I gripped the phone tighter, my breath hitching in my throat. “What?” My skin was prickling. I folded myself up on my computer chair, tucking my knees up beneath me.
Malakai continued breezily, casually, “They’re great. Ten out of ten. They slap. The love story between Shangaya and Niyo. . . . It’s weird. I’m invested, like proper invested. Also, now I get that playlist you made called Shaniyo.”
I’d forgotten that a week before, Malakai had followed me on the streaming platform where I made silly playlists called things like “Beats to Beat Your Face To” （Malakai had sent me a video of himself listening to it with a wave brush poised in front of his cheek like he was using it as blusher, cheeks sucked in, durag placed on his head like a wig）， and “Hip-Hop to Pop Your Ass To” （he sent me a screenshot of a Google Search for “How to Twerk”）。 I really didn’t think he would stumble across my fantasy novel soundtrack, though.
I groaned. “Cringe.”
“Are you kidding me, Scotch? It’s so good. Listening to it, it’s like you’re right there. You are so fucking talented.”
His voice was full of energy, and it poured over me and relaxed every muscle in me that I hadn’t known was tense. I hadn’t fully realized the potency of his voice until it was isolated from his body, and it was scary that whatever irresistible energy Malakai generated was so powerful that it didn’t need his impressive face for it to transfer to me.
Malakai continued, voice buoyant, “Nah, Scotch I don’t think you get it. I mean, obviously you do, but this is sick. That bit at their secret commitment ceremony? Jeez! Where Niyo gives her a thousand jars of honey and a thousand jars of spice as dowry. Uses his fallen wings to carry them and lay them at her feet, saying that he lost his ability to give her moons, but even if he could, what was a moon in comparison to the light of their love? This was all he could give her, the purest things on earth, most overlooked but with the most value. . . . Nah, it was nuts. My head was spinning. Bars, man. If I had Niyo’s game. . . . Wait. Let me even look it up.”
I heard some page flicking in the background, which bought me time as I tried to process what was happening, if this was really happening—and then his voice returned. “‘Moon spice representing their ferocious passion, a terracotta hue bright enough to favor his love’s eyes. Honey for their friendship, the sweetness of two spirits twined, the comfort of their knowledge of each other, happiness. The two balanced each other. Shangaya wept for Niyo’s broken wing, at what he’d sacrificed for her, and he said, “You are my flight. I can see my whole universe in your eyes.”’” Malakai skipped forward. “Then the ceremony . . . ‘Shangaya dipped her finger in a jar of honey, and then a jar of spice, and gently smeared it on Niyo’s lips. “Hold them both on your tongue, my sweet Starbird, and kiss me so I can taste how my forever tastes.”’”
Malakai let out a low, heavy whistle. “Shit. It even got me, and I’m not usually into this stuff.”
All I could manage was breathing.
“Scotch? You there?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I just . . . I’m glad you like the books.”
“They’re dope. Thanks for introducing them to me. Anyway, I’m going to leave you to get back to your work.”
“How do you know I’m working?”
“You’re a nerd. Also, you didn’t go to the library this afternoon because we went to go get lunch and you have that tutorial tomorrow.”
“Are you a stalker?”
“You do know I am basically obliged to spend time with you, right? I mean, I probably would want to spend time with you even if I didn’t have to . . . to study why someone of high intellect would choose such a nasty beverage to drink in the morning.”
I grinned. “Oh, so you are obsessed with me.” I leaned back in my chair. “How embarrassing for you.”
“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.”