Bestfriends - have you banged yours?

May's POV Waking up is always fun, only when I'm on my best friend's bed, cuddled in his embrace but it's the total opposite when I wake up in my cold room and with a harsh reminder to get married. I stretch my body to its full length and yawn with my mouth open wide enough to swallow my fist. As grandma would always say. "Morning my dear grandchild." Speak of the devil. My grandma walks in with a towel wrapped around her wet hair. She just had her bath and she's here to torture me again. "Good morning my dear grandmother, but if you'll excuse me, I have to use the toilet." I pull off my duvet in an attempt to escape her morning preaching, which I'm almost successful with when she tugs at my hair. "Get back here, young lady." "But grandma.." I groaned as I let her pull me back to my bed for her morning lecture. "It hurts, it hurts." I cried as I tried to get her to loosen her tight hold on my hair. "Where did you think you were going, young lady?" She asks in a stern voice as she releases my hair. "The toilet, the toilet. I was going to the toilet because I woke up with a stomach ache. I also dreamt of using the toilet. Grandma, please let me go to the toilet." I let my well practiced crocodile tears fall off my face as I recounted my new morning lie. I can't help but sin to escape her morning torture every morning. "Eh ehn, is that true?" She asks with a sober expression. It worked! I mentally celebrate at the thought of escaping from her hold this morning when she continues. "I have something very important to say before you go to the toilet." She says, holding my palm in hers. Not like I can run away anymore. I mentally rolled my eyes and cried. This is too early for my 23-year-old self. "Your husband, I heard that..." She was midway and heard when my stomach grumbled. Good safety. I mentally celebrate as I clench my stomach. "Grandma, it hurts." I cried as I let out a fart which gratefully smelled so bad. "Hmmf." She held her nose and I escaped to the toilet. "I told you I needed to use the toilet." I shouted as I heard her close the door to my room. "You did a good job." I pat my stomach and admired my brown eyes through the mirror opposite me. Two hours later. I made sure my parents and grandparents were out of sight before tiptoeing to the front of the door and I was about to turn the knob when I heard my grandmother's voice. "May, I had a dream about your husband." "I'm off to church. I'll pray about it." I shouted without turning back because I knew I couldn't escape if we shared eye contact. "Okay, I'll make some prayer bread and await your answers." "Tell mom I love her." I shouted as I ran out the porch. I got to the estate's gate before breathing a sigh of relief, then my stomach grumbled and I couldn't help where my legs took me. With a sigh, I walked into the restaurant, which cooks pasta better than my mom's and as usual, I ordered two servings of spaghetti. "Hi." I said to the private chef as he served my spaghetti sauce. I've become a regular at this restaurant since my last date. Though it didn't end well, I fell in love with the food, so I often come here. I might as well fall in love with the chef. After all, I promised to pick the most random guy to avoid the pressure to get married. He's not a bad pick either. He has a warm character, attends to his customers with a smile and, most of all, has excellent cooking skills. What else could a woman ask for? I know my parents would be satisfied and even overjoyed if I brought someone home. It will save me from their doubt, since they were beginning to doubt their daughter's sexuality. Daft people! I'm just 23 yet the pressure to get married has been on me since I graduated high school, which was 4 years ago. They keep asking the most marriage-related questions with every action I take. "May, have you found a man?" They ask when I apply lotion on my skin. "No ma." "Ohh that's sad." My grandmother tuts. "If you had a man, he would help you rub the lotion on your skin and you would have a pleasurable night." She would say then chuckle with my grandpa. When I'm on my period they'll ask, "May, aren't you pregnant?" "It's such a shame that I won't be carrying my child in 10 months' time." Her remarks always show her disappointment in me. And it has gotten worse since my 20th birthday. "May, it's your birthday and you must get married in 4 years or else you might never give birth in your life." My mother reminded me as we cut my birthday cake. "We would go to the church and seek advice from the elders. They should have better options for you." And that they did. They made me go to church every day of the week and continuously set dates for me. But from the moment one of my dates tried to harass me, I swore never to get married to someone of their choice, so now I will choose the most random guy even if he's a cripple. It's not like they would mind. After all, they only care because they are scared of the superstitious curse our lineage holds. "If you don't have a child before you are 25, you will never be a mother." My grandmother always says whenever she tucks me in bed. "We don't mind even if it's out of wedlock, we just want you to be happy." Then she would go on to talk about one of my aunts who was waiting for her love till she clicked 27 and never had a child after. And proceed with the tragic ending when she committed suicide on her 30th birthday. "We want the best for you dear." My grandfather would say, then my grandma would get emotional, saying, " I don't want to lose another child of mine to such stupidity." "So you must have a child, get married and live a happy life." She would sharpen her resolve and walk out of my room, leaving me to my own thoughts. What frustrations. "How old are you, chef?" I asked, just like I usually do. "Why do you want to know that, little girl?" He asks with a light chuckle as he takes the seat opposite mine. "Do you perhaps want to learn my craft?" He asks as he sets the utensils in their place. He looks like he has OCD. Not bad! From the arrangements in the restaurant and the regular cleaning his staff do, that much is obvious. "Not a bad idea, but that's not why I asked," I say with a sly smile as I twirl the spaghetti on the ceramic plate with my fork. "Ohkayy, tell me why." He sounded amused and a bit too relaxed for the next words that were about to hit his ears. I couldn't help but watch him closely and notice the little gray hair beginning to sprout amongst the black facial hair on his face. The way his Adam's apple bobbed as he drank water also amused me. "Marry me." I said, now staring into his eyes. His blue eyes trembled lightly, and I couldn't discern why. Was he so shocked by my words or was it natural for his eyes to shake this violently? "Haha, I've never met someone as funny as you." "Young girls nowadays are funny." He laughed as he tapped his palm on the wooden table, making the cutleries clatter and get displaced from their space. "I'm serious, I want you to marry me. I heard that you're single and I can see that you're handsome. You are also a good cook and parents will love you " I said all in one breath. "Oh right, you find my jokes funny and trust me, that's a huge plus one." I added and watched as his face changed from one shade of red to the other. He initially had an amused look, then one that took my words for a joke, then his face had the look of shock. "We will live a happy life and you'll have a wife." And I will be free from my parents' nagging. But for some reason, after I concluded the thought, I immediately pictured Drew's face. And my heart sank. But why? Aren't we just friends? Or like they say, aren't we just friends with benefits?