|Kairaluchukwu|

"ONE TIME, THERE was this patient that had a dildo lodged in his ass at my Dad's hospital," Anjali, my best friend, yells at us, her heavily accented voice, tinged with excitement. She's twisting her upper body to the catchy tune playing in the club, her butt still stuck to a chair.

"What?! No way!" My least favorite person in the entire world right now, Tiwa, exclaims, her kohl rimmed eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes way!" Tucking her silky, long, hair behind her ear, Anjali sips on a glass of wine. "When the nurse asked him how that happened, he claimed he slipped and fell on it. Yeah, like anyone is going to believe that."

She snickers, rolling her eyes and we all hoot loudly in laughter even though I don't find anything relatively amusing. Not to shade Anjali though. She's very funny, it's just that I don't want to be here and as tempting as that option seems, I cannot escape these party fiends I call my friends.

Again, my mind drifts to how I found myself in this position. The second I dropped my pen for our second year medical exams at Harvard Medical School, Tiwa and Anjali had coaxed me to join them in a girl's chillout week. And I couldn't say no, not after they'd threatened me severely so here I was, ruing that decision.

Anjali gulps down the rest of her Sex On The Beach before standing from the table we three sit on. "Damn, I have to refill my glass."

A frown etches itself between my brows and I ask, slightly concerned, "Girl, relax. You just finished your third glass. Aren't you tipsy already?"

"No, I'm not, Mother. I'm gonna go get a drink and of course, search for some handsome guy to bang me hard. I deserve it after all that school stress." A flirtatious wink is sent my way, coupled with a thrusting motion that she mimics with her fingers. There's no doubt that my friend is already drunk, with that stagger and a glazed shimmer in her eyes, try as she might want to deny it.

"But. . ." It's me again, the voice of reason, anxious that someone will take advantage of her. Despite Anjali being a lightweight, she always insists on downing about 10 shots of hard liquor whenever she's out partying. And while she has never revealed it to us, I believe it's her subtle way of rebellion. Like she's telling her strict Indian parents fuck you for shipping me abroad to study medicine and take over your fucking family business. Her words, not mine.

"But nothing. See," Three henna decorated fingers are held up to my view, each studded with flashy, silver rings. "I can count up to three so that means I'm not drunk."

-Fully drunk yet.

Reluctant, I nod just as Tiwa butts in, "Kaira, let the thirsty breathe. My girl truly deserves those drinks and Angelfish, if you find any yummy guys, steer them my way for a taste of black pussy!"

"Oh shut up! Not Angelfish!!" At that nickname, Anjali flips Tiwa the middle finger before heading to the bar.

Shaking my head at their antics, I watch her go, noticing how men stop and stare at her curvy body encased in an extremely short gown. Yeah, she would have no qualms finding a man tonight.

Our table is situated in a bright corner of the nightclub, courtesy of Tiwa's strategic plan. She believes that if we're right under the flashing purple lights and next to the glittery bar, we can snatch up any gorgeous men approaching, before other girls get a chance. But so far, the club has been boring and I reserve zero silver of interest for any man.

"Kaira?"

"Hmm?" I tip my gaze away from a guy that's trying to grab Anjali's attention and failing, before I fix them at Tiwa.

A worried look is painted on her gorgeous face as her vibrant red lips move, "You've barely said a word since we got here. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I nod, not meeting her piercing eyes. Instead, I run a manicured finger around my still full glass drink. "Just worried about my exam results."

It's a half-truth. While I'm truly bothered about my second semester scores, the root of my anxiety is steeped in the internship I applied to Cancer Biological Research Center, one of the leading research centers in the States. I never told anyone that since I applied a month ago, there has been no reply from them. It's so depressing.

Tiwa reaches forward to interlace her fingers in mine. "You're one of the smartest people I know Kaira and believe me, you'll ace it just like you always do."

Warmth rushes through me at her kind words and I squeeze back. Maybe I forgive her for dragging me to this party. "Thanks babe."

