Miss Perfect

One

They left the airport almost immediately; Victoria made a stop at one of the bistros at the airport to get coffee. She drank coffee every morning - her usual order: plain black, no milk. According to her, a cup of coffee helped kickstart her early hours.

Tobi was of course against the idea of wasting an extra five minutes to get a cup of coffee (they had already used twenty to meaninglessly argue if he truly was a substitute driver sent by her parents), but just as she said, 'who was he to tell her what and what not to do.'

He had his reasons for being overly time-conscious; it was not necessarily about keeping to his end of the bargain he struck with Victoria's parents (which was to bring their daughter home safe and sound). He could care less if she returned home with a broken arm - with the kind of attitude she was dishing out, preferably a busted lip. Thankfully, he'd never hit a woman.

It was seven o'clock in the morning and vehicles swarmed the roads faster than a speeding ticket; the roads slowly became congested - this was what Tobi was trying to avoid. He expected such on a Tuesday morning; everyone was going largely in the same direction, and so were they.

There was nothing like a pleasant drive on a bright morning, a sunny afternoon, or a cool evening on the streets of Lagos. Literally. One was either held up in a nearly endless traffic jam resulting from the most measly happenings or suffered from a range of peculiar mishaps. In some cases, travelling small distances on foot was very much advisable.

The journey home was approximately thirty-one minutes by car, but with the traffic steadily building up, it seemed highly impossible to get home within such a timeframe.

Fortunately, Tobi had gotten to the Third Mainland Bridge in approximately twenty-five minutes. As he approached the bridge, he could see the fleet of cars that stretched from where they stood to as far as his eyes could trail. He sighed. The traffic on the bridge was highly insufferable, just as he had presumed. Crossing the 11.8-kilometer-long bridge in such a situation could be termed a death sentence.

Victoria was less bothered by the current situation they found themselves in, after all, she wasn't the one behind the wheel. She mainly sat quietly in the rear, leaving the driving to the man up front.

She stared out the tinted window while gingerly sipping on her black coffee. All of a sudden she was so intent on the view outside; the tons of vehicles that were barely moving and almost touching.

"This should be new for you, right?" Tobi asked without lifting his eyes off the road (more like off the behind of the blue Toyota Matrix in front of them). He noticed she had been looking out the window through her reflection in the rearview mirror.

"I beg your pardon?" She broke her stare off outside the window and directed it at him. "Are you talking to me?" She asked with furrowed brows.

Tobi snickered at her question with raised brows. "It's only the two of us in here." He said, looking into the rearview mirror where he had a perfect view of her face from where she sat behind.

Victoria rolled her eyes in disapproval of the point he made; just because it was only the two of them in the car didn't mean every remark he made was directed to her - he could have been on the phone (like she thought), but drivers shouldn't be talking on the phone while they are driving. It's simply uncalled for.

"I'm a Nigerian, born and bred." She replied briefly to the question she didn't forget he had asked, which she believed was his attempt to belittle her. "I've lived in Nigeria longer than I have in the States." She continued after five seconds of keeping silent.

"I see." This was Tobi's short reply to her somewhat austere response.
A long silence followed and only the traffic noises of honking vehicles were heard.