Well...the little NL mishap wiped off this story. Lucky for moi, I still have it. So I'll just re- start it.

As those who may have started reading it before the incident know, it's an interracial romance. The story is written in first person POV with the views of both lead characters inter-changing.

The plot is centered on 2 people. Adanna Ilo, a teenage girl who has never been good enough for her family and Liam Fraiser, a broken man, unable to face his fears and how both characters find themselves through their relationship.

Here goes......Again

From the moment I was old enough to understand my surroundings, I knew I was in the wrong family.
Don't get me wrong, I don't mean my family is bad, on the contrary, they're perfect...too perfect. And that's why I think I'm in the wrong family.

My name is Adanna Ilo, but everyone calls me Dani, I'm 19 years old...and a disappointment to the Ilo family. Before you start thinking I'm sick in the head, I should explain why this is so.

First off, I'm yet to be admitted into any higher institution for a number of reasons. That alone, is an unthinkable crime in my family.

My dad is a renowned Architect who has been blessed with many high profile jobs with the government, he's also a Knight of St. John and the President of the Catholic Men's Organization in our church. My mum isn't far behind, she's a director at the Central Bank of Nigeria.

Then there are my siblings- the banes of my existence if I may add. My elder brother, Edozie, is the current SUG President at his University, he's a student of Law and might I add, a pretty good one too, and I say that lightly, he's the current treasurer of the CYON of our church. Then there's Elochi, my little sister, who recently got admission to study Pharmacology at the University of Benin, nuff said.

If at this point, you still don't realise the enormity of my troubles, let me elaborate that. I'm the black sheep, the underachiever, the kid nobody wants. I repeated a class in Senior Secondary School, I had to re-write WAEC because I didn't get a credit in Mathematics and I'm on my third missionary journey for JAMB, plus, I'm far from a religious person, which doesn't work well in my family. No, I'm not a total dunce, I'm a genius in arts and of course, I'm one hell of a cook. I once suggested going to catering school or an arts school and my dad shot the idea down before I could get the first sentence out. No child of his would study what he called 'mediocre' courses.

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't born into this family, but like they say, you can choose your friends, but never your family. Which brings me to the purpose of this story.

Far from it, this story isn't about my pathetic, undesirable life, rather, it's about someone else- my neighbour. See, we live in a high-profile area of Lagos- Lekki, so if someone new were to move into any house on our street, everyone would know- a lot like what goes on in Wisteria lane on Desperate Housewives (yes, complete with all the gossips). Now, I'm no part of the gossip crew or anything, but I find our new neighbour intriguing. Especially as he stays directly across our house. He moved in over 6 months ago and oddly enough, has failed to socialise in a community where socialising is right up there on the list of important things to do, along with gossiping and snitching on others.

I find him weird- not Dexter weird, just uncomfortably weird. He doesn't have a place of work- at least I've never seen him drive to work, or anywhere in fact. I doubt he's got a car. He orders his groceries, like he doesn't want to be seen, but that's not possible because he sits on his porch every evening with a book in hand- it's the same book I've seen him read the past 6 months. I've never gotten close enough to confirm this, but the cover is the same colour from where I see it.

Nobody knows where exactly he's from, some say Europe, some say America, but the fact is, he's white. His hair is long, about as long as mine is- shoulder-length to be exact and he keeps a beard, he looks like one of those rock musicians, though not as scrawny- I suppose the beard and the hair is to blame for that comparison. I don't know the exact colour of his eyes because, well, once again, I only see him from a distance. Sometimes I imagine it to be light brown like his hair, other times the blue of the sky and occassionally a piercing green, but never the dark of mine.

We don't know his exact age either, but if I were to make a wild guess, I'd say 30 and above, the whole beard and long hair thing have him looking older though. He seems like an intellectual to me, which in layman terms means, someone I'm not likely to hold a conversation with for more than 5 minutes. I'm not dumb, but I know I'm no intellectual. On some days I've sat in my room and imagined having a conversation with him and what it would be like, too many times it's sounded much like talking to Prof. Wole Soyinka, or on a very good day, Pete Edochie.

Sometimes I come outside just to watch him, I wonder if he realises I'm watching him. Well, I suppose I can be quite obvious. Once or twice he's caught me staring, he raises his head from the book and catches my stare, just a brief glance, nothing that indicates he acknowledges my presence or anything of that sort, no frown, no smile, just indifference and I won't lie, it irks me.

The way he returns to his book, I might as well be a dancing fly. I know a lot of people don't find me riveting enough to capture their attention- I'm not ugly by any stretch of the imagination if I do say so myself, I'm pretty tall as well- 5ft.10" is an impressive height for any female and I've got some meat on my bones to back up the height, not as much meat as I'd want, but just enough to make sure I don't look like a twig. My skin is the colour of burnt sienna, but I'm shades darker than my siblings who are extremely light. My lips are medium-sized and heart-shaped, they're the lightest shade of pink, but not quite thick.

Sometimes I wish I was as pretty as my little sister, she's the beautiful rose and I'm the wallflower, she gets the compliments and I get a glance. I could bet that if she was the one staring, Mr. Sasquatch-in-training would've accorded her more than a glance.

