"We're late! It's six-thirty. We should be leaving," Ann said, licking—no, devouring—her vanilla ice cream like it was her last meal on earth.
"Oh God! Fifteen missed calls!" I blurted, my eyes bulging at the screen.
"From?"
"Don't ask me that, you—"
"Bernard?"
"No!"
"Mom?"
"No!"
"Dad?"
"No!"
"Who then?" she asked, already frustrated.
"My mom, Zimba, Bernard…"
"Hey! But I said Bernard!" she snapped.
"Oh! Did you? Well, let's go home."
"Never order me around!"
"Just do it!"
She rolled her eyes, slid into the driver's seat, and cranked the engine. We were all set—until fate pulled the classic Wattpad stunt.
Guess what?
The car broke down. Yep. Cliché, right? But cliché doesn't feel so cliché when it's happening at 7 p.m. with angry parents waiting.
---
Ann snapped at the guard, Kelvin, who looked like he was ready to vanish into thin air. "Kelvin! Which car am I driving?"
"Mercedes, ma'am!"
"I told you to sell it or dump it, didn't I? You know it's faulty!" she screeched.
I tuned out her tantrum. My legs were tucked on the seat. My brain screamed the worst: kidnapping, ransom, murder headlines.
Ann rolled her eyes. "We've got strong men here, chill."
But the way her voice cracked? Even she wasn't buying her own lie.
My phone rang—Mom. I picked up, praying for rescue.
"Hey, you spoilt brat! Where the hell are you?"
"I'm in front of Bijoux Mall—"
"Hello? Hello?"
The line went dead. No network. My stomach sank.
---
Rain started spitting, then pouring. The guards returned empty-handed, soaked to the bone. "No phone booth anywhere," one muttered.
At 7:45 p.m., drenched, freezing, and still carless, we made a decision: run for shelter. We pounded on the door of the nearest semi-detached house.
The door jerked open.
Fred. Shirtless.
"You?" he exclaimed, his jaw slack.
"You live here?" I gasped, my pulse tripping.
Before I could think, a woman's voice floated from inside: "Fred, who's at the door? Hope it's your girlfriend!"
Fred's face turned the color of ripe tomatoes. "My classmates!" he barked back.
---
Inside, the house was simple but shockingly gorgeous. Ann smiled seductively at Fred—my chest tightened.
Then came Fred's mom, Mrs. Jones, radiating Afrocentric goddess vibes, feeding us cookies and milk like we weren't two drowned rats.
Everything should have been cozy. Safe. Normal.
Then Zara appeared.
"Hey, Fred, you peed on the bed!" she yelled, eyes still half shut.
Our laughter filled the room, Fred's humiliation burning holes through the air.
But then Zara noticed us.
Her scream could've cracked glass. "WAIT A MINUTE! Zizi the singer?! Ann the TikToker?! In my house?!" She bolted for her phone. "Fred, you're dating Zizi? Oh my GOD!"
Fred looked ready to disappear into the sofa.
And just when Ann stood up, drenched and cranky, asking for a change of clothes… Zara leaned in with a grin too wide, too mischievous.
"You got an umbrella?" Ann asked.
"Umbrella? Yeah. But, uh…" Zara smirked. "First, you've gotta play my little game."
---
📌 Author's Note
What game is Zara talking about? Will Ann and I survive a night in Fred's house? And omg… why does my heart hurt when Ann looks at Fred like that?
Stay tuned for Chapter 13, because things are about to get messy.