Page 61 of Two’s Better

“Damn. Clocked my tea so bad.”

We both let out short, tense laughs.

I wanted badly to tell her I loved her, but I didn’t want her to think I meant it platonically. I didn’t think I’d mean it platonically ever again.

I pressed another kiss to her forehead, then let her go. She met my gaze for one brief, electrifying moment, then she was turning around and fumbling for her keys. I waited until she was inside, the door closed behind her, before I took my leave.

Back in my abode, as Ofure had noticed despite her own distress, I let myself have my own freak out.

I started to pace right there in the tiny entryway, hearing nothing over the frantic drumming of my heart, my thoughts racing a mile a minute.

That was how Prince and Dayo found me.

“O ... kay,” Prince said tentatively, freezing from where he’d been coming down the stairs, Dayo behind him. Under normal circumstances, I’d have laughed. He resumed walking down until they were both standing in front of me, mirroring expressions of concern on their faces. “Bros. How far, na? You good?”

I stopped pacing and turned to face them. “I’m in love with Ofure.”

Prince’s mouth fell open. Dayo looked equally gobsmacked. It was a testament to the nature and strength of my friendship with Ofure that my boys were honestly shocked by this development.

Then Prince seemed to realise something, his expression morphing into one filled with mischief. “Ah. Wait, o. Is this—did you do the “first time” thing, then?”

““First time” thing?” Dayo whispered to Prince in confusion.

“Yeah, he came to me a while ago, telling me that he and Ofure apparently wanted a “perfect” first time—was it, you said?—and why not with each other, eh? Since there’s no one else they trust to get the job right.”

“Ah. Right.” Dayo nodded with understanding.

“More or less,” I agreed. Then scrubbed a hand over my face.

“So, I’m assuming it happened, then?” Prince sounded way too excited for my liking.

“Yes,” I admitted grudgingly. I fisted my hair, then began to pace again. “Fuck!”

“Whoa,” Dayo said in surprise.

“Okay,” Prince said firmly. He grabbed my arm, then pulled me in the direction of the sitting room, Dayo following behind.

If I was built like a sort of soft and cuddly muscle man, then Prince was built like a brick shithouse, as that hilarious saying went. Dayo, on the other hand, was mid-sized. Three of us had to squeeze onto our tiny sofa, but none of us complained about the tight fit.

“Am I truly in love with her, though?” I blurted, immediately encouraged by the warmth of their bodies pressing close on either side of me, which Prince had probably been aiming for. “Or is it just the amazing sex talking? Because, what if I make her jump headfirst into acknowledging these feelings and it turns out it’s just a lingering high from the endorphins? Or, God, what if I’m alone in feeling like this? What if I’ve ruined everything with that blockheaded, selfish suggestion that led me here in the first place?”

There was a brief, stunned silence.

“Is it the endorphins talking?” Dayo prodded after a few more beats of silence.

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know.”

There was another brief silence, then he whispered, “I think you do.”

For a few moments, I couldn’t breathe. Because he was right and I knew he was right, and he probably knew I knew he was right. I’d already tried not to think about it before, the night after I’d told Ofure I didn’t want us to stop. A part of me had suspected it then, but it was definitely confirmed now.

Somehow—completely without my control or knowledge, it seemed—I’d fallen intensely in love with my best friend. In fact, it hadn’t felt so much like falling than instantaneously igniting; I was engulfed in the flames before I’d even realised there was a risk I could burn.

But, God help me, I wanted to burn. And I wanted her to burn with me.

The admission had me feeling like I’d just leapt out of a plane without a parachute.

“So ... do you know, then?” Prince asked gently.