His hand shifts from my thigh and I feel the unwelcome cold from the absence of his touch.
"We're here," he says giving me a little smile as he gauges my sullen expression.
I turn to the window and sure enough the familiar duplex a stands down the road.
"Oh okay let me just-" I say reaching for the backseat.
He cuts in and ends up passing me my little traveling bag.
I clutch it in my lamp and wait awkwardly for what next I was supposed to do.
Isren reclines back in his seat so I take it as my cue to leave and I unbuckle my seat belt.
His hand finds an excuse to touch mine so he can plant the last kiss near my cheekbone.
Blood rushes through my ears and it takes everything in me not to melt into a puddle of goo.
"Call you later?" I ask flicking the lock button.
"Yeah, have fun at school tomorrow."
"You do know I'm writing my last paper this Friday right?" I say arching an unnaturally tamed brow; Thursday before our getaway had been for plucking.
"Am I missing anything here?" he says raising his thicker brows in turn.
"I only go to school when I have an exam to write," I explain shaking my head.
"Ah, you're living the life o," Isren says with a nostalgic smile.
I snort. "Says the millionaire himself."
This makes him fake a hiss before continuing. "I work like a dog just to make sure thousands of people don't lose their source of income."
"Old people problems." I tease enjoying the way his mouth hangs slightly open.
He then laughs in the way a typical Nigerian mother would say 'I don't blame you. "When you were begging me to kiss you, you did not remember I was an old man? It's okay na."
My lips pucker from a former grin and I glower at him. "It was only one time."
"Mhmm sure," he says taking over from me with a smirk.
"All you need is a potbelly to match your ego." I retort.
He gasps touching his pec like I had just told him to jump of Third Mainland Bridge. "This should categorize as verbal abuse. But anyways bad belle is allowed," he adds, snickering at his pun.
I size him up squarely not knowing whether to laugh or be appalled. "I thought you were posh, at what Country Club did you hear bad belle?"
His expression turns serious and he checks his side on the window before inching closer to me.
"I follow Naija meme pages on Instagram." he whispers.
"Are you kidding me?" I say exasperated with the cackling casanova beside me.
He had me convinced all rich people had three sides -reserved, amiable, and downright crazy.
That or I had ended up unlucky in the 'who wants to be a sugar baby' lottery.
"It's okay mister man I'm going," I say when it's clear his laughter wasn't dying anytime soon.
Surprisingly this sobers him and he unlocks my car door from his driver's controls.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too." I croon, lugging the bag over my shoulder.
The jog to Victoria's house is short and I reach under the mat for the keys.
YOU ARE READING
Gone Bad (Nigerian Novel) -Editing
Teen Fiction"Nimi, a frustrated church girl, encounters her biggest temptation yet when she lands herself in the arms of Lagos' most eligible bachelor..." Nimi is tired of being a 'good girl', so she decides to take a risk for once in her life. Yet, she never e...
