Kindled Hearts

2 //Chicken Pilau

Nicole bit her bottom lip, eyes set at her teemed closet. On a normal day, this would have been an easy task,  but she knew better than to go for her pedestrian wear, which mainly comprised of large stretches of exposed skin. She slumped onto her pillow raided bed, breathing a defeat. Her closest had now grown garish for her own liking.

Beside her, Kiki groaned, "Can you at least take a look at that dress nestled at the corner?"

Nicole followed Kiki's gaze, until it landed at the cant of her closet. A simple red sheath laid still, undisturbed by the weight of all her other gaudy clothes, and somehow in all its stillness, it managed to buoy her spirits and a gasp of relief that she didn't know she was holding on to, escaped from her lips.

"You are such a genius," she beamed, giving Kiki a quick hug.

Kiki yelped as she cricked out of her embrace. "Looks to me like you are damn eager for this date."

"It's not a date," Nicole retorted, reaching out for the red dress.

Kiki rolled her eyes, "Keep on lying to yourself."

Nicole skimmed her hands over the soft fabric, stopping at its edges as she gently tugged on it, and slipped it onto her naked self. "I barely know his name, so how can this be a date? " she questioned, unwarping the sheath around her torso until it clung perfectly.

Her ears perked when she heard Kiki's boisterous laugh. "Why are you laughing?" she asked.

Kiki pent-up her risibles, but Nicole could still see the twitch in the wick of her mouth.

"Out with it! " she exclaimed.

"You seriously don't remember drooling over his name in your drunken stupor?"

"I did no such thing," Nicole rebuffed, hands on her hips as she stared at Kiki.

"When you two get married, just don't forget me."

Nicole coughed, "That's not happening, me getting married to him, and why would you even think of that?"

"You two seem right." Kiki answered, rather casually.

Kiki's remark imbued Nicole with a sense of uneasiness, and as she glanced at the full length mirror clamped beside her bed, she reached out for the bottle of gin that laid on the nightstand, teeming its content with large gulps.

"So what's his name?" she asked, twisting her black braids into a bun.

"Wayne."

As if on cue, a soft rap was heard on the door, and Nicole could've swore she felt her heart start. She grabbed her burgundy clutch, stuffing it with different shades of lipsticks, her make up set and what have you.
"See you later," she called out to Kiki and scurried over to the door.

Closing the door behind her, she glanced up to a familiar set of brown eyes, and for a minute she allowed herself to get lost in them. A minute longer than she intended, because a rough cough drew her out from her stun, and her cheeks flashed a deep buff blush.

"Hey Nicole," he greeted.

"Hey, Wayne right?" she cursed her voice for sounding an octave higher than normal.

He nodded, "Yeah, it's Wayne. You look beautiful." He gave her a once-over.

"Thank you, you also do look great."

He looked dapper in his blue jeans and a plain white shirt that snugged onto his chest, revealing his denched muscles and an outline of tattoo that threatened to peep through. 

He stepped aside and whiffed his hand, "After you."

It was barely 7.30 pm, yet the night glared with intense darkness and the apartment's outwith poor lightening, did little to obstruct the edged depressions, steans and sludge along the sidewalk. Natalie wondered what Wayne thought about her dingy neighborhood, about the air drenched in toxicity, about the grave faces that pierced their way and as she cast him a sidelong glance, she become aware of how different they were in comparison.

Wayne directed her towards his blue jeep parked across the street, just a few meters away from her apartment. He held the passenger side door open for her. She glided in and settled onto the seat. Her eyes instantly ran over the inside of the car. It was starkly tidy, the usual gum wrappings and scattered papers that she had seen splayed on the floor of other cars, was free from his. The air inside was forspread with a minty essence and that of an after shave, which she found, a refreshing contrast to the toxicity that suffused outwith.

"Where do you fancy?" he asked, shifting gears.

His voice was crispily rough and something in its timbre kindled something in her. He had an effect on her and she fidgeted on her seat, fumbling with the seat belt that nipped on her dark skin, all an attempt to shake off the foreign feeling rising within her chest.

"Anywhere of your choice," she responded barely in a whisper.

"Okay, let me take you downtown to a new restaurant that recently opened, heard they serve the best Swahili dishes."

A smile appeared on Nicole's lips, "Can't wait to try."

Half an hour later, Wayne parked the car in front of a building that Nicole suspected to be the restaurant. Her hand grasped onto the door handle but before she could wring it, she felt a warm touch. She turned around and collided into his gaze. His eyes held hers, pulling her in with each passing second. She squirmed on the leather seat and the hairs on her skin bristled. It felt like an eternity, but somehow in that eternity, she didn't want him to stop looking at her.

"Don't, I'll do it," he spoke, releasing her from his gaze.

She responded with a bob of the head, except he didn't see it, he was already out of his seat, ambling round the car to her side. Once her door was opened, she slid out into the open air.

He had his hand on her back, guiding her into the restaurant, Nicole couldn't tell if it was the rich aroma floating amid the air that was making her fervent or if it was the sinewy hand on her back. 

"Karibu Swahili Pearl, what would you like?" A beaming waitress called out as soon as they both occupied a table.

From the corner of her eyes, Nicole watched Wayne's countenance. The way he bit his lips strongly yet gentle as his orbs glided over the menu. It was such a tiny action, yet it stoored her nerves, and she felt bare when lifted his gaze and met hers. His gaze was intense.

"Having a hard time?" she asked, the strain in her voice suppressed.

"Yeah, I don't know which pilau to go with. There is beef pilau, vegetable pilau and chicken pilau. Which one do you prefer?"

"Um.. chicken pilau," she answered.

"Okay then, chicken pilau it is." He turned to the waitress.

"I'll also have the same," she becked.

In a few minutes, their food was layed onto the table, and Nicole delved into hers, but as she raised a spoonful of pilau to her mouth, her nose flared and at that moment she wished she hadn't stung her stomach with alcohol, for her stomach gnawed in chaos,  and just then, a tart vomit flew out of her mouth, landing not only on her plate but on the entire table, and as she looked to Wayne, she freaked. His face was covered in vomit.

"Uh..oh."

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