*Saheed’s POV*

She feels nothing for me.

Her eyes hold no warmth for me; even after two months of trying my very best. I have spent sleepless nights, thinking of ways to thaw the ice in her heart, but all efforts have yielded no fruit. In my bed, she is like fire, never resting until she has burned out; but after that, it’s like her eyes glaze over and she sees through me, even when I try to make conversation.

“But that’s how we behave,” she said with a dry laugh when I had asked her one night as she retouched her make up at the dressing mirror of my favourite hotel room on Lagos island.

“You’re not one of them,” I blurted, but I instantly regretted it because Queen slowly turned from the mirror, her purple lipstick in her hand, her painted eyelids glittering. The look in her eyes had been amused, and I had never felt so stupid.

She had given me a long look, and I had felt vulnerable right there, lying on the bed half-dressed from our encounter. I had stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty, her wickedness. She’d been wearing a pale pink bodysuit, and her bouncy brown curls- a wig I had gifted her a few weeks back- had been in disarray from rolling around in bed.

Had Maduka been this mesmerized? I remember asking myself. How had he seen her? Innocent and almost virginal, or dangerous with her claws out?

That’s the thing, it’s like she’s an entirely different person. Slowly, I am losing my hold on her, on myself, on my life.

Did I create a monster? I had wondered. Did I do this?

“But you have her, don’t you?” I now ask myself aloud. Alone in my apartment, I pace restlessly on my balcony, the same balcony where I had watched Maduka and Queen end so abruptly- thanks to my efforts. My phone beeps in my pocket, reminding me of my meeting with her.

My body tenses at the thought of seeing her. While her words- no matter how few they are- might not be pleasant, I want to be with her. Despite the ice all around her, I want to feel her. Grabbing my keys, I leave my abode.

The drive to our usual hotel lasts for fifteen minutes. I know she will keep me waiting; she always does. I sit in the spacious reception of the three-star hotel, waiting for her while reading a sports magazine I had picked from the centre table admist a pile of fliers for some conference I have no interest in. Today must be a special day, because there are numerous gorgeous ladies lounging around.

Too distracted to acknowledge the one sitting beside me on the velvet couch, I allow myself to retreat into my thoughts of Queen.

She said that this relationship is devoid of feelings. You had accepted, because it was apparently the only way you could have her, wasn’t it? Did you think she would love you like she loved Maduka?

Did Maduka ever call or search for her after that party? Did he still want her after what she’d told him? Does he know she’s changed her address? Does he even think of her anymore?

She never mentions him. Not since we started this physical relationship. I have never brought him up, either, and that seems to do the both of us a whole lot of good.
Because of the guilt you feel.

Feeling guilty was not something I had anticipated. I thought that knowledge of her past would push Maduka away so she could see that I don’t give a d@mn about the fact that she was into prostitution. I thought she would see, that it is my desire to give her a luxurious lifestyle, the type she’s never dreamed of. I thought that she would come to love me…

I thought wrong. I did wrong. I handled this terribly.

But did I? What was so wrong about making her tell the truth to someone she claimed to love? How did I become the bad guy for facilitating honesty? For pursuing a woman despite her past and the possibility that society will look down on her because of it?

Saheed, you have changed.

I shake my head and laugh inwardly. This is what she’s doing to me, making me examine this situation from all angles. Making me crave for her, for her warmth, but knowing she will freeze me the moment I try to take a step closer to her heart.

Why did she even accept your offer?

It had been over a week after the showdown at Tasha’s party, and I had managed to track her down through Temi. It took one week of dialling her number and another week of showing up at where she was staying with Temi before Queen had decided to listen to me. Then she had called me up one morning, giving me her terms…and I had accepted willingly in the hopes that she would change towards me…

Friends with benefits can develop feelings. Or is she doing this to get back at you? What exactly is her reason? Is this a relationship or a situationship? Who is even in charge here?

