CHAPTER 3:PERVERT VS SNOTTY

Andrew.

"Good morning, guys! I heard last night’s race didn’t go your way again. I’m curious, how much do you think you could have gained this time? Maybe one or two million naira? Let’s talk about strategies for next time! I think I might be able to help you"

An overly cheerful voice sliced through the morning air, and I turned to see its owner casually plopping down in the seat opposite Hossein. With her back turned to me, she stole a piece of bacon from my breakfast plate, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips, exuding the kind of playful malice that only a she-devil could embody. My stomach churned as I pushed my plate away, the food suddenly unappetizing. I shot her a fiery glare, clearly warning her to back the hell off!

How on earth did she uncover what happened at last night's race?

"It was three million," Min interjected, responding to her question. I shot him a furious glare, my frustration boiling over.

"What the hell, man? I know you're trying to impress her, but it’s bros before hoes, alright?" My words dripped with disbelief and irritation as he shrunk back, looking like a kicked puppy caught off guard.

Meanwhile, the source of my annoyance dared to chuckle at our exchange. Hossein, ever the gentleman, broke the tension by asking a question, adding to the atmosphere of absurdity that surrounded us.

“How are you doing today, Maya?”

The moment the words left his lips, her playful smirk dissolved, replaced by an unexpected sweetness. A bright smile spread across her face, illuminating the dim light of the room, as she leaned closer, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she launched into a lively discussion about a book he had been reading at breakfast.

Seriously, who reads a book during breakfast?

It’s unmistakably Hossein! That's who!

Just one glance at Min and I could read him like a book; his thoughts mirrored my disbelief.

What’s going on with these two?

Hossein has always been a bit of a mystery to us, rarely allowing a genuine smile to cross his lips. He usually cracks jokes only when it’s just the three of us, and his words come alive mainly when Min and I are deep in some ridiculous antics that inevitably warrant a scolding from him—about 90% of the time if I had to guess. But ever since he met Maya, everything seems to have changed. There’s a perpetual, goofy grin that's taken up residence on his handsome face, radiating warmth and joy in a way we’ve never seen before.

And Maya? She’s always laughing, her eyes sparkling with delight at something he’s said as if he’s suddenly become the most amusing person in the world. It’s a delightful transformation, and it leaves us wondering just what kind of magic she’s worked on him.

Dude is not even that funny!

And I’m not jealous, alright?

I promise!

I just can’t stand Maya.

Yeah, that’s definitely it.

I was only six years old when I first met her. She was just five at the time, her tiny frame snug in a pink jacket adorned with a bunny hoodie. I still vividly remember her beaming at me with a smile so adorable that it made my young heart skip a beat. At that moment, feeling a mix of admiration and irritation, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

"Whatcha looking at, snooty?"

From that moment onward, we became bitter adversaries, each view of the other ignited with animosity. She has an incredible knack for getting under my skin without even trying, her presence grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She loathes me with every fiber of her being, and in return, I find myself brimming with contempt for her unapologetic confidence.

Every time we're forced to occupy the same space, an inevitable storm of swearing and sharp words ensues—verbal sparring that has its roots in the physical altercations of our childhood.

Her name is Maya fucking Jones, and she happens to be my cousin... sort of. Our bond is anything but typical; it transcends mere blood relations, creating a connection that's intricately complicated and unique in its own right.

My mother and Maya's mom were inseparable during their childhood, sharing countless adventures and dreams as best friends. I use the past tense "were" with a heavy heart because Maya's mother has since passed away. They spent their formative years together, not only as playful companions but also as college roommates, where my mom discovered the love of her life. Unfortunately, fate had a different story for Maya's mother. After a whirlwind romance, she married a man who, just a year later, abandoned her under the guise of going back to Jamaica to care for his ailing father. It wasn't long before she learned the painful truth: her husband had remarried and started a new family, leaving Maya's mother with a heart full of betrayal and sorrow.

The woman was utterly devastated, her heart shattered into countless pieces, leaving her unable to look after her child. In light of this overwhelming turmoil, my mom stepped in, assuming the responsibility of caring for her beloved goddaughter while her best friend struggled to regain her footing. Unfortunately, the woman never managed to recover from her heartbreak.

