||TAMIA||

"I'm just wondering," mom prompts with a thoughtful expression.

"Wasn't the photographer supposed to send your photos via WhatsApp?"

Her question comes off in a suspicious tone that alerts me. I cannot allow her to figure out that whatever I'm telling her right now is a lie. Or better yet, the only reasonable excuse that came into mind despite it being a little crappy. She has to believe it because it is my one-way ticket to see Joe tomorrow.

"He was," I respond in agreement. "But that was until he started talking about photo quality being interfered with by the app. And because of that, we need to collect them by ourselves. So that he can send them directly from the computer to our phones."

"We figured since we are going back to school on Friday, we might as well consider going to pick them up tomorrow," I explain in a firm voice.

I already told Abigail and Stella that I need cover and as usual they were more than willing to help. That is why I'm shamelessly and confidently using the plural pronoun 'we'.

"Where are you getting them?" she asks, idly staring at the feeding goats.

We are sitting beside each other on the compound chair. It is a habit we got used to after coming home from the farm. More so in the hotter months of the year.

These winter weather months complicate matters a little sometimes since we have to stay in the house. Sometimes all day for at least thrice a week we even forget about our beloved compound chair.

"His studio in Small Town," I respond.

Small town is just about three kilometres away. By car, it costs fifty shillings. But we can walk as it isn't that far and we are already used to it.

"Do you have the fare to get you there? Because I don't have enough money at the moment," she asks with an apologetic voice.

"No. But don't worry about the fare. We shall walk. As it is, we are already used to it," I assure her.

Sometimes after church over the holidays, we do go to Small Town to hang out with friends from church and also from our holiday tuition programme. And most of the time, we usually walk there.

"Alright," she says, granting me her permission.

A warm feeling spreads in my heart. Tomorrow I'll be seeing Joe and I cannot wait. I'm eager to be in his arms again. To feel him again. To be close to him again. If I had the power, I could alter the time at the moment and make it tick its way into tomorrow in a marathon.

"Have you listed down your shopping?" she asks a moment later.

"Not yet. But I'm not buying a lot of things since I bought some things in bulk when we reopened," I respond.

"Roughly, how much do you need for the shopping?" she asks. I want your dad to start organising the money."

"At least two thousand," I respond. "Yes, two. They will have to do for now."

"Alright then," she nods.

I'll work on the shopping list tomorrow evening after meeting up with Joe. Meanwhile, I'll just continue soaking in the warm awesome feeling I've been feeling since Joe spoke to me earlier.

🧯V~GIRL vs K~PRINCE🧯

At around ten-twenty, goosebumps awaken on my skin as my heart races in excitement and eagerness when my eyes land on a pretty silver machine of a land cruiser approaching. An emotional smile then crawls on my lips when the handsome face behind the wheel comes to focus.

Simultaneously, a pinch of nervousness threads itself on my skin as I wait for the car to make a stop. As much as I am excited to see him, I don't know how to act after everything that went down the last time we saw each other.

Yes, we have talked over the phone at least thrice since yesterday's call. But talking over the phone is far different and easier than when I'm with him in person.

Seemingly, he is alone. Unless our accomplices are hiding in the backseat. Though my gut is telling me he is alone. In mere seconds, he parks beside the road, just a few steps ahead of me. The engine then goes off before I hear the front door open.

I try moving forward to meet him but I feel stuck for reasons unbeknownst to me. Perhaps it is the nervousness. I nearly jump when he appears in front of me a second later. He is wearing a serene and fond smile on his handsome face.

Involuntarily, a smile spreads on my face as I check him out with admiration and gratitude. I want to hug him so tight and confess that I have missed him badly. That I have been so afraid of losing him. But instead, I keep still and wait for him to make the first move. He takes his time, checking me out with an intense gaze that nearly has me squirming.

"Are we enemies now?" he asks in a serious tone that somewhat confuses me nearly minutes later.

