THE FANTASY AFTER WORK

My laptop had been open since morning, my coffee had gone cold hours ago and my boss had somehow found three more things for me minutes before closing time. By then, it was already 6:30 pm and, officially, I was already tired of being an adult. I sighed, leaned back at my desk, tired of going home. What am I going to eat when I get home? Well, I packed my bags and closed my laptop. I am done working for the day. I need to rest. I signed out of the office attendance book and off I went. At a point, I decided to stop by and have dinner at a restaurant along the roadside. Ahh, there you go. Stopping by it was Daniel, my colleague, my biggest crush, my distraction and, unfortunately, my secret crush at work. The thought of him has always been on my mind. “Hello, Daniel, what are you doing here?” I asked as I approached him. “This is my usual joint. I came here to get dinner, so what are you doing here too?” he asked. “I came to get dinner too, so we are having dinner together, right?” I asked with a smile. He nodded and we went inside the restaurant together. “What do you care for, ma and sir?” a waitress asked. “Just get my swallow with egusi soup, Daniel requested.” “and you ma?” “The rice will be fine, just jellof and chicken.” At the table after the waitress served us, I couldn’t eat, Daniel was all over my mind, I was just smiling and confused until he broke the silence. “Do you like the food?” he asked. I nodded in response and with a smile. “You know, their food is one of the best around. That’s why I am always here almost every day once I am done with work for the day,” Daniel said. “is actually nice. Do you live around here, because it is a bit far from work? Oh! Don’t mind me, I forgot you have a car, my bad?” I said. He laughed and said, “My dear, leave the car. Oh, I don’t often come to work with my car, you know, and I live close here. Sometimes I go home and come back here and relax till night, then I go home to sleep and prepare for work. Why did you ask? Do you leave within?” “yes, I do. Well, don’t mind me asking," I replied. I still couldn’t behold Daniel, especially whenever he looked at me. Waitress, please how much the bill was. I asked a waitress beside us, but she said Daniel had already cleared the bill. I looked at him and smiled, “Thank you so much.” He smiled, but his smile was not just a smile for me, it meant a lot to me because there had always been something neither of us had named. Something that became harder to ignore every time he looked at me like that. It was already 8:15, still sitting across each other conversation was still going smoothly. We talked about childhood stories, music and everything we never had time to discuss during office hours. But the conversation keeps stopping as we stop to look at each other and smile. Those moments felt different. The kind of silence that said more than words could, the kind of silence that raises the soul and awakens a dead love heart. At one point, Daniel reached across the table and gently moved my glass away from the edge. His fingers brushed mine. Neither of us moved immediately. The bar was warm and loud, people laughing and music spilling from the speaker, but suddenly it all faded. My heart suddenly felt much louder than the music playing in the background. It was beating my throat, in my fingertips, everywhere He looked at me. Really looked like he was trying to read the thoughts I hadn’t said out loud yet. I looked at him, And for real, I forgot how to breathe for a second, I left the human world to some places in my mind. He giggled, and I came back to myself and he smiled. The slow, crooked smile that always made my stomach flip. Still looking at him in lack of mind, he asked “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked with his soft voice, softer than music to me. “Like what?” I tried sounding normal, but it didn’t work out. “Like you’re thinking about something that’s on your mind?” He’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “What do you want to say?” I took a sip of my drink just to give my hands something to do. The ice clinked. “Maybe I am,” I said. Then he leaned forward a little, elbows on the table close enough that I could smell his cologne over the music, I smiled, but it was shaky. “Maybe I will tell you another time." His expression shifted, amused, but there was something under it. Something patient and dangerous. He leaned back in his chair, but didn’t look away. Not for a second. “Then I guess I will have to wait,” he said. But the way he said it, (low with a half smile like that he was letting me have the last word even though he didn’t want to) made me wonder if either of us really wanted to wait. The song changed. My drink was still cold in my hand, but my face felt warm. Outside the night was moving. Inside, time felt stuck between us. Neither of us wanted to leave at first. Every moment felt like a dream coming through for us two, but none of us were ready to talk. And in that stuck, quiet, buzzing second, I realized: I didn’t want to tell him now. Right here, with his eyes still on me and my heart still too loud. But I didn’t. I just smiled again and let the question hang between us, sweet and terrible, like the last sip of drink you