Those days usually don't end well for me. I march back into the house and spend hours in the mirror wondering about the freak that is me. Then I do whatever needs to be done in the house and my nights are spent wondering why I need his acknowledgment. He's a stranger, a weird one at that, it's not like he's acknowledged anyone else, so why should I be special? I'm used to being ignored anyway, so why should I care if one more person ignores me? Well, maybe I'm tired of being ignored, maybe for once it would be nice if I got more than a passing glance, maybe....maybe I don't want to be unwanted anymore.

Today was an okay day. Nothing to grin over before I fell asleep...then again, I rarely ever slept with a grin, so what did I expect?

I was returning from another afternoon lesson, one of many I had to go to everyday of the week apart from the sabbath day of course, hell would freeze over and the Devil would have to dance makossa for anyone in my father's household to work on a sabbath day. Sunday meals were prepared on saturday evening and stored in the freezer so that all they required was microwaving. That just meant that today would be one hell of a day for me- it was a saturday. And lucky for me, my parents weren't home today which meant I was left with all the cooking. Yay me! I guess that was partly to blame for my gloomy day, that and my ever persistent, highly perverted Maths teacher, Mr. Briggs.

I know hate is a deep word to use, but heaven forgive me, I hate that man. Everytime I see him, I get nauseous. He's thirty-eight but still feels the need to pursue a girl he could father. It's been on-going for months, but he seems to have really upped the ante on pervertedness the past few weeks. I would tell my parents, but I'm more likely to be blamed for 'encouraging' his advances than supported, so I keep my mouth shut, but soon enough, I swear, I'll lose my cool and give him that beat down he's been begging for.

I trudged down the road, not expecting anyone to call out to me or a wave, it's Saturday evening, our street is pretty empty on a Saturday evening, unlike me, people are out and about. I wish I was staying in a more rickety place, I could at least find some stones to kick about, not this plush pavement. Did I mention how much I wish I was someone else?

I got to the front of my house and a frown marred my features, another thing I wish we had- a gate, but since this estate is highly secured, none of the houses require a gate. Why couldn't I have been born in a family and lived a normal life, in a normal house- a house with a gate. I walked the few feet to my door and took out the key.

Just as I was going to unlock the door, I realised there was an odd piece of paper placed conspicuously under a potted plant by the doorway. I frowned deeper, and then after thinking how lucky I was that I found it, walked to the plant, raised it up and took out the piece of paper. It was a note, a very simple and straight-forward one at that.
Meet Me At The Playground

What the hell? I looked around for whoever might have dropped it, but I figured whoever it was didn't drop it minutes ago. I hated games, I had no time for them. I figured the playground in question must be the one in the estate, it was no small walk from my house and at least thirty minutes of time better spent preparing the ingredients for the tomato stew I was to cook would be spent going and returning. I was tempted to rip the paper in shreds and move on, but I have a damning curiosity that's gotten me in trouble one too many times.

I glanced at my wrist-watch, it was a quarter-past 4. So I could just walk over there, find the clown who thinks it's cool to play games and warn him to stop it- if I even see anyone. I started my hasty walk to the playground, all the while trying to come up with names of anyone who could pull such a foolish trick on me- and of course, ways to tell them off.

By the time I got to the playground, I had zero names on my list. Nobody cares that much about me, there is no one I can think of who'd bother to pull a prank on me, they just have more important people to prank. Annoyed at myself for not coming up with a name, I walked aimlessly around the playground, looking for who? I don't know. Just looking.

I stopped right in the middle of the estate's enviably large playground, I wouldn't really call it a playground though, there was a basketball court to my left, a tennis court right beside it. Across from me was another court that served as both the badminton and volleyball court with a table-tennis set-up by the corner.

The real playground where the little kids spent most of their time with the swings, slide, see-saws, climber and a merry-go-round, was at the entrance.

I chewed my bottom lip in anger, what a waste of time, if only I could find someone to pour out my anger and frustrations on. Just one poor soul who'd cross me today and all would be well. But before that, I should do well to curse the shiitt out of whoever made me come all the way out here for nothing.

"It's not polite to stare."

The deep male voiced pierced into the recesses of my brain, the voice wasn't familiar at all, but neither was the accent. I froze in place, my mind was telling me to turn, but my feet didn't quite get the message. My thoughts were in a frenzy, somehow I believe I knew who it was, but there was no way in hell...

Only one way to find out, right?

.

-Liam-

There she was, just standing right in the middle of the playground, now came the difficult part. I knew when she got here, I watched her walk around aimlessly, that frown that looked like it would never leave her face marring her pretty features. I don't think she knows she's pretty, she just strikes me as someone who beats herself up everyday- I can definitely relate to that.

When I woke up this morning, I didn't plan on approaching her, I just thought it would be another day of her sitting on her porch and watching me with the thought that I wasn't aware of her eyes on me. I was pretty much okay with that, yes, I was okay with it.

I like my life here in Nigeria for various reasons, but top on that list is that I have my privacy. Nobody knows me, I know nobody, pretty decent arrangement for someone with a damaged past. But her, I don't know what it is about her, but it's definitely something for me to have initiated our meeting.

She's not an obvious beauty, I will admit, I've seen better looking girls walk past my house everyday, most people would find her quite plain in all honesty. She doesn't have the curvy body associated with people of West African origin, I mean, she's curvier than Nicole Kidman anyday, but that's not a lot in this country. The only thing noticeable about her is her height, she's quite tall for a female so she's hard to miss.