"Uh, no," I respond, wondering why he would ask such a question. He and I can never be enemies. Never.

"So we are friends?" he asks, his eyes lingering on my afro-combed hair.

For a second, I think about that question. We are not friends. As far as I am concerned, we are not even best friends. We are more than that. More than even lovers.

"I know that we are way more than friends," I respond.

"So, what are we?" he asks with an interested voice.

"We are each other," I respond and his face breaks into the fond smile he has earlier.

That is why when I lose you, I lose myself. I mean, look at what happened yesterday after only a few hours. I was going mad. Literally.

"Then why do you feel distant?" he asks.

"Maybe because I'm intentionally making myself distant. I still feel guilty for all the lies and now I don't know how to act with you."

"You should just be you, baby love," he says, stepping into my space and locking his gaze with mine. "Forget about what happened the other day. We shall talk about it later. For now, I want to kiss and hug you tightly."

I smile and before I can utter my thoughts, he takes my hand and takes me to the passenger door. He opens it and uses it as a shield to hide me in case of prying eyes.

His lips then find mind in an urgency I've missed. Upon finding them, he kisses them fervently. For a long moment, we devour each other until he retreats and pulls me into a longed-for warm and tight hug.

He kisses my temple and holds me even tighter. With that, I can feel him make a statement but I cannot quite tell what is all about. Forgetting about it, I snuggle close and humbly mumble a thank you to the heavens for having him back.

"I missed you," he confesses in a whisper.

"I missed you too badly," I confess.

He kisses my temples again and then we retreat from the hug. My heart feels full and content. At peace. No longer lonely. The pain is getting smothered by all the excitement I feel. The fear is still lurking.

Though not of losing him, but of our relationship being affected by the blockade we call Stilettos. The anxiety is sitting ugly somewhere in my heart but I'm able to overpower it because I feel great.

"You are looking pretty. The afro is beautiful and it is making you look so good," he groans as if he can't believe it whilst ruffling it.

"Do you know how many hours I spent getting that afro evened out, Joe?" I ask him.

It cost me more time than even getting ready. I nearly gave up.

"But I haven't done much to ruin it," he defends, plastering an innocent face.

"Move, I want to see," I say, slightly pushing him aside and taking a look at the passenger door side mirror.

Upon seeing it, I take in a deep breath, stand straight and then turn to him. The idiot is restraining a smile that might as well earn him a slap. Two for ruining the afro I worked so hard on.

"But I haven't done much to ruin it," I mimic, sneering at him. "I can see more than a hundred strands poking out, Joe."

"Tell me the secret and I'll make the afro look evened out again," he winks at me.

I scowl at him and he groans, "Come on baby love, it is just a few strands. I can help you align them perfectly."

"No, you can't. It cost me hours to make them cooperate and if I were to let you do them, then we would spend the rest of the day here," I tell him. "And the secret is not to touch it."

"There has to be another secret otherwise I might end up annoying you the whole day," he complains.

"There is no other secret. You just try and put your hands on it after I retouch it," I threateningly say.

"It is not like you will do anything to me," he says in a cock voice.

"You just try," I tell him, going back to the mirror.

"Are you daring me?" he taunts.

"No. I'm warning you, prick," I grumble. "Now, if you don't mind, get me a jolly comb from my sling bag."

"Of course, you have a comb," he drawls.

"Because it is essential," I argue before mentally slapping myself for entertaining him.

"Here you go," he says, handing me my brown jolly comb.

"Thanks," I appreciate.

For a whole ten minutes, I work on the afro. Once I'm done, I breathe a sigh of relief and stand upright. My waistline hurts a little from the half-bending but it will be good as new in a minute.

"Damn, it took forever," he comments.

"Beware where you put your hands," I pointedly tell him, only to earn myself a conspiratorial smile.

"Stupid pervert," I groan, taking my sling bag from the passenger seat and dumping my comb in it.

