I hate parties.
I hate all these people. Look atthem, shallow, dishonest people, all of them. None of them really care about anything else but feeding theirown selfish desires.
Why am I even here?
I should leave.
I want to leave but then if I didleave Vicky, my one true friend would get all dramatic and spout monologues about me 'Back stabbing him and leaving him to the sharks'.
I look around the bustling hall for any sign of his tacky purple shirt and flying collar.
I spot someone in the distance, perhaps him, grinding against one very tall and slim kenyan.
Vicky is driven by sex. I oftenwonder how it is that we are even friends. I like sex like any other guy of course but its just that growing up in the house of Alhaji Tanko, my father, one tends to think more of the consequences of debauchery.
Anyway, the reason Vicky felt he had to drag me to this sinful party is because I was, Iadmit, moping around from my most recent and only break-up.
Samyrah Adams was my Cassiopeia, my one shining star in the heavens, my...
Someone just slapped me across the shoulder. That's why I feel this stinging pain. It must be Vicky.
"Hey Abu." He says.
"Mingle, you need to find yourself correct yansh!"
His breath smells of alcohol, I don't know what kind of alcohol myself but it sure stinks.
"Hey Vick". I say, almost glad he's here so that we can leave.
However something in the back of my mind, a nagging, bastard thought with no originin my thought process, insiststhat that is wishful thinking.
"Anyway", he says in his happy voice- he always sounds hyper- igbotic when he's tipsy, "I want you to comeand meet some honeys."
I begin to protest, sincerely, but Vicky would have none of it. For a 26 year old guy with a girl's name, he's quite the formidable ogre.
He nudges me along, all the way across the hall to the darkest, dingiest corner imaginable in any establishment of booze and music.
I see three very attractive ladies. I recognize one as the tall Kenyan, Nyota, whom I think I spotted Vicky dancing with.
The other two are not as tall as the Kenyan but they were surely no less attractive.
"You already know Nyota, from Human Resources." He says in a funny drawl. I laugh at this. I then notice that one of the girls, the shortest one, was laughing too.
"These are her friends, Thandie and Bisola." He finishes his introductions just as Bisola, the short one stepsforward.
"You're Nigerian, right?" She says smiling. She has a great smile. I know another girl with a great smile. A marvelous smile in fact. Samyrah Adams.
I suddenly realize that I have spaced out. Bose had been talking to me. She must have really been talking for a while because I notice that the others had moved on.
"So Bimbo" I say, forcing a smile.
"Its Bisola." She says,correcting my silly mistake.
"I'm sorry, Bisola. Where are you from?"
"Naija, of course." She laughs.
I faked a laugh because I honestly could not have laughed genuinely at that lamecomment or joke or whatever it was.
"Well Duuuh!" I say, still fakingan ample serving of false humour.
She begins another round of laughter.
I begin to wonder what the matter is with this tacky little hyena.
I look around for signs of Vicky. The bastard is nowhereto be found. He's probably in another dark corner grinding on East African leg.
Bola drags me off onto the dance floor where she tries todance with me to Wande Coal, playing gingerly, but she soonrealizes that I dance like a Chinese banker.
Okay. That sucks. Samyrah never had that look on her face when she discovered that I lacked a sense of rhythm.
To my surprise, Tope gets into a groove and dances sexy circles around me.
I decide that I would not let her down so I get into a groove myself. I must have looked a total slowpoke but somehow, it felt good to let myself just go.
Soon i realize that I am havingfun.
Lola then drags me off to the bar and tries to have me down a Tequila shot. I explain to her about my religious beliefs and she just 'ooohs'
I'm not sure if the expression was one of understanding or one of resignation and disappointment.
Finally we sit at a table, along with a whole bunch of other Africans. I discover that its actually a send off party for Nyota the Kenyan.
There's some crying and exchanging of gifts. I begin to feel like a fraud because I'm the only one that did not seemto know what was up.
Bisola screams in my ear.
I cringe at her voice. She hopsoff her chair and trots across the floor in her heels until shestops right in front of a girl that just walked in and then leaps into her embrace.
Nadia, I hear people say. The name came with this tone that everyone that mentioned it seemed to attach to it.
"Hey guys" She says waving and shaking hands and hugging everyone respectively all around the table.
When she comes up to me, she hesitates. I then take a proper look at her.
Legs, scent... getting dizzy. Sharp pain in my chest. Damn!
When my gaze meets hers, I, for no reason I can explain, look away.

Nice

Young po413: Nice

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elyna: pls come and update.

*Still typing*