The first time Amara realized she was falling for Dapo, it wasn't during one of their long walks or playful arguments. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in the campus library. The generator was humming outside, the air was warm, and the smell of old books mixed with fresh paper drifted through the room. People were scattered everywhere, studying for exams, dozing on textbooks, or whispering gossip.
But all Amara noticed was him.
Dapo sat at the far corner, his head bent over his notebook, his brows slightly furrowed as he tried to solve an equation. He looked… peaceful. Like the world outside didn't exist. Like nothing could shake the focus in his eyes.
She found herself staring before she even realized it.
Something inside her chest tightened — not painfully, but in a way that felt new, exciting, dangerous.
He looked up at that exact moment.
Their eyes met.
Held.
Pulled.
And suddenly the library felt too small to contain whatever was happening between them.
Dapo smiled — slow, warm, and knowing. A smile that told her he saw something in her she wasn't ready to admit. Her heart reacted before her mind did, beating faster, fuller, echoing through her whole body.
He stood up and walked toward her.
"Amara," he said softly, like her name was something he enjoyed tasting. "You're staring."
She swallowed. "I wasn't."
He leaned closer, voice dropping. "So you just happen to be looking in my direction for ten minutes straight?"
Her face warmed. "It wasn't ten minutes."
"It was twelve," he whispered, his grin turning mischievous. "I counted."
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop smiling. This was one of the things that scared her about him — the way he made her feel seen, exposed, yet comfortable. As if her feelings were safe in his hands.
"What are you studying?" he asked, resting his palms on the table, his body close enough that she felt the heat radiating from him.
"Anatomy," she replied.
"Mm," he hummed, eyes dancing. "So you're studying the human heart… while mine is beating fast beside you."
She clicked her tongue. "Dapo, you're impossible."
"Only for you," he said, and this time, there was no teasing in his tone. Just honesty. Bold. Simple. Disarming.
Amara looked down at her book, pretending to read, but the words blurred. She felt his presence so strongly it was as if he was sitting inside her skin.
He pulled out the chair beside her and sat. The closeness was intoxicating. Every movement he made — the shift of his body, the brush of his arm, the faint scent of his cologne — pulled her deeper under his spell.
"Study with me," he said.
"I came here to read alone."
"But you read better when I'm around."
"That's not true."
"Well… you look better when I'm around."
Amara bit her lip, and that one small movement made Dapo inhale sharply. She wasn't trying to tempt him. She was just trying to breathe. But somehow, everything between them felt charged, electric, as if each gesture carried its own hidden language.
After some minutes of forced studying, Amara closed her book and sighed. "I can't focus."
He tilted his head. "Because of me?"
"Yes," she admitted before she could stop herself.
Dapo's expression softened — gentle, full, like a man who just heard something precious.
"Amara," he murmured, his voice deepening. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that."
Her breath hitched.
He leaned in, slowly, giving her time to move away if she wanted. She didn't. Her body felt rooted to the chair, drawn to him by something she couldn't explain.
"I like you," he said softly. "More than I planned to. More than I thought I would."
She felt something warm spread across her chest. "Why me?"
He smiled faintly. "Because you don't pretend. Because your heart shows in your eyes. Because you talk like you're scared to be loud but love like someone who could change a man's life."
His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket she didn't want to escape from.
Before she could respond, the rain started — heavy, loud, drumming on the roof of the library. Students scrambled to shut windows, chairs creaked, conversations whispered through the room. But to Amara, the world dimmed again until there was only the sound of Dapo's heartbeat, loud and steady beside her.
"Let's go," he said suddenly, standing and grabbing her hand.
"What? In this rain—"
"Exactly," he grinned. "Trust me."
Against her better judgment, she followed him outside. The rain soaked her hair, her clothes, her shoes — everything. She squealed, trying to cover her head, but Dapo only laughed, spinning her around like they were characters in a movie.
"Dapo!" she yelled through her laughter. "You're crazy!"
"For you? Always."
He held her face with both hands, rain dripping down their cheeks, their breaths mixing, their eyes locked in a moment so deep she felt her heart melt.
"Amara," he whispered, "tell me to stop if I'm wrong."
"You're not wrong," she whispered back.
And then he kissed her.
Not rushed.
Not hungry.
But slow — painfully slow — like he wanted to memorize the shape of her lips, the taste of her breath, the warmth of her soul.
It was the kind of kiss that made the world disappear.
The kind of kiss that made a girl believe in destiny.
The kind of kiss that made her forget caution.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven.
"This is where everything changes," he said.
She didn't know it then, but he was right.
The beginning was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Almost blinding.
And sometimes… love that burns too bright is the same love that leaves the deepest scars.