It's a truly heartbreaking situation, isn’t it? Yikes! Talk about tough luck!

Maya was just a tender five years old when tragedy struck and her mother passed away. In the wake of this heartbreaking loss, my mom became her legal guardian, taking on the responsibility of raising her as her own. Around the same time, my father embarked on his political career, which came with ambitions that included relocating to Nigeria. Despite the upheaval, my mother had recently been made a partner at one of the largest and most prestigious law firms in London, a significant achievement that highlighted her dedication and hard work.

With this turning point in our lives, Maya returned to Nigeria with Dad, following my mother’s advice that she needed “a change of scenery,” though I couldn’t quite grasp what that truly meant at her age. Meanwhile, I was still very much a mama's boy, deeply attached to my mother, and the thought of leaving her behind was unbearable. So, I chose to stay back in London, clinging to the familiarity and comfort that home represented.

As you might have already guessed, this decision would shape our lives in unexpected ways.

From the very first moment, Maya and I crossed paths, there was an undeniable spark—though not the kind typically associated with friendship. It was more akin to the reckless allure of a moth drawn to a consuming flame. We constantly gravitated toward one another, but our interactions were far from innocent tea parties or innocent talk of crushes and toys.

Instead, our time together was a whirlwind of mischievous pranks that kept both of us on our toes and sent our poor mom into a frenzy of exasperation. It wasn't just occasional annoyance; it was a consistent barrage of chaos that tested her patience daily. I often wondered if my mom had deliberately kept me from visiting Nigeria all those years partly because of Maya. Now that I think about it, I wouldn’t be surprised at all—if I were in her shoes, I’d probably consider doing the same.

"Smirk all you want, snooty, but I'm not in the mood for your petty games today," I remarked, noticing the deranged smirk curving on Maya's lips—a familiar signal that she was scheming something mischievous, as always.

"Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, pervert! I’ve got far better things to fill my weekend with than fretting over your sorry ass," she shot back, her smirk unwavering as my mom strolled into the room, beaming at the sight of us.

"Hello, my beautiful babies!" My Mom exclaimed, her bright smile illuminating the dimly lit room as she made her way to us.

Yeah, my mom has this habit of calling everyone her 'babies,' despite my countless protests that I am her one and only. What? Don't give me that look. I have no interest in sharing, alright?

"You kids should drop by more often; the Villa is so dull without your vibrant energy!" she continued enthusiastically, planting warm kisses on both our cheeks. We all promised to come by more frequently, though I couldn't help but sigh inwardly. How on earth can I evade someone I see at school practically every day and even on weekends when she’s always at the family Villa?

Maya had moved out of the Villa to her own place after high school. And the guys and I found our own spot, too, when we returned to Nigeria a few months back. It just felt... right somehow.

Now, I could share the entire saga of how these two goofballs abandoned their life in London to follow me halfway across the world, all under the pretense that I couldn't possibly survive without them (the gifts certainly helped their case). Truth be told, they’re the ones who can't seem to manage a single day without me, but honestly, I'm too lazy to dive into that whole tale.

So... maybe I’ll save that for another time, yeah?

"Maya, darling! I absolutely love your new look! You look… quite dashing," Mom praised, her eyes lighting up as she took in Maya’s fresh appearance. The curls of her brunette hair now spilled over with streaks of electric purple—a color that didn’t quite mesh with her usual vibe, in my opinion, but hey, to each their own!

"Thanks, Mrs. D. Sasha gave me a makeover," Maya replied, a hint of pride overcoming her usual demeanor.

Mom’s smile softened as she responded, "You're welcome, sweetie! And really, you don’t have to keep calling me Mrs. D. Just call me Mom like the boys do, or Auntie if 'Mom' sounds too strange."

It would indeed feel strange hearing her refer to my mother as 'Mom'—especially when I've always considered myself her sole baby.

I don’t actually have any issues with Maya calling my mom 'Mom,' nor do I think there’s any reason she shouldn’t address her only maternal figure that way. Still, I could sense a touch of awkwardness in the air, considering their years apart.

I could see Maya struggling with this new territory, her face betraying an uncommon uncertainty. (Sighs) I really shouldn’t interfere in their bonding process. They’ll find their rhythm, I’m sure.