Save for that, she's pretty much ordinary-looking, but even at that, I like to draw similarities between her and Avery...Avery. No need for bad memories right now.

I watched her for sometime, debating within myself if it was wise to approach her, I could just turn around and go home and she'd never know I was the one who dropped that note. But that would make me a coward and pretty childish as well. I'm definitely too old for such games. I knew if I didn't approach her now, I'd find some other way to contact her later, that would be twice as hard.

Here it was, my golden opportunity staring me in the face, it was now or never. Without a contradicting thought, I walked forward, my steps hastening just so I wouldn't back out. I was right behind her now, she was too deep in her thoughts to even notice someone was there. She had on a pair of ill-fitted blue jeans and a fitted peach-coloured shirt, on her feet were a pair of leather slippers which didn't look like they were made for a lady, but who am I to judge?

I noticed she has a thing for ill-fitted jeans, I doubt I'd ever seen her in a pair of fitted pants, I knew she looked gorgeous in her native wears though, I'd seen her a number of times with her family on Sundays. Whenever I heard the sound of her father's car starting up, I'd peep through my window, I always tell myself I only want to see who it is, but I know who it is, I only want to see her.

I racked my brain for something to say, what would I say that wouldn't scare her or worse still, annoy her? I was lost as to what would possibly offend her. I threaded my fingers through my long hair- once again reminding myself that I usually didn't keep my hair at this length. I was always well-groomed, I used to be a stickler for that and my beard had never been this thick. That was the idea though, I didn't want anyone from my past to recognise me, not that they'd be looking for me here, but I wouldn't want to take the chance.

"It's not polite to stare" I wasn't aware what part of my brain those words had been manufactured in, but they seemed right enough and I wasn't taking them back. Now, for a reaction. Anytime now. I watched her stiffen and I waited with bated breath for something else, but I wasn't getting anything else. She just stood there like the statue of liberty, just without the torch.

I'm starting to think those words weren't the right ones, I hate doubting myself. My inner-debate began, to leave or not to leave, that is the question. And what did I decide on? Well, suffice it to say, this would be considered extreme from me by all accounts, "You shouldn't ignore people when you're spoken to...little girl"

The speed with which she turned around would've earned her a speeding-ticket, she was glaring at me, her dark eyes looked set to shoot magnum rays at me. I fear for my beard.

"I'm not a 'little girl'" she replied.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, "Well, only little girls stare at people for long periods of time without approaching them." I continued on, what was I hoping to achieve with this jibe? I don't know, but oddly enough, I thought she looked cute when she was angry.

Her frown eased up, as though she was aware I was pulling her legs, she stood akimbo and raised her brows at me, a sharp contrast to what I saw minutes ago and what I was hoping to get, I didn't know if I should be worried or at ease, but my poker face never fails me.

"Why should I approach you?" She shot back.

I raised a brow, "Well, I don't know how things work here, but where I come from, when a new neighbour moves in, you ought to come and welcome him"

She seemed to relax at that, but I could tell her guards were still up by the way her eyes continued to shoot daggers at me. She looked away from me to glance at her wrist-watch, "I have things to do." She replied, with that she walked past me. I turned to watch her leave, noting oddly enough that unlike other females, there wasn't an extra sway of her hips or a sprite in her walk, instead, she was speed-walking like I had a contagious virus.

It didn't take long for her to disappear from my line of sight. I stood in the middle of the playground for a few extra minutes as I wondered about this strange new girl. I believe no other woman had blown me off the way she just did. I'm no Robin Thicke, but I'm pretty easy on the eye- perhaps it's the beard.

I ran my hand through my unusually long hair and let out a deep sigh, "That didn't go well." I breathed.

-Adanna-

Coward. Toothless bulldog. Idiiot
I berated myself the entire time I walked home from the playground, throughout that day and till this afternoon.

While in church, I was so busy cursing myself out in my head for my unforgivable stupidity that I barely paid attention to the Mass proceedings, need I mention that my father took note of this and as has become a tradition in my life, I received full on scolding, complete with the riot act being read word for word by the Field Marshall himself once I got home.

"Adanna." He began, his voice steely, telling of the impending storm I had heading my way. He never called me Dani and he forbade anyone from doing so as he thought it a debasement of the true name and it's meaning. My father is a weird fellow, for all of his Christian acts, he was quite the traditionalist as well.

I kept my eyes to the floor as he considered staring him in the face without permission an insult, "Daddy." I replied.

I could feel his eyes sending heat rays at me, but I didn't dare look to confirm, "What was that rubbish you were doing in church?"

"How do you mean sir?"

"I ne ju m ajuju?"

I didn't reply, by my father's judgment, I was out of line...no, anyone who asked him a question in response to his initial question was out of line. He required a prompt answer and failure to provide that could cause one bodily harm or psychological denegration, "gbahara m. I...I wasn't feeling well, I was having pains..menstrual pains." I replied, my brain, having grown accustomed to telling lies, transferred the information straight through my lips with a speed to defeat a 4G-enabled gadget.

My father gave me his 'all-seeing eye', a look aptly tagged so as he was able to tell when one was lying just by squinting his eyes and looking intensely at the person, rumour says he could spot the slightest tremble just by giving one that look...well, having perfected the art of lying, his little tactic had lost any effect on me or my poker face.

