“So, if you love this Mo guy so much why don’t you just go ahead and tell him?”

I remain quiet for a while, thinking of how to answer Noxy. I’ve learnt that it’s best not to dispute anything that my nosy friend says.

“I’ve never said I loved him. He’s just a friend,” I finally manage to say; my voice so low that I doubt that she’s heard me.

“Oh really?” her voice is filled with scepticism. I imagine her rolling her large eyes. She always did that whenever I told her something that she didn’t believe.

“Besides,” she says “There’s nothing wrong with falling in love with a friend.”

I want to scream that I know that, that we’ve had this conversation before, that I’m not going to embarrass myself by walking up to Mo and confessing how I feel about him, that I talk about him more than I should. I mean, I’m not even sure if it’s love that I feel for him! Sure enough, I enjoy his company, walking with him from class, chatting about movies and politics and anything under the sun! Being around him comforts me, but that’s probably because he’s the only person I’m close to here in Bloemfontein. This is what I want to say, but the words that come out of my mouth are completely different.

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way…” the words surprise even me. Did they come out of my mouth? “But that doesn’t mean I love him, right?” I say, hoping that it’s going to erase what I’ve just said.

Noxy laughs. “That’s pathetic, Zinzi! And you know this,” she says.

“Why do you say that?” what I really want to know though is how she know all of this. I mean, if she, who is in Cape Town, could see through me then surely the whole class, including Mo, already know.

“It’s obvious,” she says and then keeps quiet for a moment. “You talk about him a lot. At first, he was Mosquito Mathebula now all of a sudden he’s Mo,” she says “Mo” with a twang, as if to say that’s how I speak.

I want to say that I only call him that because “Mosquito” is a nickname used by all and sundry. But I stop myself. Instead, I say: “Oh…ohk,” in a defeated voice and sigh.

“Listen, we will talk. I’ve got to run. Next time we talk you better tell me something worth listening to,”

She hangs up before I can say anything. The silence that follows is unbearable. For a moment, I think about going to Mo’s room down the corridor, but I don’t. Instead, I open my textbook and try to pick up from where I left off before I called Noxy. But I can’t.

My mind is occupied by something else: Noxy’s suggestion that I approach Mo. It’s a crazy suggestion. But I can’t help myself from thinking about it.

What would Mo’s response be? Would he laugh at me and call me crazy? Would he hold me in his arms and kiss me?

Dish it: do you think it’s okay if a girl proposes to a guy?