Ade woke with a blistering headache made worse by Daniel's off-key rendition of a Whitney Huston ballad he had no business butchering. His voice grew while Ade shuffled towards their kitchen, swelling to an indefinite point until it crashed and burned, leaving Daniel rocking a sheepish grin and Ade a scowl. "I'm making eggs," he said as if it made up for the tone-deaf crooning.

Ade's scowl deepened and he stepped towards the stove. "I'll make the eggs."

"Why? My eggs are far superior."

Being the eldest of three taught Ade several things, namely to ignore other's delusions. Living with Daniel served only to strengthen the lesson, especially when, up until two months ago, he was liable to burn pasta and make thin, gruel-like rice which doubled, or really only, served as glue. And yet, despite his history of kitchen woes, or maybe because of it, Daniel seemed to think he was the Gordon Ramsey of eggs. So, Ade backed off, hands raised, and stationed himself beside the fridge, glancing down to check Daniel returned the fire extinguisher to its rightful home beside the dustpan and brush.

"Did you find that girl?" Daniel asked as he cracked a speckled egg into a still cold pan. "You know, the one from last night."

"No."

"Mad. Ryan said she has a boyfriend."

Ryan also proclaimed that Tupac was alive, and the illuminati was real, so Ade said, "Ryan doesn't know shit."

"Maybe, but he did see her leave with Wes last night."

"Wes?" Ade raised an eyebrow. "As in Wes Wes?"

"Yeah."

"So?" Wes may have been many things, but competition he was not. At least not anymore. "I left with that first year."

"And you had sex with her." Daniel waved the spatula until there was a trail of olive oil around his feet.

"Yes, but she's not my girlfriend."

"I don't get you," Daniel laughed good-naturedly. "You put all this time and effort into chasing girls, and then never stop to enjoy it."

"Trust me," Ade grinned, "I enjoy it. And you would too if you just—"

"I love Abi." There was no shame in Daniel's voice. No whiff of embarrassment. Not even a well-deserved lick of mortification. In fact, there was nothing, that is if you don't count the sour taste of truth. One which had become the bane of Ade's life. That is unless it would finally come in handy.

"Do you think Abisola knows her?" Ade asked.

"There are thousands of students," Daniel said between his attempts to flip the egg. It stuck to the pan, leaving flecks of blackened flesh and brown crispy edges in its unsalted, overly firm, wake. "I doubt Abi would know her," he continued, undeterred, "and even if she did, she wouldn't give you her number."

Bane.

"You're doing it wrong." Ade stepped forward. Daniel raised a hand for all of two seconds before side-stepping out of the way, leaving a clear path to the stove and the now smoking sunny side ups. Ade filled the space quickly, disposed of Daniel's crime, and oiled the pan. He cracked an egg once the oil was hissing and watched the translucent liquid turn opaque.

Unsurprisingly, Ade cooked double the number of eggs in half the time. He served them with toast and grilled tomatoes.

"Fancy," Daniel grinned when Ade handed a plate over.

Ade resisted the urge to roll his eyes and followed Daniel towards the living room, where they collapsed into the plush grey sofa cushions in sync. "I bet Abisola knows her," Ade said with a grimace. He hated to admit it, but she seemed to know everyone. That is everyone who made up the potential membership of Eastford's burgeoning ACS.

"You're still on this?" Daniel groaned as he sliced into his perfectly formed yolk.

"Yes. She was..." Ade's voice hung, baffled and slightly bewildered. No one had ever walked away. Not like that. Not so sure of themselves they disappeared without searching for more, hunting for the one thing that told them if it was worth it. Not even Ade had mastered such forbearance. But there she was, swanning off like he didn't even matter. Which was impossible. He always mattered. He had to.

"I think leave this one," Daniel said as if his opinion mattered. "What are the odds you ever see her again? And even if you do, she's clearly not interested."

"I'll make her interested," Ade said.

"Sorry bro, but not even you can fix this. She completely ignored you. If that's not a massive fuck you, I don't know what else is?"

"Actually fucking me." Ade smiled and softened the edges of his words until they were smooth and pliable, but the centre, well that was pure steel. Reinforced, fixed, eternal.

"In your dreams," Daniel laughed.

Ade's smile widened. It gleamed and refracted across the blank tv screen. If there was one thing he knew about himself, he made his dreams a reality.

~*~

The ground floor of the main campus library was where work went to die. Ade liked to think of it as his arena. Impressionable first years, curious seconds, and impatient thirds. He excelled, taking the chaos in stride as he slinked from table to table, collecting numbers like infinity stones. Sometimes he even cashed in, taking the hand of whoever was game and leading them into the basement where the hallways were silent and the bathroom stalls wide. True, they were never his finest moments, but a boy had needs. Needs which could, at present, only be scratched by a glorified apparition. So, rather than engage the first beautiful women he noticed in a staring match, he slumped into the seat across from Daniel with a resounding thump and placed his laptop on the circular table. Being good was hard.

"You alright?" Daniel barely spared him a second glance.

"Yeah." Ade sat straighter and trained his eyes on the slight wrinkle in the centre of Daniel's forehead. "Just tired. Dr. Hughes was on a mad one today."

"Abi went to get coffee." Daniel finally looked up from his laptop. "Do you want me to ask her to get you something?"

"So she can spit in it?" Ade's mouth screwed into a frown so deep it deserved its own postcode. "No thanks."

"I'd leave that to one of the hundred girls you've fucked over," Abi said from behind. She leaned over his shoulder and placed two paper cups in the middle of the table before taking a seat beside Daniel.

