The Crestview Heatmap

The female hostel at Crestview smelled of coconut hair oil, fresh laundry, and expensive body sprays.

Room 4B was quiet except for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic clicking of Zainab’s laptop keys. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, absorbed in her code.

The door flew open with a bang.

Simi practically tumbled into the room, kicking off her school loafers and locking the door behind her with a dramatic click.

"Zainab!" Simi wheezed, clutching her chest as if she’d just run the Lagos Marathon in heels. "Omo, drop that laptop right now. You will not believe what I just heard near the basketball pavilion!"

Zainab didn't look up from her screen. "If it's about the cafeteria menu changing tomorrow, I already know. Simi, I'm trying to finish this computer science project."

"Forget project!" Simi dropped onto the edge of Zainab’s bed, her eyes wide with unrefined gossip energy. "It’s about you. And Tari Lawson."

That made Zainab’s fingers pause over the keyboard. She pushed her glasses up. "What did that boy do now?"

"I was coming back from the music room, passing behind the sports complex," Simi began, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Koa and Tari were talking on the bleachers. Zainab, they made a bet."

Zainab raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"

"Tari has three weeks to make you go to the Lekki Yacht Club Gala with him as his date," Simi said, leaning in. "Willingly! On his arm! If he wins, Koa buys him another pair of those crazy expensive shoes. If he loses... he gives Koa his Benz keys for a whole month!"

For three seconds, the room was completely silent.

Zainab slowly closed her laptop screen halfway. A cold, sharp smile began to spread across her face—not one of anger, but of pure, calculated amusement.

"The Yacht Club Gala," Zainab repeated softly, testing the words. "So he thinks I'm some trophy he can just win to save his pride?"

"Right?!" Simi threw her hands in the air. "The audacity of Lekki boys! He actually thinks because he’s Tari Lawson, you’ll just melt the moment he starts flashing that his dimpled smile at you."

"He really doesn't know who he's playing with," Zainab murmured. She re-opened her laptop and pulled up a fresh workspace. Her fingers began flying across the keys again, creating a new local web server.

Simi leaned over her shoulder, trying to read the lines of code appearing on the screen. "Wait... what are you doing?"

"He wants a game?" Zainab said, her eyes reflecting the bright blue light of her monitor. "I'll give him a game. But we're playing by my rules."

"Are you building a site?"

"An anonymous, encrypted dashboard," Zainab replied smoothly, styling the interface with sleek neon lines, a dark mode template, and a live counter. "I’m calling it The Crestview Heatmap."

Simi’s jaw dropped. "Wait oh... Heatmap?"

"Every time Tari tries one of his cheap, smooth moves on me, I’m going to document it right here," Zainab explained, pointing at a dynamic rating scale on the screen going from 1 to 10. "I will rate his effort, critique his execution, and leave a detailed breakdown of his failure for everyone to see."

"Wait, everyone?!" Simi gasped, a thrilled squeal escaping her throat. "You’re going to share the link?!"

"Only with a select few at first," Zainab smirked, generating a private, invite-only Telegram link. "A little exclusive access for the SS3 girls. Let’s see how smooth Tari Lawson feels when his romantic strategy gets reviewed like a bad movie."

Simi grabbed Zainab by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Zainab Aminu! You are evil! Pure, unadulterated evil! I love it!"

Zainab finalized the layout, published the link, and closed her laptop with a satisfying snap.

"Let him come," Zainab said softly, resting her chin on her hand. "Lekki Heatmap is officially live."