Between Notes and Fights

CHAPTER FIVE

The thin silver of dawn crept over Abuja, painting the horizon in a pale wash of lavender and gold. The city was still shaking off the night — a rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, a lone motorcycle buzzed down an empty road, and the faint smell of fried bean cakes drifted in from a nearby stall.

Maria stood at the narrow hotel window, arms folded, her breath leaving faint clouds against the glass. She’d been up since before her alarm. Not because of excitement — though she could admit to herself, grudgingly, there was a trace of that — but because her mind refused to be still.

It’s just day two of the conference. It’s just another presentation. He’s just another student.

The lie tasted thin. The truth was heavier: she could still feel the ghost of Rueben’s smirk from yesterday’s panel when he’d countered her point with that maddening mix of charm and precision. He was infuriating. He was sharp. And — though she hated to acknowledge it — he was good.

The door creaked. Mary’s sleepy voice broke her train of thought.

“You’ve been standing there for forever. "What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Maria kept her eyes on the horizon. “Just… thinking about today.”

Mary padded to the small kettle on the table, switched it on, and started unpacking two sachets of instant coffee. “Thinking about winning, you mean?” She grinned knowingly. “Or thinking about him?”

Asha shot her a look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting. I’m just saying… you didn’t pace this much before your law faculty debates.”

Asha opened her mouth to retort, but a knock came at the door — brisk, two quick taps. Mary’s grin widened. “That’s not room service. And I have a guess.”

When she opened the door, it was indeed him. Rueben stood there, not in his usual crisp suit but in a fitted dark green polo and jeans, holding a folded sheet of paper. His expression was polite — maybe too polite.

“Morning,” he said, eyes flicking briefly toward Maria before settling on Mary. The conference committee changed the presentation order. You’re both up earlier than scheduled.”

Maria stepped forward, taking the paper from him. “And you came to tell us because…?”

He gave that infuriating half-shrug. “Figured you wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.”

Mary, sensing the air thickening, muttered something about checking her phone and slipped into the bathroom.

Maria scanned the paper. “So you’re after us?”

“Before,” he corrected. “Which means you’ll be following my act.” The faintest trace of a smirk curved his lips.

“That won’t be a problem,” she said, keeping her voice even.

His gaze lingered on her for a beat too long. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her staring at the closed door, his pulse a little quicker than it should’ve been.

By the time Maria and Mary made it to the conference hall, the place was buzzing. Students in blazers and dresses moved in small clusters, trading notes, practicing under their breath, or nervously clutching flash drives like talismans.

The hall itself was all glass and steel, with a stage at the front where a projector screen glowed blue in standby mode. Rows of neatly arranged chairs faced it, already half filled.

James spotted them first. “Ah, our champions,” he called, waving them over. His suit jacket hung open, tie loosened, as though he’d been running around for hours. “Big day for all of us.” Are you ready?

Mary answered with her usual breezy confidence. “Always. Maria’s been up since before sunrise plotting our victory.”

James chuckled. “Good. You’ll need that energy. The judging panel this year is tougher. And—” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper— “the rumors are true. The other university sent their star boy.”

Maria didn’t need to ask who he meant. Her eyes slid to the front of the hall where Rueben stood in conversation with two faculty members, gesturing lightly as if explaining something complex. His posture was relaxed, but there was a subtle precision in the way he moved — like every gesture was intentional.

When his eyes flicked toward her, she looked away first.

“Let’s sit,” Maria said, adjusting the strap of her laptop bag.

The opening speeches went quickly, and before long, the emcee was announcing the first presentation. Rueben’s name was called, and he walked up with the calm assurance of someone who had done these dozens of times.

Maria wanted to pretend she wasn’t watching closely, but she caught every detail — the easy way he commanded the stage, how he paused just enough for the audience to digest his points, the rare, brief smiles when he made a joke.

Mary leaned over. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but… he’s killing it.”

Maria forced herself to nod. “I know.”

When his session ended, the applause was loud and sustained. He didn’t look at her as he passed their row — or maybe he deliberately avoided it. Either way, her jaw tightened.

It was their turn next.

---

On stage, the lights felt hotter than they had yesterday. Maria delivered her opening with crisp clarity, moving from point to point with the confidence she had drilled into herself. Mary handled the data-heavy segment like a pro, drawing nods from two of the judges.

By the end, the applause was just as strong — maybe stronger — than Rueben’s had been. Maria allowed herself the smallest smile as they stepped off stage.

But it didn’t take long for the comparisons to start.

In the corridor during the break, a pair of students from another school whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“They’re both good,” one said. “But Rueben’s delivery? Man, he just has that spark.”

The other replied, “True… but Maria’s arguments were tighter.”

She told herself it didn’t matter. But the truth was, it did.

scheduled, giving everyone an extra hour before the networking dinner. Maria thought about using it to rest, but Mary had other plans.

“You’re not hiding in the room,” she declared, linking arms. “You’re coming downstairs for coffee. And before you argue, the café has AC and amazing meat pies.”

The lobby café was bustling with students and lecturers unwinding after the intense sessions. The air smelled of espresso and fresh pastries, soft jazz spilling from hidden speakers.

Maria was halfway through her coffee when she spotted him.

Rueben walked in, no jacket now, sleeves rolled up, laughing at something James had just said. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on her, the laughter dimmed but didn’t vanish.

“Mind if I join?” he asked when he reached their table.

Mary grinned. “We’re not exactly the enemy camp.” She slid over, making room.

He sat opposite Maria, leaning back in that infuriatingly relaxed way of his. “Good presentation today.”

She sipped her coffee. “You too.”

“Only ‘good’?” He arched a brow, like he was trying to read something in her face.

Mary smirked. “Don’t mind her. She’s allergic to giving full compliments.”

Maria shot her a glare, but Rueben only chuckled. “Noted.”

For a moment, the conversation drifted to neutral topics — the conference venue, the other panels, the food — but there was an undercurrent to it, like two fencers circling each other between strikes.

When Mary excused herself to take a call, the silence between them was heavier.

Rueben leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure you out since yesterday.”

She kept her tone light. “Figure me out? That’s ambitious.”

“Maybe. But you’re… focused, almost like you’re carrying more than just school pride into this.” His eyes held hers, steady, searching. “What’s driving you, Maria?”

Her heartbeat picked up — not from the question, but from the way he asked it, as though he genuinely wanted to know.

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, James reappeared at Rueben’s side. “We need you outside, man. Urgent.”

Rueben’s gaze lingered for a beat longer before he rose. “Rain check on that answer.”

He left, and Maria sat there, unsettled in a way she didn’t have a name for.