Preordained #ProjectNigeria

29- Rebounds

Maduka's POV~

Something is bothering her.

She's an orphan, that I know. But she'd mentioned her Daddy, connected him to her childhood, and the way she'd stopped talking abruptly; I'd known that our stolen belongings had nothing to do with it.

What are your secrets, Nwanyieze? I wonder while driving home. What happened after I left you years ago?

I know that asking her will lead to so many things. She'll want to know why I'm so interested in finding out, and this will pull me into what I don't want...

I'm surprised to see Tasha seated at my door step when I get home. She is obviously drunk, swaying with her eyes half-closed and a smile on her face. An olive green jumpsuit hugs her body in all the right places, and her human hair extensions (probably Peruvian or Brazilian; that is all she ever wears) are tangled.

"Mads," she slurs, trying to get to her feet in her high heels. I wonder how she'd managed so far in those stilettos in the first place.

"Tasha," I reply with a sigh, rushing forward and catching her.

Tasha hasn't gotten bored with excessive partying and drinking; we usually had arguments over this topic countless times when we were dating. She smells of expensive perfume, alcohol, and weed.

"Mads, I've missed you," she giggles, cupping my face in her hands.

"How did you get here?" I ask, trying to successfully open my front door while holding her against me so she won't slide onto the ground.

Another giggle. "I told the taxi man that I lived here. Can you believe he believed me?"

That was risky, especially when drunk. There are evil people in this world, eager to take advantage of people like her.

"Consider yourself lucky that you're actually here," I reply, scooping her up into my arms and moving into my house. It is a three-bedroom bungalow.

She rests her head against my chest and sighs. "You used to do this a lot, lift me up like a baby."

My relationship with Tasha after our break up has been distant. We see each other once in a while, usually by chance, and I make it a point to avoid rebounds of any sorts. Actually, she had broken up with me because she said she'd met someone else, whom I figured was more affluent than I was. I hadn't tried to stop her; it had been better for us both. The rejection had hurt for a while, but time made me realise we were never meant to end up together. I bear no resentment towards her, however.

It strikes me that if Nwanyieze ever said that to me, I would never let her go easily. Tonight, I'd told her I was going no where, even after she'd implied that we stop seeing each other. It had hurt, realising what she meant, but I had pushed it aside and fiercely told myself- while also telling her- that we were not going to stay away from each other.

Why did she even say that? I wonder. Is she seeing someone else? Suddenly I feel the burn of jealousy in my chest. Did she just kiss me, then feel guilty about it?

I place Tasha on the bed in one of my guest rooms, and bully her into undressing and wearing one of my T-shirts and pair of boxers. I artfully exit the room while she does this and return with a glass of water, which I serve her. She is like a petulant child, pouting at me. Sasha comes from an influential family, and she has been somewhat spoiled. Whatever she wants, she gets, and is ready to throw a tantrum and shed a few tears until her plans come to pass.

She has closed her eyes now, her breathing is slow, and I mutter a few words of thanks to God before stepping out of the room.

"Mads?" she calls out in a small voice.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"Do you still love me?"

I pause at the doorway, trying hard not to frown. "Good night, Tasha."

I turn off the lights and leave the room.

The next day, I wake up with Tasha curled up beside me in my own bed.