Chapter Twenty — Two Can Play That Game

In 2000 Shaggy made the song "It Wasn't Me" where his girlfriend caught him banging another girl on the bathroom floor. She saw him, there were cameras but he swore that it wasn't him. Kwame contemplated lying like Shaggy, there was no hardcore evidence but then opted to be honest this time around. Is that character development I’m sensing?

“I was with Nana Yaa” he confessed. Lara saw red.

“Why? What were you doing?” she asked, holding it in.

“We were just chilling.” Kwame’s seeming nonchalance about the whole situation angered Lara. She wanted to smack him clean across the face if that would illicit some form of emotion.

“Are you for real right now? Why are you chilling with your ex?”

“Are you mad about it? I don’t think you should be mad about this. You and I are not exclusive, are we?”

This was splendid. There it was. Kwame hadn’t changed. Not really. He had only adjusted the way he played the game. I know absolutely nothing about chess but let’s just say Kwame had made his move, a good move at that. It was now Lara’s turn.

“Oh really? Okay. You’re right. My bad” Lara said.

Kwame knew this couldn’t be good but then he couldn’t reverse things. “Thank you for telling me” Lara said before leaving.

In the 30 seconds that it took her to come back to our room, her phone was already out and she had texted Peter, one of the many guys in her DMs. She had made her move.

*

Things between Boateng and I had become painfully awkward since the Christmas party. I was making a conscious effort to insert some distance so Marilyn couldn’t fault me when the relationship went sideways and besides, I was spending most of my time with Sly anyway.

Speaking of which, he texted me that there was a movie he wanted to see and he was hoping that I might go with him. According to my mother, every woman deserves to be a passenger princess, this is law.

Picking out an outfit proved to be a herculean task. I mean, what do you even wear to a movie date with a guy you like? I wanted to look cute but not look too dressed up. I also didn’t want to under dress and make it seem like I wasn’t putting in effort. Oh, the struggle was real!

I settled on a pair of biker shorts, sneakers and an oversized graphic tee. He really liked the outfit and I was very happy because not only was I comfortable, but if I ate too much, I would be able to easily conceal my potbelly.

If I tell you I watched the movie, I would be lying. I was nervous throughout. You see, never having gone to the movies with someone I liked, I never thought how it might go and what was supposed to happen. Like, how do you measure the success or otherwise of the movie date?

Lara was not the best person to seek advice from. She had said that most of the time she and her date ended up smooching through 90% of the date. Was that normal or was that Lara normal? Ugh! The struggle!

This is exactly why I don’t do relationships. It’s always so complicated. There are all these unspoken rules and things you have to know and do. I want to be a good girlfriend but there’s no manual on these things.

I did calm down though when he took my hand in his. My right hand was still free to munch nervously on my popcorn. The moment he held my hand, my beating heart calmed and all was well.

We decided to chill for a bit back in his room. Since we were casually chatting, I decided to ask him why he decided to be in a room all by himself.

“I like my own space. I don’t like people coming around often” he said.

“But I come around often” I replied.

He chuckled. “Well, you’re the exception. I love having you around.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I sinned. I broke the cardinal rule. I erred. I slipped. I failed. Oh, the shame!

I had been scrolling through my phone and I cannot determine at which point sleep laid it’s hands on me. How could it? Sly and I weren’t there yet. We weren’t at the sleeping stage. It had happened so suddenly that I didn’t see when I was gone which meant I could not have adjusted myself to sleep beautifully.

Was my mouth open? Did I snore? Did I look like a sweet angel or was the Tasmanian devil possibly a close relative? These thoughts plagued my mind after Sly gently woke me up and walked me to my room.

What of my just woke up face? Did I have sleep lines? Were my eyes bloodshot red? Did I have bed breath? This error was too severe.

Here lies the body of my relationship with Sly. The cause of death being I slept like a dog even before we could become official.

I wasn’t the only one having doubts. Marilyn was about to carry the first cross in her relationship with Boateng. Believe me when I tell you the crosses were many.

On her way back to her hall from her faculty she had run into an old friend. After some light talk, she went “I heard you’re dating Boateng now”. When Marilyn responded in the affirmative, she had said “that’s nice. Good for you. Can never be me though. I heard that boy has a lot of girls chasing him and he cheats”. With those words her envious friend had taken her leave.

The seeds of doubt had been sowed deeply in Marilyn’s fertile mind. Her thoughts watered them. Boateng had a nice Benz car. He was in a private hostel quite a distance away from her hall on campus.

He could cheat easily and she would have no clue. Why wouldn’t he? He was attractive and from how swiftly he had clocked her, he would have no problem getting any and every girl he set his eyes on. After all, there’s a reason they say never date a handsome man.

By the time she went to see him that night, the seeds had grown into flowering plants. The beautiful red flower of jealousy and yellow of doubt and mistrust were in full bloom.

Boateng noticed that Marilyn wasn’t okay and quickly regretted asking her what was wrong.

“I want to go through your phone” she said.

“What?”

“I said I want to go through your phone.” She stretched out her hand, ready to receive the device.

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because I want to know that I can trust you.”

“You can trust me. Do you need to go through my phone to know that?”

All this hesitance was adding fertilizer to the soil.

“I just need to do this’ Marilyn said finally.

In silent acquiescence he handed the phone over to Marilyn who took thirty minutes to peruse ever single messaging app on Boateng’s phone.

Mine was the first name she clicked on each app. She was not enthused that my chat was pinned on WhatsApp or that I was a best friend on snapchat but in each conversation, she had found nothing to set her off. If anything, she felt slightly better.

She handed the phone to Boateng. “Satisfied?” he asked in annoyance. “Yes” she said in a whisper.

Neither of them said anything but they both knew that this act had altered their relationship permanently.