"Clubs in university aren't just for fun. They're for connections, competition, and occasionally—confusion of the heart."
—Zayne Adedayo
8:00 AM – Monday Morning
Campus was buzzing like an active beehive dipped in coffee and excitement.
Why?
Because this was the official "Clubs & Societies Fair Week", more commonly known among students as Crush Week —a time when students fell in love with everything they probably couldn't commit to: robotics, choir, media, martial arts, modeling, and other humans.
I stood in front of the Student Union Building, notebook in hand, overwhelmed.
Tents were lined up like a cultural festival.
Some clubs were giving out branded pens. Others had speakers blasting music and flyers fluttering everywhere.
And right in the middle—
Amaka's club.
The Debate & Public Speaking Society (DPSS) had banners, microphones, and—of course—Amaka in a red blazer again.
Always red. Always powerful.
Ugo appeared beside me, sipping chilled zobo like royalty.
"Guy, today na today. This is where destinies shift and heartbeats change."
"Focus. We're here to find a club."
"I already found one," he said, eyeing the Fashion & Creative Modeling Society tent. "See that babe with the tribal tattoo? My wife."
I ignored him and walked toward the DPSS booth.
Amaka spotted me.
"You came."
"Yeah. I figured I should join officially."
"Good. You've got potential. Plus, the finals are in three weeks."
I hesitated. "Finals?"
She handed me a flier. Departmental Debate Final: Winner Represents Faculty at Inter-school Level.
"Think of it as… the real proving ground."
I nodded. "Alright. I'm in."
She smiled—and for a moment, it felt like we were back under the mango tree again.
Until someone else joined the booth.
The New Arrival
She wore a white shirt with the Literary & Press Club logo on it, long box braids, sharp cheekbones, and a confidence that didn't ask for permission.
"Zayne, right?" she said.
I blinked. "Yeah."
"I'm Naya. Secretary of LPC. I watched your debate last week. Impressive."
"Oh, thanks."
She extended a flyer.
"We're looking for strong writers and public thinkers. You've got both."
I glanced at Amaka. Her expression was unreadable.
Naya added, "We host live poetry nights, publish campus articles, and we're about to launch the Crestmont online magazine. If you're interested, we'd love to have you."
My mouth was dry. "I, uh… I'll think about it."
She smiled. "Think fast. We're shortlisting tonight."
As she walked away, I turned to Amaka.
She stared after Naya, then said quietly:
"She's good. Really good. But she likes recruiting boys with stage energy."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she'll push you to join, praise you… then replace you."
"Sounds familiar."
She smiled, but her tone had changed.
Possessive?
Protective?
Maybe both.
10:32 AM — Club Applications
Ugo was torn between four clubs:
Choir (for the girls)
Modelling (also for the girls)
Drama Society (mainly for girls)
Robotics (accidentally wandered in)
He finally applied for all four, writing the same motivation: "To share my God-given talents and build connections that matter."
I wrote mine for DPSS.
Name. Matric number. Motivation:
"To become a better speaker, represent my department, and stop being humiliated by Amaka in public."
I hoped they'd get the joke.
1:00 PM — The Unexpected Invitation
As I headed to the cafeteria, Naya messaged me.
Naya: Hey. Thought I'd find you earlier. The press team is meeting at 5 pm. Come. No pressure, just see what we're about.
I showed Ugo.
He read it, sipped his zobo, and said, "Ah, this one has entered your matter."
"It's just an invite."
"Bro, when a press girl uses words like 'no pressure', just know pressure is already rising."
I laughed.
But I was confused.
I'd already joined DPSS.
But something about Naya was magnetic—creative, intelligent, mysterious.
Unlike Amaka, who moved like a queen with war plans, Naya walked like a poet who didn't mind breaking hearts and metaphors.
5:00 PM — LPC Meeting
I showed up.
The Literary and Press Club room was air-conditioned (unlike our CST lab), neatly arranged, and filled with calm, collected people.
Naya waved me in. "Welcome."
She introduced me to the president—a final-year student named Mide, who had a goatee and a calm tone like a TED Talk speaker.
They read poetry.
They brainstormed article ideas.
They spoke about student activism, journalism, and campus satire.
I spoke once. People clapped.
Naya smiled at me like I'd just unlocked a hidden achievement.
And when the meeting ended, she walked beside me back toward the main road.
"You'd fit in here, Zayne."
"I already committed to Debate."
"Then maybe you should un-commit."
I laughed. "Is that how clubs work?"
"No," she said. "But that's how attraction works."
Then she turned, waved, and left.
Leaving me stunned.
And… confused.
6:30 PM — The Message
Back at the hostel, I got a message from Amaka.
Amaka: Heard you went to LPC today.
Zayne: Yeah. Naya invited me. I just checked it out.
Amaka: Be careful with her. She doesn't just recruit talent. She steals it.
Zayne: So I'm talent?
Amaka: You know what I mean.
Zayne: Not sure I do.
She didn't reply after that.
And I didn't know whether to feel flattered or frustrated.
8:00 PM — Under the Mango Tree
I went back there.
The place where Amaka and I first talked properly.
And I wasn't surprised when she showed up minutes later.
"You came," I said.
"You always sit here when your brain is doing backflips."
She sat beside me.
We were quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "Look. You're free to join whatever club you want. I'm not trying to control you."
"I know."
"But Naya… she's not what she pretends to be. Just… stay sharp."
I turned to her. "Why do you care?"
She stared at me.
Then said, softly, "Because you're the first guy in this school who didn't try to impress me. And you impressed me anyway."
I smiled.
Before I could say anything else, she stood up.
"You'll figure it out."
And left.
Again.
Fourth dramatic exit since Week One.