The first time I saw him

 I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  Ahmad appeared. Alone. For a second, I simply stared.

I'd seen him before, of course. His pictures had appeared on my phone countless times, and we'd had enough video calls for me to know what he looked like.

But seeing him standing a few feet away from me was different. Much different.

He was taller than I'd imagined, or maybe the pictures had simply never captured his height properly. He had a lean, well-built frame, and the dark trousers he wore fell neatly over his long legs. His shirt was a deep navy blue, neatly pressed, with the sleeves buttoned at his wrists. Nothing about his outfit was particularly extravagant, but somehow it suited him perfectly. Simple. Neat. Mature.

His hair was freshly trimmed, and his face was clean, his sharp features standing out more clearly in person. Defined cheekbones. Straight nose. Dark brows. And eyes that seemed almost too expressive for someone who was suddenly doing everything possible not to look directly at me.

Then he smiled.

And I understood why I'd always liked his pictures.

His smile changed his entire face. His cheekbones moved slightly whenever he smiled, his eyes softened, and his perfectly set teeth showed beneath his lips.

I caught myself staring. I quickly looked away.

Ah-ah, Amirah.

He stopped a few steps away from me.

"Assalamu alaikum."

His voice sounded different. Not really different. Just closer.

"Wa alaikumus salam." He smiled. "How are you?" "I'm fine. You?" "I'm good." Silence. I looked at him. He looked away. I looked at him again.

He suddenly became very interested in the floor. I pressed my lips together. Was he actually nervous?

The thought amused me. This was Ahmad.

The same Ahmad who could send me a long voice note without hesitating. The same person who teased me whenever I said something he disagreed with. The same person who always seemed to have something clever to say whenever we spoke.

"Come and sit." He nodded.

"Okay."

We both walked over and sat down, leaving a comfortable space between us. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. I glanced at him. He was rubbing his thumb against his fingers. I smiled.

"What?" He looked at me.

"Nothing."

"You're shy." His eyebrows lifted.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm really not." I laughed softly.

"Ah-ah. Ahmad, you've barely looked at me since you came upstairs."

He smiled and finally met my gaze.

"Maybe you're making me nervous." I blinked.

"Me?"

He nodded. I laughed.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to."

He looked away again. I shook my head, smiling.

"So you're admitting it?"

"I'm not admitting anything."

"You just did." He laughed quietly.

"You're stubborn."

"And you're shy."

"I'm not shy."

"Then what are you?"

He looked at me for a moment.There was a small smile on his lips.

"I'm only like this around you." I paused.

"What?" He shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal.

"Only you make me shy."

For some reason, that made me smile. I looked down at my hands, pretending to adjust the sleeve of my sweater.

Only me.

I wasn't sure why that thought felt so nice. I cleared my throat.

"Anyway..."

He smiled.

"Anyway."

I laughed. The awkwardness slowly began to disappear.

"So," he said, leaning back slightly, "how are you preparing for graduation?" I smiled.

"I honestly can't wait."

"That excited?"

"Very."

I looked toward the courtyard below.

"Although I'll miss this life."

"The university life?"

"Everything." I shrugged. "My friends. The freedom. Even some of the stress."

"Even the stress?" I laughed.

"Okay, maybe not that." He smiled.

"But you'll miss it."

"I know." I sighed.

"It's strange knowing I'm almost done. I've spent so many years here that I can't imagine what it'll feel like when I'm no longer a student."

"You'll figure it out."

"I hope so."

I turned toward him.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you preparing for graduation?" He stared at me for a second. Then laughed.

"I'm a 300-level student." I blinked.

"Oh." His smile widened.

"Yeah."

I suddenly realized something. Most of our conversations had somehow been about me.

My final year. My classes. My family. My plans.

My complaints.

Even when he'd talked about himself, I'd rarely asked enough questions to really know him. He seemed to notice my expression.

"You've never been friends with someone in a lower level?" The teasing in his voice made me laugh.

"That's not what I meant."

" The ohh and the sudden silence Sounds like it."

"Wallahi, no."

He laughed. "I know."

I smiled.

"In my defence, i was thing of what to say next just to try to know more about you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"You already know a lot."

"Not enough."

I waited. He didn't say anything.

"Well?"

He chuckled.

"You haven't asked any questions."

" I don't even know where to start"

he laughed again still barely starting at me and than he said.

" I transferred to this school"

" Ohh reall? When did you transfer here?"

His expression changed slightly, becoming more relaxed.

"It's been three years."

"Three years?" He nodded.

"Yeah."

"From where?"

"University of Abuja."

My eyes widened. "Ohhh."

"Yeah."

"You transferred from UniAbuja?"

"Yes." I studied him for a moment.

"What were you studying there?"

"Architecture."

I turned toward him completely. "Architecture?"

He laughed at my expression. "Yes."

"But you're studying Political Science now."

"Yes."

I shook my head. "Wait."

He smiled. "What?"

"You changed course?"

"Yes."

"From Architecture?"

"Yes."

I stared at him. "That's a huge change."

"Very."

I laughed softly. "I didn't expect that."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You don't look like an Architecture person."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What's an Architecture person supposed to look like?"

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. "I don't know."

He laughed. "Exactly."

I smiled.

"Okay, what year were you when you transferred?"

"You really ask too many questions."

"In my defence, I'm trying to get to know you."

He shook his head. "I can see that."

Then he leaned back slightly. "I was in my final year."

"Final year?"

"Yeah."

"What year?"

He smiled. "Five hundred level."

I stared at him.

"You are joking."

He simply smiled.And that was when I realized there was a lot more to Ahmad than I had ever known.