"I know. But the afro does look so good on you," he assures me, checking out the afro.

"Thank you," I appreciate with a smile.

"Let's go then," he says, motioning for me to get into the car with his head.

"Uh, and where are we going?" I curiously ask, my eyes darting to his for answers.

"Between the two of us, you are the one who cannot be trusted," he darkly jokes.

"You are a sadist and you should have just said, 'trust me'. It would have been enough," I grumble.

"If it soothes your wound, I'm taking you to town," he drawls with an insufferable grin.

"Doesn't work," I grumble as I hop on the passenger seat.

After I buckle up, he closes the door, his insufferable smile still etched on his lips. Clearly, he enjoys grating my nerves. Prick. He goes around the front and settles behind the wheel. He then reverses and drives off back to town. For a long while, comfortable silence ensues.

"Have you been to Club Sofia?" he asks, breaking the silence.

Club Sofia is a renowned entertainment club in town. From what I hear, it usually is a banger. Unfortunately, access is restricted to persons aged eighteen and above. And even they must produce an original ID at the entrance to make it inside.

"Where do you get the audacity to ask me that when you very well know that I haven't? Actually, to any club for that matter," I ask, giving him a 'seriously?' kind of look.

Clubs are unchartered territory for me. Again, I should remind him that I am not 'V~Girl' for nothing. He seems to be forgetting that.

"Baby love, you have low-key been a bad girl. Who knows what things you, Abigail and Stella have done?" he asks.

"The things I've done with them are nowhere near insanity's borderlines. They aren't extreme and can't even be compared to what you and I have done. Simply, let's just say they are just a little illegal," I state in explanation.

"And none of them ever included going to a club?" he asks and I nod in response.

"Have you ever gotten tempted?" he asks with a sly smile.

"I've never gotten an interest in them leave alone getting tempted. I've grown up hearing such places get condemned from all cardinal points. You can imagine the motivation. But that doesn't mean that I am not curious about them sometimes."

"What about them makes you curious?" he asks with an interested voice.

"The actual thing that happens inside," I respond. "Because for one, I feel as if the village folk has got the wrong idea of what generally goes on in a club. I do too. But I can't be blamed since the seed was planted a long time ago and has grown cemented. Now it can only be altered by experience."

"What kind of things do you think go on in a club?" he curiously asks, momentarily sparing me a glance.

"From my point of view or the village folk's?" I ask, silently admiring his profile.

"Yours," he responds.

"I honestly don't know at this point. I mean, I hear different stories from everyone. Take for example, what I hear from my classmates contradicts what I hear from the village folk."

"Knowing your village folk from what you have told me, I know they would choose to speak against instead of praising clubs as your classmates would choose to do," he points out.

"Exactly. And that is one of the things that turn clubs into a topic of dilemma for me. Of course, I know each party has their reasonings. But I also know they cannot be dependable always.

Someone is always prone to exaggerating things. However, if I ever think of going to a club, it will not be because I was curious or rebellious. It will be because I wanted to," I say.

"Well, what mostly happens in urban club settings include drinking, partying, music, gambling, drug dealing and abusing. Then of course, I wouldn't call it prostitution per se, but people do hook up quite a lot and basically any other drama you see in the movies," he tells me.

"Following the stories I've heard from my classmates, I figured so," I say.

"They aren't so bad but I can't entirely praise them. Well, let's just say they have their perks," he says.

"I believe so. But do you go to clubs often?" I curiously ask.

He turns to me and smiles before returning his gaze to the road. I wonder what was funny about that question.

"Nope. But once in a while, I do. And sometimes Fel tags along as well. Kel too when there is a hangout plan," he responds.

"Fel?! Like Felix?!" I ask in shock.

I mean, the kid is still in primary school. How the heck is he allowed to go to a club?

"Don't get too shocked," he chuckles. "It isn't such a big deal."

