“The law of attraction says that, like attracts like and when you think and feel you want to attract on the inside, the law will use people, circumstances and events to magnetize what you want.” – Rhonda Byrne.

•••

Lekan’s eyes parted open, and the ceiling came into view with a blur. Yawning, he jutted out both of his arms and stretched fully, in order to kick-start the engine of his consciousness. It had been one heck of a drive, in the past hour—and as biology convention dictated, his senses and his body had gone into hibernation after the arduous activity, he had indulged in. Sitting up on the bed, his gaze landed on the voluptuous, luscious figure that laid right next to him—naked like the day she was born—draped by the same sheets, that covered him also.

His lips twitched into a devious, satisfied grin as memories of the previous night flooded his head and he licked his lips involuntarily, as if the taste of the previous night lingered on it like an intoxicating wine. His adventure with Naade was everything he hoped for, and even more as it demolished the boundaries of pleasures, he had never breached before. They had been at it for hours, moving from one round to the other, and swapping positions and methods like an epic, gladiatorial battle to death, and when they were done, he could almost feel the life drifting away from him in fatigue, but the lengthy sleep had indeed returned his senses back.

He was yet to make a full recovery though, as his muscles and bones still felt zapped out of energy and so he remained in bed, gathering the sheets closer to himself, with his back against the wall. Then his gaze transferred to Naade, who was moving under the sheets, obviously awakened from sleep also. She leaned to her side, pushing out her rear in his direction as she stretched, and wiped the dampness in her eyes with her knuckles. Lekan couldn’t help but reach out with his hand to caress her back, and trace the maddening, sensual contour beneath. She flinched, before letting out a pleasurable gasp and turning to face him with a knowing smile.

Before he knew, she was clambering up to him and locking lips with his. He responded with the remnants of his energy, and returned the ferocity of the kiss as his hands explored further down, her curvy map behind. She was so skilled, so adept at the art of driving him insane. All he could taste and feel, was her and her alone as her tongue swarmed his mouth, with her hands toying with his hair, while riding him simultaneously. It was pleasure and pain of the most exquisite type, and he knew that she had snatched his remote control from him, and he had little to no say over what was happening, and was fully at her mercy and control.

Much to his dismay, she pulled away abruptly but lowered her lips to the crane of his neck, where she started tracing kisses downwards. He gripped on to her harder, letting her full control of the reins of the carriage. When her mouth reached his collarbone, and her tongue had traced its length—she looked up at him, with those soulful eyes and rasped.

“You should be happy, that I have work to get to. If not, you’d be having me for breakfast.” She paused, and lowered her mouth to his bare chest. “Lunch,” She said again, before biting down on his left nipple. “And dinner.” She added finally, and suckled it before coming up with a gregarious giggle and taking his lips in hers again. His senses were gradually turning into mist, and becoming fogged again as she pulled away and whispered in his right ear. “All three course meals. You’d be so filled after that, you wouldn’t want to eat anymore for days. And when you do want to eat, you’d want nothing but me.”

At this, she finally pulled away and entangled herself from him. He enjoyed the graphic visual before him, as she strode towards the edge of the room and into her walk-in closet, until she was finally out of sight. It was then, he realized he had been holding in a breath. He gave himself a moment to recover his wits, and let his body return to its normal frequency before sliding out of bed and putting on his briefs and clothes. While he was buttoning up his shirt, Naade walked back into the room with nothing, but a towel draped over her body and then careened out of the room, and flashed him a wink before shutting the door close. She was going to the bathroom to take her bath apparently and brush her teeth, before heading out.

It was the normal, regular routine of every independent person with a stable job, that the comfort of their life thrived on, He wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, because he never had to take his work seriously by rising up early, and following up with rapid responses to the requests of clientele. The job was almost like a lie, a front to justify his lavish, prolifigate life so it didn’t attract scorn and criticism from folks around, when they began to wonder the source of the funds, he lavished.

