SIX – 4

“Maybe you should sleep with him,” Mundi said out of the blue, as if it was the brightest, groundbreaking solution of the moment.

Feeling the urge to drench him with my drink, because such was the magnitude of my disgust, I snapped, “It’s like your enemies are doing soft work on your head, ba? Why in God’s name would you suggest that, Mun?”

Vaughan giggled like he was high on sugar before saying, “He’s right, you know. Maybe you should just get laid.”

I had been overwhelmed by Kareem’s presence on the dance floor upon seeing who my dance partner was. A feeling of irrational panic had flooded my system. I’d turned from him and fled the room.

“Peka!” The complete desperation in his voice when he called my name was piercing.

But it wasn’t enough to make me stop my flight. I ducked and dodged around the bodies on the dance floor until I saw Derin’s bedroom and darted into it. My friends joined me shortly after.

“Yes, Peks. You should just fuck him out of your system already. It always works,” Derin supplied.

“Exactly!”  Fara joined in. “And God knows that man is so fine.”

“And fucking rich,” added Mundi.

“Let’s not forget sexy as hell,” intoned Vaughan.

“And he’s a frigging football star!” hollered Derin, lifting his hands skyward at the same time like he singing out the Hallelujah chorus.

I waited a beat until I was sure the chorus of Kareem Wihu’s good qualities had ended, before saying mildly, “I’m not trying to be dramatic right now. But have you guys gone completely mad?!” The last word came out heightened in volume and emotion as I divided an angry look equally amongst them. “Do you guys not have any sense left in you? Have you all forgotten how I first made his acquaintance, what I told you happened at the smoothie shop? Or that my boss wants me to work with him? Or that –”

“He’s just a walking piece of man-truffle with a penis that was moulded after the last sexy man that died eons ago,” Faramade cut in. “Not to mention that he’s gay. Just fuck him and stop fretting abeg.” From the groove of clear irritation wedged in her brow, it was apparent she was not in the mood for my nonsense.

“I’m not fretting kankan!” I bristled. “And what do you mean by he’s gay?! How do you know this? He told you himself? Or some cosmic reaction revealed this to you right where you’re seated? Huh?” When she didn’t answer, I prodded, “Talk nau!”

“You know what, Peks?” Derin interjected. “I can deal with you being blind and all. What I won’t take is this dumb attitude you’re twerking on.” I turned to stab him with the heat of my glare but he wasn’t finished. “I mean, come on! This is an all guys’ party. He came up to you and was all over you on the dance floor with a hard-on that was obvious from here to the Sears Tower, and your silly ass is asking if he’s gay? No, he’s not gay at all. He just has a high affinity for species that are totally clueless, flat-chested and dumb! My God!” He got up and went straight to fridge in the other corner of the room.

Even with the party going on in the living room, the silence in the bedroom was somewhat awkward.

“Who invited him sef?” Mundi finally asked.

“Who knows,” Derin spat, clearly still beside himself with his irritation.

It wasn’t rocket science that Kareem Wihu, a football star, had come to Derin’s party. Derin is from a wealthy home. His parents were not in the country at the moment; probably in Asia or some far-flung continent, signing deals with investors and the likes. Derin has two sisters who are married but who aren’t close to their brother. He runs a fashion vlog alongside his radio job, and was once asked during a red carpet interview whose husband he was dating. “George Clooney,” had been his pithy response. Yes, he was rich and gay and could afford to live his truth under the occasional spotlight of a bemused media and an outraged public. He was also connected amidst the social circles he operated in, and in a party that had two closeted Nollywood actors in attendance, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to find sports fame in our midst.

The issue was how Kareem knew about the party and who’d brought him along.

After some seconds, Faramade asked, “So Peka, will you finally go out there and discuss having sex with him?” The smirk hovering on her lips was evidence that she was over her exasperation with me.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at me.

“What?” I blurted. “No! Work ethics, people!”

“I give up!” Mundi groaned. “You’re irredeemable.” He got up and made to leave the room.

“Who work ethics epp sef?” Vaughan mocked.

“Obviously not Derin or you since you decided to desecrate the conference room at the radio station that weekend two years ago,” Faramade shot at him.

Sometimes, I wondered whose side she ever was on. Such a feisty thing.

However, all of us burst out laughing.

“You’re just a bitch,” Derin said through his chuckles.

