine, just tryna keep up with school 'cause summer break's comin' soon," I respond, looking up at him and noticing his crisp hairline. That confidence suits Dave well.
By the way," he says, "what happened to that rooftop hangout? You never added me." I quickly retort, "Yes, I did!" He swiftly pulls out his phone to prove me wrong, defending himself. I scroll through and accept his request, finding "100k followers" next to his username. "Whatchu do?" I ask, intrigued.
"I make music," he responds with a slight chuckle.
"What kind of music?" I inquire.
"Music," he replies, teasingly. I give him a light push and playfully say, "I like when my babes keep it low key."
He sarcastically retorts, "So, when's the rooftop hangout then?"
"What about the day after? I've got summer break," I suggest. "At night when the stars are awake, so we can count 'em together and see how much we'll multiply the world." I add a touch of sarcasm and give him a wink.
"Not the Abraham type, rizz," he responds, and we both chuckle.