For a second, I thought he'd ask me to strip just so he'd inspect me and determine the honesty of my claims, you may think otherwise, but that was perfectly normal with the man I called 'father', "I hope you're telling me the truth." He said

"Yes sir, yes I am." I replied with the most solid voice I could come up with.

He grunted, "Let it not repeat it's self."

I nodded, "Never again sir. May I go now?"

"Go."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked past him and into my bedroom, partly thankful that my mother hadn't followed us home due to some engagements in church, it would've been double hell for me. My father isn't usually this lenient in the presence of mother.

That was 5 hours ago, and I was still thinking of how silly I was to have walked away from...damn it I didn't even get his name before running off like I had seen a ghost. I nibbled at my bottom lip, my thoughts far too gone to even concentrate on my Government assignment.

Why exactly did I run away from him? There it was, my perfect opportunity to get to know this man that had controlled my thoughts for months, to solve the riddle that was my neighbour, and what did I go away with? Nothing but a clear answer to the colour of his eyes- a stormy grey- nothing like I had imagined. It was such a beautiful colour that suited his mysterious stance and went perfectly well with his gorgeous face...yes, gorgeous, even with the beards he was a sight to behold. I could only imagine what he looked like without them...

I sighed longingly, yes, I could only imagine, and so it would remain for me. Silly me, I had squashed my only chance, he'll never want to talk to the ugly, awkward teenager who lives across the street. Yes, I was previously the ugly teen, but no thanks to my totally foolish display, I fully earned the title of 'awkward' yay me!

I went to sleep thinking of the many ways I could correct my silly behaviour and get another opportunity to talk to him and coming up with none. Many factors came into play, not only would I need to do that when my parents were away, but I didn't even know what I'd say to him, how I'd start a conversation without sounding like a clueless teenager.

You may wonder why I keep referring to myself as a 'teenager', well, that's just me reminding myself that I wasn't dealing with a kid by any stretch of my imagination. My neighbour is at least 5 years older than I am, most likely more, so I would do well to not expect more than I ought to get....but after seeing him up close, all I want now is to get personal.

***
Dear Liam,

I just want to let you know that I know you're not dead. I know you're reading this mail and you've read the other 30 or so I've sent you the past 6 months. I don't know why you refuse to reply, haven't you punished yourself enough?

I know you miss Avery and Andrew, we all do, but running away from those who love you isn't the best way to solve traumatizing situations. It's not your fault we lost them, God wanted it so, who are we to question God?

Please, I beg you with all I have in me, just tell me where you are. I swear I won't ask you to come back, I won't make you do anything you don't want to and I won't find you or send someone to do so. I just want to know where you are and if you're safe. Please.

I love you.
Love,
Mom.
***
I read the e-mail over and over again. After the third read, I just stared at it, contemplating whether I should reply or not. I had ignored the last 36 e-mails- yes, I was counting- hoping she'd get the point and stop tormenting me with her worry-laden e-mails, but I guess unlike others, it's pretty hard to get rid of your mother in that manner.

I had received her first e-mail 6 months ago, back then I didn't believe it was her. My mother hated the internet, so what the hell was she doing on it? I disregarded the message, thinking it to be one of my empty-brained friends trying to get a one up on me. Maybe Doyle, but the e-mails had persisted and it was written in a manner I realised Doyle was too dumb to construct in all sincerity. Besides, it was detailed with information Doyle wasn't privy to. She had started off with trying to use talks of my dad's company to lure me home, I had cherished the place since my dad died 4 years ago and she knew this, but that didn't work with me, my demons were far beyond those manipulations. Then she used herself, the first 3 e-mails she had sent me concerning her deteriorating health had moved me, but not enough to click the 'reply' button. Her final stop was empathy, she assured me that nobody held the death of my family against me and there were some things beyond my control.....if only I agreed with her.

It didn't matter what she or any other person said, I knew who was to blame. And that person was getting his due punishment.

Today was different though. Something had changed. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but before I could stop myself, my fingers flew to the keyboards and I was typing at the speed of light. I clicked 'send' before I realised what I had done.

I read the extremely short message I finally sent to my mother after over 6 months of absence:

"I'm safe and well. I'm not ready to return."

That would have to do for now.

I stood up when my grumbling stomach reminded me that I was yet to feed it, it was a few minutes past 11, breakfast was long overdue. These were some of the demerits to living alone, perhaps if I had some other person- preferrably a female- somewhere around, I would've had breakfast by now.

For some strange reason, the image of my neighbor's daughter flashed through my mind at that thought. I wondered if she was a good cook and if she'd help me out if I asked her to fix me something. I didn't understand the kind of hold she had over me, if I wasn't an unbeliever in the supermatural, I would swear she had cast some sort of voodoo spell on me that ensured she had a constant position in the driver's seat of my thoughts.

I took some time to ponder on what it was about her that enraptured me so, it wasn't necessarily her physical attributes, I had dated prettier women, I had married a prettier woman, not by far, but prettier still. She wasn't the slim, modelesque type...maybe she was, but it was hard to tell due to the yards of extra material she liked to wear as clothes. Maybe it was her allure, maybe I was intrigued about her, or was it just me seeking an escape from my self-imposed isolation?

