Two’s Better (The Perfect First Time #1)

1

“That guy at the bar has been staring at you for the past five minutes!” Tamara yelled over Davido’s voice blasting through the club’s speakers, singing about a woman looking into his eyes and seeing “designer.” “At least the last five minutes,” she amended slyly.

Oh? I didn’t stop dancing, trying not to be too obvious as I swivelled my head around to look.

“Tall, dark, and handsome. Black leather jacket, white shirt, ripped grey jeans,” Tamara described helpfully, sounding just a tad too gleeful for my benefit.

I found the guy at the perfect moment, catching him staring at me with barely concealed attraction, his eyes bouncing from the generous curve of my hips, up to my breasts, then back down to my hips and thighs like he couldn’t decide which part of me he wanted to look at more. My body warmed at the blatant perusal.

He was tall, with deep, warm brown skin and a cropped afro that was bleached perfectly blonde.

The classic white tee and black leather jacket combo he wore stretched across the frankly ridiculous breadth of his shoulders, his thighs straining to burst through the ripped grey jeans that covered his long legs. My guy was a walking Greek statue.

Tamara elbowed me. “Eh? Eh?” She waggled her eyebrows.

I blushed, laughing. “Leave me alone, abeg.” I couldn’t help but glance back at him again, though, at the exact same moment he looked up from where he’d been admiring my form to meet my eyes.

My cheeks burned hotter. The stranger smirked. I smiled shyly back.

“Oh! Here he comes!”

There was a loud uproar in the club when the opening notes to Water by Tyla came on, and the club goers began loudly singing along once the lyrics began.

“This is my song!” Tamara yelled, not-so-casually spinning around to face Fiona and Ezra, who’d been dancing together behind her, essentially leaving me wide open.

I blinked and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was standing in front of me, his full pink lips still turned up in that stunning smirk.

I grinned flirtatiously, which invited him to come closer until we were standing with barely an inch of space between us.

Like we were on the same wavelength, we began to dance almost at the same time, exchanging matching grins.

I rolled my body as I spun around, and he took that as permission to drop his hands onto my hips, holding on for dear life while I let my waist do the talking.

I spun to face him when the song ended, but Adonis didn’t let go of my hips just yet.

He was grinning widely when I glanced up at his face, using the opportunity to catalogue his features up close.

His skin was rich and dark, his lips plump and pink, framed by a neatly trimmed beard.

His bleached afro was freshly cut in a sharp fade, emphasising the squareness of his jaw.

“Like what you see?” he yelled over the music, and his accent was decidedly English. Probably born here, then.

“I don’t know,” I yelled back. “I’m still thinking about it.”

He threw his head back and laughed. He leaned closer again. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, you can.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the bar, a question in his eyes, and I nodded.

Of course I was going to follow him; one could never be too careful.

When he turned away, I quickly used the opportunity to smooth down any wrinkles in my bodycon dress.

It was a simple maroon red that brought out the richness of my brown skin, with one strap on my left shoulder, the dress stopping just above my knees.

My dark pink shoulder-length French curl braids had been recently re-curled, and I gave them a quick fluff all over to reassure myself of their bounce.

As Adonis made his way through the crowd, with me following his lead, Uzezi suddenly appeared out of nowhere, holding a small paper cup filled with dark liquid. I jolted, perhaps a little too guiltily, even though I had nothing to feel guilty about. Yet.

“One vodka and coke,” my best friend said with a grin and a questioning eyebrow raise, holding the cup out to me.

Ah, shit. I’d forgotten Uzezi and Prince had gone to get drinks for me and the rest of our friends.

“Uh.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from glancing behind him, toward the bar.

Uzezi’s eyebrow rose higher as he turned to look. He noticed Adonis immediately—that dark skin and bleached blonde hair made him stand out in the crowd like an angel among mortals—his head whipping back around to face me, his eyebrows up at his hairline. I was already blushing.

“Don’t start.”

He turned to look again, this time properly, and his gaze was full of approving heat when he turned to look at me again. “Damn, okay. Is that how it is?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You better shut up!” I said, laughing.

He gave me space to pass, bowing dramatically as he did. “Oya, let me not stop you. Go and get your man.” He waggled his eyebrows again.

