Honey and Spice(75)
It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, because that night I would close my eyes and think about how he’d said that before he squeezed my hand and I pulled him into a hug and his arms pinned me so close I could feel his heart racing through his sweatshirt. His face fit into the crook of my neck like it belonged, his nose brushing up against the skin between my collarbone and throat, eliciting a spark in my heart and between my legs. He released me so slowly, like he was giving something up by doing so. His hand dragged currents across mine as he surrendered it, palm to fingers to tips, before lifting my hand so his lips could graze my knuckles like a feather on fire before finally letting it go, because no kissing. I’d said no kissing. I couldn’t remember why anymore.
Chapter 19
Saturday morning of the following week, I was awoken by an aggressive buzzing sound. I hauled myself up on the bed and picked up my phone to be informed of two things:
It was nine a.m., far too early for any normal human being to be calling on a Saturday morning.
Malakai was not a normal human being. Deep down, I might have known that already.
We were both at FreakyFridayz the night before, and we’d only got in five hours ago. He should have been as tired as I was. I rubbed my eyes and blinked at the caller ID for a few moments to establish that I was indeed seeing what I thought I was before picking up.
I groaned. “Why?”
Malakai ignored my warm greeting. “Aroa, Shangaya.”
I frowned into the morning sunlight streaming into my room. “What? Are you still drunk? Why are you saying ‘good morning’ to me in Fekonia? Are you that much of a Reigns geek now that you’re speaking the language? Ugh, I’ve created a monster—”
“Come to your window.”
“Mate, if this is a Rapunzel situation, my braids are tied up with a headscarf. The lifts in this building work fine,” I replied, already scrambling up off my bed, walking to my third story window by my desk, and squinting against the autumn light, curiosity and excitement propelling me.
“Can you just— I’m tryna do a ting. Can you let me do the ting?”
I laughed. “Okay, I get that being my fake boyfriend means you gotta try to be romantic, but I think Romeo and Juliet roleplay is a bit much. Particularly as they were both just basically horny idiots who—”
I stopped as I spotted Malakai in the courtyard between the student hall buildings. He was Niyo. Well, he was dressed as Niyo. He must have hit up the seamstress aunties in Eastside because somehow he’d got the deep scarlet material needed for the cloak that Niyo wore in the book. Niyo’s cloak had ancient celestial characters written on them—Malakai had re-created them by cutting out and sticking some black material to the cloth, following the patterns in the book. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an impressive attempt, particularly for someone who, I’m pretty sure, had never watched Project Runway before.
He was wearing crisp white trousers from what looked like half of a traditional Yoruba outfit, ?okoto, the precise kind that Niyo was described as wearing. He also happened to be topless. This made sense for Niyo, who existed in a tropical fictional ethereal universe, but not for Malakai, who was in a southern town in England. It was about twelve degrees. It must have been uncomfortable for him, but I was grateful for the choice. It allowed me to see, with clarity, his gold chain glinting on the deep brown of his chest, mimicking the protective amulet his character wore, but more importantly, gave me full view of his lightly defined six pack, which, though not specially acquired for the occasion, I appreciated anyway. His skin was deep and smooth and glinted in the morning light, a sight for sleep-addled eyes, and just like that, I was alert, energetic like I’d had ten hours of sleep. He had sprayed his hair gold, in homage to the fact that in the story, Niyo’s curls had been fashioned from sunbeams. All of this combined to somehow amp up his already unbearable levels of sexy.
I bit my lip. “Malakai . . .” My voice was a whisper. “What are you doing?”
I saw him shrug. “We’re going to RomCon. I found tickets on the black market. Kidding. I took the wedding photos for this guy who works in the marketing department of a ticket company, and he said I could shout him for tickets whenever. Turns out they’re doing the tickets for this event. Our train leaves in an hour and a half, by the way. I got you slices of Tottenham cake for the journey.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Kai, you serious?”
“I mean, I didn’t bake them. I definitely got them from the bakery last night, so they might be a little stale.”
“Not the cake. I mean, yes, the cake but also the trip. . . . Kai, it’s too much!”
His voice was easy, jovial. “Oh. You think this is for you? I have a bunch of books that need signing.”
I snorted and my eyes misted. Something in my chest swelled. I felt like I was being lifted by the sheer force of the butterfly wings batting within me. “I can see your nipples from here. Could take an eye out.”
“Yeah, it’s cold as fuck. They can double as weapons since I didn’t have time to make his lightning staff. I’m gonna wear a T-shirt on the way there, but I just needed you to get the full effect. I also got a nose ring.”
I pressed my forehead against the window and Malakai titled his head, angling it in a dramatic pose and, sure enough, I saw the tiny glimmering sliver of Niyo’s characteristic thin silver piercing. “Incredible.”