"You're not welcome!" she pipes up suddenly, our sarcastic code for you're totally welcome, honey and retrieves her fingers to bump my shoulder hard. "Now lose that face and drink up. Come on, we need to get wasted and laid."

She's right, the get wasted part, not the get laid so I channel all my worrisome reflections into a black hole and let myself relax and drink.

Anjali shows up briefly to inform us she's met her one night stand. Tiwa and I cheer at that–at least one of us is getting some action tonight. Then she disappears again to dance, grinding against the poor guy in the name of dancing. Apparently, he's lucky enough to catch her attention when others failed.

Lost in thoughts again, I drink, until Tiwa nudges me softly in the arm. "Hottie o'clock. Guy at the left is intensely staring at you."

"Huh?"

Her voice is frantic at my slow reaction. "To your left, Kaira! Now!"

Curious, I quickly crane my head opposite but no one is staring, everyone's caught up in the club's world of humping, gyrating and twerking.

Scowling, I take another sip of my drink and say dryly, "I think your delusions are becoming wilder every minute, Tiwa."

"What?!" My friend's vivid red braids swirl as she swerves her eyes around, a nonplussed look on her dyed blonde brows. "How did he disappear? Kaira, I swear I saw this gorgeous gorgeous man staring at you. You know, the Massimo kind with black suits and all?"

Liar, you're just messing with me, I'm about to reply when the world's most boring/annoying human to exist butts in, "What are you two lovely girls talking about?"

Greg Jones. Aka my infamous courter and coursemate.

"Nothing," Pissed at his interference, I mutter, glancing down whilst Tiwa proceeds to ruin my night by blurting out, "How Kaira would love to dance with you!"

"Tiwa!" I protest, whipping my head up immediately. But she pretends not to notice and hides the mischievous smile I'm certain plays on her lips with a glass of wine.

"Really? I would take you up on that, love." Greg smirks and leans his elbow next to my drink as if he's not close enough, his fruity, strawberry aftershave assaulting my poor nostrils. Like which guy wears strawberry cologne? Greg that is.

I eye him before glaring daggers at Tiwa. She's still shrouded behind her glass but not for long if I have to make sure of it. "No. Tiwa's just messing."

But the look in Greg's blue eyes screams skepticism. He doesn't believe me. If anything, interest and something else that makes me shudder inwardly, glistens in his stare. The dude's practically eye-raping me.

"Fuck!" Abruptly, Tiwa stands, grabbing her suspiciously empty glass. Suspicious because it was full to the brim like two seconds ago. "I have to go refuel."

Oh no, you don't, traitor.

"You can take mine," I say pointedly just so she won't leave me alone but Tiwa shakes her head, intentionally missing my point.

"Nah. We're both aware that I don't take seconds."

"Ha ha ha. So funny." I direct a glare, one that could freeze the Sahara desert, at my oh so thoughtful friend while Greg laughs like she said the most amusing thing ever and shifts closer.

God, I sigh inwardly. Why am I cursed with stubborn friends?

Gloating, Tiwa abandons me, but not before waggling her brows behind Greg and mouthing fuck him for me, will ya?

Yeah, fuck him indeed. According to her, during a past argument, Greg was a nice guy who deserves a chance, my chance. Stubborn and totally uninterested, I spelt out how I only saw Greg as a creepy ass friend and nothing else. But Tiwa was equally stubborn, and any opportunity she grabbed, she threw me at him, saying I need to bump uglies with him and maintain an active sex life. For example, now.

"Fancy seeing you here, my beautiful Kaira." Greg slides into Tiwa's seat and begins yapping his mouth.

Since I can't display how mad I am, I manage to lift the corners of my lips in a half-smile and try to engage in the conversation. But it's stilted, with him talking too much and me too less. Even as we chat, I wonder if he's so dense not to realize that a girl who is interested in you would laugh at your silly jokes, which at the moment, I'm doing the opposite of.

Boring minutes trickle by with him regaling me with tales about his dad's hospital. Apparently, I'm surrounded by rich people whose parents own hospitals and he definitely believes his wealth would endear me to him.

