Little Do You Know

Texts

If I could describe how I felt at that moment, it would be simple—I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

What do I say now? I thought he didn't come today! What kind of problem is this, God?

I forced a weak smile, trying my best not to tremble.

"O-okay, nice to meet yo-you."

Nice to meet you keh? Someone you've been stalking for three years?

"Have this," he said, ignoring my awkward greeting.

I stared at the paper in his hand, hesitating.

What is this? My heart thumped in fear.

Jummy, your voice is shaky!

"My phone number. Text me in the evening, we'll talk about the project," he said, then turned and walked away without another word.

You could have at least said goodbye.

I let out a long, shaky exhale as I watched him disappear.

"Jummy Jummy!"

I turned and saw Enny sprinting towards me like she had just won a lottery.

I gave her a side-eye. "Kini?"

"Was that not Alex?" she screeched.

"Lower your voice na, I'm the one you're talking to."

"Forget that one. What did Alex come and do here? I saw him talking to you just now, and you were looking like someone that wanted to enter the ground."

"Jesus!" I screamed.

"He's in heaven."

"Was it obvious that I was shy?"

"Very. You couldn't even look him in the eye. Nawa for you o."

"Let's start going home. I'll gist you."

We started walking towards the Western Gate, which we only used when we had lectures nearby. The university's main gate was a little far, and we were too tired to stress.

"So what happened?" Enny asked eagerly.

"The 311 practical. Who were you paired with?"

"It's Raymond jor."

"That weirdo that sings?"

She rolled her eyes. "And you?"

I sighed. "Alex."

"Oh, my God!" she squealed.

"Yes, oh my God!"

"Was that why he came earlier?"

"I don't even know what to do. How will I face him? How will we even do the project together?"

"Babe, instead of you to be happy that God has finally answered your prayers, you're panicking. You'll get to spend time with him. You can even confess your feelings sef."

"Never. I can't tell him."

"Why?"

I didn't answer.

She sighed. "See, opportunities like this are rare, and now that you have one, don't waste it. You can't tell me you're not happy."

"I am o, but..."

"No but! Just try and talk to him one day, Jumoke. I've said my own."

There she goes again, talking like my mother.

"I'll think about it."

"You're always thinking about it."

"Enny!"

"Jummy!"

She suddenly grinned. "I almost forgot to tell you! Samuel said I should say hi to you."

I smirked. "Are you guys dating already?"

She smiled sheepishly.

"God when ooo!" I teased.

"I've not told him yes yet."

"You're still playing hard to get?"

"I don't know jor."

"Love nwantiti," I whispered, poking her cheeks.

She swatted my hand away.

By the time we reached the main road, the Monday chaos was in full effect. Shop owners shouted over one another, advertising their goods. The air was filled with the mixed smells of roasted corn, akara, and suya. Okada and keke riders fought over passengers, honking like their lives depended on it.

A cab pulled up, and Enny waved. "See you tomorrow, baby."

"We don't have lectures tomorrow. It's Wednesday."

"Pele o, Aunty Timetable."

"Eshey o, Aunty Elenu Razor."

She laughed as she entered the cab.

Enny always left first because she lived at Oke Street, while I stayed in Kasa. Both were in Ikala Town, Lagos, but hers was farther.

I preferred bikes. Faster, cheaper, and no overcrowding with sweaty passengers.

"Bike!" I waved at one.

"Where?"

"Kasa. How much?"

"Aunty, na one fifty o. I ride safely and fast."

"Wahala. Na hundred naira I get o." I pretended to leave.

"Oya, sit. I go carry you because you fine."

Happy my trick worked, I hopped on.

Fifteen minutes later, we stopped in front of my house.

Now, my house? If I start talking about it, we won't leave here today. It was one of those classic Nigerian houses—a 'face-me-I-face-you' setting but with extra drama.

The compound was always busy. Children running up and down, neighbors shouting over the fence, someone always frying something, and music blasting from God-knows-where.

The walls were a faded shade of yellow, but if you asked my mom, she'd say it was still "gold." The roof? That one had survived many Lagos rainstorms and still managed to stand strong.

I knocked on the gate. "I'm home o! Brother Timi!"

"Coming," his deep voice responded.

He opened the gate and grinned. "Jummy baby."

"Brother Timi."

"Welcome o."

"Eshey."

We entered the house.

"There's beans o," he announced casually.

"Ah, why?" I cried.

"We ate rice yesterday night. I can't be cooking rice again."

Spaghetti is there, Indomie is there. You're now cooking beans.

I went straight to my room, knowing better than to complain. My brother hated complaints.

Timi was huge—so huge that people sometimes mistook him for my father. He was done with school, waiting for NYSC, and spent most of his time at home, eating beans and terrorizing me with his deep voice.

I flung my bag in one corner and grabbed my phone.

Time to text Alex!

I typed in his number, beaming with excitement.

What do I save his number as?

Alex? Alex with love emoji? Crush?

No, wait. What if Brother Timi sees it?

After thinking for a while, I settled for "MAD." Nobody would ever guess it stood for "My Adorable Darling." Genius!

Now, where should I text him? w******p? Telegram? He didn't specify.

I settled for iMessage.

"Hi."

Within seconds, a reply popped up.

"??????"

Was he waiting for my text? And why just question marks?

"It's Olajumoke Adams, your partner for the 311 practical."

"Told you to text me in the evening, not afternoon."

Ehn, what's the difference?

"Forgot."

No reply.

I sighed and tossed my phone on the bed.

I like him so much that I'm not even upset.

The smell of beans drifted into my room.

Brother Timi and beans sha.

I got up and went to the kitchen. Just as I dished my food, my phone beeped.

Is that a new message? Alex?

I sprinted to my room.

"Why are you running?" My mom's voice rang from outside.

"Oh, Mom, you're back?"

"No, I'm talking from the shop. Come and open the door for me jor."

My mother, the queen of sarcasm.

"Mummy, I'm coming ma."

She was short and plump, with a face that never looked tired no matter how long she worked. Her wrapper was permanently tied like a superhero's cape, and she had mastered the art of switching from soft-spoken to full-on market woman in seconds.

I picked up my phone and checked the message.

From MAD.

Butterflies filled my stomach. I clicked on it.

"Let's meet tomorrow."

Thanks for reading this chapter. Comment, vote and share! love you🩷

Word count: 1195