Page 22 of Two’s Better

“I know I’m right.” He winked. “Prepare yourself, Fure, baby. You’re not ready for what I have planned.”

“Okay, o, Uzi, baby,” I sing-songed back, laughing. “Oshey dramatic.”

“Ah, ah. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I shook my head, grinning. Like I said, how freaking dramatic.

7

Dramatic, huh? Ofure was going to have a deeper understanding of the word by the time I was done with her. I grinned to myself because I could imagine her calling me dramatic even now if she’d been able to hear that thought.

I gave myself one final onceover in the mirror, glancing at my wristwatch as I did to make sure I still had enough time to get to Ofure’s to pick her up.

Despite the apparent confidence in my demeanour, on the inside I was a nervous wreck. I wasn’t usually self-conscious about my size, but now, for a quick, insecure moment, I stared at my reflection and wished I was a little less heavy. But then I thought of the new, exciting way Ofure had begun to look at me, the way she went absolutely weak for our kisses—how she melted underneath me like she wanted nothing more than to feel all my weight on top of her, and that brief bout of insecurity was promptly banished.

I’d almost forgotten about my housemates, and was greeted with a sharp wolf whistle as I stepped into the sitting room to grab the bouquet of flowers I’d ordered.

“Ah ah, Uzezi, is that you, yeah?” Prince said after doing a doubletake when he spotted me from the corner of his eye.

Dayo glanced at me as well—he and Prince were playing a game, their hands flying over their controllers—and he gave me another wolf whistle to match Prince’s. They paused their match at the same time I began to pose dramatically, spinning around, then making a “give me more” motion with my hands.

They laughed, dutifully hailing and praising me. Prince stood and came up to me, then proceeded to pretend he was spraying money.

I shook my head, grinning. “Oya, oya, that’s enough.”

“Where are you off to dressed up like this, eh, bros? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” I pretended to adjust my cufflinks. “I just have a very fancy date with Ofure.”

“Ah. I gotchu. Ehen? So you and Ofure are upgrading your dates like this, eh? Dayo, at this rate, we’ll have to step up our game.”

“You’d have to actually take me out on a date, first,” Dayo quipped.

“Nice one,” I said, and Prince gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest like he’d been shot. We laughed.

Of course they weren’t reacting to my pronouncement like it was a big deal, as they shouldn’t. One thing I loved about our friend group was that we had little friend groups within the main group, and no one acted jealous or bitter about it. Tamara, Ezra, and Fiona moved like a throuple sometimes; Bernice often spent more time with her Culinary Arts course mates than she did with the rest of us; and Prince and Dayo spent more time with each other—despite their opposing personalities and wildly different undergraduate degrees—than I did hanging out with both or either of them.

Then there was Ofure and I, who casually went on “best friend dates”, deliberately named because we were big on the philosophy of romanticising our friendships, which the rest of our friend group vehemently agreed with and also adopted. So of course, to our friends, fancy or not, this date wouldn’t be any different from our others.

Besides that, and after some deliberation, Ofure and I had decided we didn’t want our friends to know about this whole ... thing. I wasn’t sure what to call it. A sex pact? That didn’t sound precisely right.

This was simply two best friends giving each other that “perfect” first time, nothing more. It was incredible that the sexual chemistry was there and shockingly off the charts, but if our friends knew what we were doing, we were afraid they’d jump to the wrong conclusions. The last thing we wanted was them thinking there’d been a shift—or would be a shift—in our relationship when there wasn’t and there wouldn’t be. I repeated that last thought to myself because it didn’t seem to sink in the first time.

My phone began to ring. My pulse kicked up. That must be the limo.

“All right, I’m heading out.”

“Have a nice time!” Prince said, turning back to their game, Dayo following behind him. He gave me a thumbs up before he picked up his controller.

“Thanks.”

I grabbed the flowers I’d set aside on the small stool sitting beside the opening to our sitting room, then took my phone out of my pocket. It was indeed the limo.

“Hey, man,” I greeted when I was outside, giving the driver a smile as he reached out to open the door for me.

“Looking good, sir,” he said with a small grin.

“Thank you,” I said honestly, handing him the flowers so I could take a seat, before he handed them back to me.