CHAPTER 3:His Eyes linger Too Long
853 Words
If the rain in Yaba had been a storm, the silence between us at the bus stop felt like the pause before lightning strikes.
People rushed past — traders closing shop, students running for shelter, bus conductors yelling destinations — but none of them reached me. Not really.
All I felt was Tobi beside me.
Too close.
Too warm.
Too attentive.
His umbrella tilted toward me again, even though we were already under the bus shed. I didn’t miss the irony: the man was shielding me from rain that couldn’t touch me anymore.
“I said I’m fine,” I muttered.
“And I said I don’t mind.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“You look cold.”
I shot him a glare. “You keep saying that.”
“That’s because you keep pretending otherwise.”
His voice was soft — too soft — but there was an edge beneath it. A quiet authority that made my pulse throb in inconvenient places.
I shifted, crossing my arms to hide the way my body reacted to him. But his eyes followed the movement, slow and deliberate, traveling from my fingers… up my forearms… to the thin fabric clinging to my chest.
His gaze stopped there.
Lingering.
Darkening.
I swallowed hard.
“Stop staring.”
“I will,” he said.
But he didn’t.
His eyes lifted to mine — slow, controlled, and unapologetic. The kind of look that could peel layers off a person, that could make a stranger feel like a secret.
I hated how warm it made me feel.
I hated how much my thighs pressed together.
I hated how much I wanted him to look even longer.
A bus pulled in, shouting “Sabo! Sabo!”
I stepped forward, ready to escape.
But his hand caught my wrist — gently, but firmly.
I froze.
“Tobi…”
My voice cracked, betraying me.
His thumb brushed my skin, just once.
A barely-there stroke — but it sent heat spiraling through my stomach.
He stepped closer, enough that the space between us compressed into something charged and dangerous.
“Let me drive you,” he murmured.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“You think I’ll do something to you?” he asked, eyes locked on mine.
“No,” I breathed.
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“That I…”
I looked away, humiliated at the truth.
“That I might like it.”
A slow exhalation escaped him.
Something shifted in his expression — something hungry, something restrained, something he fought to keep from showing fully.
“Get in the car,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a command.
It wasn’t a plea.
It was an invitation.
One wrapped in heat and danger and the unspoken promise of something I didn’t trust myself with.
But I didn’t move.
And he didn’t push.
He stepped closer instead, lowering his voice until it brushed the shell of my ear.
“You don’t have to let me take you home,” he whispered.
“But don’t lie to yourself.”
His breath warmed my skin.
“You want to.”
My heart hammered.
My breath stuttered.
My body betrayed me entirely.
Tobi pulled back just enough for me to see his face — controlled, patient, but undeniably intense.
The type of man who could be gentle…
or ruinous…
Depending on how close you let him get.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
And that was the mistake.
Because the moment our eyes met, the air snapped — thick and electric. His gaze dipped to my mouth, and I felt it physically, like a tug low in my belly.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
I inhaled sharply.
His knuckles skimmed the side of my jaw.
Not accidental.
Not casual.
Intentional.
Intimate.
Too intimate.
“Tobi…” My whisper trembled.
“I won’t kiss you,” he murmured.
My breath hitched.
“Then stop touching me.”
He didn’t.
His fingers traced the soft line behind my ear, barely there, like he was memorizing me with just his fingertips.
His voice dropped into something dark, something that soaked into my skin.
“I’m trying. Believe me.”
His thumb brushed my cheek.
“But you make it very hard.”
My knees weakened.
Before I could respond, a conductor shouted again, the bus doors clattering shut.
The umbrella slipped down as he lowered his hand.
“I’ll ask once more,” he said quietly.
“Let me take you home.”
And this time…
I didn’t say no.
Not because I trusted him.
But because I didn’t trust myself — and I wanted to know what a little danger tasted like.
“Fine,” I whispered.
“Just a ride.”
Tobi smiled.
Not smug.
Not triumphant.
Just… like h
I’d known from the beginning I would say yes.
“Come,” he said, guiding me out of the crowd with a light touch on my lower back.
And I let him.
God help me, I let him.
- Writer