Sultan’s point was pixel clear now with a level of realism, that it could be likened to virtual reality. Even a fool would see the cogent reason behind it. He didn’t know if he was done with his current, tent pole-esque thrilling life but he wanted to make an effort to build a foundation that would grant him more stakes in calling the shots of his own fate. Retrieving his phone from the nightstand, he dialed the line of Kunle and waited. It had been three days, since he had stormed out of the mansion and although it wasn’t so long a time frame—he still couldn’t help but think if the old man had found a replacement for him.

“Lekan?” The neutral, bland coated voice knocked him off guard and he rose to his feet, as if to rise to the occasion.

“Hey, Dad.” His throat bobbed. “What’s up?”

“Time. Time is up, son.” The man replied in an ominous tone, that made Lekan quiver in fear. What the hell did he mean by that? Was it too late for a recompense act? “That’s what I always told myself, when I started out many, many years back.

“Once you begin to have the illusion that you have a lot of time, you’d be stagnant, complacent and would definitely procrastinate a lot. But once you believe that there is truly no time and that it’s completely gone? You’d give it your all, and be willing to die in the act. If you tell a lie, so frequently there would come a point that you’d believe its true. That’s the working principle of that fact. Thought I should share with you.”

Lekan still didn’t know the motive of the man’s parable speech. “Share with me?”

“Well, since you’re on your own these days and you get totally nothing from me, the little I could do is share you a little wisdom, every now and then when you call me.” Kunle replied, and it was then Lekan heard the audible sound of a car engine, crackling. The man was obviously on his way to work already, and it came as no surprise to Lekan as it was epitomic of his perchance for punctuality. “What do you want from me?”

The hard part had come. “What you want from me. You wanted me to begin grooming as your heir and take over the company when you retire. I’m ready to accept that.”

“Really? I have to say, I don’t give you enough credit, Lekan. I knew you’d come crawling back, but I never knew it’d be so early. But then that makes sense. You’re probably broke out of your mind, and can’t afford the type of meal you usually afford. You’ve also probably been crashing at a friend’s house, and you’re sick out of your head living by the rules of someone else. This call must be expensive for you. Maybe I should end it, and call you back to save you the hassle.”

He ran his hand through his hair, and began to pace one section of the room. “What do you want me to say?”

“It’s more about what I want you to do.” Kunle replied sharply. “I don’t have time for this. If you’re ready, come by the office today or the house later in the evening and let’s discuss face to face. Until then, this call never happened and I have absolutely no idea of your change in heart. Bye bye.”

He knew trying to get back in conjunction with his dad was no small task and would demand a price, that was probably very steep but he decided it was all worth it, at the end of the day and that he would pay it. He returned to dressing himself up, and just as he tucked his feet back into his Doc Martens boots, Naade strolled into the room, in dripping, wet goodness. Her hair was tousled into a beautiful mess, and the droplets of water that drizzled off her skin, made him want to drink every last drop off her. She proceeded into her closet, and emerged a couple of minutes later in a maroon, cashmere short cocktail dress, brown strapped heeled peep-toes and a classy mustard handheld bag, looped through her right elbow.

She had put on makeup, and looked much more matured and sophisticated. A diamond pendant necklace also hung around her neck, balancing perfectly between the swell of her chest. It was until he locked gazes with her, that he realized he had been gawking because she had a part amused, part curious look on her face.

“I hope you haven’t fallen in love with me, Lekan.” Naade chuckled, but he didn’t need protest because she sounded nothing but jovial. She was by her huge mirror now, wearing Han Han cat earrings and assessing her visual appearance one final time. She didn’t speak, until she whirled around to face him—her hands braced on the dresser. “I really had fun, Lekan. Today and yesterday, it was fantastic. I originally intended this to be a one-time thing, but I don’t want to stop anytime soon. I don’t know about you, though.”

“I’m game for as long as you want,” He replied, and a smile broke over her face in response.

“I’d see you tomorrow, then. I really have to go now.” She said, pushing herself off the mirror and gesticulating towards the door, that they should both leave. He wasted no time in honoring her wish and exiting the room, and the house inadvertently.

