Jeremiah

I sat straight, fanning myself uneasily, with the neck of my skye blue Versace turtle neck sweatshirt. I could have sworn the morning was so cold. How on earth did the weather switch up on me so fast?

I turned open the cap of my plastic water bottle, and took a quick drink, my eyes, focused on the football field from the bleachers. NAUN had one of the biggest fields I had ever seen. You'd think it was an actual national stadium. Too bad I didn't play anymore, but watching all those people play reminded me so much of how it used to be, when I loved being in the field, before the accident. A lot had changed since, after the accident. I had stopped doing a whole lot of things I loved to do.

"Hey brother."
I didn't even get to turn before I felt a hard bump on the seat beside mine, and then Kingsley's scent came next. I just knew he had to be the one sitting right beside me. I let out a frustrated sigh when I felt his arm wrap around my neck. How on earth did he never get tired of following me around like a damn lost boy? If he wasn't, I was.

Ever since we were kids, Kingsley had always had this fantasy in his head that we were really close. More like best friends, and it all started after I stopped a group of boys from bullying him back in primary school. You see, Kingsley used to be bullied a lot when we were growing up. It was how he met Oma too. Since that happened, Kingsley had always stuck by my side as a friend would. Only difference was, I didn't think we were close enough to be best of friends.

Yes, he told everyone we were besties, he hung around with me so many times, and flew all the way to the states unexpectedly to chill. Even though half the time I had always found an excuse not to see him, he never stopped. Kingsley had my back on so many occasions, including finding me a private investigator to help me find the woman I had spent years trying to find, the same woman that had brought Kora and I together, without asking who it was, who she was,  he even picked me up from the airport as planned, before my father's men got to me first. Somehow, he was the only person I knew to call, whenever I had a need, or something I needed to do in secret. I was beginning to feel like I had taken advantage of him one time too many, and he seemed to be okay with it. Anything to just be a friend. My friend.

"Take your hands off." I told him, my eyes still glued to the half empty field.

"Okay." He gave me a soft pat on my shoulder, and took his hand away from me as fast as he could. Just like everyone else, Kingsley knew I hated being touched without consent, but that wasn't the only thing he knew. He knew almost everything about me. The food I liked, the food I hated, the food I was allergic to, he knew my best color, the names of all my crushes, teachers, lecturers. Average people would call him obsessed with me, but I just thought Kingsley had a problem, more like a phobia for being alone.

Kingsley's story was nothing like mine. He was from a rich home, never came face to face with poverty, and had about five older brothers he didn't always talk to. Being the last child of his parents, his mother had died shortly after he was born, leaving him alone in a family of just men. Men trained in a military home. Unlike all his brothers, Kingsley hated the military. He hated the use of force and demand of respect. He was just an easy going guy. That was why he was here, NAUN. Unlike all his older brothers, Kingsley fought his Dad against going to military school. It took a long while to gain his father's consent, and even caused him his relationship with his father too. Kingsley chose NAUN, to be away from his excessively authoritative father.

That was who he wanted to be, someone that didn't scare people away. He was welcoming to so many, and was just so desperate to find friends, people that weren't scared of the kind of family he was from. People that shared the same goals and values as he did, but unfortunately, every friend he thought he had made over the years just wanted to take advantage of him, and his family's power. You know, people that only remember you or hit you up when they are in a fix, where they need some sort of money or military connections for? Yes, those kind of friends. Plus, Kingsley wasn't really the kind to say no, or turn away from a friend in need.

He once paid a "friend's" seven hundred thousand bail out of prison, with cash that was supposed to be his fees, back in junior school, because the supposed friend didn't want to call home, and worry his parents. He promised to pay back, once he was out of jail, but the moment he did, he blocked Kingsley on all social media platforms, and didn't take his calls, even though Kingsley wasn't really the type to call and bother you over a loan.

Then there was this girl he used to like, that stole his debit card, and used it to buy a lot of properties online. Televisions, speakers, weaves, three IPhones for all her siblings and a lot of other really unnecessary things, and even when she got caught, Kingsley didn't really have the conscience to report her to the police. That was the kind of person he was, foolishly kind. That was why I understood his need for a friend, a true friend, and the truth was I cared enough to play pretend, than let him fall into the hands of other mean people that just wanted to be friends with him, to take advantage of him.

