Page 57 of Honey and Spice

“I’m sorry, who asked who to kiss them?”

“Well, if you’re a stalker, which you obviously are—”

“So, we’re just gonna ignore that fact? Calm. Cool. Okay.”

“Just know that last summer, Aminah and I took two MMA classes that incorporated Beyoncé dance moves into the actions.”

Malakai released an incredulous laugh. “What was it called?”

“Get Em Bodied. The tag line was ‘Slay While Slaying,’ although there was a disclaimer about how they didn’t actually advocate for homicide.”

Malakai chuckled harder. “Oh, my days. That’s the sickest thing I’ve ever heard. Why did you stop after two classes?”

“It was technically illegal so it got shut down. It was in a warehouse in Peckham. Anyway, my point is, I could incapacitate you via an elbow to the neck with a move from the ‘Déjà Vu’ video. I’ll have you on your knees from a move from ‘Power.’”

Malakai’s laughter crackled in my ear like a new fire. “If I said that I find that hot would I be breaking the rules?”

The air in my throat curved in on itself. “Not sure we covered nonpublic compliments, but I think it’s allowed.”

“I don’t think you’d need to work that hard to get me on my knees, though. Realistically.”

The casual way he said it bucked against the dive of his timbre. Theimpact made my pulse reverberate. In the quiet, I moved to lie flat on my bed. “You really trying to do your sweetboy ting on me? Boy, move.”

He chuckled. “Nah, but for real, Scotch. The more I get to know you the more I realize how much of you there is. I wanna know it all.”

I was quiet for a little while before flipping onto my front. I stared at the picture saved by his name, one I took of him as he took a picture of a basketball game in Eastside. His eyes narrowed in concentration, but expression soft, open. He didn’t know I’d taken it.

“You know more than a lot of people.” That soft listening space that he always left when we spoke, like no word he said would work the way it’s supposed to without my response. I swallowed. “Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had to let you know more, for this whole thing to work.”

“I know enough about you to know that you don’t do what you don’t want to do.”

My breath inched through my throat. “True.”

Malakai’s voice burred low. “So... that would mean that you want to let me in.”

A path of lava pulsed through me. “Also true.”

The pause from Malakai was oblique, precarious. When he spoke, his voice was grainy with the texture of an emotion I couldn’t make out. “Thank you for having me.” It was unexpected, and I was grateful for my prone position because my joints suddenly felt gelatinous. And then the memory of our first kiss came to me unbidden, his hands on my waist, his breath against my neck. How easy it’d felt.

The quiet stretched taut between us, and though I couldn’t see him, I imagined him as still as I was, wary of movement, unsure of where to go—perhaps unsure of where we even were.

“You in bed?” I asked finally.

Surprise jounced through Malakai’s voice. “Yeah. You?”

“Am now.”

“Why you wanna know, Scotch?”

I propped my elbow on my pillow to angle my head on my palm, causing my playful, shy smile to tilt. “Oh, I just thought that I should probably do due diligence by learning what my man wears to bed. You know, in case it comes up in conversation with any girls.”

Malakai released a low, delightful rumble. “Kikiola Banjo.I’m scandalized. You’re kinda filthy ain’t you? I like it.... You could always make something up.”

“And get it wrong? You, my friend, were kind of a slag. Imagine my shame if I say you wear boxer briefs and I get corrected by one of your ex-tings who says, ‘Actually, Malakai Korede sleeps in a onesie’?”

“And in this fantasy, I would change into the onesie after sex?”

“You like to be comfy.”

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