While he stood in the vast space outside, on the interlocked ground that encircled the house—she went into the garage and drove out in her Mercedes Benz G-class, she had driven the day they met. After closing the gates after her, he hopped into her car and they commenced their ride out of the residential estate. She was to drop him off at the nearest bus stop, where he’d board a vehicle to Sultan’s before continuing in her path that led to the office.

For the first couple of minutes during the ride, there was no conversation. Naade seemed occupied and focused on driving fast, so she could remain punctual and he didn’t want to divide her focus. However, when they sprung into the main express road—she engaged him, and asked a question that acted more in the capacity of an interrogation, rather than the fulfillment of curiosity.

“What’s your own story, Lekan?” Her eyes didn’t stray from the road, but her body language depicted that she craved for said answer. “I mean, everyone does have one. I’m involving in casual, wild sex because I need to blow off steam as a result of my last relationship. You on the other hand, it’s something you’re reputed for. Everyone knows you’re a playboy—”

“I am so not a playboy,” Lekan shook his head, vigorously although a smile seeped into his face. “I believe playboy, is coined from the word ‘play’ which implies, there are toying of emotions in the inference. I’ve never been in a serious relationship, that would put me in the position to toy with someone’s emotions or cheat on them in the first place. I’m just a person who likes living, and taking what he pleases, if he can get it of course.”

“I see,” This time, Naade gave him a cursory look and he caught glimpse of an intrigued smile on her face. She had made the jab earlier that he was falling head over heels with her, but he figured it was the other way round? He was only boggled by her physical beauty and tasteful sexuality. If those two conditions were removed, it’d be a blank slate. A blank space. “But, why though? Did someone break your heart? Give you bad advice that a relationship could never work? Or pardon me, didn’t your parents make it work, thus influencing you to assume that’s the way it’s always going to be?”

“No, definitely not.” Lekan shook his head, again. “It’s just a lot of work, that I consider mostly…stressful. Feelings always do die eventually, so why make an effort to try stick to one person when it’s going to crap out at the end of the day. All that time and devotion, gone down the drain when you can just put yourself out there and have a good time, with whoever you like at the moment?”

“I see,” Naade replied. Comprehension dawning on her. “So you’re yet to meet someone, that makes you forget everyone else in the world? Makes you just want to, move heaven and earth to be everything they need? Makes you want to put a ring on it and be with them, till death do you part, just because they are one of a kind and you’d never find their type anymore?”

He reflected on her words, to determine if there was some legitimacy in it. And there was, indeed. He didn’t know if a person was ever capable of making him nurse fantasies of wedding them, but did someone make him want to move heaven and earth? Yes. Did someone make him forget everyone else and every other woman in the world, for that brief spell of their time together? Yes also. The image of said person popped up in his head instantly, and he needn’t think much to ascertain her identity. He also didn’t want to acknowledge her existence, out loud.

“I really don’t know,” Lekan said nothing but the absolute truth, since the current topic was complicated and he hadn’t fully grasped the concept. “I guess there is someone I feel strongly for, more than any other beautiful woman. And who also appeals to me, in a non sexual way but I don’t know if my attraction exists because she is a conquest, I cannot win and therefore I want her, because I can’t get her. At the end of the day, it’s no use because she’d never date someone like me in the first place and I’m not exactly ready for commitment, so yeah.”

“So what exactly is your deal? Have casual sex for the rest of your life till you’re old?” Naade stole another glance at him.

Lekan sighed. No one usually got him in this area. He didn’t want to think and plan for the future, when there was so much to live for in the moment. The future is going to be whatever, it is.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged, nonplussed. “How about you then? You’re thinking of getting married, again?”

“Of course,” Naade nodded, with an incredulous expression as if he was supposed to know that fact. “I just have to be more careful and practical about it, this time around. I’ve always wanted my own family. A husband to lavish with my love, in all ramifications and beautiful kids to dote on also. I hope I’d get it right the next time. I don’t think I can’t stand another toxic relationship.”

“And what makes you think, all relationships aren’t toxic?” Lekan countered. “What makes you think that it all doesn’t crap out, with it’s magic and awe, expiring eventually.”

