What Dreams Are Made Of




Dates back to the 3rd of December 2015, I was celebrating the second year anniversary with my boyfriend. 

PS: It definitely wasn't love at first sight which by popular opinion is usually the sweetest (well, until you meet a stronger love).

How we met? You really want to know? Sunday day in May, the heat outside the mall buildings contributing to my frustration as I rushed out towards the car park. I bumped into this tall stranger with Hercules’ arms and a smile that would shame Elijah Mikaelson. He bent to pick up bags upon bags of my newly bought dresses, and I stood upright to take them. Handing them over to me, he suddenly withdraws and says to me. 

“Don’t I get a thank you?”

Messy as it sounds, I wasn't interested, at least not that much. 

“Says the flash that bumped into me.”

He stares at me dumbfoundedly and I stared right back. Tugging my bags from his hands proved futile. He smiles again, irritating me more than the warm sweat tricking down my back. 

“Give me my shit and get the hell away from me with your bad breath and unnecessary masochistic behaviour.”

Forgive me but I’m shocked by my words too. What in hell about this man makes me so agitated and unsettled?

He laughs and hands me my bag. Grabbing it, I walk to my car and drive off.

I get to my office and start to change for the unscheduled client meeting at 5:30pm. While rushing my makeup and planning the next day’s schedule, I get called out to get to the company car conveying us for the dinner meeting with the proposed clients. We arrive twenty minutes ahead of time and settle in. 

Yes it’s cliché. I meet Mr. I-request-an-apology at the restaurant. He walks up to me as I walk away from him. 

I’m seated in the midst of my colleagues and this same guy walks up to us, tapping me ever so lightly on the shoulder while taking a non-verbal excuse from them. He draws me to one side of the restaurant and smiles. 

“See mister, if your problem is the sorry, please I’m sorry, you can either eat it with stew or fry it.” I walk back, my attention, squared on my colleagues. He taps my shoulder a bit firmly this time, willing my eyes to him. 

Hissing through my teeth loudly enough to earn angry stares from other customers, I grab his fingers and pinch it tightly, throw it off my shoulder and advance towards him. 

“Get your claws off me and get your apology from someone that actually cares.”

He smiles beautifully; it kills me to admit that. 

“It’s not about the apology; it’s just that you’re sitting on my seat...”

Cold realisation hits and huh? What the bloody huh? He’s the client. No, I mean, he’s THE client! 

I can feel the blood rushing to my face and my ears are steaming. 

I look at my boss and he’s staring at me the same way my sack letter would stare at me. I walk back shamefully and he sits down smiling sheepishly. I’m about to die. 

So much for tenacity and my dreams of being COO. 

I heard only five words from the meeting in which I was supposed to star in, they included; working, together, with, Deji, closely. 

He looks at me after the meeting and bestows a knowing smile; I return the favour albeit weakly. My dry spell begins today for the rest of the year! 

Am I really up for the challenge?

Part Two Coming Up Soon...

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