His voice was level and warm, and the conspiratorial tone told me this was for my benefit. He was on my side. Like it or not, we were teammates, and I had no idea why he decided to join forces with me, but he was right. I couldn’t turn around. For this to work I had to pretend I didn’t care about anyone watching, had to act like I was into this for its own accord. Besides, if I stayed still, if we stayed talking as if this was a thing, people would get bored, the ripple would subside. This was a power move.
“Fine. We stay like this.”
The one improv class I had taken in first year （Dr. Miller suggested it as a way of improving expression; obviously, it was hell. The studio smelled like feet, and everyone insisted on massaging each other for no reason like were in a university-sanctioned sex cult） must have worked because I really sounded like that was going to be a chore. I stood back and held on to his forearms, strong and taut with a smattering of light hairs that buckled under my touch. This was throwing me off. I’ve been around hot guys, I dealt with hot guys, but this was more than facial symmetry, and a smile so bright I felt like I could see my future in it. My pulse was still trying to simmer back into regularity.
Malakai nodded. “We could stay like this, sure. Or we could get a drink.”
I laughed. “You serious?”
Malakai’s grin was mischievous. “We’re at a party. You’re here and I’m here, there’s good music playing and your man over there looks like he wants to bottle me, so we might as well have fun with this.”
Of course. This was tactical game playing. Malakai probably wanted Zack’s spot as alpha, and I was a pawn to him as much as he was a pawn to me. I wasn’t in trouble. This reminder calmed and cooled me. “He isn’t my man.”
Malakai’s eyes became less playful. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. It didn’t look like you were into whatever that was. I was gonna jump in when he—” His jaw tightened. “I was waiting for some kind of signal from you. You looked like you had it in hand.”
So that was why he had been ready when I’d turned to him. He’d been watching. He’d been checking to see if I was okay. The idea sent something simultaneously warm and sharp through me. I forced it to mellow. So he was objectively decent. If that was enough to entrap me then the bar for straight men was subterranean.
“I did have it.” I paused. “But thank you. For looking out. And being, you know, there.” Because how else do you say “Thanks for letting me kiss you to ward off a dickhead! Thank you for knowing what was happening.”
Malakai barely nodded, his eyes trained in on me, as if he were studying me. It occurred to me that he was still checking if I was okay. It made my skin prickle. That wasn’t his job. None of this was his job. What was I even doing?! I cleared my throat and let go of his arms. My palms almost smarted as the balmy air of the bar smacked against them, cool in comparison to the heat of this man’s skin.
“Look, um, this has helped, but Zack is . . . well, he’s a Neanderthal, and he’s probably going to be more pissed at you than me so . . .”
Malakai’s smile was breezy, but his voice had an edge. “So?”
I stilled. Why was his recklessness so hot? I was falling for hypermasculine heterosexual tropes like some porcelain-skinned damsel in a Mills & Boon.
“So, I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”
Malakai laughed outright. “We both know that’s not true.” His smile slanted up in a way that made my core tighten in a manner I didn’t approve of. “Besides, trouble always ends up finding me anyway.”
He couldn’t have been serious. My brows perked, ignoring his implication. “Oh, you mean like when Chioma and Shanti were in your face? That kind of trouble?”
“A misunderstanding. It’s sorted.”
“Uh-huh.”
The curve of his lips broadened. “You don’t like me.”
“I kissed you.”
The chuckle that Malakai rolled out ironically sounded exactly like chocolate-dipped trouble. I wanted to bite into it.
I smiled reluctantly, twitched a shoulder, conceded the silent point. Kissing meant nothing. I had, after all, actually allowed Zack’s tongue in my mouth. I tried again.
“Fine. I don’t know you.”
Malakai nodded casually. “Right. See, I thought that. But for some reason you’re moving like you do know me. Kiara.”
His face had been straight, and I resisted the immediate bend in my lips. The deliberate slipup on my name had been casually done, expertly executed. Shit, he was funny. More dangerous than I suspected. I adjusted my summation of him accordingly in my mental Fuckboi database. Fuckboi with jokes.