“That’s why I said I have to be more practical about it.” Naade maintained her stand on the matter, yet. “I don’t think it’s magic or some enchanting feeling that keeps a couple, happy and together for close to forty years like my parents. It is sacrifice, commitment, devotion and the conscious effort of choosing the other person, everyday—even though they could become the least most attractive person in your life, and they have lost all sexual appeal that drew you to them in the first place.”

“Yeah, but is it really possible to stay committed to one person for life? I mean, there are so many beautiful people around you, and they won’t stop looking beautiful just because you’re married. It just sounds like this very impossible thing to do. Plus, I don’t want to hurt anyone. Getting into a relationship and then cheating, is just sucky so I just avoid it the more so I don’t stand the chance of hurting someone.”

Naade didn’t respond until after a while and another comfortable silence drifted between them. When she spoke however, her words dazed him with an inescapable truth.

“You’re capable of loving, Lekan and probably ready more than ever. So far as you hate wanting to cheat on someone and breaking them, it’s enough drive to attempt being committed. I won’t tell you what and what not to do. But if you find yourself, having to decide whether to give it a trial or not, you should take it. You might be surprised at what you’d find at the other end.”

Their topic shifted to a less intimate and more casual ones, as the journey progressed and no matter how he wrestled with his subconscious, he couldn’t get what Naade had said out of his head.

***

Anjola alighted from the cab, slammed the door close and came up by the driver’s window to demand for her change. The forty something year old man, with an unkempt moustache and beady eyes, stared her down instead of dipping his hand into the stash of change, beneath his dashboard. When she frowned and crossed her arms, he clarified.

“I carry you come a whole Ikoyi, Banana Island for that matter and you still want your change?” He enquired in his authentic, Igbo accent and Anjola couldn’t help but smile in spite of her enraged state of his blatant entitlement. “You suppose double the money sef.”

“I hope say you dey alright?” Anjola’s index finger pointed to one side of her temple, and she whirled it in a circle, implying she was questioning his sanity. “Shey I told you, that I’m the one living here or I’m the owner of the house? C’mon give me my change, and don’t waste my time.”

The cab driver began to grumble, but handed over her change nonetheless before zooming off. Anjola watched the car vanish out of sight, and shook her head as she thought on the audacity of the man’s words. She willed her mind to return back to the present, and the magnificent, breathtaking view of the house before her. It was Thursday and she was here, honoring her promise to Delano and showing up to be his plus one for Damien’s Omonhigo’s birthday soiree. It wasn’t just the house that injected her in awe spectacle, but the lush, serene environment that looked like an enlarged, image from a futuristic cartoon.

She proceeded into the house, after being cleared by two hefty, guards stationed by the entrance who asked a stream of questions, to confirm if she was truly invited before allowing her passage. When she descended from the stone padded terrace, into the massive common room—acting as a makeshift hall, she was stupefied by the intricate design characterized by the entire room.

The chandeliers were glass, shaped globes in rhombic shapes that hung from the ceilings, like lit lanterns. The walls were adorned with ornate, test-coat paint that made it seem like it was dripping with droplets of water, in a rain of colors and the floor—the carpet was inscribed with varying letters, in a cursive watermark, exuding the feel of a giant, open scroll. A swarm of people, in distinct groups, spread out across the large room—every group, seeming to have a coherent theme in their attire like they were tribal denominations.

Soul, country music was streaming through the speakers that lined the ceilings, as people conversed, laughed, lifted glasses of wine from trays of mobile chaperones and wine towers. It was nigh improbable to make out the face of anyone in particular, and Anjola started to panic a bit but before her heart rate picked up, she noticed a very familiar figure, approaching from the herd of people in her direction.

Delano was wearing a polyester, slim fit blazer on a white bishop collared shirt, khakis and Oxfords. His beard and hair was freshly trimmed and cut, and it made the lines sleek and the hair, more evenly dispersed. Despite how dashing he looked, her breathing didn’t cease, neither did her heart stop for a split second, neither did she become suddenly blind to everything around her.