“Anyway, great help from all of you,” I said.

I left the room and was back among other people in the hallway. Completely forgotten was the man I’d run away from as I found my way to the back of the house to get some fresh air into my system. And just as I was thinking that the universe was on my side upon getting there to see the empty wide space, I heard someone clear his throat behind me.

I jumped and whirled around. It was Kareem.

“Hey,” he said.

“I know Taekwondo,” I said. It was a stupid thing to say. I further embarrassed myself by taking a combat pose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, an amused expression on his face. He wasn’t that much taller than me, I noticed. But his chest was broad and wider than mine. The amusement on his face was so uncharacteristic. He didn’t have the gruff or trim look of a footballer. He had something indescribable and more appealing to the eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked defensively.

“If it’s what I’m thinking, it’ll be something along the lines of insanity and embarrassment.”

And he was probably right, which rankled. “What do you want?” I snapped, straightening up.

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I just want to talk.”

“What about?”

“About what’s going on.”

“Going on where?”

“Between us. What’s going on between us.”

I lifted my brows at him. Us? Aloud, I repeated, “Us? Which one is Us? Are you high on something? Drunk perhaps? Because that’d be a safer explanation than to say you’re perhaps delusional, full of shit and somewhat stupid. No offence.”

He chuckled.

“What was funny about what I just said?” I bridled.

“It’s not common to find someone who thinks I’m any of those things you just listed combined.”

“You don’t say,” I drawled in mock-wonder. “Maybe that’s because you only mingle with ass kissers.”

The smile on his face widened. “Uh huh.”

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I swept past him back into the house.

“Peka, wait –”

I could feel him following after me, but I knew my way around this house and he didn’t. I darted this way and that, and was soon in an empty room. I shut the door immediately and locked it.

“Peka!”

I didn’t answer.

He called my name again after some knocking, which I completely ignored.

“Peka!” he hollered.

“Yes?” I finally snapped in a shout too.

“Don’t say ‘yes?’ and open the door!”

“Oh go fuck yourself.”

There was complete silence for a few moments, and then when he spoke, his voice had softened. He was right up against the door. “Please, let me in.”

“Why?”

“Please, just let me in.”

I opened the door many seconds later. He stepped in front of me, locked the door behind himself and crowded my personal space.

“Uhm, elbow room, dude.”

He didn’t budge. I refused to step back.

“Dude, move!”

“Don’t you like that I’m here? In front of you?”

I actually did. But hell would freeze over before I would let him know that, so I said, “No!”

“I find that hard to believe. Not after the way you were pushing up on me not too long ago.”

I felt heat flood my face at the memory of my abandon on the dance floor. My mortification heightened my annoyance with him. “I was pushing up on a stranger, not you. There’s a difference.”

“Still… Something was there. Something is here. Something worth exploring.” His gaze had suddenly gotten heavy-lidded as he focused on me, the heat from those eyes searing a pathway into me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I blustered.

“I’m tired of fighting, Peka.” His tone had dropped to a husky level. “Kiss me.”

The instruction, though softly spoken, whipped the breath out of me. How I was able to find speech was beyond my comprehension. “I’m sorry, what?” I said breathlessly.

Laughing softly, he said, “You heard me.”

“No, I don’t think I did. Because, you – well, you’re… that is, you’re straight.”

For some reason, I desperately needed him to be straight. I needed that barrier to stay in place between us. Otherwise, I didn’t know what I would do, how I could handle the way this man was affecting me.

He quirked his brows at me. “You honestly can’t think that – not after what we did on the dance floor.”

I shook my head at him. “Listen, if you need to experiment, get –”

“It’s not an experiment.”

“You’re a footballer –” I was grasping at straws now and I knew that.

“And so?” he said.

I took a step back from him and was startled when I found myself suddenly bumping into the wall behind me. My heartbeat was roaring in my chest cavity. He took a step toward me. He didn’t touch me, but the essence of him seemed to reach out and surround me. I began trembling.

“Kiss me,” he said again, his eyes locked on mine, drinking me in.

Then he lifted his left hand to my waist and his right hand slid around the nape of my neck. I felt his fingers massage my neck gently as he eased me forward. Mouth hovering over mine, he pressed his entire body against me.

“Kiss me.” His breath ghosted over my face.

Mesmerized, I leaned in and did as I was asked.

Written by Vhar