𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

~TWENTY-ONE~

"Together we are... dangerous!"

This chapter is dedicated to lovetori_xo who is and amazing writer and also happens to share the same birthday with me. Even though it was three days ago😂😂😂

So uh...belated happy birthday to us!!!!!

We move!!!

•ORE•

"Oh, God, I don’t think I’m getting this!” Bolu whined and dropped her pen, exasperated and looked down.

I looked at her and quirked up a brow. “Don’t say that.”

She scoffed. “Why won’t I say that? We’ve spent almost an hour on this stupid problem, no offence, and I have not made any progress. Useless!”

I sighed, looking at her. Trying to decipher her thoughts, understand her feelings, trying to get to the bottom of the problem.

Her head was in her arms now, little beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and I could hear the faint sound of her breathing.

Today was Wednesday and the last day of our holiday classes. After our group meeting, Bolu and I agreed to meet at a small café directly opposite the school so she could start her physics tutoring today.

Since we got here over an hour ago, she’d been trying to solve a particular physics problem. I’d explained to her and she even seemed to be getting it, saying the next steps as I solved several examples for her but when it came to her turn, it was like she totally blacked out.

“I’m sorry I’m a blockhead,” her voice almost broke as she said that.

She looked up and tears were already in her eyes.

“No, no, no. You’re not…”

“You don’t have to make me feel better by saying that. I know, I’m wasting your time… I-I probably shouldn’t…you shouldn’t…” She sighed as a tear slipped down her eye.

I looked around the café and saw people were chatting away and not looking in our direction. Thankfully, none of our school students were around. Since they heard about the opening of Tammie’s place, they kinda ditched this place and went there, just few blocks away from the school.

This café was not so sophisticated, walls painted a warming coffee brown and cream, seats — tables for two, three and even seven — were arranged neatly. Television hung in a particular corner of the place at an angle everyone would be able to see. A counter where waiters stood to collect ordered food.

“Boluwaji,” I called softly and wiped her cheek. She looked up at me.

“You’re not a blockhead.”

“I…you wouldn’t understand.”

“I wanna understand…please? Open up.”

I sure sounded like a hypocrite, telling her to open up to me when I never open up to anyone.

She shook her head, another tear slipped down her eye. “It’s… nothing.”

I sighed and frowned, thinking of a way to make her smile, then an idea popped in my head. I smirked.

“You look beautiful.”

She looked up at me. “Liar, nice try but I’m not laughing.”

“Are you sure?” I asked and quirked a brow.