Beneath His Touch

Chapter three

SARAH

It was around 5:50 when we finally arrived, after battling that exasperating jam. The campus was packed to the brim—buses, hired matatus, and vendor stalls lining the entrance. To our dismay, there was an entrance fee for anyone without a student ID.

"What if we have calling letters?" Jacky quipped, her humor sparking a few giggles from the crowd behind us.

"Relax, girl. We know you're hyped but chill," Faith teased, giving her a playful pat. Faith had joined us later that day. She too had secured a spot at Nairobi Campus.

"Sorry, miss, but plenty have tried that one," the guard responded with a smile.

"Miss? I'm twenty-three..." Jacky shot back indignantly before I pulled her aside, leaving Faith to handle the payment. "Can you believe them?" she huffed.

I smirked and pulled out my phone. "You better smile before I take the selfie," I said as we struck a pose.

"Don't leave me out!" Faith rushed in, and we stood beneath the huge banner.

#MadeItToGameNight

#Nairobi Campus vs Roysambu Homeclub

#TagYourSupportForOurHotties!!!

We quickly posted it on Instagram.

"Am I late?" Becky called out from the entrance, looking as impeccable as ever in a pink blazer and matching skirt.

"Perfect timing!" we chimed, hugging her before rushing down the crowded pavement toward the pitch. The place was buzzing, packed with people, and we were lucky to find a good spot high enough to view the whole field. There were massive screens set up every few meters, two or three in every section, broadcasting the pitch.

"Hey everyone! We're live at Survey!" Jacky shouted into her phone, broadcasting the scene on TikTok. She raised her phone above her head to capture the vast crowd and the field below. "Let's wait..." she started, but was cut off by the stadium's deafening roar.

The teams had arrived. Nairobi Campus stormed in, clad in white and black kits with gold accents, followed by Roysambu Homeclub in green.

We all stood as the national anthem filled the air, the collective harmony wrapping the crowd in unity, even for those who didn't know the words. It was electrifying, and soon after, the game began.

"I don't see Brian," I muttered, straining to catch a glimpse of him.

"He's not in the starting lineup," a male voice answered from behind me.

I turned around but couldn't make out his features clearly due to the dim lighting. He wore a black hoodie, was somewhat muscular, and had a shaved head. A pair of glasses reflected faintly from beneath his hood.

"Sorry, but your boy's sitting on the bench," he continued, his voice amused. "Let's hope he gets a chance to play, though I doubt it," he added, as the cheerleading chants grew louder around us.

"What do you mean?" I asked, a little defensive. "Brian's one of the best players."

The guy laughed, joined by three others standing next to him. One of them, shorter and light-skinned, donned a blue hoodie and a Muslim cap.

"You must be new here," the first guy said, stretching casually as he sat down on the bench beside us, drawing curious glances from others nearby. "Have you heard of the 'Six Bulls' of Nairobi Campus?"

Faith nodded, intrigued. "I think so. Aren't they the top players in the university right now?"

He chuckled. "You know your stuff, baby," he said, pointing to the pitch. "That guy, number 9—Victor Omondi, the scrum-half." His finger moved to another player charging down the field. "And that's Joel Ahemed, the Eight-man." He smiled as the opposing team intercepted the ball, only to be swiftly tackled by a massive figure. "That's Elly Omondi, the openside flanker," he said, gesturing toward the hulking player.