Linda had barely slept the night before.
Every few minutes, she would roll over in bed, check her phone, and smile at the last message Zara had sent: "See you tomorrow, boss girl." Just that simple line had been enough to keep her heart racing till morning.
Now sunlight filtered through the cream curtains of her room in Lagos, casting soft patterns across her bed. The city outside was already alive — distant horns, vendors calling out, the hum of traffic — but Linda barely noticed any of it. Her eyes were glued to her phone, waiting.
She had been pretending for days that Zara's move was just a normal thing. That helping her settle in would be something casual. Friendly. Harmless.
But nothing about Zara had ever felt harmless.
Ever since they met during that family visit, Zara had slipped into Linda's thoughts like a soft song she couldn't stop replaying. Their late-night calls had become routine. Their teasing, effortless. Their silences, comfortable. Linda had caught herself smiling at random moments because of something Zara said hours earlier.
And that terrified her a little.
Because Linda knew what her world looked like — the prayers before meals, the Bible verses her mother dropped into every serious conversation, the way certain topics were never even discussed in her house.
Girls like Zara were supposed to be just beautiful distractions.
Not this.
Not someone who made Linda feel like her chest might burst open from wanting too much.
Her phone buzzed suddenly against the mattress.
Linda sat up so fast she almost knocked over the glass of water on her bedside table.
Zara 💫
Her heart leapt.
She opened the chat.
Zara:
Good morning, sleepyhead.
Linda smiled before typing.
Linda:
Who told you I was sleeping?
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Zara:
Because you take forever to reply when you just wake up.
Linda laughed softly.
Linda:
Wow. So now you know my habits?
Zara:
Maybe I do.
Linda bit her lip.
That girl was dangerous.
Before she could think of a comeback, another message came in.
Zara:
I just got the keys to the apartment.
Linda sat up straighter.
Linda:
Already? That was fast.
Zara:
Mm-hmm. And the place is a mess. Boxes everywhere. My mum dumped half my life here and disappeared.
Linda could practically hear Zara's dramatic voice in her head, and it made her grin.
Linda:
Poor baby.
Three dots.
Then:
Zara:
You should come save me.
Linda stared at the screen.
Her breath caught.
She read it again.
You should come save me.
It was probably harmless. A joke. Zara was playful like that.
But the thought of seeing her today — after all those nights of hearing her voice and imagining what it would feel like to be in the same room again — made Linda's stomach flip.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Linda:
Save you how exactly?
Zara replied immediately.
Zara:
Help me unpack. Arrange furniture. Tell me where things should go because clearly you have bossy energy.
Linda laughed out loud.
Linda:
Bossy? Me? Never.
Zara:
Linda, please. You literally act like you own every room you enter.
Linda rolled her eyes, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
Linda:
And you like that?
There was a pause this time.
A long enough pause to make Linda's pulse rise.
Then Zara replied.
Zara:
Maybe.
Linda's breath hitched.
She stared at that one word for so long that her phone dimmed.
A slow heat spread through her body.
Zara always did this — said just enough to make Linda overthink for hours.
Linda took a deep breath and forced herself to type.
Linda:
Send location.
The reply came in seconds.
Zara:
That's my girl.
Linda threw her phone on the bed dramatically and covered her face with her hands.
"This girl will kill me," she muttered.
Still smiling, she got up.
She stood in front of her wardrobe longer than necessary, rejecting outfit after outfit. She wanted to look effortless, but not like she tried too hard. Casual, but memorable.
Eventually, she settled on fitted blue jeans and a soft white top that hugged her in all the right places. Simple gold hoops. Glossed lips. Hair loose.
She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head.
"You're helping her unpack, not going on a date."
But her reflection wasn't convinced.
The drive to Zara's apartment felt longer than it actually was.
Linda kept checking the pinned location Zara had sent, her nerves building with every turn. Lagos traffic dragged things out as usual, but somehow that only made the anticipation worse.
By the time she finally pulled into the compound, her palms were slightly sweaty.
The building was sleek and modern, with fresh paint and glass balconies. Definitely Zara.
Linda took one last look at herself in the mirror, inhaled, and stepped out.
As she reached Zara's floor, her heartbeat was so loud she could hear it in her ears.
She raised her hand and knocked.
For a second, nothing.
Then footsteps.
The door opened.
And Linda forgot how to breathe.
Zara stood there in grey shorts and an oversized black T-shirt, her curls tied up messily, a few strands falling around her face. Her skin glowed under the soft light spilling from inside the apartment, and her lips curved slowly when she saw Linda.
She looked unfairly beautiful.
Like trouble wrapped in soft skin.
Zara leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms.
"Took you long enough."
Linda blinked, forcing herself to recover.
"You're welcome, by the way."
Zara laughed — that low, warm laugh Linda had missed more than she wanted to admit.
Then Zara stepped aside, her eyes never leaving Linda's.
"Come in, boss. Your kingdom awaits."
Linda walked in, trying to act normal, but the apartment — half-filled boxes, bubble wrap, scattered cushions — barely registered.
Because Zara was close.
Too close.
Close enough that Linda could smell her perfume.
Something soft and addictive.
Zara shut the door behind her.
The click echoed in the room.
Linda turned.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The teasing from texts. The late-night calls. The stolen flirty silences.
All of it suddenly felt heavier now that they were standing in front of each other.
Real.
Zara tilted her head slightly, her smile gentler now.
"You came."
Linda swallowed.
"You asked."
Zara stepped closer, her voice dropping.
"And if I asked for more?"
Linda's breath caught.
The air between them thickened.
She should have looked away.
She should have remembered everything she had promised herself not to feel.
Instead, she met Zara's eyes and said softly—
"That depends."
Zara smiled slowly.
"On what?"
Linda took one step closer until there was barely space between them.
"On whether you're going to keep distracting me from helping you unpack."
Zara laughed, the tension breaking just enough to make them both breathe again.
"Fine," she said, stepping back reluctantly. "Help me set up my kitchen first."
Linda smirked.
"Boss mode activated."
And as Zara led her deeper into the apartment, barefoot and smiling over her shoulder, Linda had the sudden, terrifying certainty that this was the beginning of something neither of them would be able to walk away from.