Love and Hiplife

by Nana Prah

  His Adam’s apple bobbed several times. “My pleasure.”

  Never had words felt as if they’d stroked her most intimate places as delicious warmth settled low in her abdomen. She glanced at her chest to ensure that those well-placed tissues were still doing their job. Barely.

  The quicker she got away from him, the better.

  “Look, your life is none of my business.” She pointed in the direction they were supposed to be headed. “How about if we complete the descent so we can go home?”

  He didn’t speak as he stared into her eyes, seeming to consider her for a moment.

  After long seconds of his direct attention, her mouth went dry as she longed to close the gap between them and feel his body against her again. Tilt her head up and stand on her toes so she could kiss him. Just once because her tingling lips needed to know.

  A photo of Deola, resplendent and regal in a splendid silver gown while she hooked her hand into the crook of Blaise’s arm at a gala, burst into her mind.

  She averted her gaze and set her feet to walking.

  “How do you understand Hausa?” he asked after a few minutes of their feet crunching against the earth.

  Heat infused her face despite there being no exertion as they strolled. The question never failed to embarrass her when it should be a source of pride. People tended to question her honesty when she discussed her language skills so much so that she never wanted to. Explaining that she was a genius when it came to linguistics was too much of a hassle.

  “It’s one of the languages I speak. I picked it up when I spent a few months in Nigeria. Bauchi State in the north.” A short and simple answer that should lead to no more questions.

  His jaw dropped, exposing all of his teeth. “You learned Hausa in a few months?”

  She nodded, ignoring his astonished tone. “I’ve always been good with languages.”

  “How many do you speak?”

  She sighed in resignation at having to carry on with the conversation. “I speak eight languages fluently. I’m not counting pidgin.”

  She kept the fact that she understood a total of twelve to herself. That part tended to freak people out.

  She snuck a glance at him as she waited for his reaction. Would he call her a liar? Or try to test her with any of the other languages he might speak?

  The corners of his lips were downcast as he nodded and kicked at a stone on the path with his shoulders hunched forward. “More than the five I know.”

  It sounded like he might be jealous. The man had talents that transcended hers in so many ways, and he was envious of her ability with languages. She transitioned her snicker of delight into a cough.

  She expected at least one question from him about her language skills. But nothing broke the silence apart from the crunch of the ground caused by their steps.

  Her curiosity made her ask, “What’s your fifth language?”

  He rubbed his chin. The combination of the trimmed beard with the faded haircut suited him.

  “French.”

  Her love of his music and languages got the better of her. “Ah. As-tu déjà pensé à l'intégrer à ta musique?”

  A slight horizontal crease appeared on his forehead when his brows rose. “I understood the word music.”

  She spoke in English. “I asked if you had ever thought of adding French into your music. You don’t speak any French at all?”

  He shrugged. “I started taking lessons with a private tutor a couple of weeks ago. I’m moving into the next phase of my career by having French be the base of some of the songs I’m writing. It’ll make me more accessible to the Francophone countries.”

  Did she dare ask? “So, you write your own lyrics?”

  His shoulders appeared broader as his chest expanded. “I do.”

  She pursed her lips to the side, not quite believing him. “You wrote the songs on all three of your albums?”

  “You really are a fan. People remember two. That first one went nowhere.”

  “I know, but in my opinion, it was the best. The nuances you put into the lyrics were insightful. More than just a beat. Even though those were catchy.” She ignored the slight slip of her sneaker. “You didn’t answer the question. Did you write all of the songs yourself?”

  “Every single one. No artist is an island. My producers had input when it came to laying the tracks.”

  She looked into his eyes. Did she believe him? Why shouldn’t she? Not as if she found him to be unintelligent, but to be so graceful with words, not just in one language, but three or four in the same song, was beyond belief. It must be similar to the astonishment people experienced when they learned about the number of languages she spoke.

  A few paces passed before a melodious tune swirled into her ear and captured her attention.

  “When I looked into your eyes for the very first time, I was swept away by their intensity. They were so open one moment and then shuttered closed the next. I wanted to get to know you, but you were gone. Until we met again on the mountain climb.”

  Her body became weightless she got a sense of floating. Bizzy had just serenaded her with a song she’d never heard before. He’d created it on the spot about their encounter. Three languages interwoven into one beautiful set.

  “How did …” Incredulous at his amazing ability to weave words on the go in a way that sent chills down her spine, her extensive vocabulary vanished.

  He shrugged. “Creating songs is my gift.”

  Gazing into his eyes with admiration, she didn’t see the tree root jutting out in the middle of the path until it was too late.

  Considering he was staring at her instead of where they were going, for once, he was the one to trip over the obstruction.

  She reached out to grab him liked he’d done so many times for her. But the contact she made with his muscled arm wasn’t enough.

  Relativity kicked in as time moved in super slow-motion.

  Rather than reversing his downward momentum as she’d hoped, she descended with him.

  With a turn of his head, he must’ve realized she was chasing him down on the ride. Then, he did the most incredible thing.

