The Irresistible Beauty: The Irresistible beauty, #1

By Fahd Alvina

IRRESISTIBLE BEAUTY is a super romance genre story that is based on Fresho and Lara.

Fresho, a well-known rich musician, doesn't believe in love. Mention the word love to him and be tossed away like you never cross his path. However, his perspective changes when he comes across a striking photograph of an incredibly beautiful lady. He can't believe someone can possess such breathtaking beauty naturally, without any digital photoshop or makeup. Intrigued, he feels an irresistible urge to meet this person and after he does, he becomes captivated by her beauty, unable to stop thinking about her. And then the love turns into an irresistible obsession and undeniable affection.

Lara,  a bright, bubbling, and ambitious college lady with good grades. Her smile could brighten up a dark room. She has dreams and wants. She wants to make her parents proud, be an excellent example to her brother, and be a good ambassador of her religion. She believes courting a man is forbidden until she is ready for marriage. Until she heard a musician's voice on her dorm's mate speaker. Can the belief of no romantic relationship before marriage continue even after she meets this wealthy, handsome man who crept into her heart just by listening to his song? His voice?

Will their differences in wealth and social class, as well as challenges from families and friends, hinder them from being together?

*********

"Because I wanted to see you," Fresho says, and I am taken aback for the hundredth time today.

"Why did you want to see me?" I ask, curiously.

"I don't know... I don't know, Lara," he says, desperation creeping into his tone. He continues,

"I've never cared about any woman in my life the way I care about you. Ever since the day I laid eyes on you, I've been confused about myself. I miss you constantly, I want to see you, to see your beautiful smile over and over again." His confession almost convinces me, the sincerity in his voice and the way he looks at me seem genuine, but I refuse to be fooled.

"I know you may not believe me, but I'm telling the truth, and I'm serious about you. I've never been this serious in my entire life," he says, his eyes pleading.

For a moment, I look away because my heart is succumbing to his words, falling for his face repeatedly. My heart beats rapidly in response to his confession. I wish everything he just said were true, but I remind myself that the weak fall in love, as he himself stated. If this is all part of the game he mentioned the strong play, then he's a skilled player. He got me.

"You don't even know me. It hasn't even been a week since we met. This is only our third encounter. Isn't it too early for such strong feelings?" I say, Why would he develop feelings for me when he already has a girlfriend? Tola's words and Sade's expression earlier today explained it all.

"I know it's too early, way too early. I don't understand myself either. This is the first time I've felt this way about anyone, so I'm certain about these feelings. Please believe me," he pleads.

The intensity of his gaze is starting to irritate me. How can he be this convincing? I can't help but feel sorry for the women who have fallen for his false confessions, because I'm certain I'm not the first.

"Believe you? How can I believe you when you're already in a relationship? You have a girlfriend, for goodness sake. How can you claim to care about me? How is that even possible?" I question him angrily, and he scowls.

"What? Me? Girlfriend? I don't have one," Fresho shakes his head as he speaks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lola Pages
• Release date: Jan 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223370833

Book preview

Chapter One

The early bird catches the worm, they say. I have covered all the courses on offer except for the most difficult one. I have studied it repeatedly, but with no success. However, I won't give up or tire of studying until I have a solid grasp of it.

I am supposed to go and study at the school tonight, but I'm unsure because I'm exhausted from the demanding lecture earlier today. I will get some sleep first and then decide whether or not to go.

Oh God, will this noise from the music let me sleep at all? I mutter.

I am not a heavy sleeper, and my neighbour is playing music so loudly.

Should I go and ask them to lower the volume? This is so unfair, I think to myself as I roll over to the other side.

I need to get some sleep before 6 p.m. so that I can cook after I wake up and then decide whether I'll go out tonight or not. And if I do go, I should probably leave before 8 p.m. to avoid any security issues.

Lara! I hear my friend's voice from outside. Groaning, I roll off my small mattress to greet her. I take my time to tie my headscarf because I can't go out without wearing it. Even though the person at the door is a girl, I'm still not sure if she's with a boy or not.

Lara! She calls again.

