Transatlantic Sweethearts by TJ Benson

"I’am standing on the Nicon Hilton hotel now, on top of the parapet roof overlooking Abuja skyline…” Stephanie Nwuba babbled hurriedly fighting the chill that came with increase in altitude as she looked for the best position to place the mobile phone on her hand. She had just closed from work and was hence wearing only a silk purple blouse and a skirt, no match for the lingering harmattan cold. “Where are you?”

“I’m on the top of the Chrysler building…” came the muffled male voice on the other end of the line. “I’m guessing you just came back from work?”

“How did you know?” she squealed. “You’re not back are you?”

“No!” he chuckles. “Its to 12 over here and since the time difference between Nigeria and Newyork is 6 hours, I guessed it would be about 6…right?”

Her Knight by Hannah Onoguwe

The streets had decongested as the day drew to a close and became more of a joy to drive through. It was a typical balmy night in Ibadan, but Eniola didn’t feel any of it as the air conditioning in the car licked over her skin. The air outside was undoubtedly warmer, and right now she was glad it was out there- beyond the cocoon she currently inhabited which smelled of fairly new rich leather and a combination of car deodorizers. The odor was a bit too overwhelming in delivery, she mused, but to each his own. The present company wasn’t much, either, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least the evening would soon come to an end. And she wouldn’t be too sorry, either.
When the Benz drew to a stop for no apparent reason, Eniola was surprised but not unduly alarmed. Giving Uncle Edwin an inquisitive look, she asked what the matter was. She hadn’t heard any strange noises and they were still a considerable distance from her house. Maybe he wanted to answer the call of nature- a call men seemed to answer wherever and whenever.
He had half-turned in his seat to face her, his square face relaxed in a smile. “Nothing. I just thought we could talk a bit.”
She tucked a strand of braided hair behind one ear. “We’ve been talking for a major part of the evening,” she said slowly.
“Yes, but there are one or two issues we’re yet to touch.”
Eniola’s heart sank. Did Nigerian men have to be so predictable?
“What issues?”
“Come on, Eniola. You’re not a child. You should know that I like you… I like you very much.”
Actually, she’d been hoping the interest she’d witnessed in his gaze on occasion had been a trick of the light. “So…what exactly are you saying?”