Tough luck, I scoff as I drift a vacant gaze over him, unhearing. As I do so, I ponder why I don't actually find Greg attractive? Is it his name, so old-fashioned and unmoan-able? Probably.

Clad in a denim attire, he is quite handsome, I won't lie. Blue eyes, blonde hair, thin lips. A typical white man that I'm not interested in whatever he has to offer. Pasta and lobster has never been my thing. Besides, my mind always compares all the men I've dated with someone from my past. Someone I should never think about. Not after he destroyed—

"Kaira love. Kaira love."

I snap my eyes quick, my focus back on him. Who's he calling love? Annoyance rushes through my veins at his sweet talking, the urge to throw my wine at him flooding me but I tamp down the desire and reply, "Yeah?"

"You're finally back on Earth. You zoned out for a couple of minutes there."

"Sorry," I apologize even though I'm not in the least bit sorry. "I was lost in thoughts."

"Nah, that's fine, love, considering that I know those thoughts are about me." A stupid smirk I want to smooth away with a sandpaper, stretches his thin lips. Anothing feature I detest in men. Thin fucking lips and fake love.

"No, Greg. If I was thinking about you, we would be doing a lot more kissing and less talking. Also, fucking quit calling me love. My name is Kairaluchukwu." As I admonish him, my voice hurls out blunter than I intended it to be and I can't help it. So far I've played along but his narcissistic behavior is rubbing on my nerves so bad. I have to put him in his place.

An awkward air settles between us, stifling. Humiliated, Greg's throat bobs as he shifts his gaze away before scratching the back of his neck.

Scat, run away, fucking leave. I've embarrassed you so leave me in peace I scream with my glare, waiting for him to stand up and dissolve into thin air. Except that the opposite happens just as Jumpin' Jumpin' starts playing.

"How about I collect that dance? What do you say?" Similar to a light bulb perking up in his head, a tiny grin plays by the corner of his mouth. The man isn't admitting defeat anytime soon.

Fuck the bastard! My happiness withers and I seek solace in my drink.

"Just this once. Please?" His shoulders droops, googly blue eyes trained on me to accept his invitation.

No lies on the tip of my tongue but I have rejected his advances so far and I'm not a total bitch so I find myself nodding albeit reluctantly. He's too persistent for his own good.

"Thank you Kaira!" he gushes out in amazement and dare I mention stars in his glistening stare? "Your yes just made my night right now. Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Weirdo.

Gulping down the rest of my drink, I stop my face from showing my disgust, taking the hand he offers with a fake smile. He leads me to the dance floor, enroute for dancing. There, I make eye contact with Tiwa and Anjali as they each have fun with their respective partners.

I'll kill you guys later, I mouth to these traitors who wink, laugh and send me thumbs up at my dire situation.

Throughout the dance, I don't lose myself, my movements stiff and unwelcoming. But Greg doesn't seem to mind. Not even when I stepped on his shoes thrice, on purpose by the way. Rather, the fact that I'm in his arms is such a feeling of pure ecstasy for him. After all, it was once a feat he and I thought he wouldn't achieve.

My mind slowly deviates away from the loud yells reverberating in the room, sinking into random thoughts. As I do, I feel eyes boring holes into my flimsy tank top and jean trousers.

Stealthy, to avoid Greg noticing, I angle my head everywhere, and same as the other time Tiwa informed me, I detect no one looking at me. Pushing the nasty feeling away, I refuse to dwell on it anymore. Instead, I blame my avid imagination and Tiwa for instilling that stupid thought in my head.

As we sway to the beat, Greg tries to slide his arms around my waist but I'm quick to block him by swinging my elbows. We have been dancing for minutes but it seems like an hour and I want to escape so I start my plan immediately. I cannot withstand Greg's intentional brushes of his cold fingers against my skin or his fixed gaze at my chest.

"Where's Anjali?" I ask, pretending to seek my friend's whereabouts.

It's a sudden question that has Greg pausing. He cranes his neck around, no doubt meeting the exact view as I, people dancing. "Why? I saw her by the DJ's corner minutes ago."