“Anjola, you’re here.” He was beaming all over, with outstretched hands and she accepted his hug in good grace. And she waited for it. Waited for a tingling sensation on the surface of her skin or even labored breathing, but nothing happened. This hug wasn’t like the one they usually shared, as it was longer and he had both of his arms snaked over her waist and that was why it was more befuddling, that it didn’t stir any emotion in her. She wasn’t naïve to expect fireworks or strong electric jolts, at the contact of a romantic interest like it was portrayed in many movies and books.

Even if such thing existed, she wasn’t wired to feel that way. Nonetheless, she expected something at least. Anything, to indicate that her emotions were getting the better of her and she wasn’t at the steering wheel anymore. To imply her logic could be overshadowed by primal needs too, and not reign supreme all the time. But such wasn’t the case for Delano, and she was beginning to wonder it was never going to change. She decided to stick to her decision, to immerse herself in the evening as much as she could, and spend ample time in his company, before arriving at the conclusion that they just weren’t compatible.

“Damn, you look stunning.” Delano exclaimed, as his gaze drank her shape in a Blue Bardot lace up, body-con mini dress. Her height was level with his, courtesy of her silver strapped six-inch peep toe heels. Her short, velvet, hair fell to the crane of her neck as usual, in compact waves that there was no stray strand in sight. Her ebony-dark skin, glimmered in the night magic as a result of the golden, brown light that illuminated the room. It had no effect whatsoever on fair people, but on dark people like her—it made them shimmer, as if they were dipped into gold dust.

“Thank you, you’re looking great also.” That she meant, but she wasn’t sure if he’d take her word for it, since she couldn’t match the same intensity in his eyes, or emotion in his voice. His expression bared no facet of disappointment, and she took it as a good sign. Just before, anyone of them could speak again¬—a man clad in a black flowing, knee length cape, black jeans and tassel slip on shoes, stepped forward.

Anjola knew it was Damien, before the girls appeared by his sides and he took up position in the center of the room, clinking a cutlery over an empty glass, and drawing the collective attention of everyone in the room. Zoe and Karen, looked stunning as always and their outfits were so grand, that Anjola thought it befitting for a royal ball.  Zoe was wearing a flowing, gradient long A-line chiffon prom dress that covered her feet totally and Karen’s white tea-length split dress, with gold appliqués was equally classy.

Damien began to talk, the moment the entire room had quieted. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for gracing this occasion. Surely, you all have better things doing with your free time than coming down here to celebrate with me. It’s not like this is some, full fledged Yoruba Owambe party where there is a plenty jollof rice, that would justify the turning up of people. But there isn’t even that here, as all we have is drinks and light food that you could easily whip up at home, but you’re here anyway. Because you care a bit for this old man, and not because you’re interested in item seven.”

Damien’s statement elicited a small bout of laughter, and he had to pause for it to die down before proceeding. “I turn fifty-five today, and it feels like I’ve lived a hundred years already and sometimes, I feel like I shouldn’t be up to twenty years. Time is a very, funny, bewildering thing. Feels so fast and slow, sometimes. You can’t control it, but you can control your actions. I’ve taken a lot of risks in my life, and I’m very proud of them not only because they paid off, but because I would be second guessing what it’d be like if I didn’t. Life has been sweet for me. Most of you are probably thinking, of course—he’s a billionaire, why won’t his life be sweet?

“I’d proudly tell you, that my life has been great even before I broke out. How? I’ve learned to live. I’ve learned to take some impractical decisions, just for the fun and thrill of it. I’ve learned not to be so prudent with money, and be reckless sometimes just to have a good time. I’ve learnt how to live in the moment, and not give a damn about the future for a moment. I don’t know if this life is truly once, or maybe we return reincarnated as someone else, but whatever that’s next, I’m happy that I’ve lived and enjoyed life to a good extent. Have you? If you haven’t, it’s not too late. No matter how much you have, just live. Spoil yourself, take a break.  You deserve it, after all the work you’ve put in so far. Thank you all.”

