Honey and Spice(108)
“So?”
Aminah tilted her head to the side. “Oh. Oh, honey. That was never, ever a fake relationship. If that boy was ever faking how he looked at you, then Daniel Kaluuya better watch out because there’s a new fine-ass Oscar winner in the village.”
I followed her direction to see Malakai filming people talking by the bar. He slowly moved with the camera and landed on me. He froze. Even with the distance I saw the latent heat in his gaze. He nodded infinitesimally at me in greeting, so tiny that I could have missed it, so tiny that it was heavy.
“Hi,” he mouthed.
“Hey,” I mouthed back.
I allowed myself to risk the head rush of fully taking Malakai in. He was wearing crisp navy trousers and a kaftan, tailored to perfection, and even at my vantage point, I could see the intricate, twirling embroidery on the lapel of the high neck, see the way the material fit around his thick arm in a way that made me want to grab on to it and swing like fruit ready to drop, before I did drop into his lap, where I could pull him closer and kiss him. His thin gold chain winked at me, conspiring with the gleam of his cufflinks.
All of me leaped and unfurled and unleashed: all the missing, all the anger, all the hurt, all the . . . that heavy, soft thing, the pink matter of the matter. Fuck. I was falling, had fallen, when had I fallen? Was it a process, or was it an instant, or did time warp and rupture around us? Because whatever we were defied physics. Which was why falling in love with him had felt like I was shooting up and above and was light and full but not weighed down. I was in love with him. I was in love with a boy that I had thoroughly fucked it with.
Someone tapped Malakai’s arm, asking for a picture, and he tore his eyes away from me. I was breathing hard, my pulse pounding in my ears, feeling an odd storm of happiness at the sight of him and heartbreak at the loss of him, because somehow, I knew that our argument was both of our insecurities colliding, that the mess wasn’t the sum of us, the sum of our possibility. It was part of it, and that was okay. We were beauty within the mess. I pushed him away because I was scared he would hurt me and he let me because he was scared of the same. We were too scared to talk it through, lashing out to protect ourselves and hurting ourselves in the process. What was it that he had said when he walked away from us? That he wasn’t made for this? Wasn’t right for this? I should have said that we would learn how do this together. That he was so sweet and so kind with this. He was so right for me it was like he was made for me. I should have said, I think I’m right for you, Kai. I think we operate at a higher frequency when we’re together. Our energies fuse and we become supernovas. I think we have so much more to share and to give. I think we’ve barely even begun. To not give us a chance would be a shame, a waste, a tragedy.
I took a large gulp of my drink. “Oh my God, Aminah. I think . . .”
Aminah had been watching me and she pinched my waist. “I know.”
“What do I do?”
She scraped her chair closer to mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Take the risk. Be my Killa Keeks.”
Chapter 29
“What’s good, Blackwell? Welcome to the first ever ‘Live Brown Sugar Session,’ an episode made in conjunction with tonight’s AfroWinter Ball—thanks again, Simi, for this opportunity.”
Simi raised a glass elegantly from her table, and looked around demurely at her constituents, accepting silent praise.
I forced smooth joviality into my voice and let the words melt over the mic as my skin prickled from the spotlight on it, the intensity of eyes on me making my nerves spark. There was a light smattering of cheers, conveying curiosity more than excitement.
I put the mic on the stand and clapped my hands together. “So, normally, I’m reading you guys confessions and giving you my feedback. But I think for this episode it should be the other way round. I’m sure you all watched the video that our dearly beloved petty king Zack released last week, and I’m sure you all have some questions. I thought I’d lay it all out now.” I inhaled deeply. “Uh, first of all yes, it’s true, Zack and I hooked up for a few months.”
Oh, now the crowd had found their voice?! Gasps and murmurs vibrated through the crowd, people turning to each other, whispers of “I told you so” and “rah” rippling through the room. Zack wasn’t here yet; apparently every year he arrived just before the AfroWinter Ball royalty was announced. I cleared my throat.
“But, uh, contrary to what he implied, I did not catch feelings. Actually, if there is one thing I have a violent allergy to, it is feelings for Zack Kingsford. Like, even saying that sentence is making the inside of my throat itchy.” I coughed a couple of times, and the crowd’s laughter grew warmer. I grew bolder.
“It wasn’t a relationship. It was just, well, I don’t know what it was. I want to say it was fun, but honestly? When I really think about it? It really wasn’t that fun.” I shrugged. “It was a means to an end, but actually . . . well, I never achieved the end I hoped for, if you know what I mean.” Guffaws now and knowing hums from the girls. “It was an end I could have achieved by myself. With less talking.” I pulled a face and it pulled in more laughs.
“Thing is, Zack thought he could get away with his lies because he thought I would be too freaked out to tell you guys this. He banked on my silence.”