Whatever it was, I was hooked. I hadn't been able to get her name when we first met, but I swore the next time...and there would be a next time, I would get her name by any means necessary, even if I had to hold her down just to make sure she didn't run off.

Once I had come to a resolve, I made my way into the kitchen. I looked through my inventory in the fridge and I immediately figured that it was time for my next grocey shopping. I'd have to call the store up later in the day, but I'd make do for now. Grabbing what was left of my sliced bread, a bottle of mayonnaise, a bottle of peanut butter, and a sausage I went to the counter and proceeded to make myself a sandwhich with my available resources.

I had only just spread the mayo on the first slice of bread when there was the sound of a ringing bell. I paused, surely that couldn't be mine. Save for the grocery store I got my groceries from and maybe some pizza guy once in a while, no one had rung my bell in 6 months. The ring came again, what the hell? I dropped what I was doing and made my way to the door all the while trying to remember if I had ordered anything, but nothing came to mind. Another ring co-incided with the question that clouded my mind, "who was at my door?"

I would think I had distanced myself enough from neighbours for them to get the clear message that I wasn't a social butterfly...apparently, I had some skills-sharpening to get to once I had discharged whoever was interrupting my breakfast-soon-to-be-brunch.

I unlocked the door and instead of flinging it open and glaring at the disturbance like my first instinct advised, I chose to open it gently, and once I saw the 'disturbance' I couldn't for the life of me, muster anything even remotely close to a glare, even the 'kindly leave my property' speech I had been preparing from the first ring of the doorbell had evaporated and for the first time in years, I found myself shocked and tongue-tied

-Adanna-

I knew what I wanted to say, I just forgot it. It's okay to forget right? But this was so not a good time to forget. It wasn't a lengthy sentence by any standard, so why couldn't I blurt it out?

There he was, standing and staring at me, waiting for something other than my shocked expression, I was the one at his door anyway, I should be the one to speak. I could just turn around and run back home...but then he'll think I'm crazy. Was it so bad for him to think so? Maybe not, but then, for someone who had been looking for attention all her life, I'd be the dumbest thing on two legs to not seize this chance now.

I gulped and finally spoke, "Hi." That is sooo not my real voice, I thought.

He replied in like term and went further, "Wanna come in?"

I gave him a quizzical look, why would he want me to come in? I thought he was a loner, no true loner wanted anyone invading his sanctuary, "I just came to apologize about the other day." I replied, totally and purposefully evading his question.

He nodded and smiled at me and I swear I almost melted on the spot, no, it wasn't a big grin, it was quite simple in all honesty, but damn if it didn't have the desired effect, my knees felt like jello and I still can't explain how I managed to stay on my two feet- must be one of those weird scientific occurences.

"Totally unnecessary, I didn't go about things in the right way, I should apologise. Can we rewind?"

I nodded, my brain too muddled to form words, even less speak them.

"I'm Liam, Liam Fraiser." He extended his hand out to me for a shake.

I thought I stared at his outstretched hand for over 10 seconds before I placed my much smaller hand in his and replied, "Adanna, but most people call me Dani." I replied almost robotically.

I swear a sizzle passed through me when his hand covered mine, I stared at both our joined hands, slightly awed by the contrast of pale to dark, it was one of the most beautiful things I had seen. I looked up at him and noticed he was giving me this look, I can't explain it, but it was definitely making me tingle all over. I watched him close the distance between us, my tongue went dry

I thought I was tall, but up close, he made me feel very short. I watched him lean closer, his grey eyes darkened considerably, I could hear the chants in my head, "no,no,no, he wouldn't dare." But as he leaned closer, they slowly died out, maybe he would dare, my heart was beating faster than normal, my pulse racing like no man's business as his hand came up to brush my cheek. I shuddered, his eyes skimmed over my face, his lips just mere inches away from mine, I could literally feel his breath fan my cheeks and I held mine, waiting for his next move.

Rather than complete the journey to where I thought was his destination, his lips moved to my ear and he whispered, "Are you okay?"

I was slightly surprised at the question, did I look sick? The question repeated itself, but this time, sultriness was replaced with confusion.

I looked up at him and noticed he was giving me a concerned look, it was only then I realised that he was standing farther away from me than I thought....damn I'm an idiot. Was that my imagination? How long had I been out like that? He must think I'm crazy now, jeez, I felt like I should make number one on World's Dumbest...but even more, it shocked me that I was thinking those things about this man. In all my life, my imagination although active, had never gotten this out of control. I could just die of the embarrassment.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." No, I wasn't fine, I was embarrassed and slightly parched.

"Do you mind coming in for a drink?" He offered.

I wanted to say yes, really I did, everything in me was pushing me to say yes, but the fear of my father pushed me to say the most logical thing, "Sorry, I have to go. My dad will be back soon." I replied, I swear I felt regret run through me at that comment.

He nodded, though I thought, I saw disappointment flash in his eyes, "It's fine. Maybe next time?" He asked giving me another charming smile.

How could any sane girl say no to him when he was smiling like that?, "Okay." I replied.

He released my hand- I didn't even notice he hadn't released it the entire time, "I'll see you later then?"

"Yes, later." I wasted no further time, I literally ran across the road, back into my house, partly because of fear and the other part out of nervousness. I was such a mess. How could I have made a total f0ol of myself back there? Lord only knew what he thought of me right now.

