The sounds of dull chatter mixes with the tunes coming from the piano.

I pause to watch the pianist practicsing african tracks popular in the mainstream gospel industry.

While our youth ministry's effort to keep up with the times had lacked in the music dppartment, the bright strobe lights, with cinema like seats and fancy gadgets was characteristic of Nigerian megachurches.

"Excuse me." a voice says.

I step aside from the doorway as the irritated girl walks straigt past me to her supposed friend group

Jemima or something -I couldn't really remember her name, but I had seen her around.

My foot keeps moving and as I near the seats I spot Demilade in his usual row, watching the clock go by.

For a moment our eyes meet, before I turn away and stop right in the front seats.

"This will have to do," I tell myself as I choose the corner most chair where I best chance of going unnoticed.

Service was always the usual drag of bible trivia's and a slightly advanced kids church -nothing I didn't already know or hear from those teen devotionals my mom made me read everyday.

"Mind if I take a seat."

My heart does a tiny flip and I force myself to keep my eyes glued to my phone.

"It's a free world," I say.

"Okay." he drags out, and I feel his body heat creep near the arm of my chair.

Time is moving majestically slow and I sigh as I see we still had 30 minutes before service would start.

A special service was taking place in the adults church so we left home earlier than usual just so we could get a good parking spot.

He on the other hand came early to church come rain or shine, perhaps it was his mysterious parents that had something to do with it as well.

"Can I have five minutes?" he asks.

I lift my head to look at the boy himself. "Of what Demilade?"

"Your time. Just five minutes," he says trying to convince me.

"I wouldn't want to stain your image in church."

His eyes narrow and his nose twitches slightly. "Don't be ridiculous, everyone sees you as one of the puritans."

"What if word gets out? How scandalous would it be then that you're associated with." I say with a mirthless smile.

"I don't even know why I'm arguing this, I don't care!" he exclaims, drawing a few eyes from nosy teens.

"Out with it then," I say, turning off my phone after I've set an alarm for 5.

"I overreacted and sad things I didn't mean." he begins, tearing his eyes from my phone screen.

"Out of the abundance of the heart..." I hum.

"I'm serious, I may know nothing of the guy, but it was never my intention to insult you in the process."

I stare at him not feeling the least bit inclined to drop my malice.

He laughs sadly and shakes his head. "That's it?"

"Did you expect me to fall at your feet for that lousy apology?"

"You do remember you were the one who dumped me like a sack of potatoes right?" he says looking at me.

"Yeah and I apologized for it. Any last words?" I ask not in the least bit inclined so fight for a sorry.

"I'm sorry, I should've handled my approach better." he finally says.

I stare at him and notice remorse behind the ego shielding his eyes.

"Okay," I say turning back on my phone.

Two minutes left.

"Friends?" he asks.

"Promise to stay out of my business?" I say watching the clock countdown.

"How much of your business?"

I turn to look at him with an 'are you kidding me' face. "Really?" I say.

"What? It's called a best friend for a reason," he says with a little shrug.

I push the corner of my lip down and pause the timer before it can ring out. "When did that happen?"

He rolls his eyes at me and adjusts in his seat. "Come on, like if not one of the few people you like in this world."

I point my finger at him. "Precisely that. I love anyone I'd call a best friend."

"Then you must love me," he says crossing his arms.

Ignoring his smug grin I mutter my next words. "Joseph the dreamer."

"Demi the best friend." he says popping the word 'best'.

"Whatever you want," I answer and we both watch as more people file in.

"Now as the best friend that I am you owe me some gist," he says inching closer.

I push his elbow off my armrest and reply to him. "I could say the same for you," I say, my right brow going upwards.

"You're right I do have something I want to tell you, but ladies first."

"Ehn ehn, you said you have gist spill," I demand, forgetting all about my anger five minutes ago.

Only he could make my fury dissipate like a fog that had never really been there.

"Nevermind that it's not gist like that," he says and I hiss loud enough for people at the back to hear.

"Sister Nimi is that you sounding like a snake in the House of the Lord," he says in a church mother voice.

I roll my eyes even though I'm smiling. "Leave me alone, after getting me hyped up for nothing."

"Oya sorry but it's not fair now I still know nothing about that guy," he says looking at the space in front of him.

