Insight of a Kenyan Girl

Once again, I had an evening dinner to attend. It had been nearly a week of mingling with delegates, people in high places, and industry elites. Unlike the previous gatherings, this one wasn’t on my itinerary—I hadn’t arranged it. Still, duty called, and I had to make an appearance.

Dressed in an elegant blue dress shirt that hugged my frame just right, I had gone the extra mile with my appearance. Makeup adorned my face, enhancing my features in a way that made me feel effortlessly stunning—no bragging, but I looked hot. The event was held at a beach club, so practicality won over vanity; I opted for flat shoes, knowing well that sinking into the sand in heels would be the ultimate nightmare.

After showing my ticket to the host, I was greeted with a warm smile and a welcoming drink. The atmosphere was lively—soft music played in the background, the sound of waves crashing onto the shore adding an almost cinematic effect to the evening. I followed the directions given, weaving my way cautiously through the tables, scanning the crowd until I spotted some of my colleagues already seated. I joined them, engaging in small talk that, quite frankly, wasn’t the least bit interesting.

We had an issue with the seating arrangement—something about the placement not being ideal—and while we were discussing it, as if summoned by sheer happenstance, Callum Carter materialized. I swear, it was almost supernatural how he did that, appearing out of nowhere like some grand illusionist. But there he was, looking—well, heavenly, if I’m being honest.

I had only ever seen him in suits, always impeccably dressed, exuding that intimidating yet alluring aura of someone who commanded attention effortlessly. But tonight was different. Though still polished, his attire was slightly more relaxed, the suit jacket missing yet the air of formality lingering around him.

What surprised me most wasn’t his appearance but his demeanor. The last time we had parted, things had been awkward, and yet here he was, acting like nothing had happened. Without hesitation, he pulled me into a warm hug, his voice light and teasing as he launched into conversation.

Tired from the long week, I instinctively looped my arm through his. For a fleeting second, I felt his breath hitch—whether in surprise or something else, I couldn’t tell, nor did I care. I just wanted to sit, relax, and let the evening play out. As if on cue, his ever-chatty friend swooped in, rearranging seats and making space. Before I knew it, I had lost my colleagues and was now seated at Callum’s table.

I had observed something peculiar about Callum—around me, he was awkward. The composed, reserved man I knew at work seemed to vanish whenever we were in close proximity. And tonight was no exception. He talked about everything and nothing, filling every moment with words, as if silence would betray him. It was almost adorable. The contrast was striking—normally, he was a man of few words, but right now, he was nervous, rambling, and, dare I say, completely undone by my presence.

Between his words, compliments slipped effortlessly from his lips. He told me how beautiful I looked, how the short length of my dress was wreaking havoc on his concentration. His honesty caught me off guard, but I couldn’t deny the thrill it sent through me.

As the night progressed, more people joined our table, and conversations flourished. The event officially kicked off with the grand arrival of the guest of honor, but even then, I found myself more drawn to my company than the event itself.

Laughter filled the air as we watched some rather unusual performances—some so bizarre they had us clutching our sides, barely holding back tears of amusement. But amidst all the entertainment, there was something undeniably charged between Callum and me. An unspoken tension. A mutual awareness.

Then came dinner.

As the servers brought out dessert, my eyes lit up at the sight of my one true love—chocolate cake. Callum must have noticed because, without hesitation, he reached for a plate and placed it in front of me before I could even ask. I almost sighed at how effortlessly thoughtful he was.

“You and chocolate cake,” he mused, watching as I took my first bite.

“Undeniable love,” I replied with a grin, savoring the rich sweetness.

The evening only got more interesting. Callum, to my surprise, had a humorous side. His stories, delivered with just the right amount of dramatic flair, had me laughing more than I had in days. I had always pegged him as serious, but tonight, he was proving me wrong.

Drinks continued flowing, the atmosphere growing lighter, more intoxicating—not from alcohol but from something far more potent. I wasn’t getting drunk, but I was getting drawn in. Drawn to his awkwardness, his dry wit, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me.

The night felt endless, yet somehow it slipped away too fast. And before I knew it, it was time to leave. As I stood, stretching slightly, Callum rose with me. He hesitated for a brief moment before pulling me into a short but firm hug. There was something lingering in that embrace, something unspoken yet deeply understood.

“Maybe next time, we meet in daylight,” I murmured, my voice light yet filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe we should,” he replied, his voice softer now.

And with that, I walked away, stealing one last glance at him over my shoulder.

Breathtaking.

That was the only word I could think of as I left him standing there, watching me go.