"Omoh," he looked at his wrist watch. "This match looks like it's going to be really bloody. The second half is almost starting." He rubbed his hands together. "I wish members of old money had at least agreed to this match. I don't know why there must be a class separation in everything. Me, I'm just here for the girls."

I looked around the field. Kingsley was right. The second half was going to start in less than twelve minutes. My eyes squinted when they met them. The two girls I had bumped into at the staircase. No, the girl that had bumped into me at the staircase. I tried so hard not to look back down on my shoes, because if I did, then I'd have to see the print mark and dust on it, made by her shoes, and remember how really ungrateful she was the other night at the pool. I didn't want to upset myself all over again, and looking at her was going to make me, especially since I noticed how exceptionally happy she was, as she exchanged smiles with the other girl beside her. Imagine being so late for a match you're supposed to be in. I scoffed, I didn't even want to think about it. I turned back to my water bottle, so I could take another quick drink, trying so hard not to look in that direction again.

"Oh boy, can you see what I'm seeing?"
By the way, Kingsley gasped so hard, I could tell he had seen them too. I didn't even have to look. "Those girls are so fine. Especially the thick one."

Now I knew he was just exaggerating.

"Look at that ass." He drew a deep breath. "It's formal. Thick girls are officially my fetish, and the only things that can kill me in this short life."

I rolled my eyes. It was formal. This was exactly why Kingsley didn't have friends. I forced another sip of water down my lungs

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Kora

I let out a relief exhale, the moment Grace and I got to one of the benches at the corner of the field, laughing as hard as we could. It was hard to believe that we actually did the laundry, and ironed all of them, and still had a five minutes break, at least to the second half of the match, and the best thing was, Grace was finally going to get to at least play in this half. She could finally get the attention of the guy she had a crush on, and she wouldn't stop talking about how she was ready to score our level her first goal, because it was obvious the seniors were leading, according to the scores. It's a good thing that one of Grace's uncles was actually a member of the super eagles, and a good member as it is. He taught Grace how to play. I had never seen her play but if she was so sure and confident that she could score a goal on behalf of the group, I sure did believe her. I placed a leg on the bench, just so I could stretch my arms one after the other, while Grace searched her gym bag for her knee pads.

I narrowed my eyes, squinting them just so I could have a close look around the field. Maybe if I looked well enough, I could be able to spot him, and I did. At the other end of the field, with the rest of the seniors, but it wasn't as I hoped it would be. Of course he wasn't alone. He had a lot of friends beside him, and Racheal of course, cleaning the beads of sweat from his forehead with a towel, as he prepared to get back into the field. He looked at her and then smiled. I could see her smile too. He looked so happy. They both did, and it looked like they made everyone else around them so happy. I could feel a tiny frown cover the smile on my face immediately, as I slowly looked away, before anyone caught me staring. I could feel how heavy my heart had become, as I puffed a lot of air into my cheeks, sniffing hard, trying to convince myself that it was okay. That was when my eyes met his, as I turned to the other side of the bleachers.

The mysterious boy that had saved me from drowning the other day. The same one I had bumped into, and stepped on earlier. He was sitting comfortably on one of the bleachers, looking at me, the sun shining so bright on him, causing his face to shine like a star. God, he had such good skin, and whatever his skincare routine was, I wanted every part of it. I loved his eyes. They reminded me so much of Jeremiah's, speaking of which, the more I looked at him, the more I thought I had met him before. He looked so familiar, felt so familiar, but I just couldn't guess where, and I didn't want to make a fool out of myself, by confronting him and just asking. I watched how he looked away from me, and turned to the girl that had grabbed his arm the moment she took the seat beside his. I watched her plant a kiss on his cheek, and then stretch a can of energy drink to him. My guess, she needed him to help her open it. I mean, who couldn't open a can of blue bullet anyway?

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
Grace's voice had literally caught me off guard, but I managed to look away quickly, pretending like I wasn't just staring at them. "Oma Richards. The girl we all wish we were."

We? I didn't even know that girl. Why would I ever want to be her?

"She's not only extremely beautiful and a member of old money, she's also the fiancée of every girl's childhood crush."

By childhood crush, I just knew she was talking about him. The boy beside her. Who was he anyway, and why did everyone keep talking about him, like he was so important?

"Who are they?"

"Who are they?"
I turned to Grace, the moment I had noticed the surprise in her voice. She stared at me. I knew what she was thinking already.

