I just knew I was in trouble again!
I was supposed to be on my way to Ola’s, third time’s the charm, right? But instead, I was sunk into my sofa, chin buried in the armrest, making excuses in my head like “today’s Thursday” when my younger brother was already pulling on sneakers for Friday night out. I promise though, I really didn't know today's Friday, I thought it was Thursday!
First time I bailed, it was clothes. Didn’t know what to wear, ended up wearing pajamas and binge-watching a Tyler Perry movie. Second time? Rain. Not even heavy rain. Just drizzle. This time? What do I even call this, calendar amnesia? depression-lite? boredom eating my brain?
I sank deeper into the beige, soft-perfect world I'd always wanted. Beige walls, marbled chocolate + cream colored rug, beige mood. My friends used to say I’d thrive working remotely. But nobody told me the cost: the silence that feels like a person sitting across from you, waiting for you to say something. Thank God I'd agreed to my brother's request to come live with me.
The worst part? I got back months ago. Back in Nigeria. Back to family. Back to everything except Ola.
The boy I grew up with. The one who used to sneak mangoes with me after school. The one who walked me home holding my schoolbag because it was “too heavy for a girl.” (My feminist rage wasn’t active yet, so I let him.) The boy I once thought, no, knew I’d marry. We even tried dating once, in that awkward “we’re too close to be romantic but let’s still try” phase. It lasted for like four days because apparently he thought holding hands meant marriage, and I was not ready to be somebody’s wife at 14. But the feeling never fully died. It just went to sleep somewhere, waiting.
Now, back home, months later, he’s been trying to see me. And me? I’ve been dodging. Not intentionally. Just… life.
“Ola, I swear I thought tomorrow was today… or today was tomorrow. Whatever. Point is, I didn’t know it was Friday.” I typed it with shaking fingers. Guilt-shaking.
SEND.
I sighed like I had just submitted final year project. My chest was heavy. The way this boy has dragged me in the past for “forgetting” I was supposed to show up, I was already preparing my ears.
Next thing, ding ding ding.
Three notifications. My heart skipped because I thought it was him typing in paragraphs. You know when you’re waiting for that one reply and your brain is just like God, please soften his heart?
Only, It wasn’t Ola. It was Reynold.
Yes. That Reynold. The same Raynold I had already packed and shelved away into the museum of “men I shouldn’t have answered that day.” The same Raynold that is lowkey a celebrity, you know those musicians that blow one hit and suddenly everybody and their mother knows them? Yes, that one.
“Just landed. Would be nice to see you, it’s been too long. Dinner maybe?”
I hissed so loud my brother peeped from the hallway. “Who are you fighting again?” he asked. I waved him off.
And as if the devil was directing this telenovela, Ola’s name flashed on my screen right then. I picked up and before I could breathe, he burst out laughing.
“You still haven’t changed, have you? Miss Calendar Amnesia. Get a life, jare.”
“Ola, I’m sor....”
“Forget sorry. Let’s do dinner tonight. My treat. I’ll pick you up.”
And just like that, my chest softened. My heart literally blushed. Childhood infatuation, resurrected like Lazarus. Maybe I still had it bad for him.
Anyway, I agreed.
He picked me up with that stupid grin I hated to love. Wore a white shirt, casual, rolled-up sleeves. The type of shirt that looked like it didn’t want to impress anyone, yet still impressed.
Me? I overdid it. A little shimmer on my cheeks, red nails, heels I hadn’t worn in months. He whistled when I walked out. Not too much, just enough for me to feel like fifteen again.
We got to the restaurant, nice place, dim lights, soft jazz, people sipping wine like they have no problem in life. I was just settling down, ready to finally gist with Ola properly, when my eyes caught a familiar silhouette near the corner. My stomach dropped.
Oh my God. No.
It was Reynold. In designer shades. Indoors. At night. Surrounded by two men who looked like they doubled as bodyguards and gossip columnists.
He saw me before I saw him properly. Of course. His smile widened. He stood up, spread arms like a movie scene. “Babe!”
The entire restaurant turned. Phones slipped out like weapons, click, click, flash. Social media’s about to eat me alive.
I froze. Ola looked at me sideways, one brow raised, smirk growing like he just unlocked premium drama subscription.
“Babe?” Ola echoed.
I wanted the ground to swallow me. No. Scratch that. I wanted the ground to swallow Reynold and his shades.
Reynold walked over, loud enough for everyone to notice. He hugged me. Cameras flashed. Somebody whispered, “Is that Reynold’s girlfriend?” and another voice went "no, she's with the other guy, maybe she's been two-timing?"
And just like that, a scandal was born.
The night turned messy. Like social-media-hashtags messy.
Ola ordered food calmly like nothing happened. Reynold sent a bottle of champagne to our table. People were literally tweeting before the waiter even opened it. I could feel my phone buzzing in my bag. I didn’t check.
Somewhere between my laughter at Ola’s sarcastic jokes and Reynold’s performative charm, I realized something. My life, which felt directed by boredom, was officially on fire.
And when it was time to leave, Reynold made one last attempt, bounced over to our table like he owned the restaurant, gave his cheeky smile, the one that made me say yes to him: “We should catch up, for old times’ sake. I still remember your lovely scent.”
Ola snorted. Loud. Like a punctuation mark.
I looked at them both. The childhood friend who knew my worst lies and still showed up. And the ex-celebrity who turned my personal space into a tabloid headline in twenty minutes.
Guess who I went home with?
But wait, if I tell you, would you even believe me?
THE END
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In response to The Inkwell Fiction Prompt #236. . All images are from Meta.ai
Thank you for reading. 🧡