It is beginning to feel like she sees me as nothing but a person to fulfil her physical needs, a means to an end. She lets conversations die whenever I initiate them. Every time I try to cuddle her, she lies there, eyes blank, staring at nothing in particular. I have showered her with gifts she doesn’t ask for, but they don’t seem to tickle her fancy. I remember the time I got her the latest Android phone, she’d just looked at it and said, “It’s nice, thanks.”

Or the time I had bought her a Gucci dress and sent it to her. There had been no reply from her, even though she had worn that same dress to my hotel room the following night.

She doesn’t even argue with me each time I protest her behaviour. She shrugs and goes back to wh@??ver it is she is doing. I had pinned her to the bed in one of those solo arguments of mine, furious that she had murmured, “Wh@??ver, Saheed,” after I had complained about her lack of gratitude for a gold necklace I had given her.

Queen had stared right up at me, her eyes betraying nothing, her long Brazillian tresses scattered around her head on the sheets. The necklace had shone on her neck, the crown pendant nestled in her cleavage which rose and fell with each breath she took.

“Are you going to punish me, now?” She had asked me, not bothering to fight against my hands on her wrists or my weight nearly crushing her on the bed.

I had stared back, breathing heavily from the questions I had in me, from my need to tell her how I felt, from my fury that I could not get through to her no matter how hard I tried… I had thought to myself that she had to be a witch, to infuriate me and arouse me at the same time! How dare she look so beautiful and alluring despite the robotic manner? It had taken all my energy to not tear off the silk robe she had on…

“Hello, are you almost done with that?” a voice brings me back to the present.

One of the gorgeous ladies stands before me, dressed in a dark suit over a knee-length skirt. There is a lanyard hanging from her neck with a card that reads “ASK ME” on it.

Must be an usher for wh@??ver event is holding here.

“Almost,” I reply with a tight smile.

She opens her mouth to say something but an exclamation distracts her and she looks over her shoulder before running off towards the entrance, the stilettos of her shoes clicking on the marble tiles.

“Welcome, sir,” I hear her say at the entrance.

The ladies in the room are moving towards the entrance, chatting excitedly.

“He’s here,” one of them says with a smile to her friend. They both rise up from the couch a few metres from where I sit, and move towards the entrance, too.

“He looks more handsome in person!” exclaims the girl seated beside me.

The man they are gushing over steps into the reception, dressed casually in grey chinos, a white shirt and brown loafers.

My stomach drops to my feet.

Maduka.

A few of the ladies are clutching fliers, and my eyes move to those on the table near me. Sure enough, it is his face that is on the fliers, and underneath is the title for a conference he is hosting right in this hotel.

Agriculture: The Saviour of the Nigerian Economy.

I should have known! After reading his interview in Agric Digest because Tasha had told me about it, I was mildly surprised that Maduka had attained fame so suddenly.

He looks around the room, but doesn’t recognise me because half of my face is covered by the sports magazine I’m holding. Maduka turns to talk to the young man following him, and at that moment…

Queen walks in towards the receptionist’s counter, dressed in a simple yellow sundress. She doesn’t notice him at first because she is on her phone, but Maduka sees her and freezes, deaf to the voices of the people around him. I watch her call the receptionists attention, while he stares, obviously shocked.

I wonder how he must feel, seeing her looking different all of a sudden. She has a full face of make up, and long, dark waist-length human hair extensions flow from her head.

While she still focuses on her phone, Maduka inches towards her slowly. He stops beside her at the counter, still blinking in disbelief.

He must have called her name, because she looks up sharply, and her phone drops to the floor with a clatter while her hands fly to her mouth.

“No!” she exclaims.

He bends to pick the phone and hands it back to her. She refuses to take it from him, and so Maduka slides it over to her on the counter, maintaining eye contact with her.

His feelings for her haven’t died, after all, I observe.

I can feel his need to grab her and hold her in his arms. His free hand continuously makes a fist and opens, but I can bet that he is reluctant to touch her, because he doesn’t know what her reaction will be.