"So that's why you're even asking for gist. Aproko is your middle name." I tease.

"That is your own I need the info."

"Why, if I may ask Brother Demilade," I say to annoy him.

"To make sure you're in good hands, or break a few bones if I have to," he says with a serious look in his eye that I hadn't expected.

I try to joke despite my struggle to find my next breath when he stares at me so intently. "Don't be ridiculous he's built like an ox."

My gaze seems to have the same effect on him because he breaks contact and jokes along with me. "Are you trying to say this is just garri and water," he says flexing his sizeable muscles.

They were nothing like Isren's but my eyes lingered a little longer than I would have liked.

"It's great seeing your faces back again this Sunday!" a voice boom through the auditorium.

I jump to the timely rescue and keep my eyes glued on the Pastor -even when Demilade bumps shoulders with me and my arm tingles.

.....................................

Service is over and I'm walking away from a frozen rectangle from the ice cream van.

It was only an old man with a ready smile that emphasized the wrinkles on his weathered skin, and a small box he pushed on a cart; not much to some, but he was every bit the Nigerian ice cream man who sold cold packets of happiness to me.

"Baba give me one Fandango." a voice says I continue walking knowing that he'd catch up.

"Stalker," I whisper when he's close enough to hear it.

"Small 'we outside' and you think you're the only one kidnappers will see." he retorts.

I gasp and reach out to hit him when I hear him snicker.

He catches my fist and I shake off his hand. "I hate you so much."

"Just say you don't have a comeback,"Demilade says with a satisfied grin.

"Why are you here again," I ask, biting into my Fan choco once more.

"To escort you to choir practice," he says.

I look at him to confirm whether I was hearing right. "Me ke?" I say knowing full well that was the same lie I told my parents.

"I was being sarcastic we all know you don't have a good singing voice," Demilade explains and my heart rate slows down again.

"Rubbish," I mutter under my breath.

"Seriously though why are you still here?" he asks.

"I don't know either, my parents should be here soon," I say as we continue walking side by side in the open hallway full of people my age.

"What about you," I add.

He looks taken aback by my curiosity but quickly composes himself. "My mom's running late."

"Your mom goes here?" I ask, a mixture of surprised and ashamed of how little I knew about my alleged best friend's life.

"Stepmom actually and yeah she's part of the choir so we're always early to arrive and late to leave."

"What about your dad?" I say and almost regret it when I see something sad flicker past his eyes.

But he assures me with his usual smile. "Doesn't do much of church."

"Oh..." is all I say as awkward silence ensues.

We're sitting on the railings that had now become routine before he says anything again.

"Speaking of church, you know that first conversation we had back here," Demilade says and my mind struggles to come up with any recollection of that time.

"About wanting answers and all?" he says.

The light bulb turns on in my head and I nod. "Oh yeah, I remember," I say, pretty sure I hadn't been of much help in that department for him.

So much for my church girl rep.

"Well after a while things started to make sense and this Christianity thing doesn't sound so bad after all," he says in a slightly hesitant voice.

"So you want to become a Christian?" I ask trying to mask any emotion so it doesn't alter his reply.

"I think so. No, I know so." Demilade says with more certainty this time.

"That's nice," I remark not knowing how to feel.

"Is that all you have to say," he asks looking a little disappointed.

For some reason, Demilade tied my knowledge of God so closely with devotion that he couldn't see I was more distant than I looked.

"Ashawo remember?" I joke and he forces a little laugh.

"Don't call yourself that," he adds quietly.

I smile but the sweetness is short-lived when I see my parents approaching.

They would obviously misunderstand us sitting together.

"My mom and dad are here, talk later," I say before hopping off the pole and darting into the nearest door before walking back out like I had been in our smaller auditorium the whole time.

"Oya Nimi let's go." my Dad says.

"How was service?" my mom asks as I fall in step with them.

I catch Demi's smile from the corner of my eyes and give her a cheerier expression than she had been expecting.

"What's wrong with your face," she says looking at me funny.

I swallow the hiss on my tongue now that every ounce of sunshine had been wiped from my face.

"I was just happy mummy," I mutter.

"Ah sorry o," she says not sounding remorseful at all.

"Emphasis on was," I add partially hoping that she would hear me.

We're still outside the church gates so she gives me a 'God saved you' look and I hide my smug grin.