**BUMMI'S P.O.V.**
I sat alone at a film house's bar with just a bottle of water. It was still hard to believe I bought a bottle of water since I've been buying sachet water ever since I lost my job. But today, I decided to treat myself.
Sachet water is very cheap here in Nigeria, unlike bottled water. Although bottled water is relatively cheap too, it's still a bit expensive for my wallet.
I kept myself busy scrolling on my phone, watching videos of Ayra Starr's latest concert in Toronto, Canada.
I'm not usually a fan of Nigerian music, but sometimes I enjoy it. I particularly like Shallipopi and Rema. I could name more, but as a church chorister, I'm not supposed to listen to such music.
My favorite songs come from Hillsong United, an Australian band. I can't stop listening to "Tapestry."
My phone battery warned me it was about to die.
Oops!
I took out my long white Android charger from my old, fading leather purse and quickly plugged my phone into the socket beside me.
Thank God the film house wasn't busy today; otherwise, I'd worry about someone stealing my phone, like what happened to someone in my area whose phone was taken, leaving only the charger and a small blue flashlight. The case involved the police but yielded no results. She wasted money with no proof. That was her being careless, and this is me, doing my best to protect my phone.
I'd like to ask something. Would you be happy or see it as normal if you kept sending someone text messages, they read them days ago, but still haven't responded?
What would you call that? How would you feel?
Isn't that snubbing or just plain rude?
You won't believe this. I sent that son of a bitch eight messages in the past 24 hours, and he's silent.
Ugh!
Damn him.
I hate being ignored or abandoned.
I felt like sabotaging something, especially his inbox. Why isn't he responding? A few hours ago, he was online, and now he's not. What's up with this guy?
While my friends were enjoying the movie upstairs, I was here on the ground floor, fighting to keep my phone safe. Besides, I didn't have the money to get a ticket to join them.
"Excuse me, angel."
I looked up to see a pair of jet-black eyes staring into mine.
I couldn't remember seeing such a face before, so I didn't mind...
"Are you expecting someone?"
I shook my head no.
Wait, did I just nod? Now he's pulling out a seat across the table, and I never asked him to.
"Christopher," he said, extending his hand.
Handsome name for a handsome guy, but I turned down the gesture.
"Do you mind telling me your beautiful name?" he grinned.
Oh, Bummi, don't be taken in by his smile...
I slapped my forehead inwardly and gave him a weak smile as I shook his hand. "Bummi."
He held my hand firmly, making me feel awkward and shy.
Get your hand off mine, silly.
"Lovely name for a beautiful lady." Finally, he let go of my hand and signaled a waiter, picking up the menu without taking his eyes off me.
I shyly rubbed the back of my neck, staring blankly at my phone. I thought of switching tables, but that would seem awkward.
Why is Mom calling me on WhatsApp video now? This isn't a good time, Mom.
I hung up, put my phone on silent mode, and texted her that I couldn't talk. She understood and replied.
"So angel, what do you wish for?"
Wish for?
That question drew my attention from my phone.
Well, I just wish you'd leave because you suck, Mr. Headstrong, making me feel timid.
"Mr. Headstrong?" he raised an eyebrow. That's when I realized I said it out loud.
"Heh, heh," I chuckled sheepishly. "Never mind, it's just a line from a song I always remember." Wow, Bummi, I deserve a Guinness World Record for lying.
"I was asking what you want to eat." He leaned back in his seat, waiting for my response.
His face was like a shining sun in front of me. Trying to avoid his gaze, I shyly replied, "Anything but a drink is fine."
He turned to the waiter, "Bring us the same thing I ordered." The waiter nodded and left.
As I turned to my phone, he leaned his arms on the table. Wow, I love his cologne, such a strong fragrance. "So, Bummi, what is a beautiful lady like you doing all alone here?"
Alone?
I tried to control my blushing. His voice was enticing.
"Well, I am not alone. As you can see, I have my phone to keep me busy," I said.
He nodded. "I see…"
The waiter returned with a tray of food. I was absent-minded about what meal it was until he placed it in front of us: two dishes of fried rice and grilled turkey with two glasses of fresh orange juice.
Apart from my two friends, Lola and Ojo, I've never gone out to eat with anyone or sat with a stranger in an eatery.
Now, timidity hit me hard.
I would crack the turkey bone deliciously but not in front of this guy. And what's this in front of me? Cutlery? The only cutlery I use is a spoon. I even eat noodles with a spoon. I'm not good with forks and knives.
Here they were, in front of me.
"Thank you," he said to the waiter as he left.
He started eating without waiting for me. I was confused about which cutlery to use first.
Spoon, knife, or fork?
This isn't my house; otherwise, I'd use my hands to eat this delicious meal.
Left with no choice, I picked the spoon first—it should come first, right? But then I put it down when I saw he was using a fork.
I didn't want to look foolish. I hate eating rice with a fork, especially using the left hand while the right hand controls the turkey with a knife.
I would usually shovel the rice into my mouth with a spoon, grab the turkey with my hand, and tear it apart. But here, I went with the fork to avoid seeming like an outcast.
"Bummi, did you go to university?" he suddenly asked.
I almost choked on my food. Still, I smiled, "Yes, I did." I kept stabbing the turkey.
Damn you, turkey.
"I graduated from O.A.U. with a first-class degree in Information Science and Media Studies."
"Wow, impressive." He simply said, sipping his drink.
"So, how about you?"
He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "I finished from DELSU in Mechanical Engineering with an upper-class degree. I guess you're smarter than I am. I mean, look at you, graduating with distinction, and me with second-class upper." He winked, and I laughed.
"I never mentioned 'distinction.'"
"You graduated with first-class honors; what's the difference? You're a genius." He added, and I laughed hard. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed this much.
I learned a lot about Christopher. It felt like we'd known each other for years. I even found out he owns one of the most popular mechanical companies in China and Japan.
Damn, he's rich. But that's not the real gist.
The real gist is that he drove me home that night in his white Lexus RX 350. My first time in a Lexus.
Do you know that kind of excitement?
We exchanged numbers, and I've grown to like him too.