"To you, it isn't. To me it is. How do you even get him inside leave alone you? A fake ID?" I ask.

"Bouncers in Nairobi could care less about your age to ask for an ID. Your life is yours and you can do with it as you please. But if they do figure you out, it becomes business for them. Always be ready to get some pretty cash out of your pocket," he responds.

"So anyone can just freely walk into a club in Nairobi?" I ask in disbelief.

I don't know why it sounds a bit intriguing but it does. I mean, you can be twelve and walk into a damn club without having anyone to stop you. Oh well, that is intriguing.

"Yes. But as long as you look like an eighteen-year-old or older," he says.

"Oh," I mumble in understanding. "That's where the filter lies."

"Yes," he responds.

"No wonder Fel can access a club with his tiny age," I say.

"Let him never hear you say that he has a tiny age. He'll skin you alive," he chuckles making me smile.

"He says he's old and nobody should remind him of his young age," he adds.

"A typical Karanja just like you," I comment.

"Yeap," he nods in agreement.

"Anyway, what was it about Club Sofia?" I ask.

"I want us to go and chill there," he responds.

"In a club? Even worse, during the day?" I ask. "Is it even open right now? I thought clubs are opened later in the day."

"Not the club specifically but the club's restaurant at the rooftop," he clarifies.

I thought the club building just had a club and some other shady businesses in it. Well, it is not like one can see much from outside if not for the constant neon lights shining somewhere in the mid-section of the building. Probably the second or third floor. I suppose that is where the club is then. The rest are still shady business plus the restaurant on the rooftop.

"Oh, I didn't know they had one," I state in surprise. "And how come you know they do and I don't?"

"Because, Google. I saw it on their web page and I decided to try it out," he explains. "Well, I was looking for cool places to chill in Nyeri and Google recommended it in case you were wondering."

"Of course, you were," I smile. "I hope it is a good place then."

"I hope so too. I saw that they even have a pool on the rooftop. Too bad the weather is arguing about swimming. We'd have swam. At least in filtered waters this time," he says making me chuckle at his last sentence.

"Annoying June weather," I mutter.

"Weather for two, they call it," he points out with a sly smile.

"Refer to context," I say, pointing at the two of us before we both burst into laughter.

"Perfect example," he comments.

"Anyway, is Kel done editing the photos?" I ask.

"I think so. Well, at least the majority of them," he responds. "You want him to send you yours?"

"Yeap," I respond. "I should have them by the time I'm going back home. They are the solid reason I was able to come to see you. Without them, I'll face an interrogation I'm not willing to face."

"Your mom is quite the strict mother," he comments.

"That she is," I say.

"I can see her asking you to show her the photos later when you return home," he says.

"Oh, she will. She will want to see the photos I was willing to go for on foot," I tell him.

"On foot?" he asks with a confused frown.

"I told her we'd be picking them up at the photographer's studio in Small Town and we'd go there on foot," I explain.

"Wait that shopping town we bypassed a few minutes ago?" he asks.

"That one," I nod in response.

"You walk all the way to that town? Baby love, that is quite the distance," he asks in surprise.

"Don't get too surprised, you spoiled brat," I retort. "Three kilometres aren't too much of a distance when you're in the company of friends."

"Still. But anyway, do you walk to and fro?" he asks.

"Yes," I respond. "And stop making it sound as if it is a big deal. We are already used to it."

As if to comprehend that revelation, he remains silent for a moment. For another moment, the silence stretches. I stare at him. His gaze is focused on the road. Although he seems to be in a reverie in which something has just hit him.

"Did you go dumb?" I teasingly ask with a smile.

"No, baby love. It is just that I have realized how spoilt I am," he says in a serious tone, meeting my gaze.

"Oh, please," I flip him off. "If you claim you're spoilt, then your family never spoilt you enough. Else, you would be a literal definition of a spoilt brat. Which you are not because if you were, every second I spend with you would be unbearable."