  In one fluid movement, Blaise grabbed her with both arms and pulled her close. His solid bulk took the brunt of the interminable fall when they landed.

  Still, gravity wasn’t through with them as they rolled a few times together … until they finally stopped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Blaise opened his eyes with a start once they stopped tumbling. On any other day, a beautiful woman lying on top of him would be welcomed. Concern for her wellbeing hit him harder than he had the ground.

  “Lamisi.” He loosened his arms from the tight hold and lifted his head to look at her. “Lamisi,” he said a little louder.

  Her groan caused a sense relief that had him taking full breaths again.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  He winced as she adjusted herself against his chest and raised her upper body to look into his eyes.

  “As far as I can tell. What about you?”

  His buttocks throbbed, but he wouldn’t share that. “I’m sure that even with my brown skin, I’ll be bruised tomorrow from the fall.”

  She reached a hand to the ground to help push herself off of him. He held her in place with a light hold. The warmth of her soft lushness had the effect of some sort of anaesthesia against any pain he hadn’t assessed yet.

  “If you release me, I’ll get up. I know I’m not light.”

  He stared into her eyes. “You’re just right.”

  Her heart thumping hard against his chest increased its pace, and her breathing became shallow and rapid as her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  Electric shocks swarmed along every inch of his skin. If nothing else ever happened in his life, he had to taste her. Relish the fullness of her lips. Lose himself in the reality that made up the woman he’d just come to know as Lamisi.

  He raised his head to meet her flesh. The spark at their con
tact shot into him. But he only had the chance to experience a lingering soft brush of her tantalizing lips as she pressed against him for too short a time.

  Then, she scrambled to her feet and shuffled backwards.

  He sprung up to make sure she didn’t fall again. Bad move. The pain had him seeing full daylight under the canopy of trees as his ankle gave way. He landed back on the ground.

  Lamisi rushed to him and knelt. “Are you all right?”

  He sucked in a breath. “My ankle. I think I may have twisted it. How are you?”

  Other than kissably gorgeous.

  “You broke my fall, so I’m fine.” She touched his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  As a man, he couldn’t let her get hurt for attempting to help him when she didn’t have to. “Anytime.”

  When the warmth of her hand seeped into him, he realized just how much he meant it.

  Once again, she was the one to break the intoxicating moment between them. “Let me look at your ankle.”

  She shifted down to his foot, pulled the hem of his jeans up, and then grazed her fingers along the area just above the rim of his sneaker.

  A red-hot tearing pain bounded around the spot. He tried to stifle the hiss, but it escaped as he pulled his leg away from her.

  “It’s already swollen. It could be a severe sprain or a break. I’m not sure. I’ll run down and get Precious so she can check it out.” Her hand landed on his knee as if to reassure him. “She’s a physiotherapist.”

  Terror clawed at him as he thought of her going down alone. Possibly getting injured. “It might be nothing. I might’ve just been surprised the first time I stood. Let me see if I can put pressure on it.”

  Her eyes went wide and her twists shook with the swing of her head side to side. “I don’t think you should. You saw how well I did trying to stop your fall. Neither of us needs to take another tumble like that again.”

  Unless it’s into my bed. He shook the intruding thought away while the creative side of him made a mental note to write a song using the word tumble.

  “I’ll be okay.” There was no harm in trying.

  Blaise ignored Lamisi’s extended arms as he pushed himself up onto his strong leg. He did accept her shoulder to rest against as he lowered his injured one onto the ground.

  He closed his eyes against the excruciating shards of pain and lifted his foot before he could place his full weight on it.

  “Oh, dear Allah in the Heavens,” he said in Hausa.

  “I would’ve thought you’d be using some swear words,” Lamisi said.

  Grateful for the support, he glanced down at her. “I don’t curse.”

  “Is it a side effect of following Muslim rules?”

  He grinned. “If you want to call my mother’s chastisement and punishment of uttering it a side effect, then so be it.”

  She laughed as she helped him sit on the ground.

  He grunted as he gingerly settled his leg in front of him.

  “Keeping my language clean was one of several stipulations she gave me when I told her I wanted to go into the music industry.” He caught her gaze. “That, and making sure to respect all women.”

  “Sounds like she’s strong and instilled some good values into you.”

  Proud of his mother’s achievements when it came to educating the women in her town and those surrounding them in the Northern Region of Ghana, he smiled. “She is.”

  Lamisi pulled out her cell phone. “There’s no signal. I’m going to get Precious and the tour guide.”

  Having no other choice but to let her go, he grasped her hand and squeezed. “Be careful.”

  “I will. I’ll be right back.”

  He watched as she descended. Out of sight, he tested the ankle by moving it. He let out the growl of pain he hadn’t been able to express in Lamisi’s presence.

  And then, he relaxed or tried to while he waited for help to arrive.

  Sure, he’d just experienced agony like he couldn’t recall in years, but he’d also just had the ultimate of sweet kisses. Something that wouldn’t have happened if he’d been paying attention to where he’d been going rather than staring into her enthralling dark eyes.

