Writers 
Julie watched as two girls fluttered their eyelashes at her best friend slash coworker, while he expertly mixed their drinks behind the bar.
Isaiah was the undisputed face of Skyline, one of the most popular clubs in Lagos. Every night, he walked away with the lion's share of the tips given by customers, and Julie knew it was entirely down to his effortless charm and those devastating looks.
She couldn't exactly blame the women for the flirtatious glances they cast his way, because she felt as though she’d been infected by the very same fever.
“How can you be friends with a hot-shot like that?”
“Don’t you like him or something?”
“If I were friends with him, I’d be constantly depressed.”
Julie shook her head, trying to drown out her friends' voices. They weren't lying, though. Being his friend was a trial in itself, and watching him flash that smile at other girls was a special kind of torture.
She couldn't compete with them, even if she wanted to, that was just a fact. They were wealthier, classier, and far more sophisticated. She was certain she’d fail miserably. At the same time, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. It was better to have him close and admire him from a distance than not to have him at all.
“Hey, Julie.”
She was pulled from her thoughts by the sight of Isaiah’s face. It was the kind of face that suggested God had taken His sweet time during the creation process. Isaiah was fair-skinned, tall, and built with lean muscle. He had the power to completely rewrite whatever 'type' a woman thought she had.
The truth was, Julie had never really gone for fair-skinned men. She had always been a 'tall, dark, and handsome' kind of girl, but that was before she met Isaiah two years ago. Now, her entire definition of attraction started and ended with him.
“What, are you done flirting?” she asked, striving for a tone of bored nonchalance. It had become her primary defence mechanism.
“I think I need a break,” Isaiah said, sauntering over to her corner. “Can you cover for me at the bar? I need a smoke.”
“You want the customers to disappear, abi?” she joked.
“Oh, come on, you’re a pretty girl,” he replied. Julie felt her heart skip a beat. “If the girls decide to leave, the guys will just come flocking in.”
She tried her best not to look flustered at being called pretty. “Fine, but we’re splitting your tips down the middle.”
“When do we ever not?” He grinned, then turned and disappeared through the staff-only back door.
Julie stepped behind the bar and watched as the interest of half the girls immediately plummeted. She stayed put, ignoring the disappointed sighs, until a girl as slim as a dark-skinned model approached and offered a thin smile.
“Hi,” the girl said, her eyes darting toward the door Isaiah had just used.
“Hi,” Julie answered, already sensing the direction of the conversation.
“About that guy . . . ”
“He’s on a break,” Julie intercepted, knowing the words before they were even spoken.
“I know.” The girl’s smile didn’t waver. Julie could only imagine how many men were vying for this girl's attention. She was breathtaking. She must be an influencer or a model, surely. “I just . . . ” She trailed off, sliding a folded piece of paper across the polished wood. “Can you hand this to him for me?”
Julie stared at the note before picking it up. “Does he know you?”
The girl shook her head. “I’m just a secret admirer. I’ve been watching him for days and finally plucked up the courage to make a move. You two seem close, so I thought you might help.”
“He’s my best friend,” Julie said, trying not to sound too territorial.
“Perfect. So, will you?”
Julie hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be right back,” she told the girl, before turning to a colleague. “Can you watch the counter for a second?”
She stepped out into the night air, only to be met with a shock. A heavy downpour was lashing down. Inside the club, the music and lights made it impossible to tell what the weather was doing.
She wrapped her arms around herself against the sudden chill, scanning the balcony until she spotted Isaiah’s silhouette. He was leaning against the wall, watching the dark, rain-heavy clouds as plumes of grey smoke escaped his lips.
Julie took a few steps toward him before he noticed her.
“Was I out too long?” he asked, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his shoe.
“Not really,” Julie said, reaching his side. “Someone asked me to give you this.” She held out the paper.
Isaiah took it, and Julie watched his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he read. She hated how attractive she found that expression.
“She’s very pretty, and she seems to have a lovely personality,” Julie said. She hated how patronising she sounded, but it was the only way to mask her true feelings.
Isaiah said nothing. After finishing the note, he simply crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into a growing puddle.
“Isaiah!”
“I’m not interested.”
“But she looks exactly like your type.”
“You don't seem to know my type at all, do you?” He turned to her, locking eyes. Julie saw something there — a spark she desperately told herself not to misinterpret.
“Right then,” Julie cleared her throat and turned to head back inside.
“Where are you going?” His hand caught her arm. The touch felt like a jolt of electricity, stopping her in her tracks.
“Inside,” she said, her voice small. Maintaining her composure was becoming an impossible task. “I mean, it’s freezing, and it’s raining cats and dogs.”
“Is that the only reason?” He stepped closer, so close that Julie felt he could see every crack in her armour.
She lowered her head, hoping it would make her lies more convincing. “Yes.”
Isaiah watched her, the girl who seemingly had no idea just how beautiful she was.
“Well, I’m not letting you go.” The sentence hung in the air with a deliberate weight. He had no intention of letting the beauty in front of him slip away. “I need you to keep me company. You said it yourself . . . it’s raining cats and dogs.”
“What does the weather have to do with anything?” Julie asked, genuinely confused.
Her heart felt as though it might actually burst as Isaiah placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in, his scent intoxicatingly close.
“Because, Julie . . . this is weather for two.”
