Miriam wasn't in school today. She'd texted me in the morning, complaining of a headache.
Which was why I was sitting alone in the cafeteria, breaking off tiny pieces of Gala and tossing them into my mouth without really eating. My Coke was sweating on the table, untouched.
Last night wouldn't leave me alone.
Zion, his hands, his mouth, his anger. The way his palm had connected with my cheek. The way I had slapped him back.
I shouldn't have done that.
I sighed, resting my chin on my palm.
The cafeteria buzzed around me—students chatting, laughing, the clatter of trays and plastic cutlery, the occasional outburst of "Abeg, shift!" as people squeezed onto benches.
I felt weirdly apart from it all, like I was underwater while the world moved above me.
I hummed under my breath, not even thinking about it.
"I'm rolling on your wheels now,
I'm drinking Hennessy now,
I hope you see now…"
A voice cut through my thoughts.
"Omah Lay?"
I looked up sharply.
Stephen.
He was standing across from me, hands in his pockets, that lopsided grin on his face.
"You know the song?" I asked, surprised.
"Know it?" He pulled out the chair beside me and sat like he belonged there. "Omah Lay is my favorite artist."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're lying."
"Swear down."
I studied him, waiting for the joke. "Who's your favorite actor?"
"Timini Egbuson."
I blinked. "You're joking."
"Why?"
"Because that's my favorite actor."
Stephen leaned back, looking amused. "Oh? So you're a Breaded Life fan?"
I gasped. "You watched Breaded Life?"
"Multiple times." He smirked. "The way Sunmi suffered, ehn? Guy was just moving mad."
I burst out laughing. "I don't believe this."
"What can I say?" He spread his arms. "Great minds think alike."
"Or you just have suspiciously perfect answers," I shot back.
He chuckled. "Okay, let's test it. What's your favorite book?"
I hesitated, then answered. "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."
Stephen clutched his chest like I'd shot him. "No. Way."
"Way," I said slowly.
He grinned. "That's literally my favorite Agatha Christie book."
I squinted at him. "Suspiciously high odds."
He laughed. "Okay, I admit, that sounds fake. But I'm serious. I love detective fiction."
I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Other favorites?"
"Sharp Objects, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, basically anything Sherlock Holmes—especially The Hound of the Baskervilles."
I stared at him, trying to fight the warmth creeping into my chest.
"Okay," I admitted. "Respectable choices."
"Thank you, thank you," he said, doing a small bow.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
Then he studied me, his grin softening into something quieter.
"You know," he said, "I wasn't sure you'd even let me sit here. I thought you might chase me off."
I smirked. "Maybe I should."
"But then you'd be sitting here all sad and lonely. And I can't allow that."
I rolled my eyes. "Please, I was fine before you came."
"Were you?" He tilted his head. "Because you didn't look fine. You looked like someone in deep spiritual warfare with their Gala."
I snorted. "You're so annoying."
"And yet, here I am. Still sitting here. Still very much un-chased."
I shook my head, but I was smiling.
Then Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped, just a little.
"Real talk, Jade. Are you okay?"
I blinked. The question caught me off guard.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I deflected.
"You just seem... I don't know." He shrugged. "Like you're carrying something heavy."
I scoffed. "That deep observation from what? Watching me poke Gala?"
He smiled. "I just notice things. Like how you're always laughing, but sometimes your eyes aren't. Or how you always act like you don't care, but I think you do."
My stomach twisted.
"You don't know me," I said, voice lighter than I felt.
"Maybe not." He held my gaze. "But I'd like to."
Something fluttered in my chest.
I swallowed. "Why?"
"Why not?" He smirked again, but it was softer this time. "You're interesting. And I like interesting people."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I just looked away, glancing over at Zion's table. He was still sitting with Segun and Michael, fingers drumming lightly against the surface. But this time, his gaze flickered toward me.
For a second, our eyes met.
Then he looked away.
I turned back to Stephen.
"Hey," he said, "wanna go see a movie this weekend?"
I raised a brow. "A movie?"
"Yeah. A Tribe Called Judah is still showing." He tilted his head. "Unless you're one of those 'I don't watch Nollywood' people."
I scoffed. "You're insulting me. Of course, I watch Nollywood."
"Good. So it's a yes?"
I hesitated.
Then I smiled.
"Yeah," I said. "It's a yes."