The crowd erupted into an applause, and then dispersed back to their previous positions. Anjola knew a number of faces in the gathering, mostly high ranking, executive officers at Sigma but there was no string of cordiality, attaching her to anyone of them and so she couldn’t exchange pleasantries of any sort with them. Delano on the other hand, left her side occasionally to exchange greetings and pleasantries with people around. She began to feel alienated, and out of place but luckily, Delano was able to detect her discomfort owing to his suggestion of them walking out to the porch.

There was a verandah, that encircled the porch and they leaned over it—peering across, at the fence meandering, with flowers at its base. In the distance, Crickets whistled and the breeze caused a stir in the flowers, making them crunch and tremble. Anjola closed her eyes and inhaled, letting the breeze hug and serenade her with its chill. Delano however was studying her intently, that much she could decipher from her sharp corner eye vision.

“So, I’ve always wanted to know.” Delano started, breaking the silence finally. Her breath clogged in her chest, as she realized the impending question. Was he about to ask if she had feelings for him, or something else related to the exact nature of their relationship? She wasn’t mentally prepared for said enquiry, and she was afraid she was going to falter and spout incoherent nonsense.

“Who is Anjola, really? Asides her work alter ego, that I’m very much acquainted with.” Relief fell on her, and her heart rate steadied. “What are your likes, dislikes, hobbies, drives, goals, pet peeves, favorite meals and color, craziest things, you know etcetera.”

“Well,” She swallowed, cracking the stiffness in her knuckles. “Ever since I was little, I loved working with numbers. I was great at simple arithmetic, and bested my mates easily. My parents thought it was a scientific flair, but I knew they were wrong as I didn’t necessarily love Math. I just loved crunching and working with numbers. Accounting naturally came into the picture, and that’s why I’m here today as a Sigma employee.

“I’m twenty-six and I’m the only kid. Mom died about ten years ago…” And dad is dying, now. “…Dad is still alive. I have an awesome dad though, and honestly he’s always been my favorite. I don’t have a lot of friends outside my child hood friends, and you guys at Sigma. You could say my social life is pretty dead, because while I’m not exactly introverted, I don’t do a lot of high scale social activities that are termed fun by today’s people. My parents highly conservative nature, factored majorly into this. But I try to do my best to see things from a fresher, liberal perspective these days.

“Likes and dislikes? Um, I don’t know. I like good things as much as the next person.” She broke out in a nervous laugh, and glanced at him briefly to gauge his reaction and he seemed nothing but pleased and amused, which eased her anxiety. “I like food, even though I don’t eat much. I love cooking, as in I just love cooking. Cooking old stuff, and even experimenting in the kitchen and trying to see if I can invent new food. I love, cliché romance movies and books. I’m a sucker for them. They might not be the most realistic of things, but I think my life is realistic enough. I need a safe haven and a happy ending, you know.”

“I do know,” Delano nodded.

“Dislikes? I don’t dislike a lot of things, but I certainly don’t like untidiness, rude and arrogant people. Hobbies? I mentioned that as what I love doing. Cooking, reading, watching a movie, hanging out. Favorite meal is definitely Amala and Ewedu. Gosh, that meal is just heavenly.”

“Ugh, you’re also on this Amala-is-so-great bandwagon. Next thing, you’d be saying it can cure cancer.” Delano scoffed, and made her erupt in laughter. “Now, don’t get me wrong, Amala is great and all but I think it is a bit overrated. There are other awesome meals like Semo and Gawd, Pounded Yam that doesn’t get as much spotlight as it does. Pounded Yam on the other hand, with Egusi vegetable soup, is just like a delicious orgasm in your mouth. Permit my crude language.”

“It’s okay,” She smiled. While she might have been repulsed with such word on a regular day, it seemed endearing that Delano—an incredibly proper and modest person—was comfortable enough with her, to make such comparison. “I don’t know if I agree Amala is overrated though but I also think Pounded Yam, deserves more spotlight. I’m not sure, if it’d ever become as iconic as Amala though, because asides the fact that it’s difficult and stressful to prepare, it’s not as versatile as Amala. Amala goes with almost, just any soup and is just as good with anyone.”