I went to the window to peep outside and caught a glimpse of him closing his door, that smile still on his gorgeous face and the only thing that came to my mind? I'm in so much trouble.

Following this story like kilode.. I'm.really. enjoying it..

Ride onon safarigirl

Am so following.
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perfect narracting style.

following thread....jst ride on

This is awesome!!!!... I'm so loving this type of POV!!!

*buys Mansion *

Perfectly nice.

But safari, there's another story you have here, any update for that?

@uzolexis. I've updated o.

-Liam-

I've gone crazy.

I've tried time and again to come up with some word to describe what exactly has been going on with me the past three days and I'm yet to discover it....until now. Standing by my window, peeking outside to catch a glimpse of Adanna or Dani like I prefer to call her now, it finally hit me. Only a crazy person would do what I'm currently doing.

I'm edging closer to stalker status, but I can't help it. I don't know why....I don't want to know why I can't get her out of my thoughts, maybe I'm afraid of what I'll find out, that my interest in this girl isn't passive like I prefer to think. That everytime I look at her, I see some of Avery, that uncertainty that fills her eyes, the aloofness she uses to cover it up. That's all Avery, before we dated. I shut my eyes to rid myself of those thoughts. They do me no good, instead, I think up other things, like why she's so nervous around me and why she seems...scared whenever she mentions her father.

As the big, imposing man unlocked the door to the car, I could see why he should be feared, he had the physique of Hulk, only with more fat than muscle, his eyes were drawn together menacingly, looking at him now, it occurred to me that I've never seen his features eased. He ALWAYS looked menacing. Must be hell to have to see this everyday, I could only imagine what she went through everyday.

What did she go through everyday? I didn't even want to think about it. I frowned and narrowed my eyes at the man who remained unaware that he was being watched. Had this man bullied her all her life? Was that why she always seemed like a withering plant?

I was still thinking of all the things this man could possibly be doing to Dani when the object of my pity came out...or hurried out of the house right behind a short woman who was dressed like she was going for some carnival. Her mother. She wasn't a constant fixture in her life, I assumed she was an extremely busy woman because I barely saw her. I don't think she's ever been around for Dani....speaking of whom....

I gripped the curtain tighter when my eyes fell on....her. She was a vision in peach. I watched her get down the stairs with relative ease in 3-inch heels. Yes, for all of her ill-fitting clothes, you'd think she would have no business with heels. Those were the little treasures saved solely for Sundays- the only day she was allowed to look feminine.

My ravenous eyes roved the length of her, noting how snugly the peach-colored knee-length dress fitted her frame. It had escaped my mind how....womanly she looked in a proper dress. Forgive me if my description took on a sensual nature, but to some other eyes, that weren't mine, the dress was far from suggestive- I didn't like to think there was some other man..or men, looking at Dani with the same eyes I looked at her. If you think I'll disclose how exactly I look at her, perhaps you're yet to understand me.

Now, back to the really beautiful dress that brought out her beautiful dark skin and provided the silhouette I always knew was lurking somewhere beneath all of that baggy nonsense she called clothes. It seemed fashionable and decent enough, it didn't hug her curves suggestively, but it was just enough to keep one curious, it was a scoop-necked dress with sleeves that stopped right at her elbows, there wasn't a lot of drama going on with it and by 'drama' I mean all of that unnecessary extras like sequins, flowers, ribbons and things normally associated with clothes worn by females. In fact, it was rather plain, not ugly, but plain. On some other female, it was ordinary, but on her....

Just as the thought crossed my mind, she looked right at me, she paused. Her eyes were on me, holding me spellbound. I wanted to close the curtain and dodge, but I couldn't for the life of me do anything but return her stare. And then I heard it, a bark. Her father. It was easy to tell by the way she jumped in fear and then turned to him with fear in her eyes, my eyes switched to her father, he was looking toward my house now, but he couldn't see me from the angle he stood- thankfully. I pulled the curtain close, but there remained a slight gap just in case. No, I'd only stop peeking once they were gone. She glanced at my window once again as she got into the car, I couldn't tell if she could see me, she didn't show it if she did.

I watched the car reverse and then drive off, I could tell her father was mad just by the way he drove. I finally closed the curtain fully and went to the fridge for some water cursing myself on the way. What kind of trouble could I have gotten Dani into? What kind of trouble have I gotten myself into?

Hmmm, quite Interesting. ... well done safarigirl

interesting!
superb!
liking ur flow
gud morning

following....nice story..me likey it

Safarigirl, so not cute that you refused to reply me. It's a story about a lady who lost her fiancee before their wedding and thereafter locked herself in and constantly speaks with his ghost.

It is also a daisporal novel. I.e. The characters live outside Nigeria.

If you aren't the writer, you could easily say so.

princesa: Safarigirl, so not cute that you refused to reply me. It's a story about a lady who lost her fiancee before their wedding and thereafter locked herself in and constantly speaks with his ghost.

It is also a daisporal novel. I.e. The characters live outside Nigeria.

If you aren't the writer, you could easily say so.

I'm sorry.

Will post it back up between today and the morrow. Abeg no vex.....posted

safarigirl: I'm sorry.

Will post it back up between today and the morrow. Abeg no vex.....posted

i have been following yor story and i kind of like your style of writtin, would you mind posting a link of the story princessa is talking about.

