The room throbbed with adults – some men dancing with their girls, others leaning intimately against the wall. Flavour was crooning about big arse on the music player.
The air was a purple haze, warm, soothing, though it stank of thick fragrances.
The two friends were laughing over a joke, when Amaechi held Chukwudi’s hand, and their laughter died off. Chukwudi thought it strange that he was noticing for the first time how tender his friend’s palm was.
Then he caught Amaechi staring at him.
But Amaechi quietly withdrew his hand, and they both managed not to look awkward.
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