There's only one thing Tolu hates more than boiled fish, and that is when people keep her waiting. Which is funny, considering she once kept all of us waiting for hours, but nobody ever complains about that anymore.

Which is why I'm currently freaking out.

I was supposed to be ready by 5pm and it's currently 5:05 and I just came out of the bathroom.

"Oh God please hold the time small for me," I whisper as I rub cream on my arms.

Outside my window the evening air is strangely quiet, the usual hostel noise muffled like someone turned the volume of the world down, then I hear the unmistakable sound of the ringtone set specifically for Tolu.

I double my speed. She must be outside my hostel already. I quickly finish up and rush out.

Only when I get outside do I realise my lip gloss isn't with me and I forgot to spray perfume.

I would go back for it, but Tolu just sighted me.

She's standing a few feet away, exactly where I expected her to be. Exactly where she always waits.

I see the frown on her face and before I can even say anything she says,

"If not that I'm a nice person, I for gather boys come beat you ehn."

"I'm sorry."

I link my arm in hers out of habit and guide her as we walk toward the bus stop where the Uber is waiting for us.

The driver glances at me through the mirror when I open the door, like he's trying to say something, but he doesn't.

Tolu and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, and I honestly can't even remember how we became friends. One of our biggest traditions is taking ourselves out on dates every weekend, alternating who plans it, and this week was my turn.

And what I planned was something I was sure Tolu would love.

First, a sip and paint at the gallery. After that we would watch that movie Tolu has been talking about non-stop. Then ice cream, a walk, pictures, and finally dinner at her favourite restaurant.

The Uber stops in front of the gallery and Tolu looks at me.

"Don't tell me we came here to look at paint."

"No jor, you local girl. We're here for the sip and paint. Can't you read the sign?"

"Ohhhh."

Once again we link arms and walk into the gallery. It's a beautiful place; the warm lights, quiet chatter, canvases lining the walls. I glance at Tolu and watch her face light up with excitement.

A couple standing near the entrance shifts aside when I pass them, but their eyes linger on me for a moment longer than usual. We quickly locate the sip-and-paint area, grab our aprons, canvases and seats and get right into it.

While painting we talk, we talk about everything; the useless boy Tolu refuses to stop hooking up with, my undying love for Pringles, what life will be like when we graduate.

The instructor comes around occasionally to check on people. Each time he stops at our table, he only comments on my canvas, maybe he just prefers my work. We are definitely not artists, but our paintings come out surprisingly nice.

We take pictures and rush to the theater when we realise the movie starts in ten minutes.

Tolu does this jumpy thing when she's extremely excited and it makes me happy that I elicited that emotion from her.

We get our tickets and popcorn and walk into the theater. Halfway through the movie, the main character says something ridiculously cheesy and I groan quietly.

Tolu laughs and leans closer to me.

“If I die before you,” she whispers dramatically, “you must promise to live a very interesting life in my honour.”

I roll my eyes.

“Please rest. Nobody is dying.”

“I'm serious oh,” she insists. “Don't go and become one of those boring people that only goes from house to work and work to house.”

I nudge her shoulder.

“If anybody dies first it will be me. I'm the one that eats nonsense like Pringles for dinner.”

She laughs softly and steals some popcorn from my hand.

All through the movie we whisper, laugh quietly, make jokes about the characters and dissect the plot bit by bit, probably not the best way to watch a movie, but it was fun.

After the movie we head straight for ice cream and the queue is ridiculously long, so instead of waiting, we decide to take pictures around the mall first, then come back for the ice cream and go for a walk in the park.

The walk feels strangely peaceful. We talk about my parents and their endless arguments, about her schoolwork — because let's be honest, Tolu needs to do better.

"Are you calling me dumb?" she gasps dramatically.

"No bitch," I laugh. "But if you don't fix up, you might as well be."

She gasps again and swings her water bottle at me.

We run around the park, take pretty pictures. I take about a 100 pictures of Tolu even though she complains.

“Why are you snapping me like this?” she laughs.

I shrug.

“In case you become famous one day.”

We decide to check out the restaurant menu online since I've never been there and also decide that when we get there, we are going to pretend we are IJGBs.

By the time we get to the restaurant, we're already deep into our accents.

The food tastes amazing and Tolu keeps saying, "I told you so. I told you so."

After dinner, I pay and order a ride for us.

We walk toward the entrance of the mall when the car notification says the driver has arrived.

I open the door and playfully shove Tolu in before climbing in after her.

"Thank you for today, Zara," she says softly. "I really needed this."

"I know."

The car stops in front of my hostel and I turn to the driver to ask him to drop Tolu at hers first.

But something feels wrong.

I don't feel her leaning on my shoulder anymore, I don't feel her arm in mine, I don't smell her moussy candy perfume.

Instead, the car smells faintly like hospital disinfectant.

For a moment my chest tightens.

And then it comes back to me: the phone call, the crowd, the sound of someone saying her name over and over. That's when I remember.

Tolu is dead. She died 2 weeks ago.

I quietly climb out of the car and thank the driver.

He nods slowly, watching me like he wants to ask something but decides against it.

I walk back into my hostel.

Halfway up the stairs it suddenly occurs to me that the entire day I’ve been talking out loud, laughing, arguing, taking pictures all by myself. People probably thought I was mad.

But I’m not mad. I just miss my best friend. I reach my door and open it.

And there she is, sitting on my beanbag and eating my cheese balls like she owns the place.

“There you are,” she says, frowning slightly.

“I've been waiting for you.”

And I smile.

Because see? Tolu hates being kept waiting.