One day a boy will tell you that you have a beautiful smile; that your eyes light up like the florescent in his grandmother’s house. He will compare your laughter to the sound of musical instruments playing together – loud & melodious. He will tell you how he wishes to hold your head whenever you throw it back, laughing at the jokes he is struggling to make.

You will tell him that his jokes are funny, even though you’ve heard them before from your favourite TV show host, Trevor Noah. You will laugh anyway because you can see your reflection in his eyes and for a moment, you will let yourself believe you’re all he thinks about.

When he tells you he likes the sound of your voice, you will thank him and smile like it is not a big deal but you will send him multiple voice notes so that he will tell you again how melodious your voice is. You will shake with laughter when he tells you he is taking a bath and texting you. You will have scenarios in your head and make embarrassing sounds from your throat because no normal person should use their phones while they bathe but he does. You will smile, first out of importance but mostly out of glee.

On your birthday, he will play you a song, an original one. You will try to sing along but the sound of your voice singing will freak you out so you will be quiet and just watch him play. When he looks up to see your face, you will raise your cheeks to your eyes in a smile and tell him the song is beautiful and you love it. You will want to know how many times he rehearsed it, to be so good or how the song makes him feel but the movies say that is a corny thing to do so instead, you will ask what the title is. Your heart will flutter when he tells you the song is named after your favourite colour - orange, you will want to cry but your eyes will disappoint you and leave you dry as a desert. You will smile and say thank you.

You will walk the streets of Lagos in awe of the city and the boy beside you. Lekki city mall will be filled with people; the road will keep pouring people and products out of its mouth, the cars will stay on the road like a child in the womb, ready to see the world but its mother’s legs are shut. The drivers will have a longing in their faces, their heavy sighs will tell you of a time when they had hoped the city would love them as much as they loved it – calmly not with the urgency you saw in their faces.

You will shake your head in pity and be reminded of the time you were 13 and reckless with the word love, until it was slammed back into your mouth by those in too much a hurry to understand it.

This boy will hold your hand when you walk into a crowd of rushing people, naturally. You will think of butterflies; the ones boys give to girls. You have always wondered how those insects were caught and made to flutter in stomachs: were they put in nylon bags? Did the girls eat them? That’s the thing with romance books, they never tell the complete story.

You will feel something jump inside you. A butterfly - how did it get there abeg? You will feel the warmth of his hands and experience what the books have always said.

This discovery will make you laugh until your eyes start to tear up and your insides start to shake. He will join his laughter to yours; his laughter is richer than yours, so you will stop. You will ask him what is funny; he will point at your mouth. You will roll your eyes with exaggeration. He will tell you your laugh is infectious, that your laugh makes him laugh. A slow smile would show, the night will come, your trip will end.

When you return home, your mother will ask you how your seminar went, you will say to her “Sweet ma. Sweet like sugar”.