-Adanna-
I absent-mindedly made a sketch as Lami narrated some incident that had occurred in her compound. Lucky her, she got to live in a compound and have fun stories to tell. We were having a break- well, not so much a break per say, we just weren't offering the current subject being taught so we were hanging around till our class began.

I can't quite remember what exactly Lami's story is all about, I did hear the first few sentences and it sounded like it would've made for a really good story, but I zoned out once it started getting to the good part. How do I know if it was the good part? I just know. Well, suffice it to say, I've blocked Lami's voice and the voice of every other person in this room as I sketched.....something. Here's the good part....I have no idea what I'm sketching either. Weird huh? Well, my mind wasn't fully into the sketch either, but it would make sense eventually.

I bet you want to know where exactly my thoughts are, right? Well, it's where it's been the past 2 weeks- HIM. No, not HIM like the villain in PowerPuff girls, Him like sexy guy who lives across from my house...oh, and my dad too. I guess they became unavoidably inter- woven after Sunday's incident.

I need not go into any unnecessary details concerning what went down when we returned from church that day. Just know that when the confrontation was over, I had a memorable heart to heart with my dearest friends Aboniki, methylated spirit and panadol. Plus, my mum was present so you can only imagine the verbal beatdown I got as a side dish to the physical one, what can I say? That was just another day in my undesirable life, I walk with a slight limp for now, but the pain in my thigh should dissipate in a few days.

Being here, in this lesson, provides a much needed respite for me, anyone must have figured that I have no social life at this point, apart from church, this is the only other place I'm allowed to leave home for, and suffice it to say, I'm eternally grateful for little blessings. The 6 hours spent here are hours I wouldn't trade for anything, least of all 'family time'.

"What are you drawing like this sef?" Lami's voice broke into my thoughts, I looked up at her, before I could look back at whatever I was drawing to provide an answer, she snatched the paper off the table and looked at the sketch. I watched her eyes widen and then a small smile grace her features as I waited to see or hear what exactly I had been drawing, "ehn ehn, so you've started sketching men? Which day this one start?"

That was one of the reasons why my father would never approve of my friendship with Lami, she used a lot of pidgin when she communicated- my father loathed pidgin English, why? Let's just say his philosophies are somewhat elitist in nature. Good he thought I had no friends. I scrunched my eye brows, what exactly had I sketched?, "What?"

"Oya, start talking, who is this?" She finally showed me the sketch and my eye balls nearly popped out of their sockets.

How did I not notice? Why would his face be the one in my sub-conscious? I shook my head, "I don't know, it's just someone." I shrugged, using my best 'whatever' face. Lami didn't buy it.

"Hmm, this kain 'someone'...are you sure you're not doing backyard runs? If popsman hears about this ehn? E don be for you."

Lami was the only other person that knew of the tormentor that was my father, how did she get such information? Well, she got pretty curious when I kept falling off the stairs or in the bath tub at least twice every week. She was my only confidant- my only friend...and no, it's not because no one else asked to be my friend, she was the only persistent one- and she never asked, she just grew on me.

I snatched the paper from her hold and folded it...I didn't tear it up, I didn't squeeze it, I just folded it a bit too neatly and put it in my bag. I guess that action was a bit too suspicious because Lami gave me that look she had when she was suspicious of something.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" She asked, her own way of telling me to spill it.

I nodded, "I know"

"So?" She asked

She was apparently waiting for my confession. I watched her for sometime, wondering if I should tell her anything yet. Her light brown eyes shone with interest, Lami has always been a beauty, perhaps the only reason I didn't want to be friends with her to start with is because she made me feel. insecure, like I had to once again reach this standard of beauty beyond my reach. She isn't as tall as I am, I'm taller by two inches, not that much. She's almost as dark as I am, but I'm darker by a shade, her skin is coffee brown, she has the shape of a lingerie model...no, I'm by no means exaggerating when I say this. She's perfect like that, her eyes are warm and light brown in colour, she has an aquiline nose and full lips with high cheek bones. She could be a model, but she's never thought of it, she has bigger dreams- of singing. Did I mention she has a lovely voice as well? Yes, she's a top candidate for people I should hate, unfortunately, she's a really sweet person, you know? That kind of sweetness that you really can't hate? You can try, but eventually you just have to love her. She's not conceited or stand-offish, she doesn't have a bloated ego or an exaggerated idea of who she is. I hate that she's so lovable

I purse my lips and then let out a loud sigh, "don't tell anyone, okay?"

She gave me a look of hurt, "Have I ever ratted you out?"

Good point. I twisted my mouth as I watched her lean closer, I cracked a smile at her eagerness, "His name is Liam..."

"Who is he?" She was grinning from ear to ear. She wouldn't even let me finish.

"Babe chill now, lemme finish."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She replied and then did a mock breathing exercise, "Okay, continue."

"Like I said, his name is Liam. He's my neighbour..."

"Since when?" She cut in

I feigned annoyance, "If you interrupt me again, I won't tell you the rest" I warned. Her giddiness was actually getting to me a little.

"Okay, okay, no more interruptions."

She managed to remain quiet for the rest of the period while I told her all about Liam, at some periods, she seemed far too excited, other times thoughtful, I left out some things, but I gave her the important aspects. Once I told her, I waited anxiously for her feedback. Lami is only a few months older than I am, but she has the exposure I don't, no thanks to my strict family. Suffice it to say, as far as worldly knowledge is concerned, I might as well be Goofy in Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and she Einstein.I guess that's why we have a working friendship.

