Friday crept in quietly.
Most departments were still onboarding, so lectures hadn't properly started yet. Registrations, clearance, and endless rounds of "come back tomorrow" were the order of the day.
That afternoon, Ayo sat at his desk, scrolling through a faculty WhatsApp group chat where freshers dropped questions no one really had answers to. Femi lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes now. We'll pull up. No wahala… I go bring my guy. Very cool guy. Fresh from house." He ended the call and turned to Ayo with a sly grin.
"Bro, we get groove tonight."
Ayo barely glanced up. "Groove?"
"One party like that. Off-campus apartment near Bariga. It'll be lit. Girls go dey."
"Not interested," Ayo muttered, eyes still on his phone.
Femi groaned. "You dey f*ck up, oh. This na freshers' week. You need to network small. So nobody go dey call you ghost by semester end."
Ayo's lips twitched. "Ghost sounds like a good name, though."
Femi stretched, unconvinced. "You need this party, bruh. At least to unwind."
Ayo looked at him, unimpressed. "How do you know what I need?"
"I don't. But I sabi sey man no suppose just dey stay hostel, pressing phone twenty-four-seven. Let's go, chill a bit, dance a bit, and come back. Nothing spoil."
Ayo hesitated. The idea of being out there, in the crowd, didn't sit right. But Femi was persistent.
"Free food. Good music. You might even bag a baddie or two."
That did it. Ayo sighed. "Fine."
Femi beamed. "Correct guy! We move by six. Let's plan the drip now, no dulling."
Ayo raised a brow. "You dey plan outfit for party?"
"Of course. Packaging matters in UNILAG."
Femi rummaged through his side of the wardrobe. "Full black, head to toe. This chain wey dey shine small — give bad boy vibes. Girls like mystery."
He pulled out a black round-neck shirt and ripped dark-grey jeans. The shirt hugged his arms, intentionally snug. The jeans, though not expensive, fit just right. A pair of clean black sneakers completed the look, alongside a shiny wristwatch and a neck chain glinting in the fading sunlight.
He grabbed a small bottle of body spray and smirked. "This seals the deal."
Ayo shook his head with a faint smile. "You put too much effort into this."
"Effort differentiates a man from a boy."
Eventually, Ayo stood and opened his wardrobe. He went for a simple but clean look: a white polo over a long-sleeved white shirt, tucked into relaxed beige pants with an LV belt. On his feet: white low-top sneakers, freshly cleaned. Just a simple silver bracelet on his wrist. He considered a cap but opted for a grey head-warmer instead.
Femi gave him a once-over. "Sharp guy. Simple and efficient. Babes go dey swoon."
Ayo glanced at the mirror. "It's not for them."
By six, they left the hostel.
The sky was gold in that Lagos way — burnt-orange light making even power lines look like art. Outside the campus, traffic thrived, hawkers shouting "Pure water!" in every direction, and Asake's music booming from passing speakers.
They grabbed a bike at the gate. The rider wanted ₦800 to Bariga, but Femi haggled it down to ₦600 like a seasoned market pro.
As the bike weaved through the narrow streets, Ayo felt the wind hit his face. Yaba was shifting to night mode — buka owners setting out rechargeable lamps, kids pushing wheelbarrows of soft drinks, and a few ladies in mini dresses moving confidently through the crowd.
By 6:45 p.m., they arrived at a three-story apartment building painted in faded blue.
"Top floor. The whole floor," Femi said, leading the way.
The stairwell was dim, one flickering bulb struggling to stay lit. Faint music pulsed through the walls, growing louder as they climbed. At the door, Femi knocked twice, and it swung open.
Music crashed into them, thick with bass and smoke. The apartment was packed — people dancing, drinking, snapping selfies. LED lights bathed the room in shifting blue hues. Someone handed Femi a red cup, and he nudged another toward Ayo.
"Loosen up, bro. This is how it starts."
Ayo held the cup but didn't drink. He wasn't a fan of alcohol, especially not from strange hands.
The room pulsed with energy. A guy on the floor was doing legwork like his life depended on it. In the middle of the sitting room, someone was whining to a Seyi Vibes track. Ayo's eyes scanned the room — familiar faces mixed with unfamiliar ones, all caught up in the wild rhythm of the night.
Despite himself, Ayo couldn't help but wonder if stepping out had been a good idea.