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nice one bro

nice one bro

nice one bro

nice one bro

nice one bro

nice one bro

RUSH HOUR CRUSH PART 1
.

It was not the first time I had seen him
on the bus but something about him
intrigued me today. I was not sure what
it was but I could not take my eyes off
him. The bus was already full, I knew he
would be standing and it would not his
first time. I was lucky to be sitting
myself. I watched him squeeze past
other people as he made his way
through the bus. I silently prayed he
would stand beside me. My prayers were
almost answered but he stopped just in
front of me. Maybe, just maybe he would
see me. Shut up, silly girl ! I looked
away. What was the point of him seeing
me? A fine guy like him probably had a
thousand girls on his mind.
The bus jerked forward and we moved.
Maybe he was out of my league but he
was not out of my sight; there was no
harm in looking. I curved my neck
slightly and snuck a look at him. Oh
gosh!
He caught me! His eyes had pierced into
mine almost as if he just scanned my
mind. And it could have been my mind
playing games on me but I could have
sworn I saw him smile. Maybe I should
check again. This time I kept my neck
straight, only my eyes would be involved
in the looksee. I turned my eyes as far
as they would go and… dang! He was
busy pushing buttons on his phone.
Well, that was fun while it lasted. I
brought out my phone, I had several
episodes of Suits to watch anyway.
“Stadium wa o”
My brain heard it and snapped to work.
The woman beside me was alighting at
the next bus stop, this was my chance.
I leaned forward and tapped him, he
looked at me and I pointed at the seat
beside me. It was not his first time on
the bus, he knew what that meant. He
nodded and moved closer, positioning
himself for the takeover. I smiled, I
should have known I was going to have
a very lucky day when I woke up before
my sister – for the first time in years
and got to eat the last two sachets of
noodles. Last set of Noodles to having a
very handsome dude sit beside me in the
bus; at this rate, my luck could win the
lottery if I was brave enough to buy a
ticket.
The bus stopped, the woman stood up
and I expertly used my legs to block any
other person from taking the seat.
“Thank you.” He said as he took the
seat.
“You’re welcome.” I replied in the
sweetest possible version of my voice.
Oh, why did he have to have such a
lovely voice? I could feel the heat in my
cheeks. And despite my dark skin I had
a bad feeling my cheeks had turned
pink. It was impossible but still I felt
embarrassed.
The bus picked more passengers and I
began planning a clever opening to start
our conversation with. I threw away one
clever opening after another, they were
not so clever. This was one of the times
when I wished I was my sister; she
always knew what to say.
“Excuse me?” He tapped me and my
heart did a somersault.
“Yeah?” I said, flashing him a very
toothy smile.
“I need to get up.” He said.
“What!” I said and before I could stop
myself, added. “Why?”

.

.
.
.
Click on the link below to continue reading

www.naijanoisemakers.com.ng/2017/09/18/rush-hour-crush-part-1/

RUSH HOUR CRUSH PART 1
.

It was not the first time I had seen him
on the bus but something about him
intrigued me today. I was not sure what
it was but I could not take my eyes off
him. The bus was already full, I knew he
would be standing and it would not his
first time. I was lucky to be sitting
myself. I watched him squeeze past
other people as he made his way
through the bus. I silently prayed he
would stand beside me. My prayers were
almost answered but he stopped just in
front of me. Maybe, just maybe he would
see me. Shut up, silly girl ! I looked
away. What was the point of him seeing
me? A fine guy like him probably had a
thousand girls on his mind.
The bus jerked forward and we moved.
Maybe he was out of my league but he
was not out of my sight; there was no
harm in looking. I curved my neck
slightly and snuck a look at him. Oh
gosh!
He caught me! His eyes had pierced into
mine almost as if he just scanned my
mind. And it could have been my mind
playing games on me but I could have
sworn I saw him smile. Maybe I should
check again. This time I kept my neck
straight, only my eyes would be involved
in the looksee. I turned my eyes as far
as they would go and… dang! He was
busy pushing buttons on his phone.
Well, that was fun while it lasted. I
brought out my phone, I had several
episodes of Suits to watch anyway.
“Stadium wa o”
My brain heard it and snapped to work.
The woman beside me was alighting at
the next bus stop, this was my chance.
I leaned forward and tapped him, he
looked at me and I pointed at the seat
beside me. It was not his first time on
the bus, he knew what that meant. He
nodded and moved closer, positioning
himself for the takeover. I smiled, I
should have known I was going to have
a very lucky day when I woke up before
my sister – for the first time in years
and got to eat the last two sachets of
noodles. Last set of Noodles to having a
very handsome dude sit beside me in the
bus; at this rate, my luck could win the
lottery if I was brave enough to buy a
ticket.
The bus stopped, the woman stood up
and I expertly used my legs to block any
other person from taking the seat.
“Thank you.” He said as he took the
seat.
“You’re welcome.” I replied in the
sweetest possible version of my voice.
Oh, why did he have to have such a
lovely voice? I could feel the heat in my
cheeks. And despite my dark skin I had
a bad feeling my cheeks had turned
pink. It was impossible but still I felt
embarrassed.
The bus picked more passengers and I
began planning a clever opening to start
our conversation with. I threw away one
clever opening after another, they were
not so clever. This was one of the times
when I wished I was my sister; she
always knew what to say.
“Excuse me?” He tapped me and my
heart did a somersault.
“Yeah?” I said, flashing him a very
toothy smile.
“I need to get up.” He said.
“What!” I said and before I could stop
myself, added. “Why?”

.

.
.
.
Click on the link below to continue reading

www.naijanoisemakers.com.ng/2017/09/18/rush-hour-crush-part-1/

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