What planet did this girl fall from?

"I can't believe you just asked me that. I can't believe you don't know who Oma and Jerry are."

I looked around, hoping no one else was listening. I was already feeling so embarrassed for not knowing this information because it clearly looked like everyone else did. I turned back to Grace. I mean could anyone really blame me? I wasn't entirely good at politics, or a big fan of social media. I wasn't good at cramming names either, or getting updated about the history of families that weren't mine.

"Wait, are you serious right now?" Maybe Grace didn't think I was. Was it really that big of a deal to not know who they were? I shrugged my shoulders. "Oma Richards is like the most popular person in the country. They both are, especially since after the rumors of their engagement. Oma Richards is the only child of Amanda and David Richards. Late David Richards. You know him. One of the few men that own the highest number of Oil wells in the country, before the Ozors, also the owner of Richwell enterprise."

I knew him. Of course I did. I had seen him on TV once or twice before his death, and even after he died, I remembered how the country celebrated him to the point that I was scared he was going to have a holiday in his honor. What I didn't know was that he had a daughter. I didn't know that at all.

"I heard he left everything in her name before he died. Everything, including the oil wells and the company. Do you know how much she's worth?" Grace continued. "She is one of the richest and greatest assets of this country. I even heard she's friends with the kids from the royal family of England. She goes there every now and then, and to make things even better, she's engaged to Jeremiah Ozor. The Ozor's are like the most powerful people on this continent, and most of them aren't even on the continent. They control power in all sectors of this country. From the presidential sector to the military and economic sector, and even the international sector. They are so rich, powerful, and influential that they make the rest of us rich people feel so small. If there was a class before old money, that's where you'd find them. Jeremiah is an Ozor. The second son of Benjamin Ozor. His mother is Susan Ozor. She's a big time partner in NAUN, one of the founders. The Ozors have big shares here, just as much as Seven's father and Jeremiah, he's just as much as an asset, as Oma is. He hasn't really been here much. He practically lived and grew up in the US all his life. He has ties with all your faves. He's friends with almost all the international celebrities you know. He has been on the front cover of almost all their magazines, from Vogue, to New York Times, he celebrated Christmas last year with the Carters. There are pictures of him and JAY-Z skating together, on Beyoncé's Instagram, with the caption "family always." He has pictures with Obama, even heard he's friends with his daughters too, plus he's a big time actor, or used to be before he had that accident."

"Accident?" I frowned. "He was in an accident?"

She nodded.

"I don't really know the details, but after the accident, no one saw or heard a thing about him for two years, even deactivated his instagram, until he was seen at the airport weeks ago. Isn't that insane?"

I turned back to the bleachers, just so I could look at them. He wasn't looking at me anymore. His attention seemed to be focused on the girl beside him, as she kept saying somethings to him, while he listened to her.

"Oma is just so lucky. The luckiest girl alive. She gets to be with everyone's dream man. Do you know how many girls have actually made advances at him? How many girls have wished to be in Oma's shoes? I'd do anything to just stand an inch close to him. I've fantasized about him, since I was ten. Every girl has, but he doesn't even notice anyone. Kingsley and Oma are his only friends, and the only people allowed to get close to him. I even heard he hates it when people touch him. He never holds hands with anyone, or let anyone touch him at all. Not even his Mum or Oma. There used to be a guy that claimed he was friends with him years ago. He used to sell a lot of his things, and claimed they were Jerry's, for exorbitant prices, and he'd always sell out. He once sold a hanky that Jerry sneezed into, for a eighty three thousand, and then ran away when he got caught, and called out for fraud by Kingsley.

I see.

Now I understood what all the ruckus was all about.

"I just feel like I know him." I told her. "Like I've seen him before." I don't know why I couldn't shake off that feeling, plus his name was Jeremiah too. Just like the Jeremiah I knew. Could they have been the same person? But it wasn't possible. Last I checked, Jeremiah never talked about coming to NAUN. If he was coming here, I would have at least known about it, and second of all, they might look so much alike but the Jeremiah I knew had brown dreadlocks. Dreadlocks he swore he couldn't get rid of, even when I advised him to, but this Jeremiah had brown hair alright, but they weren't anything close to dreadlocks. He had no dreadlock on his head. His hair was perfectly cut and carved to shape. Now that I thought about it, it couldn't possibly be the same Jeremiah-

"Yo! Madam!"