"I'll ask again," He says with an husky finish on his voice, leaving his sitting position over to mine and squatting in front of me "Have you ever consider me as your type of guy?"
I have the answer to that question already in my heart and he lookin...
I stand speechless in front of Wale while my brain makes an effort to suggest what I should say. In the meantime, I stare at his dimpled smile, still dumbfounded. Unexpectedly, he places his right hand on my arm, moving it lightly.
Despite the irritation caused by the dried sweat on my skin, I can still feel the tingle of his touch down my spine. I rapidly moved back, establishing a small gap between us.
He smiles widely, aware of my reason for resisting his touch. “Are you shy?” He inquires.
A question he already has an answer to. An answer that even surprises me to admit. “No, I’m sweaty.” I reply, folding my arms to assume a confidence I don't have.
To my horror, he laughs. His laughter resonates with genuine delight, a melody of warmth and admiration, as if captivated by my response.
It echoes a blend of endearing chuckles and perhaps a hint of bashful amusement, creating a heartwarming symphony of emotions.
I won't lie, I enjoy the sound of his laughter, but I manage my composure and tell him plainly, “I need to get out of these sweaty clothes; I’m not comfortable in them."
I can’t say for certain what I’m not comfortable with anymore. Is it really the sweaty clothes or his piercing stare?
“I’ll wait.” With one hand in his pocket and his feet crossed, he finally speaks, laying his back on his automobile.
“You’ll wait, where?” I puff.
“My car is very comfortable.” wearing a serious face this time, he tells me.
Is he planning on waiting in his car? I thought he would leave; why isn’t he leaving? My inside voice protests, but my lips cowardly keep mute as my eyes widen in shock.
I shake my head, giving up my thoughts. If I dare let him wait in his car, Omoh won't forgive me.
“What?” He asked innocently.
Defeated, I shake my head again, then let out a gentle sigh, knowing deep down that I can't leave him to wait in the sun. That is not how my mother raised me. “Come with me," I eventually say to him.
I almost missed the joy dancing in his eyes, but quickly, I said, “Let me offer you a glass of water at least."
I move ahead of him into the gate, while he follows after me. We ascend the stairs and come to a halt on the third floor, in front of my apartment. Hesitantly, I take out my key from my side pocket, slide it into the keyhole, and carefully open the door to let him in.
Upon opening my entrance door, a refreshing wave of cool air from the whirring air conditioner greets us, mingling with the sweet fragrance of tangerine air freshener that saturates my living room. “I know it isn’t much, but please, make yourself at home.” I say to him before bolting the door behind us, “Please sit." I point at the three-seater couch in my living room.
“Thank you,” he tells me calmly, making himself comfortable on the couch. “You live here alone?” He asks.
I stood stiff for a moment, reconsidering my response. “Uh, yes.” I lie; I’m not ready to tell him about my daughter just yet.
I switch on the TV, and while the DSTV decoder is boosting, I hand the remote control over to Wale. “You can watch whatever you like.” I tell him. “Can I get you anything?” politely, I ask, hoping to make his wait comfortable before rushing to take a quick shower.
“No thanks, I’m good.” He waves his hands as though not to bother me.
I stroll over to the kitchen, a little amazed by his sudden dithering. I open my refrigerator and take out one sealed bottle of water, one can of malt, and a pack of cookies. I place the bottle of water and the can of malt on a small rectangular tray with a clean glass cup, then pour out the cookies from the pack onto a plate and set them on the tray.
I carry the tray to the living room and set it on a small stool beside where Wale is sitting. “I don’t have much, but please accept this.” I say with a smile, urging him to receive my offerings.
“You shouldn’t have.” He smiles at me.
Oh no, that smile. I didn't know I was buried in his gaze until he coughed pretentiously to break me out of my reverie. I recover myself and grin while lowering my head.
“I know you are just being modest, and you can’t come into my house and not take anything.” I reply, “Uhm, give me a minute; I’ll be with you shortly."
He chuckles, and I immediately exit the living room. I barricade my bedroom door as if preventing him from sneaking in. “You can’t be too careful," I tell myself, justifying my actions before taking off the sweaty cloth and walking into the shower.
In the shower, I typically take my time, but not today. As soon as I finish, I change swiftly into a clean jean short and a black polka-dot blouse. I unlock the door before realizing I'm still wearing a hair net. I quickly remove it, revealing my neat weave, and toss the net on my bed.
I walk slowly into the living room, only to find the plate of cookies empty and the can of malt lying empty on the tray. “I thought you didn’t want anything.” I tease him.
Instantly, he turns on my voice and then grins. “You offered; how can I refuse?"
I scoff. “Yeah, you can't." I carry the tray back into the kitchen, leaving him laughing in the living room. After dropping the tray in the sink, I take a deep breath and walk back into the living room.
I lower myself on the other couch, which is not too far from his, preparing my ears for what is to follow.
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