“Aff you aff an idea ayam like you?”
Her cheekbones lifted the fleshy puff-puff encasing them, sent them to greet her eyes. Her lashes lowered, sent her gaze to the tarred road. Her fingers twiddled nervously, caressing themselves awkwardly. Her teeth appeared then, bit her lower lips softly, suggested a deliciousness in their luscious pinkness.
His lower jaw fell open just as his right hand rose to his head. His nails scratched his hair, he shook his head, then spread his left leg wider. A stance to communicate the confidence he hoped for?
“Ayam liking you too, but you Oga”
A sound rose from him. Nervous. Like the first cackle of fighting chickens. Then the night wind blew, the cotton shirt hugged his body, tickled the curled hairs on his chest. They had not been there when I was a boy, he must have remembered. The cackle deepened as his fears dissolved, became a rich dark rumble of stomach-deep pleasure.
It was then that his shirt shook. Up and down with the rhythm of his laughter, it went. Vibrations of a stomach so big, it was a life of its own.
I turned to my little Sister then. I affn’t affed an idea, before that night, how interesting it could be to watch people initiate conversations of love.
I was the little figure on the road with shoes in her left hand, a handbag in her right hand, walking almost lifeless, the sun just over her shoulder as it sunk beneath the horizon. Bad boys whispered dark promises in my ears and my lower lip was grazed by my teeth, cheeks lifting in decadent smiles.
“I’m an addict
Every piece of your body I gotta have it
I’m strung out, so far gone
Girl you’re in my veins…”
Something tapped me; a rude intrusion of nirvana. I spun around in broken motions, startled yet too weak to execute a smooth turn. A young male smiled awkwardly behind me, clothed in sagged tight jeans, a tee-shirt, fashion glasses, and a punky haircut. I lifted my left hand to press the pause button by the side of my headphones, shoes taking advantage of the position to kiss my cheeks. Mr. Awkward Smile (MAS) didn’t say anything so I asked what he wanted.
MAS: “You are beautiful”
Me: *Quirks eyebrows quizzically*
MAS: “I’m Kunle. I study at Moshood Abiola Polythecnic. I’ll like to get to know you better. We can be friends. I think…”
MAS: “Why? You asked…”
Me: “There are shoes in my hands and headphones over my ears. And you want to toast me right now. Are you for real?”
MAS: “Sister, I…”
Me: *Looks harder at his too-tight jeans. Shakes tired head*
“Today is not the day. And I am not the one”
*Reaches up to press the play button, continues trudge down the hill; a lone swaying silhouette in the darkening, breezy evening*