"Octavia."
I said as I turned fully toward her and, without really thinking about it, reached for her already out stretched hand. My fingers wrapped around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She smiled, amused, eyes flicking from my face to our joined hands.
"Oh," she said lightly, tilting her head. "I'm catching an accent there. I'm guessing you don't stay here?"
I laughed under my breath. Of course she noticed. Everyone always did.
She had a really strong accent herself—foreign, polished. It was obvious she hadn't been in Nigeria very long. Mine wasn't as heavy as it used to be, but it still clung to my words stubbornly, especially when I wasn't trying to hide it.
"I grew up in Canada," I replied. "I haven't been here for long."
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh, that makes perfect sense," she said. "I thought so. I'm mixed—my dad is white, my mum is Nigerian. We're just here visiting my grandma."
That explained it.
Her skin was much lighter than most Nigerian girls I knew, almost glowing in the afternoon sun, and her hair—dark but loose—fell in soft curls instead of coils. Everything about her stood out without her even trying.
By then, we had already started walking downhill together, side by side, still close enough that our arms brushed every few seconds.
"So," she asked casually, glancing at me, "where are you headed?"
"Oh, um… the supermarket just down there," I replied, pointing ahead. "I need to get some things."
"For what?" she asked.
I hesitated for half a second before answering. "For a party."
Her steps slowed slightly. "Really?" she said. "What party?"
I felt that familiar pause settle in my chest—the instinct to filter, to decide how much of myself to reveal. I wondered if I should tell her about it at all.
"It's just a small party," I said finally. "A friend and I are hosting."
Her face immediately changed.
"Oh," she said, eyes widening. Then she smiled—wide, hopeful, mischievous. "Can I come?"
Before I could answer, she grabbed my arm, clinging to it dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out as she made exaggerated puppy eyes.
The contact sent a shiver straight through me.
Her fingers pressed warm against my skin, confident, effortless—like she had no idea the kind of effect she was having on me. Or maybe she did. Either way, my body reacted before my brain could catch up.
How could she do that so easily?
I looked down at her hand on my arm, then up into her face.
Her eyes were a light shade of blue—soft but intense, the kind that made you feel seen even when she wasn't saying much. Everything about her felt dangerous in a quiet, beautiful way.
"Octavia," she called, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Yes?" I said quickly, shaking myself back to reality.
She smiled again. "Can I come?"
I swallowed.
"Oh… yeah," I said, trying—and failing—to sound casual. "Sure."
Her reaction was instant.
She squealed softly and jumped at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a quick hug. "Thank youuuu," she said happily.
My breath caught.
Her body pressed against mine for just a second too long, and my senses went completely haywire. My heart raced, my skin tingled, and I had to physically remind myself how to breathe.
It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss her right there on the street.
But at least she was coming to the party.
We continued walking, and a few minutes later, we reached the supermarket. Inside, I grabbed the drinks we needed—vodka, wine, mixers—while trying not to replay every second of her touching me over and over in my head.
On impulse, I added a small bottle of lube to the basket, pretending it was no big deal.
Just in case.
She got a few things for herself, chatting easily as we walked through the aisles, like we'd known each other longer than we actually had. It felt effortless. Comfortable. Dangerous.
Soon enough, we were heading back.
When we reached our houses, we stopped outside, reluctant to say goodbye. We exchanged numbers, fingers brushing again as she typed her contact into my phone. I told her the time for the party, and she nodded eagerly.
"I'll be there," she said.
Then she waved, turned, and disappeared into her house.
I went inside mine, my mind still buzzing.
As soon as I stepped into the living room, I saw Amanda and Kemi sprawled together on the couch, tangled up in each other as usual, laughing and whispering.
I didn't even slow down.
I had no time for whatever they were doing. My head was somewhere else entirely.
I had a party to prepare for.
"Did you stumble on a bag of cash on your way to the supermarket?" Kemi asked suddenly.
"What?" I said, snapping out of my thoughts.
She stood up, narrowing her eyes at me. "Why are you grinning so hard then?"
I shook my head, already heading for the stairs. "Mind your business."
She scoffed but didn't follow.
I went up to my room, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Keisha was coming to the party.
And something told me… this was only the beginning.