lost in your mind by D.K khashama

LOST IN YOUR MIND BY D.K KHASHAMA Chapter 1: The Rain That Changed Everything [Part 1] Lagos didn’t do gentle rain. It came down like it had something to prove, slamming against rooftops, turning streets into rivers, drowning out every other sound until the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat and the slap of your shoes in dirty water. Amara Bello ran anyway. Her left shoe had a hole. Cold water seeped through with every step, but she didn’t care. The scholarship interview at Crestview University started in seventeen minutes, and she’d spent five years building toward this one chance. Seventeen minutes and a bus ride that wasn’t coming. “Why today?” she muttered, hugging her backpack tighter to her chest. Inside were her textbooks, her sketchbook, and the only clean shirt she owned. All of it was already damp. The wind tore at her headscarf. Rain stung her eyes. Ahead, the bus stop was a small crowd of people huddled under a broken shelter, but the 42B wasn’t in sight. Amara’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t bother checking it. It was probably Mama again, asking if she’d eaten. They hadn’t had food since yesterday, just garri and water, and Mama would pretend it was enough until Amara came home with a scholarship and a real job. _First scholarship interview and I die in dirty rainwater._ The thought made her laugh, short and bitter. She sounded like Tobi already. She turned the corner at Olonode Street too fast. The collision was instant and brutal. Books exploded out of her arms like birds set free. Pens scattered across the wet pavement. Her sketchbook flipped open, pages fanning out, ink bleeding in the rain. “Hey—!” A strong hand caught her elbow before she hit the ground. Amara looked up, ready with a sharp apology, and the words died in her throat. Rain dripped from his dark hair onto his forehead. A tailored white shirt clung to his shoulders, soaked through, and the expensive fabric was already ruined. Dark eyes studied her with something that wasn’t annoyance. It was amusement. And a crooked smile that should’ve been illegal on a weekday. “Well,” he said, voice low and steady despite the storm. “This is one way to meet me.” Amara yanked her arm free. “Let go. My books—” He was already crouching, picking them up one by one. Water pooled around his knees but he didn’t seem to notice. “Advanced Architecture,” he read, holding her textbook upside down. “Structural Foundations. Calculus for Designers.” He glanced up at her. “You’re serious about this.” “I don’t need you to tell me that.” She snatched the book back. “And you’re holding it upside down.” He tilted his head. “No. I’m just naturally impressive.” Amara rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Rich boy ego.” He stood up, water running down the line of his jaw. He was tall. Too tall. And he smelled like rain and expensive cologne that had no business being on Olonode Street. “Poor girl attitude,” he replied without missing a beat. The words should’ve angered her. Instead, something trailed in her chest, stupid and warm, and she hated it immediately. “You always fall into strangers?” Amara asked. “Only arrogant ones,” Adrian said. “So I’m special?” “No. Annoying.” He said it with a grin, like he was enjoying this. Like he had time to stand in the rain and trade insults while her future was running out. “I’m Adrian,” he added, as if she needed an introduction. Amara hesitated. She shouldn’t give him her name. Strangers didn’t matter. But the way he was looking at her made her feel like he already saw through the wet clothes and the cheap bag and the desperation she tried to hide. “Amara,” she said finally. He repeated it softly, like he was tasting the sound. “Amara…” Thunder cracked overhead. The streetlights flickered. Before she could move, he shrugged off his jacket — a real wool jacket that probably cost more than her school fees for a term — and draped it over her shoulders. “You’ll catch cold,” Adrian said. Amara stepped back. “You’ll ruin it.” “It’s only money,” he said. She stared at him. No rich kid ever said that like it meant nothing. Like money was just fabric, replaceable, not the difference between eating and not eating. A loud, dramatic gasp cut through the rain. “AMARA BELLO!” Amara closed her eyes. Of course. Of all the people. Tobi Okonkwo came skidding