"I need to look for her, she has the keys home. Hopefully she hasn't followed some guy." Taking it as my cue to leave, I step back, ready to melt into the crowd. And guess who trails after me? Greg. He sticks to me like a leech, sucking all my hopes of vanishing, dry. But I'm not deterred. I will shake him off.

"Anjali!" I yell, a useless action considering how loud the party is. My unwanted follower echoes her name too. I do too, both of us alternating between each call and every nook and cranny of the room. But she's nowhere to be found, and neither is Tiwa. At this rate, I am getting worried. Where are they?

"Let's check outside," Greg suggests, droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. It's fucking hot inside. "They might be there."

Tucking a piece of my locs behind my ears so I can gather a better view, I hesitate before I bend my head in agreement. "Alright."

We head to the back. The second we slip past the throngs of people and out the backdoor, a whoosh of frigid air hits me square in the face, sucking the breath out of me. Although it's summer, the night is very cold but it's a welcome cold, one that I cherish due to the sweltering heat back inside, reeking of sweat and sex.

I utter, when there's no hint of Tiwa's shiny halter top or Anjali's white thigh-high heels, "They're not back here either."

No response reaches me. Miffed, I dart my eyes to the right only to see that my useless company is heading down a dark alley opposite. What the fuck?

"Greg? Where are you going? They're not here!" I exclaim after his retreating back.

Still veering forward, the maddening man calls out, "I heard something so it might be them. Remember when Tiwa told us she wanted to have alley sex someday?"

Because I do remember when my perverted friend mentioned that in front of Greg one hot afternoon, I cautiously tail after him. It's dark and the pavement is littered with gravel which crunches under my wary Air Jordans. Chilly air that was once refreshing, numbs my exposed skin and I cross my arms together, striving to keep warm. That unsettled feeling that had enveloped me, erupts again. I hate the dark so why am I following him?

For Tiwa and Anjali, I remind myself to persist and tag along. So I continue, deluding my mind that I am not surrounded by darkness, but light. That way, I don't panic.

Just before Greg rounds the corner, a gunshot rents the air.

Already tense, I jump in my bones, my knees turning to liquid as I freeze. Greg, I want to roar, stop moving. But he's running ahead, a wannabe Superman. It's either he's a deaf zombie or just loves to court danger. The opposite of every nerve in me thundering at me to end this journey and run away.

Sadly, I don't heed my gut feelings. Afraid for stupid Greg's safety and my friend's if they were actually caught in the fray, I force my legs to move. And that I do, praying against any danger.

Eyes peeled wide in fright at the unknown, I halt before I round the corner. And truly, the unknown is terrifying.

Greg's arms are up in surrender, several men dressed in immaculate black suits pointing their guns to his face. As if that wasn't horrifying, the dead man on the ground, a red pool of blood circling his mangled head, threatens to elicit a blood curdling scream from me.

Shit, shit, shit.

I am loath to indicate my presence to the shooters. Being a Nigerian and a black person has taught me to run away from danger instead of towards it.

So I whirl around, finally heeding the lesson I should have heeded long ago: that things did go bump in the dark.

Just as I am about to make a move for it, my body hits a huge wall of muscles.

"I–I–" The faceless man doesn't allow a coherent sentence to escape me. He merely raises his balled fist and drags me into a world spinning of black.

A/N: The chapter is finally here! Yes!! After months of chipping away at it and subconsciously refusing to work on it, it's here! Next chapter is in Zaviero's pov.🌚

Fun fact: It was a reader on my message board that spurred me to edit and post today! I asked myself why was I waiting? Why am I not writing??

1. I realized I was hungover Kian and Jade.
2. I was hesitant to get out of my comfort zone and write in the present tense instead of past tense.

After realising all these, I also realized that I was over no. 1 and that no. 2, I just had to overcome my anxiety. Lmao, I kept on repeating in my head, you're going to write today Anita. You have to write! And I did! Yay!

And let me tell you, it was amazing to get my spark back! Thank you so much dear reader for spuuring me on!

Love,
Nita!❤️