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Genevieve felt much safer and comfortable watching from a secluded corner. Her younger brother and his wife, alongside their three-year-old son, welcomed their guests seated under the canopy, mounted up within the compounds of their family home. They wore an exact native attire. Their smiles were wide and their gestures polite. They had just made it out of the house that late afternoon since returning from the church service. Music blasted through the speakers and a few guests chatted out in their dialect.

She couldn't find it in her to mingle. Well, she didn't know how to do that. They weren't exactly the people she knew. A few were here on behalf of the couple; another set, on behalf of her parents and the rest, were members from the church, here to share in the joy. She wished more than anything that she was back in her apartment, curled up in her bed, away from swarming eyes and blasting speakers. Frankly, she wasn't the party type. She had never been.

"Gene! Gene!" She felt a pull on her arm, forcing her to turn abruptly and face her mother, a lady whose facial features were like hers, as well as heights.

"Why are you standing here?" Her mother scolded at the same time as she queried. Without waiting for a reply from her daughter, she dragged her along with her.

"I need to introduce you to an old friend." She explained in much enthusiasm as she dragged her under the canopy. There, her mother presented her in front of an older lady. She didn't seem familiar to Gene at all.

"This is my daughter, Genevieve; and dear, this is Ruby. We attended the same university."

"Good afternoon, ma'am." Genevieve greeted with a light smile and a touch of humbleness. Ruby laid a hand on her shoulder as she displayed a warm smile.

"Afternoon, dear. Your mother and I were very close friends back in school. Currently, I live in the States so this would be our first meeting." She felt the need to explain, and Genevieve nodded in understanding. Ruby drew a little closer to her.

"Don't worry, dear, your mother has said it all. I promise you, by the end of next year, you'll get married."

Married? Genevieve's brows arched up in question, as surprise entailed within her eyes. She couldn't help but spare her mother a glance, who smiled like there was nothing wrong with what was happening.

"You might not know, but there are successful Nigerian men over there searching for the perfect, well-behaved Nigerian woman ready to become their wives. I promise to set you up with only the very best." The older lady bragged some more and by this time, Genevieve felt utterly embarrassed as well as uncomfortable. She found it harder to keep up her smile, yet she couldn't throw a tantrum.

Overall, she blamed herself for forgetting that her mother would never give up so easily.

She walked into the lounge early at night, holding on to her clutch purse and dressed in something simpler, romantic and date-wise. Her makeup was subtle, yet different from her daily keep up. For a moment, she spared the room a glance; there was no sign of the familiar face she was in search of. Sparing her wristwatch a glance, she realised she was five minutes earlier than their agreed time. Mentally, she shook her head at herself. It's so her to arrive before the scheduled time.

Regardless, she was glad to be here on time, and without wasting a second more to attract attention, she made her way towards the bar and took her seat on a stool. As she drew in a deep breath, she realised she was more nervous than she thought.

What if he turns out to differ from what I expected?

What if the picture on his profile was never really him?

What do I do if this turns out to be a mistake?

Negative questions began flooding her thoughts, and she shook her head to rid herself of them. She had already taken this step. She simply had to believe everything would be alright.

"Good evening." The bartender greeted to get her attention, to which she replied with a greeting of her own.

"Can I get you anything?" He politely asked and Genevieve shook her head.

"Maybe not yet." She told him and he nodded in understanding before walking away. She lowered her eyes as she spared her wristwatch another glance. Five minutes after seven. He was five minutes late. No problem. Five minutes wasn't so much. She could spare him those minutes.

Why a lounge? Genevieve had been reluctant to ask him that question the moment he mentioned one that operated within the premises of a renowned hotel. She wasn't the party type. She had never been to a club and now she was waiting in a lounge for a man she met online. Most times, she was the type to think ahead of herself, but in this case, she went with the flow for once in her life. Hopefully, she'll never live to regret the decision.

Once more, she checked her wristwatch and pipped her head up like a giraffe, as her eyes scanned the entrance for any sign of her date, but he was nowhere to be seen. Worry filled her as he was more than an hour late. Steadily, she grew upset, but she did well in getting her emotion under check.

At least a call would do.

Yet, nothing. She wondered if it was alright if she called him. She felt frustrated. Not even a text. That was the time Gene's anger was becoming hard to control. Perhaps the traffic jam was terrible on his side. A part of her tried to reason with herself. Suddenly, her phone rang, and she reached into her purse. His name displayed on the caller ID and for a moment, she drew in a deep breath, calming her nerves for her voice to come out alright. They'd never spoken over the phone, and Genevieve had no problem with that. They were both busy people.