I'm coming! I yell back. The music is still bothering me, and it's annoying. The heat inside is unbearable, and my cooling fan is broken. I intended to take it to the engineer yesterday, but I was too busy.

Opening the door, my friend hugs me tightly. Girl, I missed you so much, she says.

Yemi, as I call her, is my best friend. Her full name is Olayemi Benson. We attended the same JAMB (UTME) tutorial, and we have since become very close friends. Fortunately, we were admitted to the same university and the same department. We were supposed to be roommates, but her parents insisted that she have her own room. A decision that I was happy with because I didn't want a roommate either.

I missed you too, baby! I say.

She wants to enter my room, but I tell her it would be better if we stay outside since it's too hot inside.

As soon as we reach the balcony, the music stops. Just as I'm about to breathe a huge sigh of relief, another song starts playing.

What is that voice? I ask myself in astonishment as I can't believe the beautifully tuned voice that's blasting from my neighbor's room. The voice strikes a chord in my heart, momentarily pausing me. The music genre isn't my favorite, but I still want to listen to the song. I want to know who the singer is, what they look like, and listen to more of their songs.

I have no choice but to ask Yemi who the singer is, despite knowing she'll make fun of me. And she says, Oh! That's Fresho.

Fresho? I ask.

Don't tell me you've never heard of him before, she says in surprise.

No... I mean... Yes... I stutter, not wanting to admit I don't know who the singer is. She smiles and shakes her head.

Lara, your social life is a mess, she says mockingly, and I roll my eyes.

Will you tell me or not? I say, and she shakes her head again.

Well, I'll tell you. Fresho is an up-and-coming music star who debuted four years ago, and he has since become the talk of the town. The song you just listened to is one of his best songs, and not only does he have a beautiful voice, but he's also good-looking. I mean, very, very handsome, she emphasizes.

He has over 150 million followers on Instagram. The star-boy that I stan, she says with a smile. It seems she likes the singer too.

Wow! He has a beautiful voice, I say.

Yes, Yemi says simply, and she starts singing along to the song that's playing.

I can't believe I had never listened to any of his songs before, or perhaps I've heard them without knowing they were his. But his voice strikes a chord in my heart. The song keeps replaying in my mind, and I don't think I'll forget it anytime soon.

Lost in my thoughts, I fail to realize that Yemi has been talking to me for a while.

She snaps her fingers in front of my face to bring me back.

Yes, Yemi, what are you saying?

Chapter Two

I want you to come with me to Sade's birthday party, Yemi says, her gaze fixed on me, waiting for my response.

I'm not a fan of parties. I prefer staying in my dorm, watching movies on my phone or going to school to study. I believe that people have different interests, so I have no issue with those who enjoy parties or go clubbing every Friday or Sunday. However, those activities are just not my thing. This is my second semester at this institution, and I've only attended two parties so far. The first was my roommate's birthday party, which I reluctantly attended. The second was a surprise birthday party thrown by Yemi's boyfriend for her. Since I was one of the planners, I had no choice but to attend.

Will you come? she asks, her face pleading. Before I can reply, she continues, Sade would be thrilled to see you at her party. You know how much she likes you, right?

Sade is a good friend of mine, although we're not as close as Yemi and I are. She has a great fondness for me, and I feel the same way about her. Despite coming from a wealthy background, she remains humble and always brings joy whenever she's around.

I'll think about it since the party is next month. But you know our exams have been postponed until next month as well. Hopefully, there won't be a scheduling conflict, as I'll be fully focused on studying for the exams, I say.

Of course, she replies with excitement.

After discussing various topics, including her boyfriend, I finally see her off around 6 p.m.

I lie on my bed, grab my phone, and start searching the internet for the name of the singer whose sweet voice has been stuck in my mind since I first heard it. I browse through countless pictures of him on Google and watch all of his music videos on YouTube until I exhaust my internet data. I'm captivated by his handsomeness and his melodic voice. I find all his social media accounts on Google and follow him on all of them.

As midnight approaches, I find myself wide awake when I should be sleeping. I can't sleep, not because of any external disturbance, but because I can't get this singer's pleasant voice out of my head. Thoughts of Fresho have taken over my mind, and I catch myself fantasizing about an intimate relationship with him. Ever since I first listened to his song, my thoughts have been in disarray. Even after searching for his profile on the internet to satisfy my curiosity, it only intensifies it.

