19
I hadn’t slept well last night, my thoughts cycling through what I wanted—what I was going to do when I saw Ofure again. By the time the sun rose, I wasn’t any closer to figuring it out.
It was Thursday, so we had Studio. I’d gone to hers like I always did every morning we had to go to uni, all the while with what felt like hornets brutally stabbing my stomach lining.
She’d been waiting for me, wearing her favourite faded pale blue, bell-bottom high-waisted jeans, and a cropped, fluffy pastel pink sweater designed with big, pale yellow hearts, her feet in plain white sneakers.
Her braids were up in two loose buns. A single line of yellow eyeliner covered her lids, her lips glistening with soft peach gloss.
The sight of her had made my heart try to grow ten sizes too big, while the hornets threatened to burst out of me like I was in a horror movie.
“What’s your bet Bonnie and Harper are going to make us present today?” had been the first thing she’d said, her lips ticked up in a small, amused smile.
And whatever nervousness I’d been feeling had disappeared, just like that.
“We’re, like, two weeks from Easter break. You just know it’s going to be a presentation every week till then.”
She’d laughed, coming up to my side, and we’d conversed like absolutely everything was normal as we made our way to the architecture building, deciding, by silent mutual agreement, to walk since we’d gotten ready early enough.
I’d had to shove my hands into my jacket pockets to keep from tangling our fingers together. I’d had to fight the urge to stop her on the pavement, pull her into my arms and kiss her—or kneel right there and profess my love for everyone on the streets to see.
As we’d predicted, Bonnie and Harper had indeed informed us we’d be presenting our work after lunch. They were going clockwise from the way we’d sat around the long table in the studio space, which meant Ofure was going to go before me.
“You’ll be fine,” I whispered, boldly reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. The connection sent my traitorous heart fluttering.
Ofure was shitting bricks. Usually, when she was really panicking, she tended to retreat into herself. To anyone else, she might look unbothered and calm, maybe even confident, but I knew her stoic silence was born from her mentally, frantically bracing herself.
She didn’t look at me as she twisted her hand around so our fingers were tangled. And there my lovesick heart went, pounding unsteadily beneath my ribcage.
“I will be sick; that’s what I’ll be,” she deadpanned, her voice equally low.
I snorted helplessly and she snorted back.
Her hand twitched in mine, so I squeezed it instinctively.
She squeezed back. Fuck, I didn’t know what to do with all these feelings.
I felt terrifyingly overwhelmed with love every time I so much as glanced in her direction.
I wanted to be closer to her, have as many parts of our bodies touching as possible.
Maybe my head on her shoulder, our arms tangled, ankles hooked underneath the table.
Those three words kept rising, and I had to keep swallowing them back down, not wanting to say it at an inopportune moment.
When I next said those words, I wanted to do it properly. I wanted there to be absolutely no room for misunderstandings about what I meant—that I was utterly and completely in love with her.
“Oh God.” She practically whimpered when Olu, who was sitting in front of her, stood up to go next, her grip tightening almost painfully around mine.
I would have told her to try looking into my eyes while she presented, but we’d tried that before and it hadn’t worked.
She hadn’t been able to explain the psychology behind it back then, simply stating that looking into my eyes while she was sweating and stuttering and I was trying to offer her silent encouragement was somehow worse than simply staring into space.
Despite this, when it was eventually her turn, I didn’t take my eyes off her. I never did, but this time was different for obvious feelings-related reasons.
“You got this,” I said again, as she got her USB and other materials.
She managed a tight nod, and I watched her make her way to the front of the studio. Bonnie and Harper had their seats positioned to the left of the long table, their backs to the class while they faced the presenter and projection screen.
I watched Ofure intently, wishing I could somehow beam a part of my confidence—or heck, all of it—into her being with my stare alone.
And I was glad I did so, because, after she’d finished setting up and had the first page of her slides on the large screen, her eyes immediately found mine.
And I did the first dorky thing that came to my mind, giving her two exaggerated thumbs ups while nodding so aggressively my head threatened to fall right off my neck.
Her lips twitched. Then, as she usually did, she looked around the room as she began, but I knew she wasn’t really meeting anyone’s eyes; she’d told me once that she looked at the top of our heads, only pretending to make eye contact.
And as usual, she started off semi-strong, began to lag halfway through, absolutely rushed through the end, and then it was over.
I had to stand up and head up when she came back to her seat, but I managed to squeeze her wrist and whisper, “You did great,” before I made my way past her and to the front.
She wasn’t going to believe me—she never did—but complimenting her presentations always made her feel less shitty, whether she believed me or not.
When I started my own presentation, as usual, I got lost in the work.
As I spoke about my project, outlining my plans and designs, I couldn’t help the way my voice pitched with excitement, the way I could imagine the project coming to life vividly, even though it was just a thing for class and would never be realised.
Despite that, I still watched Bonnie’s and Harper’s expressions almost avidly, my chest puffing up at even the slightest hints of approval.
Whenever my gaze locked with Ofure’s, she was beaming encouragingly, giving me two thumbs ups with equal exaggeration to what I’d given her. I tried not to laugh, my happiness only adding to that feeling of … rightness. Of sureness.