"But I am still spoilt to some extent," he argues.

"Just to some extent," I nod in agreement.

"Bottom line, your statement just humbled me. It made me realize how spoiled I am," he expounds.

"What statement?" I ask with a curious frown.

"That you are used to walking three kilometres and that it is not even a big deal," he responds.

"Because it is not," I assure him.

"To me, it is because my spoilt ass wouldn't walk for that distance. If one is too much, then I doubt three would be possible," he says.

"That is because you are in the comfort of your privileges. If you didn't have them, then believe me, you wouldn't find it such a big deal," I tell him. Point blank.

"Most definitely," he agrees.

"But since you have them, enjoy them. Some of us out here don't and sometimes wish we had them. But all in due time," I smile at him.

"All in due time, baby love," he says in a low-key promissory tone.

🧯K~PRINCE vs V~GIRL🧯

In town, Joe parks the car at the rear parking lot of Club Sofia. We then unbuckle and step outside. He walks around the front while locking the car to meet me on my side.

"It is damn cold here," he complains, zipping up his black puff jacket.

"SPG must be colder," I state upon recall that we are going back to school tomorrow.

"SPB is always twinning. No wonder we are brother and sister school," he says in a not-so-impressed tone.

"Sometimes I feel as if SPG is cursed. It gets way colder than home where I expect to be vice versa since we are almost typically living in the Aberdares. I mean, how does that even happen?" I complain.

"Don't ask me. I'll never understand the weather rules," he grumbles as we walk through the busy road to the front side.

I adjust my sling bag so that it is hanging on my front instead of sideways. You can never be too careful on such busy streets. I may not have anything worth thousands but I love my sling bag. I got it after so much hard work and I'm not ready to lose it to some ungrateful petty thief.

When we get to the front, we step on the wide stairway leading to the entrance. At the door, there is a tall, dark and slim male soldier standing on guard. He's wearing a black uniform complimented with black combat boots.

On his head, he has a cap that halfway hides his face. He has no gun but he does have a frisking machine. When he sees us approaching, he scrutinises us thoroughly before he calls someone woman from the inside.

A young woman, probably in her late twenties comes out. She's also a soldier. She scrutinises us before she does my frisking. The male soldier frisks Joe and once he is done, they let us in. Immediately, a pretty hostess approaches us with a gallant smile on her face.

"Good morning, how may help you?" she greets.

Time on cold days really slacks. It's probably the gloom effect. But I am not complaining. They can slack however long they feel like.

"A private booth at the restaurant," Joe responds.

"The balcony or rooftop restaurant?" she asks, surprising me.

Seemingly, they have more than one restaurant. I'm starting to wonder what shady businesses I thought were run in this building. I mean, seriously, they sound like normal businesses. Only of the culinary Perhaps they have an underground restaurant.

Anyway, the point here is, the place looked so closed off from the outside but on the inside, it feels like entirely something else. I'll not be surprised to hear that the club is a small business here despite it shouting so loudly on the outside with its flashing neon colours.

"The rooftop restaurant," I hear Joe specify.

"Alright, please follow me," she requests as she starts walking towards a counter.

We follow her whilst I study the place. There is an opening that leads to a pool table room. On the opposite, there is a chilling zone. The rest three doors in the vicinity are closed and with no labels on their frames.

We stop at the counter. Behind it, a young man is keying in things on the computer in front of him. To acknowledge our presence, he stops his task and looks up at us.

"A private booth at the rooftop," she tells him and then turns to us. "Have you figured out what you want to have?"

"Uh, yes. For now, we shall just have wine," Joe says, causing me to shoot him a glare.

He notices, smiles and then goes ahead to give the specifications. White wine. I think he has called it Ama La Vida or something close to that.

"Okay, it will be sorted in a few. You can use either the elevator or the stairway to the rooftop. Someone will be waiting," she says.