Omolara, what's happening to you? This isn't like you, I say to myself as I toss and turn on my mattress.

My name is Rahmah Omolara Azeez, but most people call me Lara. I'm studying Statistics at King Fahd University of Technology, Ogbomosho. I'm 22 years old and the eldest of two children in a Muslim family. We're not wealthy, but we're a happy family. My father is a responsible civil servant, and my mother is a trader who runs a store selling provisions, foodstuffs, and various common medicines. In short, she's a jack of all trades. I was raised with the belief that having a boyfriend is generally not permissible in our religion unless one is ready for marriage.

What would my mother think if she knew that I couldn't fall asleep because I'm fantasizing about a hip-hop musician instead of focusing on my studies? I wonder as I stare at the ceiling.

But I can't help it. Even though I know these fantasies in my mind are nearly impossible, I can't stop thinking about him. Is this how having a crush on someone feels? Because I'm certain it's not love. I've never had a crush or fallen in love with anyone before, but I'm sure this isn't love. I don't even know him. I've never met him, and I doubt I ever will. So what's wrong with me?

After more than an hour of battling with myself, I get up to drink water. But instead of the thoughts subsiding, they only grow stronger in my mind.

I have a 7 a.m. lecture in the morning, yet here I am in the middle of the night, consumed by thoughts of someone who doesn't even know I exist. The thoughts of this mysterious singer continue to occupy my mind for days on end.

A few days later...

Thankfully, I woke up early, I tell myself as I check the time on the wall.

I perform my prayers, warm up some food, take a shower, and eat breakfast.

I put on a simple tortilla brown-buttoned-down gown with a cinnamon-colored belt to cinch it at the waist. I pair it with light blue jeans and wrap a cinnamon brown headscarf. I carry a matching cinnamon brown bag and shoes. I'm a simple girl, but I pay attention to my fashion style. I always strive to appear neat, classic, and stand out wherever I go. I don't wear heavy makeup because I believe I am beautiful without it. I simply touch up my face with powder and apply red lipstick to my lips.

Knowing that Yemi will be here soon, I hurry to get ready so I don't keep her waiting. It's 6:30 a.m., and we're not late yet.

A few minutes later, I hear Yemi's voice from outside, calling my name as usual, and I rush out of my room. We exchange greetings and head to school together.

After our first lecture, I approach our class governor and ask him to explain a topic that I'm struggling with. He's our class expert, with a first-class GPA from the previous semester. He kindly explains the topic to me, and I understand it much better.

Chapter Three

We finish lectures around 2 p.m., and instead of going back to my dorm, I decide to accompany Yemi to hers. Once we arrive, she cooks while we chat and enjoy our meal. Being extroverts, we always have lively conversations. She shares updates about her boyfriend and tells me about her dorm mate who's interested in dating her, despite him knowing she is in a committed relationship.

Yemi has been urging me to find a boyfriend, but I always explain that I'm not ready. My religion discourages such relationships, and my education is my top priority. I'm only in my first year, and I don't want any distractions. Plus, I don't want to disappoint or disobey my mother, who emphasizes the importance of upholding our religious teachings. Although there are guys who admire me and seek my attention, I turn them down since I don't have any romantic interest in them. I prefer to keep them as friends.

Don't you like how Bolu keeps showering me with gifts? Yemi asks, knowing my response beforehand. Without waiting for my answer, she swiftly switches to another topic.

Lara, have you made a decision about attending Sade's birthday party? You can't miss it, I promise you, she says with enthusiasm. Sade told me it's going to be a grand event. Her father is inviting artists from their company to perform, and she has a surprise planned for us. She even mentioned calling you on phone, but you didn't answer.

I was sleeping when my phone rang, and I forgot to return her call. I'll contact her later, I explain.

Okay, so will you come or not? Please come with me. I'm sure you'll enjoy it, she pleads, making puppy eyes.

Hmm, I'll go, I finally agree, and Yemi jumps up in excitement. She assures me she'll come to my dorm two days before the party to discuss our outfits.