"Hello." She was first to speak up as calmly as she could.

"Yeah hello, I'm speaking with Genevieve, right?" His voice was deeper than she'd unknowingly imagined.

"Yes." She replied.

"I'm sorry. I can't make it tonight."

"What?" Her tone dropped at the unexpected information.

"Yeah so, let's chat later."

"Wait, wait, wait!" She was quick to stop him from disconnecting the call.

"Let's chat later? What about an explanation? Don't I deserve to know a good reason I've been sitting in a lounge all alone for the past one hour and twenty minutes?" She quizzed as she felt the anger she'd carefully ignored through the course of his delay swell by the second.

His silence lasted longer than she would prefer, and it only aggravated her.

"I'm sorry. I guess this was a big mistake."

"Mistake!? What is a mistake? Leading me on or having me sit here like an idiot..."

"Listen, madam, I never lead you on. You desperately latched on to me. You should be grateful I gave you a chance." He interrupted her outburst.

"You're a silly man! I can't believe I stooped this low and gave this process a chance..."

He cut the call on her and unknown to her, she kept yelling a few hellos into the phone.

"Go to hell! I'll never need a man like you in my life!" She exclaimed in annoyance into her phone before setting it down before her. At the moment, she couldn't care less about the few eyeballs that rolled in her direction. He was unbelievably rude to her and the fact he saw no reason as to explain himself said a lot about his character that she never knew about.

She felt so upset, but most of all, with herself for believing and considering what had always seemed ridiculous to her. Now, she was deeply hurt. Deep down, she had secretly hoped it could work out with Alex, but just like every other recent decision, she was wrong.

Glancing over to the bartender, "I'll take that drink now." She told him and he nodded in accordance. Genevieve couldn't care anymore. She was going to let loose. If there isn't a suitable partner written in her stars, so be it. She would die an old, lonely spinster.

The thinking part was simple, but accepting it was a little different. She would have to swallow the bitter truth of her life. The first drink handed to her, Genevieve gulped it down at once, then the second, third and fourth. It tasted awful, but she wasn't about to stop.

Shortly, she felt much loose than she'd ever been before. Her head spun a little and her vision went back and forth from clear to make twice as much. Her worries seemed like a haze. There's no way she was already drunk just from a few glasses. She giggled at herself as she looked to the other side and met an unusual stare from a man whom she hadn't noticed and who knows how long he's been there the whole time. He tilted his head a little to the side, a soft smirk played by the side of his face, and he wasn't in the least bit bothered about hiding the fact that he was staring.

"What?" she had to ask, as everything about him made her uncomfortable. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You seem familiar." His voice was deep and his words sounded little posher than an average Nigerian. Perhaps an accent.

Lazily, she blinked.

"Really? I seem familiar? That's the best you could do?" She implored, then shook her head as she looked away from him. "They no longer try at all." She confessed to herself before gulping down the drink in her cup and gestured to the bartender to pour her another.

"Have we met before?"

She turned to him only to realise he had taken the seat right next to hers, closing any wide enough space that ever existed between them. Well, that was fast.

His gaze was still inquisitive and unexpectedly, she drew her face a little closer to his, much to his surprise. He stared at her wide-eyed. She squinted her eyes, narrowing her gaze.

"Definitely not." She gave her reply as she leaned away, then gulped down her next drink. Her head told her to stop with the drinks, but she just felt so exhausted with everything that she simply wanted to forget, even for a short while.

"In that case, why is a pretty woman drinking alone?"

She scoffed. The word pretty sounded out of context for her.

"Pretty." She repeated. "A pretty woman wouldn't feel the need to meet a man online for fear of growing old alone someday... A pretty woman would have exclusive confidence in her beauty, right?" She blurted out before glancing at his side. Yup, she definitely had too much to drink.

His gaze was undecipherable. She could barely tell what was going on in his mind, but something about his expression made it obvious that he was thinking. After what seemed like a while of matching his gaze, he broke it as he picked up his cup off the counter.

"You know what, to me, you're pretty, so I will not let you drink alone." He drew the cup close to his lips and gulped down his drink.

She blinked a few times as her eyes stayed on him. A part of her felt he was unbelievable, but the other part felt a little relieved that even for a few moments, she would not be alone.