Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

I stared at her face on the screen, then blinked. “Afric, that’s—”

“Kinda mercenary, I know, but it suits me.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that if the men you’re with don’t stick around, then that’s on them, not you. It doesn’t mean you’ll never find someone who wants to spend forever with you. It just means you need to keep looking.”

“But looking is so time-consuming,” she complained.

“Everything worthwhile in life is time-consuming.”

“Well, I’d much rather spend my time at home playing computer games than going out on bad first dates and suffering through boring, stilted or awkward conversations.”

“Okay, you have a point about first dates. I’m not a fan of them either.” I wanted to quiz her further on her dislike of kissing, but I didn’t want to come across obsessed. And sure, random hookups could fulfil a sexual need, but what about her emotional needs? One of the biggest reasons people entered into couples was for the emotional connection and companionship. And I knew she was lying when she said she wasn’t suited to being in a couple. Obviously, it was something she longed for deep down. She wouldn’t have expressed her desire for someone to look at her how Mr Thornton looked at Margaret Hale if she didn’t. She simply wasn’t admitting it to herself.

“I bet you’re adorable on first dates,” Afric said, distracting me from my train of thought. “Do you show up in a shirt and tie, brandishing a bunch of flowers?”

“There’s nothing wrong with trying to make a good impression,” I said defensively because that was exactly how I showed up to first dates.

“I wasn’t being critical. I love how smart you always look. You’re so …” she trailed off, pausing as she thought about it. “Clean.”

I shot her an incredulous look through the screen. “Clean?”

“Yes. It’s a compliment. You never look scruffy.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I, on the other hand, am always scruffy. And my room is always a mess. I bet your bedroom is neat as a pin.”

It was, but I didn’t admit it. “You’re not scruffy. You’re just a little chaotic. But I like chaos. I like getting the chance to turn it into order.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I swear you almost jizzed in your pants the first time you saw my haphazard pile of bank statements,” she said, cackling.

My shoulders stiffened. “I did not … almost do what you just said I almost did. I merely enjoy organisation. It’s not a crime.”

“Never said it was, Neilio. Never said it was.”

“Please don’t start calling me Neilio.”

“Too late. I’m already taken with it,” she replied with her usual cheeky grin. “Anyway, it’s late here, so I better log off. I was thinking of watching the first episode of Sanditon tomorrow? Care to join?”

“Okay, but you can’t complain if there isn’t any softcore porn involved,” I said, and Afric gave another cackle.

“I’ll make no promises, Neilio. There’s a good chance I’ll complain, and you’ll just have to sit back and endure it.” With that, she ended the call before I could tell her to quit calling me Neilio again.

I slid my laptop onto the nightstand and lay back, unable to stop thinking about the fact that Afric didn’t like to kiss. I wondered if it was a phobia or a germs thing. She had mentioned that she liked how clean I always was. Then I considered that it could be due to a bad experience and my jaw clenched instinctively. Had someone forced themselves on her? Had she gone through something awful and was now forever traumatised by the experience? For some reason, I really wanted to get to the bottom of her strange aversion.

Turning over, I clicked off the lamp and closed my eyes. Afric’s pretty lips and cute smile filled my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

Afric

It was only three p.m., and I was already impatient for my nightly video call with Neil. I’d just finished up streaming for the day and decided to go out and treat myself to some sushi at my usual haunt. Instead of taking the bus or a taxi, I decided to stretch my legs and walk since the weather was decent. I could always do with getting a little extra vitamin D since I spent way too much time indoors.

I stopped by my mailbox on my way out of the building and found several bills and one or two items addressed to Sarita. I was busy sorting through them and sticking them in my bag when a familiar raucous laugh caught my attention.

“I’m telling ya, those nuns are like bloodhounds,” the familiar voice proclaimed. “I took a girl from St. Mary’s to her Debs last week, and this one nun got all up in my face when we were dancing. She told me to leave room for Jesus. I tried to explain to her the ridiculousness of the statement. Jesus is an important man. He has far better things to be doing with his time than making sure I keep a respectable distance from the girl enthusiastically backing her arse up against me on the dancefloor.”

I smiled wide as I turned around, beaming as I took in the sight of my younger brother, Billy. His curly hair was an unruly mop, and his hazel eyes shone bright with mischief. He’d teased that he might come for a visit, but I hadn’t expected him to turn up so soon. The only luggage he had was a backpack slung over his shoulder.