“So, how old are you?” I cut to the chase, really curious about his age.
For one, he looks like he is in his early thirties—he carries himself with a self-assured, confident gait, and his mere presence is arresting. It is all so alluring, and he must be doing more than fine in his choice of occupation if he can invest in organisations such as Palm and Co.
“I’m twenty-eight, and you?”
I think my eyebrows shoot up because he gives me a funny look. Before I can reply with my age, he asks me why I am looking at him in a funny way.
“I expected you to be in your thirties. I’m twenty-two.”
We have arrived at the hotel, and he shakes his head at me as he finds a parking spot and turns off the car. I immediately open the door and get down, patiently waiting for him to lock the vehicle and lead the way to the restaurant from the car park. Once he’s out, he moves to walk beside me, and his hand falls to the small of my back, gently leading me. I hope he can’t feel the way my heartbeat increased because of his little gesture.
People smile politely at us, and it’s not just me who can feel the aura of importance he exudes because the whole staff is eager to please and accommodate us.
We are seated opposite each other at the back of the restaurant in a quiet corner for two. Our assigned waitress hands out a menu to both of us before leaving, to give us time to decide on what we want to eat.
I was too excited to eat this morning due to the interview, so I decide to order something brunchy and within my price range. I opt for three-egg omelette minus the mushrooms, with a side of potatoes and chicken sausages.
“I’ll have the same, and two bottles of water. Thank you,” Jide says politely to the waitress after I order my food.
When she leaves, he rubs his hands together and smirks at me. Oh, boy, I wonder what he’s about to say.
“I have a bazillion questions to ask you. For example, what job are you applying for at Palm and Co.? What is your middle name? Your hobbies? When is your birthday? And most importantly, are you single?”
That is a lot of questions for me to answer. Why does he want to know my middle name? That’s just random.
“Would it matter if I am in a relationship?”
“Yes. Because I’ll have to respect your relationship with your significant other and only pursue a friendship with you. Answer my questions with an actual answer this time around. Don’t worry, I’ll also be forthcoming with mine.”
“I’m not in a relationship. In fact, I got rejected recen—”
“Noo!” Jide exclaims so dramatically, I can’t help but let out a little laugh and nod in agreement.
I know, right? Why would someone reject wonderful me?
“Yes, yes. By the guy who came to meet me at that restaurant. I swear that place cursed me that day.”
“I don’t believe so. Look where we are now. It somehow led us into each other’s lives, and I know that is a good thing.”
“You are right about that, Jide. So, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you single?”
“What do you take me for? Of course I am, and I’ve never been gladder.”
“Why are you offended? You asked me, and I wasn’t offended. Besides, friends or acquaintances go for outings platonically, and it is what we are doing, after all.”
“I thought this was a date.” He winks at me before he continues, and no, the wink was not a tacky one; it was quite hot. “I apologise. I had to ask. After all, I’ve seen you with a man prior to today, and it would do no good to just assume.”
I wave him off, not really needing his apology when I know no harm had been intended, and it was a sort of easy banter.
“My middle name is Dolce, my birthday is on the tenth of August. I want to be a creative editor. I like designing covers, fonts, and the likes. Designing is a huge passion of mine, and Palm and Co. is a savvy with times Nigerian publishing firm. I can’t wait to be a member of the team. I love eating, especially trying out new places and foods. I love reading novels. No, not erotica. Well, not strictly erotica. I also enjoy reading fantasy, mystery, romance novels, and much more. I can go on and on. I love listening and discovering wonderful sounds. Music is a huge part of me, and finally, I love exploring my creative side. I dabble with creative endeavours, I create whenever I am inspired—things like greeting cards, book designs, poems, art, whatever floats my boat at that moment.”
Jide listens to me attentively, not once interrupting me, and I like that. I’m glad that he seems genuinely interested in what I have to say.
“I love how you go after what you want. It’s refreshing hearing people talk about things that make them happy. And you’re going for a job you have a passion for, that is amazing.”
“Thank you on behalf of everyone who talks about things they love with passion.”
The waitress returns and apologises for the delay, saying the potatoes are almost ready and our food would be with us shortly, and to show how sorry they are for the delay, they give us a mini-plate of shrimp and mayonnaise spring rolls, my favourite.