  His lips still tingled from the brief touch. He wanted more. To make it a deeper encounter and have her respond to him rather than run away.

  As much as she might want to deny it, she liked him. At least, she’d been impressed with his music. Always a plus.

  Already, she’d inspired him to write. Tumble was the word she’d thrown at him. Which language would he use to describe his plunge into her eyes and seeing straight to her soul?

  He’d always been told, especially by his stern disciplinarian of a father, that he was emotional. He’d learned over the years how to take advantage of it through poetry, and eventually, his lyrics, rather than be ashamed. He understood his feelings, and with Lamisi, he’d definitely toppled into something he’d never experienced before.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lamisi rubbed her arms as the sensation of needles pricked into her skin. She had to look down to make sure they weren’t real. She hated hospitals. No, not even close to the word. Detested, deplored, despised all rolled into one would better suit her feelings about the institution. She still hadn’t gotten over childhood incidences of treatments and injections which had supposedly been meant for her own good.

  “Are you okay?” Precious asked as they sat in the waiting area of the Emergency Room while Blaise’s two friends had gone to his bedside.

  She lied with a nod while clasping her trembling hands together. She wouldn’t be okay until the disgusting antiseptic scent left her nostrils.

  Precious shook her head with a deep frown altering her beauty. “I’m surprised you volunteered to join us.”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  She kept her voice low, out of earshot of Abdul’s and Musah’s wives. The youngest one kept glaring in her direction. Not the first time a Ghanaian woman had given her nasty looks she didn’t deserve. It wasn’t as if she’d pushed Blaise and laughed over him in victory. Lamisi ignored her.

  “The guy broke my fall by letting me land on top of him.” For a moment, her nausea receded as she recalled his heroic action along with a kiss she’d never forget.

  For those few seconds in his embrace, she’d allowed herself the luxury of believing that only they existed in the world. The craving she’d experienced to get even closer had magnified by a thousand as she lay sprawled on top of him. That kiss had been inevitable.

  Or so she allowed herself to believe because her stomach roiled with the wretchedness of her guilt. She’d kissed another woman’s man. If he couldn’t say outright that he wasn’t dating Deola, then it meant they were. Having been cheated on by two guys in the past who she’d thought she’d been seriously involved with, she never wanted to make another woman experience the same type of detrimental betrayal at her hand.

  “Let’s go.” Her friend’s voice jogged her mind into the present. “I came to make sure he got the X-ray. We don’t need to wait.” She raised a finger and moved them left to right in Lamisi’s face. “Your phobia of hospitals is making your eyes look glazed.”

  Lamisi blinked several times.

  “I don’t have a phobia.” She rubbed damp palms against her jeans. “Just a debilitating fear.”

  Those last words had come out as a mumble.

  Precious considered her.

  “And yet, instead of staying at the hotel, or even in the car, you decided to come in. Interesting,” she drawled out.

  “You had to be there to see the acrobatic feat he performed.” Lamisi rolled her hands around themselves, failing to replicate with their motion what had happened. “Escorting him here was necessary.”

  Precious nudged her shoulder with her own. “You’ve had a crush for years. He’s gorgeous, successful, and from what I observed, seems to like you, too. A guy doesn’t stare at someone like he did you unless he appreciates what he sees.”


  Wait until she told Precious about the kiss, the impromptu song, and Deola.

  Her shoulders slumped at the last. “Let’s stay a little longer. I want to find out how his ankle is. I hope it isn’t broken.”

  What could she do for him if it was? Nothing. Why was she fighting nausea and a possible fainting spell by hanging around?

  “I doubt it, but it’s better to be sure. You look more green than brown right now. Let’s go see how he is so I can get you out of here.”

  Every muscle in her body had become sore as if she’d been, well, climbing a mountain. She wasn’t sure if her jittery legs would be able to support her if she stood. She shivered as sweat meandered down the side of her face from the terror threatening to drown her.

  “I hate hospitals.”

  Precious looped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I know. That’s why you being here for him is so shocking. You like him, don’t you?”

  “I respect his music. It’s incredible. Most people don’t recognize that he’s taken a social stance while dancing to his songs. Not until he gives his interpretation during an interview. Plus, he protected me when he didn’t have to.”

  Precious raised a brow. “Weren’t you the one trying to stop him from falling when he tripped?”

  She wasn’t having that conversation again. Nor would she admit that she liked him. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was making his way up the music charts while she’d be completing her doctorate within the year. They lived completely different lives, and other than being multilingual, probably had nothing in common.

  Then why was she still sitting in this dreaded hospital waiting for him?

  “Help me up. That mountain did bad things to my legs, and I’m not sure I can walk anymore after sitting for so long.”

  Precious laughed. “What makes you think I can get up myself?”

  Lamisi’s breath snagged as her attention caught the hiplife star hobbling down the corridor. “Here comes Blaise with his friends.”

  At the sight of him without plaster of Paris on his lower leg and supported by Musah alone, she forgot the soreness of her body, stood, and went to him.