Beautifully Broken

The Real Date

Chapter 8:

Bandile didn't ask like Lwandle did.

No "yo, can we chill?" text at 11pm. No "wyd" energy.

He waited until the market was done, until boxes were packed, until Khethelo, Aya, Lindo and Khocy left to go buy Kota to celebrate.

Only Zamo was left, counting money, tired but happy.

"Zamo," he said, hands in pockets, nervous like a small boy though he is 6ft.

"Mmm?" she didn't look up.

"Can I... can I take you on a real date? Not res, not KFC in your room, not me driving you because Lwandle made you cry. A real date. Where you wear that gold dress again and I wear a shirt that is not crumpled."

Zamo finally looked up. Smiled.

"Bandile Shezi, are you asking me out?"

"Yes. I have been wanting to since first year. But you were with Lwandle and I respect... I respected that. Now you are not. And I don't want to be the rebound. I want to be the one you choose after you healed."

Zamo felt her heart — thump. Not fast, crazy thump like with Lwandle. Slow, safe thump.

"One condition," she said.

"Anything."

"My girls come to check the restaurant first. And you pay for them too. Because they are my family."

Bandile laughed, loud, "Hayi, you want me bankrupt before we start?"

"I want a man who knows I come with 4 sisters. You take one, you take all."

Saturday. The date.

Zamo wore the black dress with gold flowers again. But this time, not for revenge. For herself.

Bandile wore white shirt, actually ironed. Olwethu and Minenhle helped him iron it — Minenhle burned his own shirt trying.

Restaurant in Umhlanga, not too expensive but not cheap. Beautiful.

He didn't touch her thigh under table. He asked about business. About her mom. About why she loves pink.

"You know," Zamo said, playing with her drink, "With Lwandle I always felt small. Like I had to shrink to make him comfortable."

"You don't have to shrink with me," Bandile said. "I like big. I like CEO Zamokuhle. I like girl who blocked my best friend."

She laughed.

After dinner, they walked on the beach. He held her hand. Just hand.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

Zamo looked at sea, at lights, at this boy who waited 2 years.

"Yes," she whispered.

It was soft. Not hungry like Lwandle's kisses. Soft, like promise.

She went home that night and her girls were waiting awake.

"Did he kiss well??" Khethelo shouted from window.

Zamo shouted back, "Better than your ex!"

They all screamed.

End of Chapter 8