Chapter 3 – The First Step
690 Words
Elena wasn’t sure whether to call it a date.
The message Daniel sent two days after the exhibition was simple:
> There’s a rooftop spot in Ikoyi you need to see. Friday night. 8 p.m.
No “if you’re free,” no “maybe we could.” Just certainty.
She didn’t know if she liked that about him — or if it made her a little nervous how much she did.
---
The rooftop restaurant was warm with string lights and the faint sound of highlife music drifting from a live band in the corner. From up here, the city was a glittering sprawl, the Lagoon glinting under the moonlight.
Daniel was already there when she arrived, leaning casually on the railing with a drink in hand. His white shirt was rolled at the sleeves, and there was that same mix of polished and effortless that seemed to follow him everywhere.
“You’re on time,” he said as she approached. “I’m impressed.”
“You didn’t give me room to be late,” she replied, taking in the view. “This place is beautiful.”
“I thought you’d appreciate it. Artists like beautiful things, don’t they?”
“They also appreciate people who don’t generalize,” she teased.
He smirked and gestured to a small table he’d reserved near the edge. They ordered seafood and cocktails, and for a while, the conversation was light — Lagos traffic nightmares, travel stories, the time Daniel accidentally walked into the wrong wedding reception in London and was too polite to leave until after dessert.
But somewhere between the laughter and the clink of glasses, something shifted.
---
“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” she said at one point, resting her chin on her hand.
“In Lagos?”
“Yes. You could’ve stayed in London, run your start-up from there.”
He studied her for a moment before answering. “Sometimes, you get tired of living in a place that doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. I wanted to build something here. Something that lasts.”
She nodded slowly, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “That’s… admirable.”
His eyes softened. “What about you? Why painting?”
She hesitated — because she didn’t usually explain it to anyone. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. The only place I feel completely… right. Even when I’m failing at it.”
“I don’t think you’re failing,” he said. “You just haven’t been seen by the right people yet.”
She looked at him for a beat too long, and the air between them thickened.
---
After dinner, he suggested they walk the perimeter of the rooftop. The band played a slow tune now, and the night breeze carried the scent of jasmine from the potted plants lining the rail.
As they stopped at a corner overlooking the water, he leaned closer — not touching, but close enough that his warmth seeped into her skin.
“Do you always keep this much distance?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep leaning just far enough away that I can’t decide if you’re going to step closer or walk off.”
Her pulse spiked. “Maybe that’s the point.”
He chuckled low, and the sound curled in her stomach. “Dangerous woman.”
---
When he finally walked her to her car, neither of them seemed in a hurry to end the night. He opened her door but kept a hand on the frame, leaning in slightly.
“Next time,” he said, “I’m not letting you keep that much space.”
Her breath caught — not because of the words alone, but because of the way he said them: calm, certain, as if he already knew she wouldn’t stop him.
She didn’t sleep much that night. Not because she was overthinking — but because she wasn’t thinking at all. She was just replaying the sound of his voice, the heat in his gaze, the way her own body had reacted without permission.
- Writer