“Versatile, huh?” Delano laughed also. “You make it sound like it’s some skilled footballer, that’s good in all positions on the field.”

Anjola simply shrugged, before going on to query him, herself. “What about you, Delano? Who are you really, behind all that prim and proper gentlemanly façade, you wear all the time? Not that, I doubt that you’re a gentleman and nothing but a pig, wearing the skin of a human and acting like one, but I know there is something much more to your exterior.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that. But let’s see, I’d take it from the top just like you did.” Delano’s throat bobbed, and Anjola could sense he was about to tread on frozen ground. The current topic was apparently one, he didn’t indulge in frequently. “How did I know I’d be an accountant? I didn’t know that initially. I really didn’t know what I wanted to be. One time, when I was small, I said I’d become a pastor and a general overseer, because it seemed so cool to head a church.”

“Really?” Her laughter got the better of her again, and she found herself plastering both hands over her chest, to inhibit the rapidly, escalating laugh. “That’s just wow.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” Delano smiled, looking a bit embarrassed of the revelation. “But then, I got into junior secondary school and we had a career talk, where tons of specialists in varying fields were invited. I loved the details of the accounting job, once I heard it and the charisma of the accountant especially. That was when I knew, what I wanted to do. My parents wanted me to do science, because apparently I had the smarts for it but I insisted it was accounting I wanted. And well, here I am also.

“Likes and dislikes? I like modest, hardworking and focused people. People with goals. I can end a friendship, if I realize it’s deducting from me more than its adding value. Don’t care much for sentiments. I believe everyone would be okay eventually. Dislikes and pet peeves? Hot tempered people, and conflict seeking people. People who turn almost every single topic into an argument, in a bid to prove their superior intellectuals and make the other person feel stupid and worthless. Favorite food? Definitely Wheat and Efo Riro. I love pounded yam so much also, but I think I love it that much because I seldom eat it. Wheat on the other hand, I eat a lot and still like very much. Favorite color—”

“Definitely blue,” Anjola interrupted, with a hopeful gaze and the grin on his face, endorsed her guess. “Aha, I just knew it. You always have a dash of blue on, and your car is blue anyway.”

“Blue is so awesome.” He replied. “You never said your own favorite color, though.”

“I know. I don’t have one.” She said, and her reply made his eyes narrow. “It’s the truth, I don’t have a favorite color. I love different colors for different things. Outfits for example, I love blue and black. For interiors of buildings, I love orange and grey. For stationeries, I love brown and I can’t even explain the reason behind this selective preferences. I guess, we could just say that I’m weird like that.”

“Wow, that’s different. I like different.” Delano complimented, before going on. “Well, as for my hobbies. Pretty much the same thing you said. Reading, mostly. I’m not big on movies or TV series for that matter. I easily lose interest and the type of books I read, are mostly non fiction books on business and all that, written by great men in the field, to help me garner more knowledge and remain at the top of my game.”

“That’s nice. But at the end of the day, that’s still related to your work, isn’t it? Don’t you do anything for the sake of just…letting loose and catching fun? Blowing off steam?”

Anjola could tell by the look of agonized contemplation of Delano’s face, that there was hardly nothing he did that satisfied her question. She couldn’t deny that she found it a bit, off putting that there was nothing to him that was just…fun and thrilling for the sake of it? Didn’t he have interests in anything at all?

“I do jog a lot and exercise to remain fit, but then I guess that doesn’t count because it is a physical fitness thing.” Delano’s reply was only affirming her hypothesis.

“What about music? You have to love music.” She said, in a final desperate attempt to find something, intriguing about him but he shattered her hopes, by grimacing and shaking his head.

“I think music is distracting,” He added. “It’s fun at parties and all, but it’s just distracting every other time. I can live without it.”

Anjola was still unsure about what she wanted in a man. She thought she had a type—prim, proper and fun—but it would seem she didn’t, as someone who fitted the criteria had failed woefully in igniting emotional flames in her. But she knew that what she wanted wasn’t Delano, and would never be anything like Delano.

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