Dinner and Discoveries
716 Words
The next days were blurred with conference sessions, but Lola’s phone buzzed often with Ade’s messages, jokes about Lagos traffic, tech debates, random checks on her day and flirty chats that piques her interest.
"How's the coding going?" he'd ask.
Lola would reply, "Crushing it. You?"
Ade would respond with a laughing emoji.
They met for lunch once, walked around Marina dodging sudden rain, the air charged but friendly, like a tentative dance.
Ade: "Want to grab dinner tonight? My treat."
Lola: "Sure, where?"
Ade: "How about Skyline Bistro? 7 PM?"
Lola: "Perfect. See you then "
Ade suggested a weekend plan. "Sundown picnic at Oluwole Park? No tech talk, just us." Lola agreed, nerves sparking. Is this a date?
Lola: "Sounds like a plan! What should I bring?"
Ade: "Just yourself . I'll handle the rest."
Lola: "Okay, can't wait!"
Saturday evening, Ade picked her up in a tidy sedan, with a basket of food, grilled fish, fried plantains, fresh fruit, and a bottle of chilled ginger beer. Oluwole Park buzzed with families, the sky ablaze with sunset, streaks of orange and pink melting into the trees. The smell of grilled meat wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
Ade: "Hey, you look amazing!"
Lola: "Thanks! You don't look so bad yourself 😊"
Ade: "Shall we find a spot?"
They found a quiet spot, spreading a mat under a sprawling acacia tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. As they ate, Ade told stories of growing up in Lagos – fixing broken toys as a kid, chasing crabs in the creeks of Eleko.
Lola: "That's so cool! I was the opposite – always breaking things 😅"
Ade: "Haha, I doubt that!"
Lola: "True story! Ask my siblings"
The sky darkened, stars peeking like scattered diamonds. Ade leaned back on his elbows, looking relaxed. "You’re different from what I expected."
Lola: "How?"
Ade: "Quieter, but… deeper."
Lola: "Is that a good thing?"
Ade: "Definitely 😊"
He shifted closer, his voice dropping. "Want to walk?"
Lola: "I'd love to."
The path was dimly lit, laughter from other families fading as they strolled toward a grove of palms. The sound of distant music drifted through the air – a mix of Afrobeats and jazz, blending with the rustling leaves. Ade caught her hand, his fingers intertwering with hers.
Ade: "This song reminds me of you," he said, playing Burna Boy's "Ye".
Lola: "I love this song!"
Ade: "Me too 😊"
They danced under the stars, feet moving in sync, laughter echoing. Ade pulled out a guitar from the basket – Lola hadn't noticed it was there – and started strumming.
Lola: "You play?!"
Ade: "I do. Music's my thing 😊"
Lola: "Sing something!"
Ade sang softly, his voice low and smooth, a mix of English and Yoruba words. Lola's heart skipped a beat.
Ade: "Want to make some music together?"
Lola: "I'd love that 😊"
Ade: "We make a good team."
The night wore on, music and laughter weaving together. They talked about dreams, fears, passions. Lola felt seen, heard, like she was home.
As they sat under the stars, Ade pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "Want to write a song together?"
Lola's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Ade nodded, handing her a pen. "Let's start with a line."
Lola wrote down a line, Ade added another, and soon they were co-creating lyrics, music flowing like the night air.
The hours ticked by, the playlist looping, their bond growing with every note. As they drove back, the playlist still playing, Lola felt a sense of excitement.
Lola: "Tonight was amazing."
Ade: "Agreed. Want to do it again?"
Lola: "Definitely 😊"
Ade smiled, reaching for her hand. "Good. I wasn't ready for the night to end."
Lola smiled back, feeling the spark. "Me neither."
As they pulled up to her place, Ade walked her to the door. The night air was cool, the city quiet.
Ade: "Thanks for tonight. Best night ever 😊"
Lola: "Agreed 😊"
Ade leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft kiss. Lola felt a jolt, like music hitting the right note.
Ade: "See you soon?"
Lola: "Soon 😊"
He smiled, turned, and walked back to his car. Lola watched him drive off, heart still fluttering.
- Writer
