Love Across Boarders

Chapter eight

I couldn't stop thinking about what Busayo said in class. The way her words hit me, like a punch to the gut, still lingered hours later. She didn't hate me-at least, that's what she claimed. But the way she looked at me, the way she stood there so sure of herself, made me question everything.
Why did I care so much? Why did I keep seeking her out, like her opinion of me mattered? I never used to care what people thought. Not until her.
I threw my backpack onto the couch and paced the small space of my dorm room. My mind was racing, replaying every moment of our conversation.
"You make me feel like I don't have everything figured out," I had told her. The words had slipped out before I could stop them, and for a split second, I'd seen something shift in her eyes. A flicker of understanding. But then she had pulled back, like she always did, reminding me that she didn't owe me anything.
I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. I wasn't used to feeling this way-off balance, unsure. I was Darren Blake, for God's sake. The guy who always had a plan, who knew where he was headed. But around her, all that confidence unraveled. She didn't buy into the image everyone else did, and that terrified me.
I walked to the window, staring out at the campus below. The evening sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the quad. I could see a few students heading to the library, others laughing and chatting as they strolled by. But my mind kept drifting back to Busayo.
It wasn't just that she was different from anyone I'd ever met. It was the way she challenged me, the way she made me see things I didn't want to see. Like the fact that maybe I hadn't earned everything I had. Maybe there was more to life than the privileges I'd been handed.
I hated it. And yet, I couldn't stay away.
With a groan, I sank down onto the couch, my head in my hands. Why did she get under my skin so easily? What was it about her that made me feel like I needed to prove something-to her, to myself?
I thought about the look in her eyes when I asked why she hated me. The disbelief, the way she cut me off like I was some kind of fool. And maybe I was. Because she was right-I had judged her from the moment she got here. I'd put her in that "scholarship girl" box, just like everyone else, and I hated myself for it.
But it wasn't that simple. There was more to it, and I knew it. Something about her scared me, because she saw through all of it. She saw the cracks, the parts of me I tried to hide. And I didn't know how to deal with that.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. I had to figure this out. I couldn't keep pretending like she didn't matter, like I didn't care. Because if there was one thing I was starting to realize, it was that Busayo had already found a way into my life, whether I liked it or not.
I waited outside the library for a few minutes, telling myself I wasn't here for her. But deep down, I knew that wasn't true. I had started to seek her out without even realizing it. It was frustrating, this pull I couldn't explain or ignore.
The doors swung open, and before I could move, there she was-Busayo, stepping out into the cool evening air, her books tucked under one arm. Her eyes landed on me immediately, and I could see the brief flicker of surprise before she masked it with her usual guarded expression.
I straightened up, trying to act casual, but my heart sped up. I wasn't ready for this. Not for the way she could cut me down with a single look.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone sharp, like she didn't have time for whatever I had to say.
I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, trying to sound as indifferent as she was. "I could ask you the same."
She rolled her eyes and moved past me, clearly uninterested in playing this game. But I wasn't ready to let her go, not yet.
"Busayo, wait," I called after her, stepping forward. She stopped but didn't turn around, her back stiff with impatience.
"I don't have time for this, Darren," she said, her voice tight. "What do you want?"
What did I want? That question again. I didn't have an answer, at least not one I could put into words. But something inside me refused to let her walk away, not like this.
"I don't know," I admitted, and for a moment, I saw her shoulders tense, like she was bracing for something. "But I know that every time I'm around you, I feel..."
She turned around then, her eyes narrowing, daring me to finish. "Feel what?"
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. What was I even trying to say? That she made me feel like I wasn't enough? That she made me question everything I thought I knew about myself? I couldn't say any of that. Not without giving her more power over me than she already had.
"I don't know," I said again, hating how weak it sounded.
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "Typical."
"Wait-what's that supposed to mean?" I took a step toward her, my frustration rising. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"
She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You make it pretty easy."
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. That's what I hated about her the most-how easily she could tear down everything I built up. I wasn't used to people questioning me, challenging me. But she did, every single time.
"Maybe I don't have everything figured out," I said, my voice low, controlled. "But neither do you."
She blinked, her expression faltering for a split second before she regained her composure. "I don't need you to tell me that."
There it was again-her walls going up, shutting me out. But I wasn't about to let her get the last word this time.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything," I said, stepping closer. "I'm just saying we're both in this place, figuring it out as we go. You don't get to act like you've got it all together while judging me for not having the answers."
Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she was going to fire back with another cutting remark. But instead, she just stared at me, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to find something-anything-that made sense of this mess between us.
And just like that, the tension shifted. The air between us felt heavier, charged with something I couldn't quite name. She wasn't saying anything, but I could feel it-this unspoken thing between us, building and twisting, like a storm on the horizon.
She looked away, breaking the moment, and shook her head. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, turning to leave again.
But I didn't stop her this time. I watched as she walked away, my chest tight with frustration, with everything left unsaid.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.