around the corner, umbrella inside-out, slippers making suction sounds on the wet ground. His school uniform was plastered to his skin and his hair looked like a wet bird’s nest. “AMARA! Are you flirting in the rain while we can’t afford umbrellas?!” Adrian choked on a laugh. Amara felt her face burn. Tobi skidded to a stop, took one look at Adrian, and did a slow double-take. His eyes widened. “Wait. Wait wait.” He pointed at Adrian, then at Amara, then back at Adrian. “Is this the rich boy you’ve been drawing in your sketchbook?” Amara snapped. “I do not draw rich boys!” “Could’ve fooled me,” Tobi muttered, then straightened up and extended a hand to Adrian with the confidence of someone who owned the street. “Tobi Okonkwo. Amara’s best friend, personal bodyguard, and future businessman. If you marry rich, please remember the guy who sold you puff-puff for credit last term.” Adrian shook Tobi’s hand, still smiling. “Adrian Knight. And noted.” Tobi’s eyes nearly popped out. “Knight? As in Knight Holdings?” Amara froze. Knight Holdings. The conglomerate that owned half the real estate in Lagos. The company her father had worked construction for before his back gave out. _Oh no._ Adrian’s smile dimmed slightly when he saw her expression change. He followed her gaze to her backpack, to the way she was clutching her soaked sketchbook like it was the only thing keeping her standing. “You’re heading to Crestview, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. Amara nodded, wary now. “How did you—” “The Crestview logo is on your bag. And the interview is in fifteen minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re not going to make it.” Tobi groaned. “Told you we should’ve left an hour ago.” Amara ignored him. She looked at Adrian, really looked at him, and for the first time saw the sharpness behind the playful smile. He wasn’t just a rich boy standing in the rain. He was calculating. Observant. “You’re not going to help me, are you?” she asked. Adrian paused. “Why would I?” “Because that’s what rich people do in movies. They swoop in and save the poor girl.” He laughed again, but it was quieter this time. “I’m not in a movie, Amara.” “No,” she agreed. “You’re in my way.” She bent down to collect the last of her scattered pens. Her hands were shaking. Not from cold. From frustration. Adrian watched her for a long moment, then did something she didn’t expect. He crouched down too and started picking up pens. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Helping.” “We don’t need your help.” “I know.” He held out a blue pen. “But I’m doing it anyway.” Tobi, sensing the tension, tried to lighten it. “So… you two met, you argued, now you’re bonding over stationery. Classic romance. Should I leave you two alone?” Amara stood up so fast water splashed. “We are not—” “We’re not,” Adrian said. They said it at the same time. Then both looked away. Tobi grinned. “Sure. Not at all.” The bus finally rumbled into view, splashing water everywhere. People scrambled. Amara grabbed her bag and started moving, but Adrian stepped in front of her. “Wait,” he said. “I’m late.” “Then run. But let me do this first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black umbrella. Expensive. Sleek. Dry. He opened it and held it over her head. “I don’t take charity,” Amara said. “It’s not charity. It’s logistics. You can’t sit your interview with pneumonia,” Adrian replied. Tobi snorted. “That’s the smoothest ‘I care about you’ I’ve ever heard.” Amara glared at Tobi, then at Adrian. The rain was still pouring. The bus was still waiting. And Adrian wasn’t moving. Finally, she stepped under the umbrella. Just for a second. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re welcome,” he said. As she turned to go, Adrian caught her wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop her. “Will I see you again?” he asked. Amara’s heart did that stupid thing again. She swallowed. “Maybe,” she said. Adrian leaned in slightly. “Too late.” “What?” Amara asked. Quiet, so only she could hear over the rain, Adrian said, “I think I’ve already started missing you.” Her breath caught. The street, Tobi, the bus, all of it faded for a second. Love at first sight? She didn’t believe in that nonsense. She believed in hard work. In plans. In scholarships. But the way he said her name made her chest ache in a way no textbook ever had.