"Abisola." Ade offered her a curt nod.

"Adedayo." She volleyed his name back with just as much spite. "Didn't expect to see you here so early. Don't you usually come when the delirium sets in? I mean, how else are you supposed to score?"

"Sweet you care," he said, "but I do perfectly well regardless of the time of day."

"What about place?" She leaned back, baby pink braids spilling over the curved edge of her seat. "I hear you struck out at Sandy's last night."

"Is that so?" Ade's gaze shifted onto Daniel who was miraculously laser focused on whatever happened to be on his laptop screen. "Care to explain?" he asked nevertheless.

"Ade." Daniel stretched his name out like a slinky. "Come on man, you did strike out."

"It was a momentary setback."

"You don't even know her name."

"I didn't know the name of the girl I slept with last night, and yet."

"Adedayo, ladies and gentlemen." Abi gestured to Ade with a roll of the eyes. "Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe, just maybe, not everyone is attracted to arseholes?"

"Impossible." Ade's lips curled. "Daniel's attracted to you."

"Ade." Daniel cut him a glare; his fingers visibly tightened around his coffee cup. "Come on, man, that's my girl."

"Who can handle herself," Abi hissed before refocusing on Ade. "Your reputation precedes you," she explained. "Even if you don't know her, maybe she knows you."

"Like that matters."

"Why? What are you going to do, hold her against her will until she declares her undying love?"

"It would never get to that," Ade said with absolute certainty. No one could resist him, not when he put in the time. And he would put in the time.

Abi let out a bark of laughter. "You really are the worst," she said.

"Right back—"

"Miriam?" Abi jumped out of her seat and threw herself at a passing student. She was wearing navy leggings and an oversized black hoodie, braids collected in a high ponytail that spilled over her shoulders and framed her face, drawing attention to the downward slant of her eyes, her prominent cupid's bow and two-toned lips, ruby red and forest brown. The exact same face which, just last night, was awash with a golden glow befitting a queen. "Where were you last night?" Abi asked, shoving her shoulder.

Miriam, Ade presumed, rolled her eyes and hiked her backpack higher. "Wes dragged me to Sandy's," she said with a voice so soft it almost failed to exist. Unexpected considering just how confident she was. Not that quiet meant unconfident, but it certainly didn't inspire the same spark as the vivacious swing of her hips. "Was Tracey's good?" she asked.

"She forgot to buy alcohol," Abi said, her voice sounding vulgar and raw where Miriam's was smooth, softened by its own special dulcet tones. "And you know she only has that fucking expensive Tesco Express near hers. Everyone was pissed."

"Forgot or refused?" Miriam grinned, eyes fluttering.

"Right." Abi shook her head. It seemed to inspire a tinkle of laughter to escape Miriam's parted lips. "Like don't offer to host if you don't want to," Abi said. "We could've hung out somewhere else. Anyway, how was Sandy's?"

"Uneventful." Miriam shrugged, mouth closed and pursed into a thin line.

Ade felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut. Swift, deadly, lingering.

"I mean its Sandy's," she continued. "I'd rather get a Brazilian then go there."

"Unless Wes asks you to go," Abi grinned.

Miriam rolled her eyes again. "Speaking of Wes." Ade's ears pricked and he honed in on her words. "He's cool with us using the flat tonight as long as everyone's out by ten. He has an early tutorial."

Were they flatmates? More?

"Will he be joining?" Abi asked. "I mean, as an honorary member of the committee, he has to."

"After last time, I doubt it." Miriam grinned; her dark eyes imbued with a layer of radiance unparalleled by even the sun's brightest rays. "But anyway, I should get going. Wes and I have a yoga class in ten minutes."

Abi let out a startling bubble of laughter. "Only you and Wes," she said with a shake of the head. "Only you and Wes."

Miriam winked, smiling softly, and left, her braids bouncing against her shoulders as she floated towards the exit.

There was something almost transcendent about the experience. How she'd seen Ade again, noted his presence, at least he hoped she had, and still done nothing. No hello, or introduction, not even a smile or suggestion of recognition. It seemed that all she cared about was Abi and Wes. Which made no sense because who the hell cared about Abi? Or Wes, for that matter?

"You're staring." Abi chucked a pen in Ade's general direction. It landed beside his laptop before rolling towards the edge of the table and clattering to the floor.

"That was the girl," Daniel explained.

Abi snorted. "You're kidding? Miriam? No wonder you struck out."

Ade straightened and pushed his shoulders back, chin jutting out. "Why?" he asked. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

"Not that I know of," Abi said.

"So Wes is?"

"Officially, her flatmate."

"And unofficially?" Ade asked.

Abi picked up her coffee and took a long sip. "None of my business," she said once she'd cleared her throat. "Just like it's none of yours."

"Except it is," he said. Insisted.

"And why is that?"

"Because she's going to be mine."

"One." Abi raised a finger. "That's deeply misogynistic. And two, you barely know her."

"I know she's gorgeous," Ade said.

Abi let out the most derivative laugh Ade had ever heard. It would've taunted him if he cared. "And what?" she asked. "That's enough?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. You are crazy."

"Whatever." Ade shrugged off her ridicule and threw it right back in her face. "Are you going to help me or not?" he asked.

"Help you?" The legs of her seat scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. "Yeah, I think not."

"Fine." Ade slid his laptop into his bag. "It's not like I need you anyway." After all, he had a name, a link. It was certainly a lot more than this morning. And anyway, with girls like Miriam it was always a marathon, not a sprint.

~~~

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