I rolled my eyes but I was smiling helplessly as I made my way to Adonis, who was looking around for me.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach when his dark eyes finally found mine, his full lips curling into a pleased grin as I approached.

“Your order, madam?” he said in an extremely posh accent.

“A vodka and coke please, my good Sir.”

He looked delighted at the fact that I’d played along, winking as he said, “Coming right up,” and turned back to face the bar, that grin still curving his lips.

This is it, I thought, pulse racing. Tonight was going to be the night.

I couldn’t stop looking at the stranger from the corner of my eye, trying to imagine what he’d look like naked, how he’d be in bed.

Would he be rough? Gentle? Would he listen to me, do what I asked?

Would he laugh with me if things got awkward—take some of the pressure off?

Or would he want to just get down to business, no jokes allowed?

What if he simply wanted to dance and wasn’t interested in taking me home at all?

Would I have to take the initiative and make the first move?

Stop it, I growled inwardly when it felt like my nerves were rapidly morphing from excitement to fear. I couldn’t help but glance back toward Uzezi, and found him in the midst of our friends, five of them watching me and leering when they caught my gaze.

Uzezi waggled his eyebrows and gave me a double thumbs up like the proud best friend that he was; Prince cupped the air in front of him and began to thrust; Tamara made a crude gesture with her fist and pointer finger; while Ezra spread his pointer and middle fingers in a “V” across his mouth and began to wildly flick his tongue.

The only reserved reaction was Fiona’s; all she did was blush, hand across her mouth, laughing at the others’ crudeness.

“I hope you know I hate you all,” I mouthed, discreetly giving them the finger.

Adonis turned around at that moment, and my friends abruptly spun away from the bar in a comical fashion, dancing haphazardly and laughing their lungs off. I struggled to hold in my own laughter.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his grin widening when he saw me holding back laughter, like my amusement was contagious.

“Ofure.”

His eyes lit up. “Yoruba?”

“Isoko, actually.” He frowned in confusion. I laughed, used to that response. “We’re related to the Urhobos! From Delta State.”

“Ah! I got you. I’m Dubem.”

“Igbo?” My eyes twinkled.

“You already know.” He winked.

That wink did things to my insides I didn’t think was possible. Yeah, tonight was definitely the night.

Tonight was not the night. I’d thought this would be it; the way Dubem danced told me he would at least know how to move his hips in bed, plus, when we’d danced face to face—so close I could feel the evidence of his interest pressed against my inner thigh—the scent of him and the weight of his dark gaze had made my body positively thrum, had made my heart race so hard and so fast I didn’t know how I’d remained conscious.

But then we’d departed from the slightly dreamy atmosphere of the club, leaving the flashing lights, the pounding music and the surging crowd behind, and suddenly I hadn’t felt so confident after all.

Reality had slammed into me like a truck, the cool air of the night rapidly drying my sweat and making me shiver. My ears were still ringing, and Dubem was watching me expectantly. Where that keen gaze had made me feel excited back in the club, now it just made me feel suffocated.

The thought of following him home, of kissing him, having him touch me made me feel slightly ill.

And what if he did something I didn’t like?

What if he was a terrible kisser? What if I changed my mind halfway through and he refused to let me leave?

A million and one scenarios raced through my mind, each one more horrifying than the last.

Dubem had seemed to notice my hesitation, because he’d asked for my phone. He’d saved his number, then leaned down to whisper sexily in my ear, “Call me.”

My friends had cheered, ribbing the fuck out of me when I’d showed them the digits.

“Eyyy!” Prince had yelled, drawing the attention of other people on the pavement as we’d walked to the nearest kebab spot. No matter where we went, when Nigerians were in a good mood, we just had to let the whole world know.

“Ofure, is that you, yeah?” Ezra had leered.

“That’s what’s up!” Tamara had hailed, throwing an arm over my shoulder, sounding way too proud for my benefit. “At least one of us shouldn’t be single anymore, abi?”

“You’re literally not even single,” I said, but the rest of them were echoing, “Abi o!” which made us all burst into laughter.

They’d all seemed to assume getting his number had been my end goal; oh, if only they knew.