Shimmer Between Us

Chapter 5: A Seat at His Table

The atrium was cooler than outside dim lights, soft music, and a scent of fresh pastries in the air. I’d passed by this place a few times, never really entering. It always looked... out of my budget.

But here I was, sitting across from him, a glass of orange juice sweating beside my elbow, and him calm, confident, scanning the menu like he belonged to a different world.

“Order whatever you like,” he said casually. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you starve.”

I smiled. “I wasn’t planning to. But thanks for the reassurance.”

He laughed deep and warm. “Feisty. I like that.”

I blinked. Did he just...?

He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “Zora, right?”

I nodded.

“I think that name fits you. It sounds... rare.”

A tiny knot formed in my stomach. I was suddenly aware of how I held my fork.

Then his phone rang. He glanced at it, sighed, and picked up. “Yeah… Mm-hmm. No, tell Kaleb to move that pitch to Monday. I’m not back in Lagos yet. And make sure Rita sends in the proposal before noon.”

Pause.

“I don’t care what the client said, we’re not delivering halfway work. Tell him that.”

He ended the call smoothly and looked up at me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Work chaos.”

I raised a brow. “You run a company?”

“Co-run. Media and tech. It started as a side hustle during 200 level, now it’s a bit... bigger.” He shrugged, like it was nothing.

“That’s impressive,” I said quietly.

He grinned. “You think so? I just think I got lucky.”

The waiter came by with our food, creamy pasta and grilled chicken for me, something way fancier for him that I couldn’t pronounce. The conversation flowed. I told him about school, how I was still figuring things out. He told me about his early days, coding in class, failing his first three designs, and how his best friend once designed a logo that looked like a fried egg.

We laughed , real laughter.

By the end of lunch, I felt lighter. Like something in me had shifted.

As we got up to leave, he stopped.

“I’m going to need your number, you know. For… professional reasons.”

I smirked. “Professional?”

He stepped closer. “Well, if you fall sick from the food, I’ll need to know early enough to send a get-well package.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. “Smooth.”

He handed me his phone, screen open. I typed in my number.

“Zora,” he said again, testing the name on his tongue like it was a secret only he had the right to say.

I turned to walk away.

“Hey,” he called softly.

I looked back.

“Don’t disappear again.”

I didn’t respond. Just smiled the kind that says maybe I won’t and walked off.