13
I didn’t want to go back to mine. Uzezi and I had ended up watching a movie while we’d eaten our takeaway, and now, I was lying half on top of him, struggling to keep my eyes open.
The gentle rhythm of his chest rising and falling and the sound of his heartbeat underneath my ear was like the world’s most perfect lullaby.
How many times had we laid like this in the past?
Warm and heavy in each other’s arms, neither of us attempting to fill the silence because our silences had long since grown into a friend.
But right now, this silence felt different; it felt strung tight with something that made my chest feel too tight.
I forced myself to sit up. To breathe normally. “I should probably go.”
Uzezi sat up with me. One glance at his face told me he was just as sleepy as I was, his eyelids heavy. He fished around the sheets for his phone, unlocking the screen.
“What time is it?”
“Just past two,” he said, dropping the phone back on the mattress. He scrubbed a hand over his face and beard.
Knowing our friends, they probably wouldn’t be back from Felicia’s until sunrise; the way most Nigerian house parties worked, they went practically until morning, where everyone then trooped down to the closest fast food joint for breakfast before finally dispersing.
We wouldn’t be seeing our housemates until at least ten AM tomorrow.
Thank God my shift with Fiona and Bernice didn’t start until twelve.
As I climbed out of Uzezi’s bed, a tiny part of me wanted him to ask me to stay, even though that wasn’t something we did anymore.
Not since our Foundation year, the year before we’d started university proper.
It had been around the time we’d seriously joined the dating scene, when we’d thought spending the night with your bestie, even if it was strictly platonic, might be misconstrued by outside parties, and we couldn’t be arsed to deal with any possible misunderstandings.
Despite trying to be “respectful” to our potential partners, the few relationships we’d had that had made it far enough for them to notice my friendship with Uzezi had still been affected, even as, at the same time, those few people hadn’t seemed to give a shit about our same-gender friendships. Fuckass heteronormativity.
It had been a great source of irritation for us, how a gal apparently couldn’t have a guy best friend without people jumping through hoops to find something sexual or romantic about it.
And it had been entirely true then, back before that first kiss. Now, here I was, wishing—in the least platonic way possible—that I could spend the night in my best friend’s arms.
“Right,” Uzezi said, also leaving the bed. “I’ll walk you to yours.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Ofure. Don’t argue with me.”
I huffed out an amused noise, too tired to pretend to fight. He lifted a questioning eyebrow when he’d tugged his jacket on, and I was waiting expectantly by the door after I’d grabbed my purse.
I felt my cheeks heat, hoping my blush didn’t show in my expression. I squirmed, hyperaware of the fact that I was completely naked from the waist down underneath my dress.
“Uzi,” I said pointedly.
“Fure,” he returned, playing clueless.
I was not going to smile. Being coy obviously wasn’t going to work, so I decided to be direct, even if it made my cheeks burn. “Are you really not going to give me back my underwear?”
Goddamn him for being able to control his expressions so well; he looked so perfectly nonplussed. “What underwear?”
“Oh my God.” His lips twitched. “You piss me off, do you know that?”
He let his laugh loose, reaching out to tangle our hands together, beginning to lead me out of the house.
In the entryway, he got down on one knee to help me put on my boots.
My heartbeat, which hadn’t calmed down since our cuddling session, decided to beat out of rhythm, my pussy tingling with memory.
When he stood after he’d put his own shoes on, we were both breathless and avoiding each other’s gazes.
The night was cool as we made the short trek to mine. He had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, while mine were folded over my torso, my purse clutched in my right hand.
Damn, who knew walking around without underwear could be so titillating? I felt so deliciously exposed. Naughty, even though no one but him knew. If he hadn’t been walking me home—if this hadn’t been the official end of our date, I’d have jumped his bones the moment we got my front door open.
When we reached said door, we both hesitated. My heart pounded a staccato rhythm. I wanted him to kiss me goodnight. My lips tingled with it. But that would probably be a bad idea—wouldn’t want to blur the lines any further than they already were.
“Uzi,” I began to complain, a part of me not wanting the night to end just yet. “Seriously? What do you plan on doing with my damn panties?”
