My You

Unexpected is what I would describe the day I met you. The clouds had darkened to a greyish gloom and it was clear the rainstorm approaching. This particular weather was my favourite, but on the day I met you, I found one more reason to love it.

When my friend asked that I escort her to the barbing salon to cut her hair, my nod of affirmation surprised her. I was surprised too. I never liked going out, and especially not with my favourite weather in view which was the best time to get comfy in bed and read a book. But on the day I met you, I did not know that I would begin to love the outdoors.

You charged into the barbershop like an angry bull. The barber had just started with my friend’s hair and I sat gloomily on the bench at the back, cursing myself mentally for forgetting my earpods. Somehow, I just knew you would rant and I was not keen on listening to it. I looked at you briefly and just when the thought began to form in my head that the shape of your head looked funny, you yelled at the barber.

“Look at what you could do to my hair. You’ve taken my hairline at least an inch backwards.”

The barber looked at you nonplussed and I really looked at you then. You kept ranting and I muttered something under my breath. It wasn’t till the whole shop went quiet and you gave me a look like you were just noticing me that I realized I may not have been as quiet with my remark as I thought.

You squared at me. “What did you say?”

You didn’t know then, but I had been at a time in my life where I did not find men amusing in any way, so contrary to what you and the four other people in the shop, including my friend that kept giving me eyes from the mirror to shut up may have been expecting, I fired back.

“I said if you are so angry about the haircut, you should wear a wig.”

You blinked once. And then twice, like you were unsure of who was in front of you. Now I wonder if you must have wondered then how a lady half your size could be that brazen.

Two seconds later you started laughing, long and hard like I’d cracked the joke of the century. As you came to sit on the bench I sat and said, “You’re a funny lady,” I scooted to the far end of the seat, but even then, I caught a whiff of your cologne. Something so pleasantly unique, I nearly reeled backwards. You would be the only one even ten years later I associate with that scent, but I didn’t know then. My anti-man-o-metre bells started ringing and I looked at my friend desperately, hoping she would stand up soon.

She wasn’t nearly halfway done and I stilled myself as you tried to make conversation. When you asked for my name and I told you, I was almost scared you would sing the song most men sing when they hear my name. And when you didn’t sing it, but just muttered quietly that it was a lovely name, I almost relaxed. Almost. I wasn’t keen on conversation and you could see it, but you kept laughing each time I made little wisecracks, looking at me in between throes of laughter like I was something amazing.

I wasn’t sure why I was indulging you as well and even though I found your jokes hilarious, I couldn’t bring myself to crack a smile, couldn’t risk falling for the dimple in your cheek that winked at me each time you as much as moved your lips, and when my friend signified she was done, I had an unusual feeling in my chest and I wondered why I had forgotten she was in the room.

When you did not ask for my number, I hid a grimace. I wasn’t one to give my number out as well, but somehow, I’d been hoping you’d ask. The only thing you asked me just as my friend and I were about to leave was why I never asked for your name. I was already simmering because you didn’t ask for my number and I was angry at myself that I cared so much, so I snapped at you.

“I will never see you again, so why bother?” And with that, I was gone. As I walked back to my apartment, oblivious to the rain that began to pour and my nearly drenched self, I hoped the rain would wash your smile and smell away from my memory.

It wasn’t till I saw you on the way out of the mall, three weeks later, that I realized I’d been hoping to see you again. You called my name and I said, “Hey, You,” fighting the grin that threatened to split my cheeks in two. When you said you’d parked somewhere near and I should wait so you could give me a ride home, I made a bewildered face at you.

“In this Nigeria of kidnapping, you want me to enter a stranger's car??”

You held your chest and laughed, assuring me that you were only kidding and you didn’t have a car.

I would only realize weeks later as you stopped in front of my apartment to pick me up for our first official date, staring at me in a way I was becoming accustomed to, a way that said I was your entire world, that you had lied to me that day at the mall and you did have a car. And that you had trekked back to the mall after escorting me to school, to pick it up. It was enough to make me fall for you, but then it would be too late, because I’d already fallen. Deeply in love with YOU.

Jhymi🖤

---

_{*Thumbnail created with Meta AI.}

Posted Using InLeo Alpha