"Just look twice" by Bombay Obi

"Just look twice"

I had to put on dark shades, that way she won't see my eyes watching her. It was high school graduation day. We were all supposed to be happy, but I was afraid it might end up a sad one for me if Melissa never look at me. That was the sign I needed, a sign to know that she still felt something for me. A sign that will convince me to go over and beg for what I have lost: her love and friendship.

I have broken her heart again. I have done it before; twice. This current malice, a product of my last promiscuity. Melissa: the first girl I ever crushed on, the first girl I ever loved. The most beautiful girl in the school. Tall, fair skinned, spoke a sweet-buttery english that humbled most of us who had grown speaking the native pidgin English. She was born in Lagos, where almost everyone spoke the colonial british English.

It was hard not to fall in love with her at first sight. But I didn't. I didn't see what the other boys saw when she was registered the first day, after her family moved to our town from Lagos due to her father's transfer at work. It had taken me a week to really see what the other boys saw. And when I finally saw it, it became the best thing that ever happened to me.

I'd sworn to her that I will never cheat again, that I will never break her heart again. But I did. This time she caught me in the empty music class with my face buried in the unbuttoned shirt of her best friend, Victoria, sucking boobs. Someone in our class had seen us, maybe one of those gossipy girls, or any of the boys who must have been Jealous of my affair with Melissa. Half of the class had surreptitiously come to see the profligate boyfriend and betraying best friend of the most beautiful girl in school that day. That was how I lost the last chance I was given.

The first time I cheated was in 11th grade, with a sophomore girl, Vivian. I didn't know what it was with me and girls, it seemed like they all wanted me, even when they knew I was in a relationship with Melissa. Most of them I had something with had either secretly written me a note about how they like me so much, some had walked up to me, like Vivian did. It was all new to me, this liking, like I was the finest boy in the whole school, which I knew I wasn't. Maybe it was the desire in these girls to have a taste of the boy Melissa have given her heart to. Maybe I was as handsome as they believed after all.

Melissa didn't ask me out. We had simply become friends within two weeks of her commencement. She said I always made her laugh, and that I was kind of cute; a baby face and beautiful red lips. Before we knew, we were in a section of the school library kissing. I never asked her out, she only accepted me. And it seemed my journey into receiving affection from girls and performing profligacy began after that kiss, because that kiss placed my mind on another level of human existence, because I'd won the highest heart there ever was to win.

She had caught me in the library with Vivian, in the philosophy books section, kissing. I begged for days, and she forgave. I promised it won't happen again. The second time was in the first term of final high school year. Timo had told me about a 10th grade girl who kept pestering him about wanting to talk to me. I had only gone with him to see her. Benedicta was her name, lean like a modelling prospect, had light chocolate skin, and the finest aquiline nose I ever saw. We had just talked about ourselves and exchanged emails. I had no plan of letting her go like that. I was going to be very careful this time, so Melissa wouldn't find out. But she did. Gossips. How Melissa found out was outrageous. Benedicta had boasted to one of her snitch female friends that I'd asked her out, and the snitch snitched.

I decided I won't apologise. Afterall I didn't do anything. 

Our malice lasted for over three weeks. I almost died of it, but I held on to not apologising, to convince myself that I was innocent. Melissa later apologised, out of the blue she had come. I'd been preparing a graph assignment during break in a lonely part of the school's basketball court. I was faced down, then I saw her fair legs, catwalk and stop beside the desk. 

"How did I ever offend you?" She asked, standing akimbo.

My heart fluttered for joy. I knew it was all over; the malice. I was happy that she still loved me. I maintained an indifferent face and asked, "what did I do?"

She shook her head while looking me in the eyes, like I was a puppy that had destroyed something valuable but was in denial. She smiled. It was obvious from her feigned smile that the malice had tired her, that she regrets falling in love with someone whom she had thought was going to be only for her, but had ended up being the one for everyone. I regretted that smile, it was excruciating to see it on her face. She sat beside me and asked what I was doing. I explained. She placed her hand on my shoulder and told me that she was sorry for disbelieving me, that she misses me. I told her I was sorry for the whole drama, that it won't happen again. We kissed a long, wet, aggressive kiss, to make up for lost time. Then we went back to doing the things i had missed the most: my conversations with her, and the kisses. In her I saw everything I wanted in a lifetime partner.

How Victoria happened, still baffles me. I couldn't believe I was such a slut. The sight of my face buried in her best friends chest, I'm sure, had almost destroyed her. The betrayal of both her best friend and her boyfriend. I had to leave school that day before dismissal. Timo, my bestfriend in class, later told me that Melissa had returned to the class, put her head down on the desk and cried. I cried too. It was two weeks to graduation.

The graduation occasion had begun when I arrived with Timo. We dressed to kill, but I'd dressed only to impress Melissa. We took a seat among our mates, all of us wearing graduation gowns that concealed our efforts to show off our beautiful cloths. Melissa sat five seats to my right, in a row in front of me. She didn't look happy like she use to. Her eyes were cold. I hated myself. I wished that she will look at me again, not once, but twice. Once might be a stray of the eyes, twice could be the sign that she still wanted me, that she will forgive me if I apologized.

I waited, my eyes only on her through my darkshades, waiting, hoping. But she didn't turn, she didn't even as much flinch.

Then there was a stream of tears running down her left eye.