As I prepare to leave Yemi's place, she suggests that I sleep over, but I decline, explaining that I need to rest early. I plan to wake up at midnight to study. She understands and sees me off.

I arrive home around 5 p.m. and decide not to cook since I already had spaghetti and fish stew at Yemi's place. I change into my pajamas and go straight to bed. I wake up around 10 p.m. and study my book until 1 a.m.

As I lie on my bed, thoughts of the talented hip-hop celebrity resurface. I find myself thinking about him until I eventually drift off to sleep.

Fast forward to two days before Sade's birthday party, and Yemi arrives at my dorm as promised. She shows me some designer clothes online, suggesting that we wear new outfits to the party since it's an event for dignitaries, and she wants us to stand out. However, I inform her that I have new clothes my mother bought for me this semester, which I've only worn once. I decide to purchase a pair of sandals to match the white bag I already own. Yemi tries to convince me otherwise, but I remain firm in my decision. I don't see the need to spend more money on clothes when I already have something suitable.

After Yemi orders her new clothes and shoes, I proceed to order the transparent white sandals, content with my choice.

Yemi comes over to my place in the afternoon on Sade's birthday. She says she wants to get dressed up in my room because it won't be as fun if she gets ready alone in her dorm. Her dramatic nature doesn't surprise me, as I can be quite dramatic myself.

She puts on her clothes, but I find her outfit to be extremely inappropriate. It reveals too much and makes me cringe. Yemi laughs at my reaction, finding my distaste amusing.

The dress she's wearing barely reaches the top of her knees, and she keeps pulling it up to reveal more of her thigh. The neckline also exposes some cleavage, although not excessively. Her high-heeled shoes are at least three inches tall. She's wearing heavy makeup and false eyelashes, which enhance her beauty, but to me, it all seems overly flamboyant.

In contrast, my outfit is the complete opposite. I'm wearing a long turquoise gown with a tummy belt. I apply light makeup as usual, with long mascara-coated eyelashes and baby pink lipstick. I wear sandals and wrap a cadet blue headscarf. I check myself in the mirror and feel satisfied with my appearance. What matters most is that I'm happy with how I'm dressed, and Yemi knows better than to criticize or say anything negative about my outfit.

Yemi's phone buzzes, and she grabs her purse. Bolu is here, she announces.

I pick up my bag and check myself in the mirror one more time. I'm ready to go now, I say, and Yemi smiles.

Bolu, Yemi's boyfriend, is waiting to drive us to the party. He looks at us as we approach him, but I know he's not staring at me; his attention is on Yemi.

You look sexy, baby, he comments.

Thanks, honey, Yemi blushes. Yemi sits in the front seat, and I take the back seat next to the window. Bolu glances back at me and compliments my outfit.

Nice outfit, he says.

Thank you, I reply.

I lean back against the seat and gaze out of the window. I feel nervous, but I silently remind myself that it's just a party, not an exam hall. I try to calm my nerves.

The party is held at Festac Hotel in Ogbomosho. It's not far from my dorm, so the drive is relatively short.

Upon arriving at the venue, I'm the first to step out of the car while the lovebirds are still checking themselves out.

We arrive at the party around 4 p.m. since it's an evening event. I'm not sure if it will extend into the night, but deep down, I know I'll leave by 9 p.m. at the latest, with or without Yemi and her boyfriend.

The venue is spacious and filled with people. Looking around, I realize that the attendees aren't ordinary individuals; they are dignitaries. I glance back and see Yemi and Bolu behind me.

It's a full house, Bolu comments.

I'm not surprised that the party is packed, considering the presence of both celebrities and dignitaries. Sade's father is a politician in Oyo State and owns a music record label, which explains the celebrity turnout.

Yemi lets out a low scream, and I follow her gaze. I see Kemi Alade seated among her colleagues. She looks beautiful. Kemi is a hip-hop artist with over 15 million followers on Instagram. Sitting beside her is Folaley, another singer. The front row is filled with musicians, while on the other side of the VIP section, politicians and their wives are seated.

OMG! Look who's here! I'm so happy to see you guys, Sade's voice interrupts my thoughts.