"Thank you," Joe appreciates.

"You're welcome," she smiles.

We then turn and walk towards the elevator instead of the stairway. He dings it open and we wait for a few seconds. Once it opens up, I stare at it, unsure if I want to enter it. It looks just like in the movies. A completely closed vertical tunnel. Joe notices my hesitation and looks at me with concern in his eyes.

"Are you claustrophobic?" he asks.

"I wouldn't know. I have never used an elevator before," I confess making him laugh lightly.

"For real?" he asks with a raised brow.

"Yes, rich kid," I respond to his face. "It is not like I frequent such places where one has elevators to use instead of staircases."

"Okay, come on, I'll hold you so you don't have to feel weird in there," he offers.

His hand takes mine and we step in. I cling to him when the elevator closes. I swear my knees buckle when it starts moving upwards. I feel somewhat weightless and a little dizzy before I pick up the pace and adjust. It doesn't feel so bad to be in it despite it being so closed.

"Have you adjusted?" he asks looking down at me with a smile.

"I think so," I respond, reflecting his smile.

"What else haven't you done?" he asks curiously.

"A whole load of things. If I start talking here, you will end up pitying me. But you will get to know them one at a time," I tell him.

"Should I insist?" he asks.

"No," I respond and he agrees to hold his peace with a nod and a smile.

🧯K~PRINCE vs V~GIRL🧯

The busy streets below are deceivingly picturesque from up here. No one could suspect that they are nothing but hectic whenever one is walking through them.

For instance, I know that the total number of people who walk through them daily, half of them curse, a quarter complain and the other quarter engages in physical or verbal confrontations with their fellow passersby.

Sometimes because they were stepped on, rudely knocked or pushed aside or a theft attempt was attempted on them. And many other uncouth things that go on.

The cool breeze blankets my face as I take my time to spy the part of town in my view. From afar, I can see the Majengo slums. That is a place mom normally has quite the stories to tell about. Stories from a completely different time in her life.

"I know it sucks to know that tomorrow evening this will be a memory in your pretty mind," Joe silently says beside me.

"What sucks, even more, is the fact that I don't know when we shall get to live another moment like this," I say in a solemn tone.

"That Stilettos woman stands in the way so boldly I could contemplate killing her," he says.

"Killing her wouldn't change much. I have thought about it before. If we wanted to save ourselves completely, we'd have to kill several people. And we'd have to do more than a perfect job at it. We don't want any of it pointing back to us," I point out.

"That would require a lot of time and effort which we don't have," he says in a serious tone you'd think he was considering it.

"Exactly. We have run out of time. We go back to school tomorrow. Then on Monday, shit resumes," I inform him.

"I fucking hate the uncertainty this coming part of the term is volleying," he cusses.

"I despise it. It has me raging with anxiety and even fear," I confess.

"What do you think that woman plans to do with you?" he asks in concern, his eye glued to mine.

"I honestly don't know. She's unpredictable. But I'm guessing she will send us home for an indefinite suspension, to say the least," I say, letting out a heavy sigh.

It sucks to think about that but it is not like I can escape. I have no way out. Actually, my only way out is to face the consequences head-on. No matter how difficult.

"Fuck, baby love. That will be crucifixion for you," he cusses in a disturbed voice.

It will indeed. My parents. My relatives. My friends. Even worse, the village people. All of them will mercilessly crucify me. This all, in their words, whether to my face or behind my back and their judgemental looks and actions. It will be a trying time for me and I can only hope that I will survive them all.

"I know," I say. "And honestly, I don't know how I'll handle all that. All I know is that I'll have to face everything head-on because it looks as if I don't have any other options."

"Well, unless Stilettos feels generous enough to give us progressive punishment on school grounds. Shit, she'd save my ass big time and I would forever be grateful," I point out.

"What are the chances of her doing that?" he hopefully asks.

"Unpredictable," I respond.

