If looks could kill, Ade would be six feet under by now. Deeper even, so far down the residual licks of hell would leave his skin slightly singed and oozing. Thankfully, Lydia could do no worse than momentarily distract him from the beautiful woman sitting beside him in one of the large, burgundy booths that edged around the room. Granted, Ade couldn't remember her name, but when had that ever stopped him?

His mystery girl flipped a mass of bone-straight hair over her shoulder and cocked her head to one side while her manicured hand crept up Ade's leg. "What do you study?" she asked, her kneecap brushing against his outer thigh beneath the chipped wooden bench.

"Math," he said.

Her eyes brightened with the familiar sheen of dollar signs. Eastford's maths department was known for many things. It's competitive nature, for one, high dropout rate and proclivity for churning out finance kings in the dozen. Kings who went on to make bucket loads of money. And if there was one thing Ade knew, it was that money meant girls, even when it was a vague unfulfilled prophecy. Which, he supposed, was why he didn't mind the glimmer in her eyes. After all, everything was a transaction, and if he had the capital to cash in, then so be it.

"What do you study?" he asked, leaving her hand to linger.

"French." Her wine-stained lips parted with a promise Ade quirked a brow at. It seemed enough to get her to launch into a seductive spiel which he took in with a half-amused smirk. She was two years too late for that trick, and even if she wasn't, he knew better than to give in on the first try.

"That the best you got?" He inched closer.

She mirrored his movement and invaded his senses with her overly sweet scent while tightening her grip on his leg. "Je veux te baiser," she whispered against his ear, biting her full lips when she sat back and smiled. It was dainty, demure; nothing like the raw passion that left her voice hoarse moments before.

"And that means?" Ade asked.

She glanced up from beneath her lashes, batting them, and said, "I want to fuck you."

"Now?" Ade's smile darkened.

Without saying another word, she stood up, slipped past, arse millimetres from his face, and turned towards him. There was an innocence in her expression, soft and willing, excited too. That is, it was before she slid her hand into his and tugged, leaving all that sweetness to twist into a sordid vow.

They escaped Sandy's, the student union bar, in a matter of minutes, and shot down the redbrick path that snaked through campus towards the most expensive of the first-year accommodations. It was fifteen floors too tall and overlooked the wide lake, giving its richer residents a perfect view filled with ducklings and elegant swans, grassy banks and daffodils, even the arts building across the way, which was widely regarded as an architectural feat and a major selling point to all prospective students regardless of their interest. Ade had already spent three evenings in the building that week alone—a record, even for him—so what was a fourth?

"I have a studio," mystery girl said, breathless and panting. "We don't need to be quiet."

Three years in and Ade knew it didn't matter. Flatmates or not, he could make a woman scream with two fingers and a single phrase. Wail even, so loud the windowpanes shook. And yet, he merely flashed her a smile and winked as if pleased by the prospect.

She grinned and tore her lanyard out of the small, leather bag that bounced against the rounded curve of her hip. She wiped it across the reader, which beeped seconds later, allowing them to hurtle inside. The lift was slow to arrive, worse when they managed to get into it, but eventually it spat them out on the tenth floor and Ade found himself in perhaps one of the cleanest first year rooms he'd visited this year. The girl kicked off her shoes and lined them up before glancing at him. Once his muddy Airforces were safely left beside her converse, she leapt. His arms shot out, scooping under her arse as she climbed him like a pole and left a litter of kisses along his jaw, each as wet and sloppy as the last.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ade asked, leaning back just enough to be out of reach.

"Of course," she said.

"If at any point you change your mind I—"

"You're the first guy to say that." Her feet caught the scratchy grey carpet with a soft thud while Ade smiled and tucked a stray strand of her behind her ear.

"Consent is important," he said, voice so low it almost ceased to exist. "I don't want you to feel that you have to sleep with me."

"I-I don't," she tripped over words, "but thanks for asking." She then took a step towards him, and another, and another, until her arms were draped over his shoulders, her mouth barnacled to his, and they were inching towards the bed.

