Page 23 of Cupid Calling
As Sophia had given him the Red Heart last night, Ejiro had wondered desperately if Chris Wu had made a grand gesture when he’d first met the bachelorette. He hadn’t asked him outright because he’d felt it’d be too childish.
The question nagged, though. Surely Sophia hadn’t given him the heart based on looks alone? Chris Wu was handsome enough, but nearly all of the bachelors were handsome. It had to be something more—something he said or did.
Ejiro was about to work himself up thinking about it at this point, so he forced himself to stop.
The clock in the room said it was nearing five AM. Perfect time for a quick morning jog.
Blessing had brought exercise and a more balanced diet into his and Ajiri’s lives. They’d complained at first, Ajiri most especially—she could be a bit of a slob, he thought fondly—but they’d eventually given in. When the three of them had gotten their house, five AM jogs became a semi-regular thing, at least on Ajiri’s part. Ejiro had kept to a schedule; he always jogged on the mornings of the days he had to be in at Ewoma’s.
Now, with a slightly more irregular schedule to keep—at least according to Ameri, who said it was likely all of them wouldn’t have to film something every single day, but they shouldn’t bet on it—Ejiro was going to get his morning jog on any days he could, just in case.
He’d just finished changing into his jogging suit and putting on his mic—they were required to wear them at all times except when they were asleep—when a figure on one of the beds stirred.
“Morning,” Chris Wu greeted with a grin, sitting up and taking off his hairnet so he could run his fingers through his thick, shoulder-length deep brown waves.
“Morning,” Ejiro echoed, somehow unsurprised to note that Chris Wu was a morning person. He just seemed the type.
“Heading to the gym, then?” Jesus, how was he already so awake? Ejiro had to set at least three alarms in advance to be able to gain the energy to leave his bed in the mornings.
Chris Wu had slept in nothing but briefs, and didn’t seem to care that he had an audience as he stood from his bed and yawned and stretched, his skin smooth and toned and golden all over.
Ejiro had gone to boarding school back in Nigeria, so being around unselfconscious naked people wasn’t exactly new to him—but that had been secondary school, eons ago. He’d grown into such a private person it was a wonder he’d survived that time in his life without spontaneously combusting.
Also, yes, the mansion had a freaking indoor gym.
“Nah,” Ejiro answered. “I prefer jogging outside. Clears my head.” Ajiri and Blessing preferred the gym. Ejiro hated the gym atmosphere, so he usually jogged outside, and if he needed to do anything more, he did so in the safety of his room, with a yoga mat and his own weights.
“Ah, for sure.” Chris gave him a thumbs up. “Think I might head to the pool for a swim myself.”
Ejiro nodded. He was glad he was already dressed, because next to Chris’s surprisingly toned body—he’d looked slenderer in his suit last night—Ejiro felt like a limp noodle. It was a little crushing how fit all the bachelors—specifically his roommates—were. It did absolute wonders for his self-esteem.
“See you later,” Ejiro said, heading out of the room.
Chris waved.
The mansion was dark and quiet as Ejiro made his way downstairs. Without the producers and crew, the place almost felt like a holiday destination. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was on some romantic getaway at some faraway exotic destination.
With about a million hidden cameras and twenty other men, but still.
Outside, beside the first fountain in front of the mansion, he began to stretch, taking in deep long breaths as he did, keeping his mind clear. It was the last day of June, and still early, so the air was perfectly cool. The summer had only just begun, meaning they hadn’t quite yet reached that time in the season where the English heat was oppressive and unbearable, and oftentimes even deadly. It was disgustingly hot in Nigeria, but at least the regular home and business utilised air conditioners. It still stumped him that the regular English home refused to invest in the same.
When his blood finally felt warmed enough, his limbs loose, he straightened, and began to jog.
WHEN OBIORA’S INTERNAL CLOCK HAD woken him up at five AM, his first instinct had been to go to the indoor gym. He’d even begun heading in that direction, when he’d remembered the long stretch of road that was the driveway leading to the house and was suddenly in the mood for a jog. The thought of taking a leisurely run in the slowly brightening light of the morning to clear his head was too appealing to resist.
But then he’d walked outside, and the absolute last person he’d wanted to see was the one standing there at the bottom of the steps beside the fountain, in the middle of a warmup stretch.
For a moment, Obiora wavered. He remembered Ricky’s words of last night—you should have seen the look on the other guy’s face when he saw how you’d swooped in. You’d think he’d swallowed a lemon—and felt a renewed surge of guilt. Then he repeated to himself that while what he’d done had been distasteful, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Fuck his guilt.
In his indecision, Obiora couldn’t help but notice Ejiro’s lithe form, the smooth and easy way his body changed through practised poses, his breathing deep and even. He must do a lot of yoga, Obiora thought distractedly. It was in the fluid, almost sensual way he moved.
When he bent over to touch his toes, giving Obiora a perfect view of his ass, the muscles of his thighs and calves pulling taut through the thin fabric of his jogging pants, Obiora felt a flash of unwanted heat.
The feeling spurred him into movement, and he was jogging down the steps before he could change his mind.
He would simply jog past Ejiro while he was still stretching and they wouldn’t have to talk to each other. Easy peasy.
Except, Ejiro straightened and started moving at the exact same second that Obiora reached his side, which put them right next to each other.
