In case you missed the first part; you can read it here.
The feeling I had later that evening was every bit glorious. That juicy little delmonte-ish feeling that comes when the object of your affection is sitted across the table, laughing at your senseless jokes while looking at you with that fire in his eyes.The fire that melts your heart while cooling all your senses at the same time. Like you are the only girl that ever existed.
We were at Sunjeel, the coziest Indian restaurant in Eldoret. We had resorted to walk there after leaving the North Rift offices but I doubt my feet were in constant contact with the ground. I can swear on my grey flat shoes that at some point I felt as though I was floating on air. This was a case of love literally lifting me. It reminded me of the day I first set my eyes on Jeremy, for that was his name. That was way before we ever had a talk or thought that love was a path we could walk. My first crush.
The year was 2010.Six solid years down memory lane. I was naïve, a flourishing adolescent straight outta monoism. My tits were only beginning to show so in essence I was majorly interested in understanding the dynamics of a brassier (The word “bra” is too mainstreamJ).Well, that and the dynamics of why the girl with the biggest mammary glands*ahem* in class always received the highest number of mails from boys’ schools. I later came to figure that out. My self-esteem had esteem issues; basically rock-bottom and my history with men was barely written. Actually the only man I had ever slept with was my father, and just before the holier-than-thou start pointing fingers, I slept with him before I was conceived. I was greener than green.
I feared boys or was it hate? Their smooth chins and smooth talk simply irked me. This resentment had been cultivated over years because one time when I was in class 4, this cute boy winked at me during an intensively boring Math lesson. It was one of those unending lessons that were just before 12:35 pm. Those lessons were hell on earth and every one kept making faces at the bell-ringer. During this particular one, Pythagoras triangle looked like a circle because the plate was the only thing in everyone’s mind. Blame it on my hunger or whatever you will, I reported that winker-boy to our madam. I literally walked to the front of the class with a pouted face and stopped her mid-sentence before unceremoniously announcing “Joji(read George) amenifinyia macho”. The class burst into resounding laughter. Needless to say, the madam who also happened to chorister in our local church choir gave a long-short ranting of how that is “tabia mbaya” before giving Joji three canes that turned his winking face to a wincing one. Let’s just say Joji and I could not see eye-to-eye for the rest of the term.
The construct of my mind was that all boys were up to no good. Until I saw a kiss .A well garnished kiss with just enough salt. That kiss was in the form of a human and Jeremy was its name. Oh boy!
It was during the regional science congress fair held at Kakamega High School that year. He walked onto the stage ruler and charts in hand, with confidence smeared all over that tall, dark and handsome body of his. Clearly ready to wow. His hair was kinky, his eyes a bit red and his white school shirt was partly not tucked. It was too white for a senior so I concluded he had done the modest thing we all used to do. Borrow from the Form ones. He must have realized his lips were too dry because he kept licking them, which for some reason amused me .He set up his charts on the board and started his presentation.
The whole hall fell in a hush. His voice was full of character, commanding and convincing at the same time. Even the naughty couples licking each other’s lollipops at the back listened. Every so often he cracked a joke and I wondered “Damn! Who cracks a joke about biogas and gets away with it?” I was awe-struck. Those dry lips were suddenly lovely; those red eyes were the most adorable gems I had ever seen. I shifted in my seat one too many times, trying to shake off the idea that I actually really liked this strikingly intelligent lad. His words rolled off his tongue straight into the chords of my heart: plucking, caressing, humming a tune so mellow it made my knees weak.
I vowed to talk to him that evening. I did not hate boys anymore, at least not this one…
The story continues in next week’s part three of MY FIRST LOVE. Stay awake.
In case you’re new in this hood,here is the link to part one.Feel warm.