Oh.
Then I was done, sliding back into my seat beside her. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and—just like the moment we’d first kissed—it felt like something between us ... shifted. We looked away at the same time, my cheeks burning, my heartbeat stuttering.
When we exited the building once class was over, I took her hand in mine. She met my eyes for a brief electrifying moment, her hand squeezing softly.
My blood surged with heat, nerves making me feel queasy.
We didn’t speak. The silence wasn’t awkward or tense, though it did hold a new, sweet tension that made my heart go back to thudding arrhythmically underneath my ribs. By silent mutual agreement, we once again decided to walk instead of taking the bus.
“I think I actually want to do this,” I said when we were just branching off the main road into our neighbourhood.
“Hm?” She glanced questioningly at me.
“It hit me during my presentation,” I said, my heart racing not in spite of it, but because of my certainty. “That I actually want to do this. Become an architect, I mean.”
She brightened. “Yeah?”
I grinned helplessly. “Yeah. I know it isn’t something I chose for myself, and maybe it wouldn’t have been if I’d had other options, but right now, I think I like where I’m at—where I’m headed.” Unlike Ofure, I could picture myself doing this for the rest of my life, easily.
“Aw, come here.” She pulled me into a hug, and we stopped walking so we could hold each other properly. “I’m so happy you figured it out.”
“Thanks,” I said, blushing, feeling weirdly self-conscious.
“Damn.” She pulled back a little, her arms still wrapped around my middle. “You sure you can handle the joint pressure from our dads?” she teased. “Because you know once they realise I’m definitely out of the picture, they’ll laser point their energy directly at you.”
I laughed, resting my palms on her shoulders. “I can take it,” I replied with a careless shrug.
Her eyes seemed to darken, her gaze dropping briefly to my lips before meeting mine once more. My belly flip-flopped.
“At least they’ll still have an heir to take over the family business, eh? That should further reduce my father’s disappointment.”
“Right, so. About taking over the family business ...” I began dramatically, and she burst out laughing.
“What does that mean, Uzezi? Don’t do this to me, abeg.”
“What?” But I was laughing, too. “I’m just ... considering my options. They won’t die if I decide taking over their firm isn’t something I want.”
“My father will literally collapse.”
We snorted, our bodies curling into each other with mirth.
And suddenly, I could see my future with Ofure with almost painful clarity.
How we could keep going exactly like this, pretend the past few days hadn’t happened, and everything would eventually go back to what had been our “normal”.
There’d be moments, of course—times when we’d both remember what had happened these magical few days, but it wouldn’t come between us because we wouldn’t let it.
Things would still change—they couldn’t not, after everything—but this change would be smaller.
Safer. And eventually, over time, as we perhaps got to meet and fall in love with other people, it wouldn’t have felt like a change at all.
But I didn’t want that.
“Do you want to go out with me?” I blurted. Ofure’s eyes widened. “On a date,” I clarified before she could misconstrue what I meant.
“Yes,” she said breathily, with absolutely zero hesitation.
It felt like my heart was a firework because my chest was absolutely exploding into sparks right now.
“Right now,” I added, deciding on a whim that I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted her to be mine as soon as fucking possible.
“Right now?” She laughed, her eyes bright, her arms tightening around me.
“Right now,” I repeated with a grin.
She laughed again. “Yes,” she repeated, no hesitation.
My chest was puffing up without my control. “I mean this for real, by the way. I’m not asking you out toward an end or ... whatever. I want to go on a date with you ... because I want to. Because I want you.”
“Yes,” she said again, staring into my eyes intently. “I mean, me too. Same here. I ... want you, too.” She ducked her head, blushing. Damn, I loved her so bad. I wanted her so bad.
“All right, then.” We’d stopped just at the junction to her street, so I reluctantly pulled myself out of her perfect embrace. “I’ll give you some time to get home and get ready. An hour sound okay?”
“An hour sounds perfect. What should I wear? Or are we winging it?” Her voice was almost trembling with excitement.
Fuck, I loved her so much. I ran through some ideas with lightning speed. “Wear something comfortable, but pretty,” I settled on with a wink. “Text me your colours when you’ve decided, and let me know when you’re ready. I’ll come get you.”
“All right.” She laughed again, seemingly for no reason at all, and began making her way down the street, walking backward for a few feet like she didn’t want to take her eyes off me just yet.
I blew her a kiss. She grinned, wide and exuberant, reaching out to catch it, before pressing her clenched fist to her heart. I wanted to say fuck it, run right up to her and ask her to make things official right fucking now, but I had the makings of a brilliant plan, dammit.
I watched her go, laughing with her every time she glanced back to find me still standing there, waiting until she’d closed her door behind her before spinning around and quickly making my way back the way we came, heading for the shops on the main road.
I glanced down at the time as I half-walked, half-sprinted.
I had about an hour, give or take, to hopefully whip up a memorable first date, because cooking up something “perfect” on the spot was probably completely out of the question. Good fucking luck to me.