Where's Lara? She didn't come? she asks, wearing a seemingly sad expression. I can tell she hasn't spotted me yet. But before Yemi can respond, I wave my hand in front of her face from behind, catching her attention.

OMG! You're here too! I can't believe you came. This has made my day! she exclaims, hugging me tightly.

You look exquisite, she compliments as she scans my appearance from head to toe.

Thank you, dear, I blush.

Why are you guys sitting here? I reserved seats for you in the VIP section. And Lara, I have a big surprise for you! she says excitedly, glancing back at me. We follow her to the VIP section, and my curiosity gets the better of me as I ask Sade about the surprise. She tells me to relax and assures me that I'll be thrilled when I see it.

Bolu sits down beside me. Looking at the other side, Expecting Yemi to do the same, but she is not there. I look around for her and I see her hugging Kemi Alade tightly. She greets the other artist too and she comes back to sit in our midst. The happiness on her face makes me smile.

I also like Kemi Alade. She is one of the few artists I follow on IG and Twitter, but I am the kind of person that doesn't normally show my emotions. I sometimes keep my emotions to myself. People may call it pride or whatever but that's me. Irrespective of how much I like you, you will never see it through me unless I intentionally show it.

But on Fresho's matter, I don't know how I will react if I see him. Because what I feel for him is far more than just being a fan, but I don't want to admit it since he is not the type of guy I can date and I doubt our path will ever cross. Even if we ever meet, there is no way I can be his type of girl.

But if I am lucky to meet him and get close to him, I mean if I can have a handshake with him or hug him, I promise to maintain that hand for three days without touching anyone. I don't know how I am going to do it yet but that's what I want to do and I will definitely do it if I have the great opportunity.

Yemi and her boyfriend are discussing almost inaudibly. I can’t hear what they are saying, not that I am interested. I am so occupied with my thoughts anyway. 

I hear Sade's voice and I look up at her. Beside her is a guy who tucked his hand in his pocket and he is looking at me in detail. His face looks so familiar, but there is no way he can be who I am thinking about right now.

Fresho, meet my friends, Sade says excitedly and my ears stand erect immediately.

My eyes go wide and I blink them continuously. I use my hand to wipe my face to check if I am seeing correctly. I stylishly pinch my left hand slightly to check if I am not dreaming. I feel the pain and that scares the hell out of me.

Oh God, what’s going on with me? If this is not a dream then what is it? Hallucinations? Mental Illness? Or reality?

With all these conflicting thoughts in my head, Sade speaks again, Lara, Yemi, Bolu, meet Fresho, my childhood friend. She says with an exciting smile on her face and that is when I realize that I am not hallucinating.

Chapter Five

What?! Her friend?

Confusion engulfs my already jumbled thoughts. I can't believe what I am witnessing and hearing.

What's happening? The first man who captured my heart without my consent is a friend of my friend?

No wonder Sade always laughs whenever I mention how much I admire Fresho in her presence. I never expected her to know him, let alone be acquainted with him. So, that's why she insisted I shouldn't miss this party.

Happiness quickly replaces my confusion, and joy spreads through my heart. I am elated because I finally meet him, the man who has opened my heart, the one who has been causing me sleepless nights for the past month. I feel immensely grateful to Sade for making this encounter possible, for fulfilling the desire of my heart.

Fresho extends his right hand to shake mine, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. It feels as if the whole world comes to a halt the moment his hand touches mine.

Nice to meet you, he says, gazing directly into my eyes, and I'm on the verge of tears—tears of joy.

I shake his hand and offer a smile. Likewise, I reply.

After what seems like an eternity but is actually just about 30 seconds, he glances down at our hands, and I suddenly realize that I haven't released his hand yet. I promptly let go.

I'm sorry, I stammer.

He smiles and says, I've heard a lot about you.

Yes, I'm a big fan of yours, I respond, my voice filled with emotion.

Despite the music playing in the background, I can't hear a thing. My mind and every fiber of my being are rejoicing to the extent that even if a horse were to run a marathon in my belly, it wouldn't stumble. I can't quite decipher Yemi's emotions, but I'm certain they aren't ordinary. After the introduction, Sade pulls Fresho away, and we take a seat.

