HER CRUSH

Chapter14

Zarah
How many have I eaten now?" I croaked, my tongue on fire, my eyes stinging with tears. My nose was running like I'd just been caught watching a sad Nollywood movie. "I made a promise, and here I am, regretting my entire existence."

"Chuchu, how many have I eaten now?" I asked again, fanning my mouth with my hands like that would magically cool the volcano happening inside.

Chuchu peeked at the plate like a referee counting goals. "Two," he muttered. "There are two more left."

"Two?" I clutched my chest dramatically. "Just bury me here and tell people I died a warrior's death...fallen in battle with pepper."

"Aunty Zarah, you said no water." His small face looked so innocent, so annoyingly principled.

I pointed at him like a general giving his soldier urgent orders. "Plans have changed, Chuchu! This is life or death! Bring me water before my spirit leaves my body. Don't let  Ammi catch you, I'll buy you a whole box of chocolates. Whole box! Limited edition KitKat, Oreos, everything. Just move, soldier!"

He zoomed out of the room and returned like lightning, clutching the glass of water like it was holy. I opened my mouth wide and let him pour it in. "Ahhhhhh," I sighed, the cool liquid sliding down like salvation.

My relief lasted all of three seconds before my phone began ringing. In my fragile state, I waved my hands weakly. "No energy... let it ring," I mumbled, collapsing back dramatically.

But Chuchu, the nosy goat, grabbed my phone and answered. "Hello?... She's busy."

I lifted my head a little. "Who is it?" I mouthed.

He shrugged. "Somebody with a cool voice," he whispered like it was a secret.

I had no time to be suspicious; I was too busy trying not to die. "Throw the peppers away," I rasped. "I surrender. Tell the world I tried but failed."

I let out a  scream for extra flair, which of course made Ammi burst in like a one-woman army.

"Zarah! What's wrong with you?" Her eyes scanned the room.

Chuchu, my lifesaver, jumped in without hesitation. "Ulcer, Ammi."

Bless this child. May Allah grant him all the chocolates in the world.

Ammi's face softened, and she turned to me. "Where's your medicine?"

I stuttered weakly, "I...I...it's finished."

She left the room, and I immediately turned to Chuchu. "Quick, hide this plate before she comes back, and bring me the ice cream from the fridge. Fast!"

Minutes later, I was devouring half the tub like a criminal covering her tracks. By the time Ammi came back with actual medicine, I was sitting prim and proper like a well-behaved daughter.

I don't even remember when I fell asleep.

When I woke up, my phone was ringing beside me. My voice was still husky from sleep as I muttered, "Hello?"

"What's your address again?"

That voice. Smooth, calm, cool. My eyes shot open instantly. Ya Allah... it's him.

I scrambled up, nearly tripping over my blanket, and quickly rattled off my address. "God, did I actually just sleep and leave him waiting?"

After the call, adrenaline replaced my pepper trauma. I jumped in the shower, scrubbed like a new bride, and then raided my closet. White top, straight-leg jeans, black abaya ...simple but cute. Hair? Tied up quickly, praying the braider Ammi booked for tomorrow would save me from this struggle.

I tiptoed into Aunty Ramla's room, raided her lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, and stood in front of her mirror like I was auditioning for a beauty pageant. "Masha Allah, I actually look hot," I whispered to myself, admiring the transformation.

Spray perfume. Check. Bracelet and wristwatch. Check. Black MK bag. My favorite heels. By the time I was done, I felt like a whole movie star.

Then my phone buzzed again: "I'm outside."
My stomach flipped. Butterflies. Not the cute cartoon kind....these ones had gym memberships.

I grabbed my bag, wrapped my abaya veil around my hair, and went to Ammi's room. "Ammi, I'm going out with my friend," I reminded her casually. She told me not to stay late, and I kissed her cheek before escaping.

Outside, Chuchu was already on his bicycle, zooming around with the neighbors. "Aunty Zarah, don't forget my chocolates!"

I waved. "Never, soldier!"

Then I spotted the sleek black Mercedes parked by the gate. He stepped out slightly, white kaftan catching the sunlight, matching cap resting on the dashboard. My heart... did somersaults

I slid into the car, and for a second, our eyes locked.

I quickly looked away, pretending the window was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Zarah!" His smile was warm. "Finally, I get to see you again."

Why did he say it like that? Why is he trying to kill me softly? My face burned, so I turned even more firmly to the window.

"Call Chuchu over," he said suddenly. "I saw you talking to him earlier."

So he was watching me? I called Chuchu, and my little betrayer came running, grinning. Abdullah gave him a goodies bag, and without so much as a backward glance at me, Chuchu bolted.

"Ungrateful," I muttered under my breath.

As we drove off, he asked, "So, where should we go?"

"Anywhere," I said casually, though inside I was screaming Please not somewhere boring!

He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know many places here."

"Let's go to Habil Café," I suggested. "Good food, good vibe."

He nodded, steering smoothly.

At the café, after ordering, he leaned forward, putting his phone aside. "Tell me more about yourself, Zarah."

My heart softened at the full attention. "Well, you know, I'm Zarah Tukur. We live here in Unguwar Sarki. My father passed away some years back."

His face shifted, sympathy in his tone. "I'm sorry."

I smiled faintly, brushing it aside. "I have siblings ...Ya Hafiz, Aunty Ramla, and Chuchu."

"Such a wonderful family," he said. "And your age?"

"Twenty."

He only said, "Oh, nice."

Nice? Nice?? I wanted to scream. Couldn't he at least act shocked? Call me young and fresh? Something!

"Tell me about you," I deflected.

He chuckled. "You know me already."

"That's not fair!" I pouted. "I told you everything about me, even the embarrassing bits."

He laughed again. "Okay, fine. My name is Abdullah Muhammad Bello. I live with my mom and my sister...she's married, has a daughter named Ihsan. I'm in my final year at Oxford, aerospace engineering."

"Wow," I muttered, genuinely impressed. "You never mention your father."

His smile flickered, sadness passing quickly before he masked it. "I'll tell you some other day, not now."

I nodded, respecting it, then leaned closer with a mischievous grin. "So, where's my rival?"

He raised a brow. "Rival?"

"Yes," I smirked. "That chewing gum you call Sufyan."