When she leaves again, and I help myself to a spring roll, Jide seizes the table and starts talking about himself.
“I am a software engineer, a programmer. I design websites, create applications, and many other things that involve the writing of code. I am very good at it, if I must say myself. When I was your age, I created an application, which—I didn’t know then—would change my life forever. You probably know it. Druin, the online card games empi—”
“No way! You created Druin. I can’t believe it! I’m addicted to it. This is so amazing. I’m so glad I know the owner now. I have so many complaints.”
He laughs and shakes his head at me, but I am being very serious. I do love the game; playing Druin is my favourite past-time. I play against many other users worldwide, and the beauty of it is that it is mostly a free app, no in-game advertisements that lead you to pesky sites, just the usual buy-game currency or whatever so you can play immediately instead of waiting for your turns to refill themselves and other deals to buy.
But I’ve gotten ripped off by the game—once, my account got unceremoniously deleted, and I had to start from the beginning again due to major changes to the application, and the bots that play against us humans cheat. As they are unfair, and luck is very rare in the game, it takes many tries to successfully win a hand.
He stops laughing when he sees my serious face and proceeds to hear me vent about his game. He listens to me attentively, all the while wearing a dismissive smirk.
“I sincerely apologise about that. There were a few hiccups during the upgrade, but I’m glad you still stuck around, and I’m impressed. You have been playing it for a long time, one of the early fans, I see. I hope the game is up to par now, though, no more account troubles, I believe, and your only complaint from what I can tell is that you suck at Druin.”
Can you imagine? I roll my eyes at him, and he chuckles. I’m about to go at him when I see the waitress arriving with our food, and I let it go for now. She sets the plates before us, and I want to drool at the sight and smell before me: the food looks and smells so appealing.
“Bon appétit,” I say before focusing on the offering before me.
I love Irish potatoes, and these are done so wonderfully well, my taste buds are salivating. When I eat, my full focus is on the food, so I can savour it well. I rarely speak when I’m eating good food, which is one of the reasons why I’ve been dubbed Foodie by many of my friends.
Halfway through my meal and I randomly glance at Jide to see that he is watching me eat. I start to think of how I have been eating, hoping I’ve not embarrassed myself too much if he has been watching me for a long time.
“You’re not enjoying your meal?”
“I am, but it is appealing watching you eat and the little sounds of delight you make when the taste is favourable to you.”
I feel the blood rushing to my face and know he can see me blush, darn light skin problems. I can’t believe I am making sounds—well, sounds that are loud enough for him to hear. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself.
I shrug at him, sticking my tongue out at him like a child before going back to my meal. I make sure I don’t make any more sounds or look at him until I finish my food, which is when I proceed to pour water into a glass cup and drink. I clean my mouth and my hands before dropping the napkin I had placed on my lap back on the table.
“That was one hell of a good meal. I’m going to come back here to have it one of these days when I’m craving something good,” I say to Jide, who is now drinking a cup of water.
Once he is done, he nods at me, and the waitress appears with the bill. She goes to hand it to Jide, and I want to roll my eyes, but I hold it back and ask her, “What if I am the one paying?”
She smiles and looks at me apologetically before she hurriedly clears the table of our plates and leaves us alone. When she goes, Jide is looking at me quizzically, and I give him the same look, I think.
“You’re something else, Sewa. I invited you to lunch, so I am going to pay.”
“I can pay for my meal. Also, it’s not going to break my bank or anything. When my friends and I go out, we pay for our meals individually. I’m used to it,” I say by way of explanation, which is the truth. I’m trying to break the tradition of relying heavily on men, one I used to follow. It makes me feel very independent to do so.
“Well, this is a date since you didn’t object when I named it a date earlier, and I’m paying, so please let it go.”
“Fine. I’ll treat you next time.”
The smile that lights up his whole face as soon I said that almost leaves me breathless. Please, God, don’t let me be in over my head and let me ruin this before it even starts.
“If that’s what you want, and I’m glad you also want us to have a next time.”
Who wouldn’t? He is fabulous company, and I’m surprisingly comfortable around him; he is just so easy to interact with. I smile at his response, glad I might not be alone in the infatuation department when it comes to us.