I'm unsure of what to do. It feels as though I can no longer breathe in the hall. Perhaps it's because I didn't reveal my true emotions to him at that moment. I wanted to leap into his arms, scream with joy, hold him tightly, and confess how much he has occupied my heart for the past month. But my foolish ego won't allow it. It's truly painful, and I want to scold and berate myself, but unfortunately, I can't do that here.

I'm going to step outside for some fresh air, I say to Yemi. She nods, and I walk out of the hall. Along the way, I notice a restroom and decide to enter.

I need some privacy, I tell myself as I enter the restroom.

I look into the mirror and see sweat dripping down my face. I reach into my bag and retrieve a handkerchief. I notice that my hands are trembling, and my heart is racing. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

This guy has a greater impact on me than I thought.

I gently use the handkerchief to wipe away the sweat, ensuring it doesn't ruin my makeup.

The thought of whether he would find me attractive with heavy makeup crosses my mind, and I admonish myself to come back to reality. I know I am beautiful, but there are many beautiful people here as well. And as a handsome superstar like Fresho, I'm certain he already has numerous admirers.

There's no way he would find me attractive. No way.

I should be grateful that I met him. Not only did I have the opportunity to get close to him, but I even shook his hand. It was truly a great privilege.

Even if he does find me attractive, can I date him? Would my religion permit it? The answer is simply no—a singer with tattoos almost covering his entire body.

I know I'm being judgmental, but I can't help it. I need to talk some sense into myself. I feel like I've lost my sense of propriety since the day I listened to his song. The way I behaved when I first met him was so embarrassing. That's not who I am. I don't shake men's hands, let alone hold onto them intimately like that.

I remember the promise I made to myself that if I ever had a chance to shake hands with Fresho, I wouldn't use that hand to touch or shake anyone else for three days.

I start racking my brain, contemplating how I'm going to make it happen. One foolish idea enters my mind, and at this moment, it seems reasonable to me. I embrace the idea and quickly exit the restroom. I step into the nearby pharmacy, purchase a bandage and balm, and return to the restroom. I apply the balm to my hand and wrap the bandage around it, making it appear as if I have an injury.

Chapter Six

I know I'm acting foolish right now, but I feel compelled to keep my promise. It means a lot to me. Even if I can't date him or have any kind of relationship with him, I need to do this one thing to make myself happy.

I take my time in the restroom, planning what I'll say if anyone asks about my hand.

As I make my way back to my seat, I overhear two women conversing near the entrance. One of them mentions Fresho's name, and I immediately pause to listen to what they're saying about him.

I can't believe Fresho is here! I absolutely have to get his autograph today. OMG! He's so handsome, one of the ladies exclaims, pulling down her top to reveal her cleavage.

You're exposing your cleavage just to get an autograph? Or are you trying to show off what you've got up there to him? I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes at their behavior.

A few seconds later, I snap out of it and realize what I've just done.

Why do I even care? Why did I roll my eyes? And why did I wait to hear what they had to say about Fresho? Am I feeling jealous? No way! It can't be jealousy.

As I turn to return to my seat, I glance in Fresho's direction and notice his eyes on me. It seems like he's looking at me, but it's probably just my imagination.

It can't be me; he's likely checking out the two ladies standing at the entrance.

I sit down in my seat, but Yemi doesn't seem to notice me because she's engrossed in conversation with her boyfriend. They're a chatty couple anyway. I sit quietly, and after a few seconds, she looks over at me.

Why are you late? she asks. I show her my hand, and she gasps.

What happened to your hand? she asks with concern.

I had a minor accident in the restroom, so I went to the pharmacy over there to get it wrapped, I lie.

Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?

No, I'm fine. It's just a minor accident... Before I can finish my sentence, a man's voice interrupts me from behind.

What happened to your hand? Are you okay? the voice asks. I look up to see who's speaking, and I'm shocked to see Fresho. Worry is evident on his face.

How did he end up here? I just saw him in his seat, and I didn't see him approach. So many questions flood my mind. Did he just ask if I'm okay? Is he concerned about me? What will he think of me now? Will he think I'm clumsy? 

