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Added: Aug 11, 2017
Poster: Guruboi

Must Read: Poetic Heart - Season 1 - Episode 5
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I am not a believer of the school of thought which holds first impressions are always right, neither do I buy the idea that one’s character could be deduced from the company one keeps, or that birds of the same feather flock together.
I am mostly not a believer of anything conventional. Take for instance my closest friend Sophia, we have little or nothing in common. But the reason I enjoy our friendship is the fact that we complement each other wonderfully. We share almost nothing alike, starting from our physical appearances, down to our innate beliefs.

She, for one, is a helpless romantic while I am downright level-headed.

We have been friends for approximately three years and four months, roommates for about seven months out of those years.

It’s Friday evening. I’m lying on the sofa – the bed is too far off the window, trying to ignore the rattle she is making as she prepares for Damian’s dinner night when she yells my name.


I fake a sign, “Sophia, not even you is allowed to call me that.”

“I’m your best friend, I’m allowed to call you anything. Now get over yourself, and come help me fasten this stupid zip.”

I look up from the book I’m reading and watch her struggle with the side of her turquoise blue gown, “Obviously that’s too small for you.
Find something else.”

She stops pulling at the edges and glares down at me. “There’s a reason why events have a specific colour theme.”

“And there is a reason clothes come in varying sizes.” I stick out my tongue.

“Point noted.” She says, “Now, are you going to help me or not?”

I get up and walk to where she standing by the closet with both hands grabbing at the sides of her ankle length gown. “Is it just me or have you gotten shorter?”

“Dey there dey feel yourself.”

Sophia is just three inches shorter than I am, and what she lacks in height, she makes up for in curves. With a yelp from her, I fasten the edges together.

“How do I look?” she heaves.

Sophia is so light-skinned, every strain has her turning red. “Like you just came out of a boxing ring.”

“Why do I even bother with you?”

I laugh. “Because after me, na me.”

She sits on the stool and begins fitting her shoes. “Why aren’t you coming though? Chris would be disappointed. You know the reason he agreed to attend was that he thought you were coming.”

Chris, is the younger brother of Sophia’s boyfriend, Damian. I suspect that Sophia has been toying with the idea of us getting married to the same brothers. Her gooey eyed mentality on all things relationship is something I believe, I was sent to save her from.

“I didn’t tell him I was, and I don’t owe Chris anything,” and then so it doesn’t seem like I’m out rightly blowing him off, I add “besides, with you donned out like this, I’d just be looking like P.A near you.”

But she knows me too well.

“Uh huh, you’re not getting off that easily. It’s only an invitation, it’s not like he’s asking you out.”

“We both know how these things pan out, so why bother?”

“It’s worth trying.”

“Trying requires time and energy, both of which I am not willing to hand out.”

“We’ll talk about it when I return. I’m running late.” She bustles to her feet, half way through the door, she announces “Lock up early, I won’t be coming back tonight.”

“Like you had to say.” I sing out. She laughs and then click clanks her way down the hall.

I am two chapters into my odious practical manual, when my phone rings, almost giving me a heart attack, I can never get used to the blaring tone of my Itel torch. I feel for it on my
bed, and blindly hit the answer button.

I hear the back-ground music and automatically guess who the caller is. “Hey.”

“Hey. You’re not here.”

“Yeah, I told you I had a paper to finish up.”

“I was really hoping you’d make it.”

“I told you not to get your hopes high.”

“Oh Anika – “

“It’s Anita.” I cut in.

“I haven’t forgotten tiger, you just remind me too much of her character in Empire. Cut throat, fierce, sassy and beautiful.”

“Do I?” I drag the words. I can’t wait to get off the phone with him.

He laughs. “Yes, even the way you talk.”

That was a rhetorical question, I want to add, but I reason that would just prolong the conversation. So instead, I ask: “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the party?”

“It’s not a party if you’re lonely, and the least I can do is talk to my date who’s…” I don’t hear the end of the statement, my phone is lying screen down on my pillow. He talks so much, he probably wouldn’t notice no one is on the other end of the line till about two minutes time.

I pick up my textbook, and mark the checkbox in my head which reads, never to indulge Sophia’s pleading of giving my number out to anyone.

Sophia saunters into the room and lands heartily on the bed. It’s a little past 11 am. She’s decked in a black jeans and white polo, her red braids flailing about her shoulders. “Guess who

I saw at the supermarket today?”

“Who?” I ask,



“Yes, and you wouldn’t believe who he came in with.”

It was really none of my business, but after what happened between us, I guess I’m still feeling pity towards him, that’s not to say he didn’t deserve it.”

“Uhm, a human being?”

“Nice one, it was Claudia. And they looked really cozy. After what you did to him, I thought he’d ever want to have anything thing to do with another girl.”

“What do you mean, It wasn’t that bad.” I reply, my voice somewhere between
justification and acknowledgment.

“You flipped him over in a restaurant attended by 70 percent of campus population. You’re actually right, it was not bad” she makes a face like she’s thinking over the words and continues, “…it was terrible. Dude had his picture, as the faculty fan page profile pic for over a week.”

“P.O.C he lost his bearing. I didn’t in quote, flip him over.”

Darey was a feeler, and not in the literal sense. He was a guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, my choice of tense being because I hope he has learned his lessons and is now discreet with the female sex. We weren’t even dating or anything. He wasn’t even asking me out, we just had mutual friends. We saw at Orla, the restaurant closest to first campus and we went to take our order together. Then I felt his hand on my butt, I looked at him but he was talking to the sales girl whilst pointing to a glassed-snack box, so I assumed it was a mistake and let it slide. When we had both ordered, we turned to leave and his free hand flew to my waist in a bid to guide me to our seat. I indulged his enthusiasm. Next thing I felt his hand inside the back of my jean pocket. I nudged him in the rib, with my elbow. Hard. He slipped over a strewn chair and his tray of Chicken pepper soup came toppling over his jerry-curled hair. Definitely not flipping over.

“Whatever you say. By the way why weren’t you picking my calls yesterday?” she digs into her handbag and brings out her phone.

“You mean Chris’s call.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re even human. How did you know he asked me to call you?”

“Because I wasn’t picking his.”

“You sef. He really likes you. Lest I forget. I invited him over for lunch today.” She says casually.

“I didn’t know we had started business.”

“How do you mean?”

“I didn’t know we were running an eatery.”

She reaches to pull at my toes, “Don’t bail out on me. You needed to have seen him last night. I was feeling for him.”

“You feel for everybody, leave me jare.” I reply, yanking my leg from her reach.

“I’ll do our laundry.” I ache a brow. “…for a week.”

I pretend to think about it. “Dishes?”


I make to stand up.

“Fine, I’d do the dishes too.”

I smile, “So, what are we having for lunch?”

“I’ll order. Tabs on me.”

“Uh uhh, final condition pumpkin… you cook.”

“But, you know – “

“I’ll change my mind.” I threaten.

“Fine.” She picks up a pillow and hurls it at me. “Let me get the manual.”

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