It was over before it even began. Good, it was always good, but expected, routine. A kiss, a blow job, a fuck. Never any more, never any less. She was stretched out across the bed, mewling like a newborn kitten, while Ade yanked on his black cotton t-shirt and zipped up his jeans. He then patted his body, checking for his wallet, phone and keys, and stopped only once he'd located each.

"You're going?" Mystery girl jerked up when he knelt to tie his laces, looked down at herself and crossed her arms over her bare chest. The innocence was back, slapping away her devious grin and willing moans for something slightly broken and new.

"I've got a 9am," Ade lied. "But it was great. You were great."

"When will I see you again?" she asked, mouth screwed into a pout.

Ade's eyes skipped over her, taking in the furrow of her brows, subtle, but present, and the way she hunched over, collapsed in on herself so much so she was almost a ball. He noted how she licked her lips, nibbling the corner, and itched the length of her collarbone. How she looked everywhere but at him. All in all, it was enough that he offered up his phone. She needed it.

"Don't be a stranger," she said once her number was saved.

Ade pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, told her she was beautiful and left. The moment the door slammed shut, he deleted the number, not even bothering to check her name, and called the lift.

His phone rang when he left the building. "Where the fuck are you?" Daniel, his flatmate, shouted over the music. "Lydia's pissed."

"Lydia should know better." If Ade was anything, it was honest. At least he had been with her, from the first to the very last.

Daniel snorted. "Well she's ruining the night. The guys already wanna head back for afters. You down?"

"Sure, I'll be back in five minutes."

Ade picked up the pace. Afters was the best part of any night out. That was granted his friends managed, in his absence, to collect a worthy set of girls to bring back. If not, well, he did have a midday lecture to sleep for.

The bar was busier when he returned. Buzzing almost. Electric. Or perhaps that was the shitty neon signs plastered to the wall. Ade scoured the crowd, hunting for Daniel's familiar low fade. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, he found somebody else instead: the perfect main to his first-year appetiser.

When he stepped towards her, Daniel clapped him on the back. "Finally," he shouted over the music. "Let's get out of here."

"Who's that?" Ade nodded towards the stranger.

"I don't know." Daniel shrugged. "She's leng though."

Ade resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Despite the slang and odd obsession with drill, Daniel had grown up on a literal country estate, spent summers in the Maldives, winters in the Alps, and the school year at whatever private school seemed the least racist—read none—to his ridiculously rich, liberal father, and more realistic, but less confrontational, mother. Daniel was also the youngest of four, which, Ade believed, along with the soul-destroying experience of private school, excused the drill.

"Who is she?" Ade asked again.

Daniel groaned and rubbed his face. "We're not going anywhere, are we?"

"Not until I get her name." And her number, and her insta. Maybe even TikTok if Ade were being thorough.

"Good luck with that." Daniel placed both hands on Ade's shoulders and twisted him around, bringing Lydia into his direct line of sight. That once pretty mouth of hers warped out of shape, her frown so large it reconfigured her features until her face was a fizzing ball of anger spewing red goo in an aching arc.

And yet, despite the venom in her stare, Ade simply shrugged her gaze off. "She's all bark and no bite," he said.

"Sure," Daniel laughed.

Ade grinned, emboldened by Lydia's presence and Daniel's disbelief, and stepped into the crowd, slinking past the now dull faces of potential conquests in favour of the night's crown jewel.

Much like a diamond, she was fixed, poised, regal. Her skin shone in sepia-tinged tones, russet brown lips curved into a seemingly bored expression as she pulled out her phone and typed something. She then looked up, eyes locking with his, and raised an angular brow in what Ade took as a challenge.

Never one to back down, he stepped forward and offered her a hand. "I'm Adedayo," he said, "but you can call me Ade."

She glanced at him, made a noise that was deceptively similar to a snort, and stepped right past. Ade swung on his heels, the surprise sting of rejection heightening as he watched her disappear, her hips swinging in time with the music. Fuck, he thought. Game on.

~~~

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