If anyone had told me that my first official date with Adrian Cole would involve an orphanage, sweaty basketball, and an almost-broken ankle, I would have laughed and told them to stop watching Nollywood.
But here we were.
And apparently, this was our "fake" date.
It started with Adrian texting me earlier that morning to accompany him somewhere being all aloof and showing up at my door in another one of his flashy cars. The kind that made the whole street peek through their curtains, whisper, and start praying prosperity prayers on my behalf.
Sophia nearly shoved me out the door.
"Go, Cinderella," she whispered dramatically, "and don't come back without a love story."
I rolled my eyes, but my heart was beating faster than common sense.
Adrian looked calm—too calm—standing by the car, dressed in jeans and a white shirt that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. His expression was neutral, like always, but the way his eyes flicked over me told a different story.
"You're late," he said.
I snorted. "Please, it's literally five minutes. My slippers run faster than that."
For a second, I thought I saw the corner of his lips twitch upward, but it disappeared so fast I wondered if my love-struck brain was hallucinating.
He opened the car door for me. "Get in."
Fake relationship or not, my heart skipped like a scratched CD.
When he told me where we were going, I blinked in disbelief.
"An orphanage? Seriously?"
He nodded. "They've been on my foundation's support list for a while. I thought you might like to see it."
I don't know what I expected—maybe some cliché billionaire activity like wine tasting, yacht parties, or private jets—but an orphanage? My heart melted faster than butter in Abuja sun.
The orphanage kids welcomed us like celebrities. The second Adrian stepped into the yard, a wave of tiny humans ran toward him shouting, "Uncle Adrian!"
I almost fainted.
Uncle Adrian?
And the craziest part? The cold, stone-faced billionaire I knew bent down—bent!—to their level and let them hug him like he wasn't wearing clothes that could pay school fees. His serious face softened in a way I'd never seen before.
He high-fived them, carried the smallest one on his shoulders, and even chased a few around in a playful mock-run.
My jaw was on the floor. Who was this man?
"You look like someone just told you suya is finished," Adrian said when he caught me staring.
I snapped my mouth shut. "I just didn't know you liked kids."
He shrugged, glancing at the little girl tugging on his sleeve. "They're honest. They don't pretend."
Something tugged in my chest.
This man… behind all that aloofness and expensive cologne, he was soft. So, so soft.
And I was in trouble.
Of course, me being me, I couldn't just sit there quietly.
When the kids brought out an old basketball, I jumped in without thinking. "Who wants to play?"
A chorus of excited shouts followed. Within minutes, I was running around the dusty court, hair flying, slippers threatening to abandon me mid-game.
Adrian leaned against a pole, arms crossed, watching us with that half-smirk that made my knees wobble more than the game.
"Don't just stand there looking cool!" I yelled. "Join us!"
He shook his head. "I'll pass."
"Chicken!" I taunted, dribbling the ball like I actually knew what I was doing.
The kids gasped, looking between us like this was some kind of showdown.
Adrian finally stepped forward, slow and graceful, like he was entering a fashion shoot instead of a dusty basketball game. "Fine. But don't cry when you lose."
What followed was chaos.
Adrian played unfairly, of course—stealing the ball from children, blocking me with his broad shoulders, and flashing that maddening smirk every time he scored. The kids booed him, but he just shrugged like the villain he was.
And me? I was determined to beat him.
Which is why I made the fatal mistake.
I jumped for the ball, landed wrong, and—snap! Pain shot through my ankle like fire.
I yelped and collapsed to the ground.
In a second, Adrian was beside me. His cool façade vanished, replaced with pure panic. "Amara! What happened?"
"It's nothing," I winced, clutching my foot. "Just a little twist."
He crouched down, his hands surprisingly gentle as he inspected my ankle. "You sprained it. You shouldn't move."
"I said it's fine," I tried to laugh it off, but my voice cracked.
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You're not fine. I'm taking you to the hospital."
I protested, of course. Hospitals, pain, bills—none of it sounded romantic. But Adrian wasn't having it.
Before I knew it, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing. The kids squealed and clapped like they were watching a fairy tale unfold.
And me? I buried my face in his chest, because honestly—who wouldn't?
The drive to the hospital was quiet, but not awkward. His hand stayed firm on the wheel, his jaw tense, his eyes flicking to me more often than necessary.
At the hospital, he didn't let me argue. He personally made sure the doctor checked me, hovered nearby like a hawk, and only relaxed when the doctor confirmed it was just a mild sprain.
By the time we returned home, my ankle was bandaged, and Adrian was still carrying me like some knight in shining designer.
At my door, he finally set me down gently. But his face—his stupid, perfect face—was so close to mine.
Something in me snapped.
Before my brain could process, I leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.
Time froze.
Adrian went utterly still, his eyes locking on mine. His gaze was intense, searching, almost dangerous.
"I—I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean—"
He didn't let me finish.
In one swift movement, he pulled me closer and pressed his lips against mine.
Not a polite kiss. Not a hesitant brush. But a thorough, toe-curling, heart-stopping kiss that left me clinging to his shirt like my life depended on it.
When he finally pulled back, my lips tingled, my brain short-circuited, and my entire existence screamed hallelujah!
He looked into my eyes for a long moment, then, without a word, turned and walked away.
Leaving me at my door, ankle bandaged, lips swollen, and heart floating somewhere above the clouds.
Cloud nine had nothing on me.