Queen backs away slowly and he takes a step to follow her, but she shakes her head vigorously. Once she is close to the door, she turns and walks out quickly. He is about to follow her but I rise up from my seat, unable to bear watching this drama.

“Don’t follow her, bro.”

The pain in his eyes is replaced by fury the moment his eyes meet mine. In quick strides, I cover the distance between us and lean casually on the counter, right where Queen had been. It is even warm from her contact with it. Maduka remains silent, but his eyes are throwing daggers at me.

“Look, you scared her away now. My date has been ruined,” I drawl.

“My sincere apologies.”

I look at his hand, in which he now holds Queen’s abandoned cell phone. “Hand me my girlfriend’s phone.” When he makes no move, I smile and add, “Please.”

“She’s not your girlfriend,” he whispers close to me, so no one can hear.

Maduka slides it towards me, resentment in his eyes. If it hadn’t been for his responsibility today, I know he would have attacked me without thinking twice. His jaw muscles flinch beneath his cheekbones and his nostrils flare like a horse’s.

“Thank you,” I tell him. Turning, I walk towards the exit. “Have a wonderful conference.”

I leave him standing there, looking lost admist the crowd of his puzzled admirers.

He still loves her. I wonder if she feels the same.
_____

*Maduka’s POV*

The conference goes smoothly. Agatha is seated at the front row, giving me an encouraging smile the whole time I give my presentation. It greatly calms down my nerves and distracts me from thoughts of the scene that occurred at the hotel reception.

“That was great,” she tells me during our lunch break. “A very interesting presentation and innovative suggestions. I hope the government takes you up on your offer for consultation. We really need to focus on agriculture if we want our economy to move forward these days.”

“I hope so, too,” I reply, absently gathering the remaining grains of fried rice in the centre of my plate.

“But I could sense that something was disturbing you. Is all well, Maduka?”

“Not really.”

Agatha and I have become close over the course of last month. She has been really helpful in her suggestions on dealing with my newfound fame, and has been connecting me to like minds in the agricultural field. I sense that she cares about me more than is required for friendship, but neither of us has discussed it.

“Care to share?”

“Is it possible, that I can be someone’s ex but the person isn’t my ex?”

She is silent for a full minute, processing this question while touching one of her slender kinky twists. “So that’s what you meant when you said it was complicated, huh?”

I shrug, a sort of confirmation.

“Has she told you it’s officially over?”

“Does running away from me, changing her phone lines and address count?”

And being with someone else?

“Wow, that’s so final.” She widens her eyes behind her gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Wow, comforting.”

Her hand rests on my arm. “Come on, Maduka. I didn’t mean to sound so blunt. But if she moved without telling you, it’s a sign she’s trying to forget you.”

“Forget me,” I echo, my mind taking me back to the reception room, where I had so badly wanted to touch her, but was wary of how she would take it. The way she had screamed at me that night still haunts me.

Seeing Nwanyieze had been like a blow to my gut; it had given me a bittersweet feeling. At first I couldn’t believe it. But it was her, petite and beautiful in that yellow sundress I love, standing right there. I like to think that if I hadn’t looked more closely, I wouldn’t have recognised her. But I know that is a lie. I know I am still connected to her in a way I can’t explain.

She had looked different, with the make up and hair… She had looked much like the women Saheed preferred. When she’d started to back away from me, and I had almost followed, she had said, “No. Please don’t,” in a low voice. Her eyes had filled with tears suddenly, and I had frozen right there…

It was when she walked out the door that I could finally move, and Saheed had appeared.

“You’ve spaced out again,” Agatha tells me, gently shaking my arm.

“I’m sorry. A lot on my mind lately.”

“You’ll be fine las-las,” she reassures me.

I laugh at her statement. “I hope so.”

“Hey, how about we relax somewhere this weekend? Say, Elegushi beach?”

“Hmm. That sounds like a nice idea. I’m definitely up for it, Agatha.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Her smile tells me that it is a date to her. I smile back and think, will I actually be fine?