Life had taught him one vital lesson to trust no one. Even as his lips lightly brushed hers and his nervous breath fanned her face, he knew that this was wrong but still it was worth it. His first tutorial kiss with Chebo. She smiled nervously up at him. He had never imagined their first kiss, he would have said no. But this was important, he had offered to help her.
“Relax,” he said without smiling.
“You have to relax too, I don’t think Kuzipa will be as nervous as you are.” She pointed out.
David hated that even at this moment she had to be bossy, who was helping who here?
David raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. He had already voiced his concern before and it was met with rigidity. He was all too familiar with Chebo’s stubbornness. He took a deep breath and kissed her again. This time she was less nervous and her naughty side more evident before he could stop it she had grabbed a fist full of his shirt and shoved her tongue into his mouth. Unexpected emotions and feelings coursed through him as if he was scorched he backed away from her.
Chebo smiled mischievously at his reaction. If Kuzipa could look as dazed as David it would be worth the effort.
“Thank you for the lesson Davy I have to go,” she said with a very satisfied smile on her face. He hated it when she called him Davy, and she liked to rile him up.
David straightened himself and pulled his jeans in place to hide the tent that had formed there. He had to stop aiding Chebo because Kuzi was just that type of guy that was going to hurt her. he wondered what Chebo saw in him. Well, Whatever she saw did not matter because a kiss like that murked everything. If she was going to go kissing him like that, damn it! the guy had no chance. University graduate or not.
David walked back into the house and locked himself in his bedroom. He pulled his notebook from his drawer and started writing poems before looking at his time table today he had some free time. Best to use it up before he had to study. Trust Chebo to rally up the feelings that he needed to release in writing. He had the scholarship exams coming up, he needed to pass because that was the only way out of the life he had grown up in.
“David! “ his mom shouted from somewhere in the house. He rolled his eyes as his free time bubble popped, all that writing juice just evaporated at the sound of his mother's voice which was much more effective than any cold shower.
“Ma!” David groaned as he went to find her. He pushed his drawing pencil into his afro and stashed his pocket pad into his jeans. He had to be ready to be inspired otherwise what good is thinking up ideas if you can't put them down.
As an only child of a single mother life was not always pleasant. What he hated more was having to watch his mother move from one relationship to another in the quest of finding him a father. In order to hide and shield himself from the harsh reality, he started writing, at first it was silly and cheesy poems, and then he found that he could live a thousand lives in just one life. With a pencil in hand he felt invincible, be it writing or drawing, he excelled at both.
Writing was the untaught skill that gave him life.
He had come to terms with the absenteeism that had favoured the role where his father should have been. The hole he filled with good behaviour and composure. He was an old soul. He poured himself out best between the lines of his poems and he lived best in the stories he wrote with happy endings.
David found his mom in the kitchen washing vegetables with her back to him, but he could see her reflection on the glass of the cabinet next to the sink. She was mumbling to herself about the skittish way he walked and why she had to do everything for him. He smiled. The way she looked made him less apprehensive of why she had called.
“Ma,” he repeated gently but still she seemed startled.
“I need help preparing lunch, I hope you were not about to go to study. I want to go to the village banking meeting."
David washed his hands and took over from her without complaining. Even if he said he was going to study what difference would that make.
“I thought I heard Chebo, “ his mother said looking over her shoulder for the girl who was usually strapped to her son's hip. She worried they would be up to no good in his bedroom, she was too intelligent, her fear was Chebo would corrupt her son.
“She has left," he replied knowing his mom was seconds from a sex talk.
"It’s just rape? “ he asked checking the sink partly relieved because it was the easiest vegetable for him to prepare. He sharpened the kitchen knife at the base of the ceramic bowl. A sharp knife got the cutting done in good time.
“There is beef in the fridge just warm that up and cook a soft nshima, I will be back later. David that knife was already sharp!" she reprimanded.
David took a deep breath and held his tongue an art he had come to perfect. Sometimes silence was better than eloquence.
He heard her mumble something under her breath as she walked out the door. He smiled to himself. He took out his phone and turned on the Bluetooth, he paired the kitchen speaker and waited for the automated voice.
'Your device is now connected.' he smiled to himself. There was nothing like good music to distract his mind.
He put on the playlist he had made with Chebo for their road trip last year, the kitchen filled with the sounds of Riley Clemmons, Fighting For Me. They had travelled all the way to the Copperbelt dropping applications for University. He took out the chopping board and got to work. His mind betrayed him he went back to the kiss with Chebo, she had changed and she had picked up skills from her time at Unza. in just three months he could barely recognise his best friend.
He squashed the thoughts and he told himself it was a bad idea he should have never agreed to help her. They had been friends for a very long time. If he passed the scholarship tests they may never see each other again, maybe that was why he indulged her. He was scared to lose her friendship.