King
Aggressive knocking on my door jolted me awake. I roused from the sofa and into a sitting position, pulling at the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger. My eyes roamed the parlour, settling on the carry-on bag that I had shoved clothes into in a haphazard manner. I must have fallen asleep before I got a chance to finish packing or arrange them properly.
My phone buzzed and I stood to retrieve it from the table. Swiping up on my phone screen, the image that greeted me was that of the website I visited to book a flight.
At the bottom of the page was a red button with book now written in capital letters. I spared a glance at the time at the top right corner of my screen, it read 4:30. If I booked now, I would be home before nine.
One look at the notification that got me to stand up and I saw that it was from Mother. She wanted to know if I was still coming. I ignored the message, taking another look at that button. My fingers hovered briefly above it, stopped by the quick succession of rapid knocks at my door.
What if it's Junior?
The thought propelled me to hit the book button before twirling to ask, "who's there?"
I had not told any of them that I would be travelling for fear of them trying to change my mind. They would be informed once I got to the airport or back to Abuja.
"Uti."
"What do you want?" I asked; she was the last person I wanted to see, assuming I ever wanted to see her again after last night.
Seeing them kiss on the day he proposed to her had hurt like hell. It was a crushing sensation, likened to the feeling of having someone you cared about repeatedly stab you in your chest while you watch on helplessly in a silent plea. Hurt, immobile and overwhelmed by the betrayal.
Yesterday, my body had listened and my feet had moved far, far away from them.
"King?" She must have sensed my hesitation as I was still standing in the middle of the parlour. "Please open up."
The hand holding my phone lowered and I stared at the door, battling with the part of me that wanted to see her. I was certain my resolve would be weakened once I saw her face but it didn't stop my feet from moving to the entrance and my fingers, to the lock.
Pressing my forehead to the door, I assured myself that this was goodbye. One last look at her face wouldn't do any harm.
"Can I come in?" She asked once I opened the door with my body blocking the entry.
I really wanted to say no but my rebellious body moved aside for her to step inside. I followed behind her, eyes focused on the black, polythene nylon that she was holding rather than the gentle sway of her waist as she moved. Or the way her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her kimono while waiting for me to join her.
My eyes lowered to the nylon she had dropped on the table and she volunteered an answer to my unspoken question.
"We made cupcakes, vanilla cupcakes."
"I'm off sugar," came my tart response.
Who was to say that she didn't make it with the help of Umoh? He was probably there when she made the cupcakes, helping her in ways I couldn't since I was terrible at anything that slightly resembled cooking.
YOU ARE READING
When A Playboy Loves
Romance"What do you want?" I asked instead. We were the only two left at the bar which meant I was stuck with him till the early hours of the morning. "Sex on the beach." * * * Utianle, popularly known as Uti is an upcoming fashion designer who quit her jo...