I'm fine, it's just a minor accident. I'll be okay, I reply simply, looking down at my hand. I feel so embarrassed. I don't expect him to notice me again, let alone see me with bandages.

I've been here for hours. We're going for a drive. Will you guys come too? Sade asks. She notices my hand, and her expression immediately changes. OMG! What happened to you?

It's just a minor injury. I got it in the restroom, but I'm fine, I say with a smile, and she eases her concern.

Will you guys come? Fresho is also joining us, she says.

Huh? I ask, not believing what I'm hearing.

I said Fresho is also coming, Sade repeats herself.

I heard her; I just can't believe that Fresho is also coming. I look at Fresho's face, and he immediately looks away. It seems like he was looking at me before, but I'm sure it's just in my head. Sade takes hold of my other hand and says,

I know you might want to decline, but please don't. Let's go together. She pulls me towards the entrance and signals for Fresho, Yemi, and Bolu to follow us.

She's actually right; I don't want to followthem. I want to get away from this young man who drives me crazy every time I hear his voice or see his face. When he asked if I was okay earlier, part of me wished it was out of genuine concern. But why would he? Still, a part of me hopes it was because he cared.

We leave the party hall and walk toward a beautiful white limousine. Thank goodness I can hide my emotions well, and I'm grateful that these people can't hear my thoughts. What I'm thinking at the moment is embarrassing, even to me.

I can't believe I'm in a limo with Fresho, Yemi whispers excitedly into my ear, and I smile. Instead of taking the regular exit, we go through another exit, presumably a VIP exit, which allows Fresho to pass freely without encountering fans or paparazzi.

During the drive, we talk and laugh, although they don't know that my laughter isn't genuine. I'm as nervous as hell. Fresho sits beside me, so I'm being careful not to make any foolish mistakes. I make sure to control my accent before speaking, and I try my best to remain calm and composed.

After driving around for an hour, the driver stops at a coffee shop along the road. Sade, Yemi, and Bolu get out of the car. I want to follow them, but Sade tells me to stay because of my hand.

Fresho won't come with us either, considering who he is. Or will you come? she asks Fresho, but he doesn't reply. Instead, he looks away. Sade playfully taps his left leg before walking away.

They leave, and now it's just the two of us. The driver is far from us since the car is long. I lean my head against the glass, staring at the stones across the road.

How's your hand? Is the pain bearable? Fresho asks me, and I look around to see who he's talking to. I look at him, and his gaze is actually on my hand. Did he just ask me if I'm okay again?

Yes, I say, doing my best to hide my nervousness.

Your full name is Omolara, right? he asks, and I nod. I can't believe he remembers my name. Sade mentioned it when she introduced me to him earlier, but I didn't expect him to remember.

What course are you studying? Fresho asks.

Statistics, I answer, and he nods.

My responses are short because I don't want to say anything wrong. I have so many unanswered questions swirling in my mind right now that if I'm not careful, I might blurt out something foolish.

Minutes later, Sade and the others come back, and my coffee is handed to me. I gulp it down in one go because my throat is dry from nervousness. I immediately regret doing so, but it's too late. The deed is already done. I feel awkward and embarrassed. I know I'm bound to make mistakes; it's unlike me not to make one when I'm nervous. But so far, I'm doing well. Why now? Why here? And why did it have to be gulping down the coffee all at once? Why couldn't I sip it slowly like everyone else?

Chapter Seven

Do you want more? We've got extra in case any of us want more, Sade says, pointing to the extra coffee cup beside her. I feel incredibly embarrassed at this moment.

No, I'm okay. I was actually thirsty before, but I'm fine now, I try to explain why I gulped the coffee down so quickly.

We're sitting in the car in front of the coffee shop. The girls and Bolu are engaged in conversation, while Fresho is busy on his phone. I check the time on my phone; it's 7:45 p.m.

I think we should get going, I suggest.

Oh, that's true. Let's go back to the party, Sade agrees, and I frown at the idea.

Lara, what's with that facial expression? Aren't you coming back with us? Sade asks, and I nod.

I need to go back to my dorm. It's getting late, and I want to get some rest because of my hand.

"Oops, okay. I'm glad you came anyway. The driver can drop you