Tiny blew up when I finally got around to telling her about the confusing conversation I had with Nasir the other day—you know the one where he was trying to reel me back in or something. I keep reading the last text he sent. “Keep running. You can’t hide.”
“I don’t get it. Why do you still pick his calls?” She screeched.
“Because he always blocks his number when he calls so how am I supposed to tell?” I screeched back.
“The moment you can tell it is him, you drop the phone on his ass! That’s what you should do! Iru oshi wo ni yen?!”
“Man, I’m just tired. He is just trying to put me through some emotional wringer and I am not having it.”
Tiny sighed. “Seriously, he’s on some bullshit. Where’s his Queen Bitch’s head at? She’s not enough for him anymore.”
“I don’t give a damn.” I chuckled wryly at her use of our illicit name for Nasir’s girl, Kunbi. “I just need for him to leave me alone.”
“I’m about to give him a call myself and tell him to stay the hell away. What on earth is wrong with the fellow?!”
That would be so hilarious. Nasir hates Tiny’s tongue. In fact, nobody likes Tiny’s tongue when she is riled.
She blew up again when I filled her in on the Paddy episode.
“Omolara, the hell? Did you wine and dine with the patron saint of drama in your sleep or something?”
“I’ll tell you what, Tiny, I really do think so!”
“I mean, well damn! But hey, the kiss was fire, you said?”
“Girl, fire doesn’t cut it. Like, I can’t stop reliving it!”
Our juicy conversation went on for another hour, and then she had to go. I dove under my sheets when she rang off and began to type up my English paper which was due on Monday. I cut a studious picture, if I may say so myself, with my spectacles on the bridge of my nose and my fingers clacking away at my laptop.
Natalie, my flat-mate, broke my concentration by knocking. Grr.
“You have a package. Can I come in?”
She hopped into my room with the package which was mysteriously wrapped in glossy, silver paper.
“Who’s it from?” She trilled.
My wild-card guess was Michael. I mean, who else would send me anything when it wasn’t my birthday?
“I don’t know, Nat. Let me see the note.” I laughed.
“For Larry.” That was all the note said.
“Larry?!” I exclaimed. “Are you sure this is for me, Nat?”
“Oh yeah, the mail guy just dropped it off and had me sign for it,” she told me.
Who calls me Larry?
So I opened the package.
Chocolate cake from Haven.
“Oh gosh, that looks soooooo good!” Nat cried.
I was still staring at the cake in disbelief. I love food from Haven, only like one of the most expensive 5-star restaurants in these parts. Better still, I love the chocolate marble cake from Haven.
Rich, deep, expensive…Haven’s chocolate marble cake coated with rich chocolate frosting. They only make it to order, and now I began to wonder who knew me so well as to have known that something like this would make not just my day, but five consecutive weeks!
I rummaged in the package, looking for a hint and a clue and oh, what do you know, there was another note in there.
My heart sank as I pulled it out.
Please, don’t let it be Nasir.
I was ready to dump the cake in the trash if it was from him, Haven or no!
Another boon from the patron saint of drama, as Tiny would put it. I mean, when it rains, clearly it pours too.
The second note read –
“Token of apology.
Doesn’t amount to much, I know, but here’s to hoping it’s a start.
Well, damn, Paddy. Just…damn.
He’s right. It doesn’t amount to much. Heck, it doesn’t even count at all.
But I, Lara Maimunah Afope Bade-John, turn down chocolate cake from Haven?!
I’m not in love
It’s just a phase that I’m going through
I’m always looking for something new
But don’t go running away