Her brows were knitted- she's still thinking, then her eyes sparkled and she grinned, "Hmm, you're now tripping for oyibo men, I wonder what Mr. Briggs will say about that." She teased.

I frowned, she just has to bring that name up, "He should be lucky I haven't reported him to the co-ordinator."

"And why not?"

Here we go again, we could go back and for on this one- actually, we always do, but I won't take the bait today, "Lami please, let's not spoil the discussion." I pleaded, unwilling to delve into any unpleasant discussions.

She narrowed her eyes at me, I know she would rather get to the bottom of it all, she keeps asking me to expose the slime, but I'm too scared to, I think of the long term consequences of that and the possibility that she'll be the only one to back me up. Plus, it will be suicidal to even say a word knowing the sort of home I come from. My father would sooner kill me than I bring any sort of 'shame' into his house.

My hands are tied, I can do nothing bur endure till fate looks upon me with favour and gets that sick dog far away from me

She shrugs, "If you say so." And drops the subject- thankfully.

We continue our conversation and any talks about Mr. Briggs are shoved aside. Once again though, I find myself phasing out of the conversation as my thoughts drift to HIM.

Sorry for the late reply[/quote]

Safarigirl, great job you're doing here and on "Getting a life" too. More updates please

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Safarigirl, your writing abilities are wow! Read getting a life before I saw this, are you aware of a website called naijastories.com? If you've not, check the website out d register. You'ld meet talented writers as wells critiques to improve your writing skills [color=#770077]
Safarigirl, your writing abilities are wow! Read getting a life before I saw this, are you aware of a website called naijastories.com? If you've not, check the website out d register. You'ld meet talented writers as wells critiques to improve your writing skills

I enjoy this story and i await an update... Thanx

**** gathers her properties from other threads n follows immediately********

Wow.. You're back..
Thank God.

I so much miss dis story.

Welldone safarigirl

i came...
I ate...
I clean mouth..
I shout for more...
BRING IT ON NOW OR ELSE..√

*oliver twist* thanks for d updates buh pls b more consistent

-Liam-

Fridge stocked.

Dinner....on it's way

Now, back to my book.

I looked at the large book, it's about a thousand pages long- yes, it's that large. I first got it a month or so after the death of my family, since then, I've read it over 8 times and I still haven't found what I think I'm looking for. I know there's a message there; something hidden within all of those words of wisdom that I haven't quite figured out yet and I plan to fully understand it even if I have to read that book 20 times.

I settled in, book in hand, a packet of potato chips by my side and a glass of guava juice on the table. With my ears perked up just in case the delivery guy dropped by....guess I forgot to mention I ordered the food....and before anyone jumps to conclusions, no, I'm not a lazy slob who doesn't know how to even boil water and prefers to eat ordered food. I'm just not up for the whole kitchen experience today.

I flipped the book to the page I stopped- maybe I never understand it because I always abandon it mid-way and then return to it. As I relaxed into my comfy couch I heard a racket at my door. What the hell?

I grunted and stood to investigate what could have caused that sound, maybe some stray animal. There was another racket that sounded like a heavy object-maybe a bag, hitting the ground. I reached for my door and unlocked it.

I took my time opening the door, whatever was on the other side, I needed to be careful not to startle it. I opened the door to find...nothing. Just then I heard my neighbour's door close. It was the house across from mine- Adanna's house. I stood there for a while wondering if she was the one who had been at my door.

Unable to come to a conclusion and unwilling to go and find out, I resigned myself to chalking it up as my first guess- a stray animal. I moved out of the doorway to close the door when I spotted something- a piece of folded paper right in front of the door. I picked it up, my brows furrowed in question, suffice it to say, I was more than a little curious of it's content as I unfolded it while glancing at Adanna's front door like I was waiting for it to open up and reveal her form.

Once unfolded, I looked down at it and found to my amazement, a flawless sketch of...is that me? I studied the sketch, noticing the head of hair, full beard, deep set eyes, roman nose and slightly thin lips. Yep, definitely me.

The first thing that came to my mind? She's awesome. I mean, she's really good. No, she's great. The sketch seemes like one done by a professional rather than the amateur she is. If she bothered to put a little effort into it, she could make some big bucks out of it. I used a finger to trace the sketch in wonder. She apparently used a pencil, but it was so perfect that at a glance, you'd think it was done with a computer and printed out in it's colourless form.

There was no note written on it, just the sketch, but it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out she was the one who had done it. I mean, if anyone else should know the exact outline of my face apart from myself and my family, it would have to be the girl who had been studying me for months. She captured my look when I was deep in thought, like one of those times I was reading my book, my expression was definitely ingrained in her memory for her to have gotten it so perfectly.

The need to reward her for this gift suddenly overwhelmed me. No one had given me something this memorable since...ever. Even Avery hadn't given me something this thoughtful. I was going to reward her, that was for sure. I guess my book would have to wait as I thought up the right gift and how to get past the fortress her father built around her.

Hmmm, waiting for more.

goodmorning safarigirl...nice work u v gt here..following lyk twitter..buh y av u abandoned GETTING A LIFE?? pls b consistent wv it....we r waitin anxiously