“Jerk off, probably.” My mouth fell open. He laughed, shrugging unapologetically. “Hey, you asked.”
“You piss me off so bad.”
He laughed again, taking a step back. “And with that, I bid you a good night, Fure.”
I sighed dramatically, but managed to smile back. “And a good night to you, too, Uzi.”
He blew me a kiss. I grinned and dutifully caught it, then pressed it to my heart. He waited until I’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, then I waited, watching his blurred silhouette through the small, stained-glass window at the top of the door until he’d disappeared from view.
The moment I made it up to my room, all the thoughts I’d been suppressing as I’d cuddled my best friend came bursting forth like an erupting volcano.
Our friend group was queer with a capital Q, Prince—despite being the token straight—included, which meant we all understood that penetration wasn’t the only thing that qualified as sex.
As far as I was concerned—and I was sure my best friend would agree—Uzezi and I had literally just had sex.
Oh my God, we’d actually had sex.
And it had been everything I’d wanted. No, it had been more.
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks.
It had been exactly what I’d hoped for while simultaneously going beyond anything I’d ever imagined.
Hands down the loveliest and sexiest moments of my entire life.
Checked off both boxes of my major Es and Cs: explicit communication and enthusiastic consent, AKA Ofure’s Surefire Guide to an Amazing First Time.
What was going to happen now? Was this it? We’d done it, come to the moment we’d been building since we first kissed—had that perfect first time, which I could happily say without it feeling like a lie or an exaggeration. It had literally been perfect. The bar was now above the fucking heavens.
Was it over now? My chest felt strangely hot.
I took my clothes off and grabbed my towel, heading to the shared bathroom. Uzezi and I had had a cursory clean with some wet wipes before we’d gone out to get our food, but that wasn’t enough for me.
Underneath the hot spray of the shower, I tried to stop thinking.
It didn’t work. I was in full freak out mode as I finished the rest of my nightly routine.
Oh God. Why was I feeling like this? My chest hurt. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to go back to Uzezi’s—hold him tight and never let go.
Which was weird. Wasn’t that fucking weird? Uzezi wasn’t going anywhere. Just because our pact was over didn’t mean anything was going to change.
I didn’t want anything to change. So, why—?
I had only just finished moisturising and was in the plain cotton panties I usually used for sleeping, tucking my braids into my bonnet, when my phone vibrated with a text. My heart leapt into my throat, some part of me already knowing who it was from before I’d even checked.
I heard his voice as I read the message, which made my heart and my lower belly do that funny, fluttery thing. Despite myself, I was smiling helplessly as I typed out my reply:
His response came in the next second.
I snorted, my panic disappearing almost instantaneously. God, I loved him so fucking much.
The little bubbles that told me he was typing came up.
I laughed breathlessly.
Every inch of me burned. I stared at those words like I’d never seen them before, then frantically locked my phone.
I took a deep breath as I tossed the device on my pillow like it was on fire, then another when I slid underneath the sheets.
Uzezi and I had been through much worse and come out stronger on the other side.
I had to believe, no matter what tomorrow brought, we were going to be fine.
Then my phone began to ring. At the sight of his name on the screen, even though I’d been expecting it, my pulse went haywire. I had the sudden, stray realisation that Uzezi and I didn’t really do phone calls. At least, not since we’d come to the UK. It was all messages, videos, and voice notes.
I reached up to straighten my bonnet, then rolled my eyes when I remembered it was a voice call, not a video call. Still. I felt weirdly nervous. I cleared my throat and tapped the button to answer.
Uzezi spoke before I could. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate my performance?”
“Oh my God. You piss me off.” But we were both laughing. “You’re actually so annoying.”
“No, but seriously,” he said, though he still sounded amused. “Seriously. How was—?” He cleared his throat. “Did you like what we did?” he whispered. “Did you actually come?”
My mouth dropped open in disbelief, even as my pussy fluttered at him saying the word “come”. “What? Are you being for real right now?”
“I’m being deadass,” he said, sounding so earnest it made my heart melt.
“I genuinely want to know. Part of that “perfect” first time experience means communication, Fure, baby. It looked like you had a great time, but I don’t want to assume.
So, I repeat, did you like it? It wasn’t too little? Or too much?”