A playful smirk curved the stranger’s full lips—which didn’t help at all with Ejiro’s I-need-to-draw-him-right-freaking-now urge—and he nodded at the still full cocktail Ejiro had hovering in his right hand. “You’ve been holding that all night and haven’t touched it. Unless I’m wrong and that is in fact not your first drink of the night. If so, please ignore me.”
Ejiro smiled, a wobbly, self-conscious thing. “Ah. I don’t actually drink … I just—” wanted to look like I was busy, but that was kind of sad to admit, so he didn’t say it out loud.
The man seemed to take pity on him, which made Ejiro feel pathetically grateful. “Not good with new people, huh?”
Ejiro laughed, though the sound was a tad self-deprecating. “That obvious?”
“The other guys have been talking.”
Ejiro’s eyes widened. “Oh dear God.”
The man laughed, a full, hearty sound. “Don’t look so worried. Some of the guys are trying to figure out who’ll be going home tonight in the hopes that it won’t be them. And since you’ve been trying to fade into the background—”
“Unsuccessfully, obviously,” Ejiro interjected, “since you’re here and everyone’s talking about me.”
He laughed again. “You’ve kind of been eliminated on the pure basis of your … well.”
“Boringness?” Ejiro guessed, cringing.
“Evasiveness,” he corrected, looking amused, obviously only trying to be nice for his benefit.
Ejiro’s stomach sank at the implication. Anxiety clawed up his throat like bile, and he tightened his grip around his glass to keep his hand from trembling.
If the other bachelors had already written him off as a lost cause, what were the odds that Sophia didn’t feel the same?
His eyes darted in the bachelorette’s direction. She was standing in front of the greenhouse—yes, there was a freaking greenhouse in the backyard of this mansion—her smile a little strained as one of the bachelors talked and gesticulated wildly at her. It was one of the blondes; there were about four of those, if he could remember correctly. He wondered if Sophia was uncomfortable because of the guy, or because of the cameras.
Probably the cameras. He looked away. Tried to take a sip of his drink and immediately grimaced and stopped in time when he remembered the alcohol.
He’d known it couldn’t be this easy—why on earth had he let Ajiri talk him into this? At this point, he wanted this entire thing to be over and done with so he could go home.
“I assume you’re only here to check out the competition, then?” Ejiro snarked in what was possibly a poor attempt to hide his dejection.
“Yup,” the man admitted. Ejiro tried not to look too shocked at his honesty. His eyes twinkled as he added, “Or lack thereof.”
“Ow.”
The grin came back, dimple flashing. The man swirled his cocktail in its glass, the movement a little hypnotising. “I’m Obiora, by the way.”
“Ejiro.”
“Nigerian?” He looked excited.
“Born and raised.” Ejiro couldn’t help but smile back, his shoulders relaxing minutely. “I only got my citizenship about a year ago. What about you?”
“Second generation immigrant,” Obiora replied, beaming. “My parents moved here in the late eighties with the dream of helping their families back home.”
“Oh, big mood.” Ejiro agreed, and Obiora laughed.
Then there was the sound of a huge splash, drawing their attention before Ejiro could add something witty, almost pathetically eager to continue the conversation in the hopes of making a new friend.
One of the bachelors had undressed and jumped into the pool in nothing but his underwear.
“Whoop!” he hollered, completely unashamed.
Ejiro grimaced.
“Not a good look.” Obiora agreed.
