Honey and Spice(18)
“You’re in denial,” he countered.
I gritted my teeth. This was way more drama than I’d bargained for with this whole deal. That was the entire point of Not Dating Zack. Not to feel obliged to dedicate time to him. Yeah, he had a body that was just muscle and skin and made for sin, but he was not the best talker. And that worked for me—I couldn’t get thrown by anything like a personality, a sense of humor, or intelligence—but it also meant that I found his tongue tedious when it wasn’t in my mouth.
My arrangement with Zack had started shortly after the infamous town hall incident a year ago when late-night meetings in a booked-out, tiny study room to figure out the logistics of FreakyFridayz with him led to my butt being pressed up against the desk. He was boring because, like every boy who was used to not working for what he wanted, he liked that I didn’t like him. And I liked that I didn’t like him. It was the perfect situation. He was attractive and fulfilled what I needed him to do—and nobody had to know.
Romance was a waste of time, a form of manipulation utilized by boys who didn’t wash their bedsheets regularly. It existed, sure, but I wasn’t surrounded by anyone I believed engaged in it properly, with respect for the object of affection, rather than a thirst to claim—a triumph of acquisition, rather than a triumph of winning affection. With Zack, it was clinical, uncomplicated. There was no risk of catching feelings. I had someone to make out with, without having to commit to anything longer than the duration of a Netflix movie. But this year, Zack had switched up on me, my sustained lack of attention now presenting itself as an affront that he needed to correct.
My eyes drifted beyond Zack’s shoulder, landing on Malakai again, and somehow, by coincidence or God, or the same energy that hopscotched between us, it happened to be the exact same moment he looked up. I cleared my throat and forced my gaze to switch back to Zack, whose arm had somehow made its way above my head, his palm flat against the wall, boxing me in.
I looked up at My Guy. “Seriously. What do you want, Zack?”
He shot me a slow grin. “Still mad at me? I don’t get no ‘Happy Birthday,’ no card—”
Nobody would blink twice at what was going on right now. Zack was known for being flirtatious, and we worked together. We were hidden in plain sight.
“Happy Birthday.” I sighed. “Zack, I’m not mad at you. We had a good time. It was what it was. And now it’s over.”
Zack arched a brow as he ran his eyes over me, voice dropping to a burr. “You telling me you ain’t gonna miss me?”
He was sexy, but his sexiness had run its course with me, a stick of bubble gum chewed on for too long. “You’ve got plenty of company, hon.” I flicked my gaze toward the sofas—his fan club was already shooting me evils through heavy-lashed eyes. I smiled up at Zack. “You’ll be alright.”
He chuckled, because my words glided off his skin, tickling him as they fell. “They’re not you.”
I laughed at his attempt to be romantic. “Okay. Say I say yes. Would you want me to go on dates with you in public? Be on your ProntoPic feed? Be your girlfriend?” I knew being in a public relationship with me wouldn’t serve him. I wasn’t sweet enough, pliable enough, not the right kind of popular. I was transgressive enough to be an exciting sidepiece though.
“Why you thinking about labels, Kiki?” Zack shook his head. “We’re more than that. All I know is that I want you. You’re peng, buff—”
“That’s the same thing twice, Zack.”
“Sexy, fine—”
“Thank you for seeing me, man. Really.” I pressed a palm against my chest. “I contain multitudes.”
Zack smiled and swayed a little. He was drunk.
“And I can help you contain more—”
I groaned. “Really, Zack? That actively made my vagina drier. Kinda like pussy silica gel. Know what I mean?”
Zack’s eyes shone and he stepped closer, voice dropping. “I see you’re into that freaky shit. That BDSM ting. Shit-talk me to get me worked up. I’m into it—”
He did not know what I meant. I stared at him for a few seconds in sheer disbelief before laughing and shaking my head. “Okay, I don’t know what you’re on right now but I’m going to need you to back up. I don’t have the time for this. Go drink some water. You’re acting really thirsty right now and it’s not attractive.” I patted his chest with the back of my hand, but he didn’t budge. My hackles immediately pricked up.
“Kiki, listen. You make me better. I make you better. I mean”—he gestured around the bar, the laughing, the dancing, the joy—“look at this. You did this. I pushed you to do this.” Zack reached out to stroke the back of a finger across my jaw.
My eyes narrowed. “I will bite you.”
He grinned. Oh, gross. He liked that. I kept my breathing steady. I was becoming nauseated by him. This thing between us was already turning rancid when I ended it but now it had a stench to it; it was growing into something sinister.
I gulped down my warm drink and had pushed myself off the wall Zack had me cornered against to move past him, when he snatched at my arm, his fingers pressing firmly into my flesh. I halted, rolled my eyes, and rubbed the crease between my eyes. Not today.
Zack had his bottom lip tucked into his teeth and was looking at me with eyes that were dilated and thick with something I didn’t need to see through to see through. “Do you want to die today?!”