"I swear I would forever be grateful too if she did that. I don't think I'll ever sit peacefully in class knowing that you are suffering the consequences of our actions all alone.

Even worse, amidst vipers set on diminishing you, baby love. Not even once. As if that is not enough, without a clue of when I will see you again. I'm pretty sure if you go home, the ground rules will change--" I cut him off before he can continue.

"Everything will change," I correct.

"Everything," he repeats in a whisper. "What will happen to us?"

"I don't know and the anxiety of not knowing that is killing me on the inside," I tell him.

"It is freaking killing me too if I care to admit it," he says, his stormed eyes staring into mine.

"Stilettos would get off if she knew we are battling anxiety all because of her," I comment.

"I regret ever coming with that phone," he confesses with an apologetic expression. "If I never did, perhaps the punishment wouldn't be so complicated."

"Baby, it already happened. Right now, regrets don't matter," I tell him, lightly caressing his face. "And you can't be sure the punishment wouldn't be complicated as long as the determiner remains constant. And that determiner happens to be Stilettos."

"Still," he says, "I feel bad. I don't get why you have to be the one to face the consequences for us both. I mean, we should be facing them together."

"Don't beat yourself over it, K~Prince," I urge him. "It is how things are and we have to accept them. Right now what I need is for you to be the strong one. I need you to be the one telling me that it will be okay when I feel as if I'm sinking into the abyss."

"I am sorry for being a non-understanding jerk the other day and also a snob," he apologises in a sincere voice.

"It is okay, K~Prince," I say with an assuring smile. "I feared worse but here we are together again. That too, with bigger problems to deal with than a mere apology which I duly accept nonetheless."

"Fuck you," he playfully insults, pulling me into a hug. "I heart you, baby love."

"I heart you too, K~Prince," I say, even though my voice is muffled in the bear hug.

"Stilettos may be making the fate of your life and our relationship look dark but we shall survive," he encouragingly says. "We have to. There is no other way for us. We have to so that in the end we shall have what people called a HEA."

"You are my motivation," I silently say. "But most importantly, you are my fine line between so many things. Please don't ever forget that."

"I won't. And you should always remember that. Especially when things get a little overwhelming because baby, they will," he tells me with an apologetic tone.

"But even if they do, never forget our end goal. Always strive through. First for you and then for us," he urges. "Remember that I need you for us to be. So it is for you first."

"You are making me feel as if I'm going into a battlefield," I joke despite knowing that is the bitter truth.

"We both know it will be a battlefield," he smiles bitterly. "But we shall laugh about it someday."

"I for sure look forward to that day," I say. "Meanwhile, let is just forget about all that awaits us and have some fun. The weather is giving us a fair chance."

"Are you thinking about swimming?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"The weather is brightening up. So why not?" I ask.

"Have you forgotten that not so long ago you were feeling a little light-headed?" he asks with a teasing smile.

After settling in our designated comfy private booth, the wine was brought. Amidst our endless stories, we drank it. Before that though, I expressed my worry about getting drunk to him. But he insisted that it wasn't that strong in terms of alcoholic content. So, I gave up my concerns and decided to try it. The thing was sweet and I kept going. Oh, eventually I started feeling a little lightheaded and that was where I stopped. I couldn't go on. Maybe next time.

"I feel perfectly fine now. The view got me sober," I wink at him.

"Are you sure you want to swim?" he asks in a serious tone.

"The pretty view of this water is making it hard to resist," I groan and he smiles.

The pool has crystalline blue water. It's probably the effect of the pool tiles but I could care less. It's so pretty I want in. The water is shimmering in small waves which I think are the effects of the cool breeze sweeping on the surface.

"Fine then, baby love," he says with a smile. "We'll swim. But only for one and a half hours. After that, we are calling it quits."

"Alright," I nod with a cheerful smile.

"Let's go sort it out then along with lunch," he says. "We still have a long day ahead of us."