LOVE & FLAWS | A NIGERIAN ROMANCE |

Chapter 8

Light Reflected On her face in the semi-dark room. She lay on her mattress facing the intricately moulded square shaped plaster of Paris that radiated blue lights from the edges. She operated her mobile device with both hands, smiling at intervals as she conversed with Clint late into the night. 

Clint: Weird you

Clint’s text appeared on her screen.

Tina: [Laughing emojis]

         Good night 

She bid him goodnight.

Clint: Sleep tight dear. 

The “dear” in his message sent butterflies down her belly. She re-read the message before she turned off her phone and dropped it by her pillow. She rolled around on bed thinking. She has grown cosy with Clint overtime. She wondered if it called for an alarm. 

“He's cool to chat with. Great sense of humour,” she tried to justify the growing fondness between them.

“But he's not totally off the grid, the signs are still there. He's trying to play a gentleman,” she countered.

“No, this is Chidi's effect. She has a way of installing her thoughts in you,” she debunked her initial thoughts.

“What if it's true?” She countered again.

She rolled around again and buried her head with the pillow. 

She pulled her head out of the pillow, laid face up, and crossed her arms.

“Why is he sticking around?” She pondered.

“Why is he stalling?” She questioned again.

Would he join the queue of guys who liked her but wouldn't commit to her because of her disability? This particular thought made her sober. 

“Does this have to do with business? Maybe he's trying to . . . . No.” she shut the thought. She realized that going further in this line of thought could cause her more harm than good. Besides, her life is not some kind of movies. But the thoughts didn't stop coming.

“Tina, maybe he's trying to be a friend. Don't read meanings into his actions until he comes plain,” She admonished herself, willing to keep an open mind. She rolled to the other side of her bed again. This time, she hugged a pillow tight to her chest.

“But I think I like him,” she admitted, and began to dig her face into the pillow again. She reached for her phone and went back to their chats. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. She couldn't get herself to stop. She was getting tired of scrolling when she caught herself smiling. She supported it with an even wider smile. 

Impulsively, she opened her diary, 

“I'm getting fond of him. Is this a good sign? 

Seriously, I don't think it is. Catching feelings with his kind of person is suicidal. Playboys are not to be trusted.

I like him. I think I do now. I have lots of reasons to. I still have my reservations about him, but I like him.”

She dropped her phone and went back to her thoughts, from where she slowly drifted to sleep.

“Hey Man, What's up?” Iyke voiced over the phone in his baritone. 

It was evening, and Clint sat in his sitting room moving his cursor on the screen of his laptop. 

“Good,” Clint replied from his relaxed position on the hand rest of the couch.