Kai: Aite. A couple things.
Kai: I tried to make jollof rice for dinner, but I burned it. I think the missing ingredient was a special breed of Scotch bonnet only found in the suburbs of east London. May make your eyes water but the payoff is worth it. Will you come over tomorrow and watch me make it? I feel like your judgmental gaze will force me to be better （as well as you literally being a chef’s daughter）。
Kai: In case this wasn’t clear this is a formal invitation for you to have dinner with me tomorrow.
Kai: I just remembered you’re working out with Aminah right now. Tell her hi from me and to accept my ProntoPic request. She’s hurting my feelings. It’s been like a week and a half since I sent it, man. Last week I literally saw her scroll past my request in front of me when we went to the movies with her and Kofi.
I made a sound that was too close to a giggle for comfort.
Shanti’s brow popped up. “That was Malakai wasn’t it?”
I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry.”
Chioma’s smile was dry. “Why you apologizing? You know what the worst thing about Malakai Korede is? You can’t hate him. Believe me, I tried. I wanted to hate him so bad. But I never had an issue with who he is. I like his aura. Lots of light green in it. He’s sweet. It’s just that he always had a guard up.”
Shanti affirmed that with a rueful nod. “Super thoughtful and attentive, but as soon as you ask something personal his shoulders would get all high and he’d get shifty and itchy and change the subject. I never knew what he was thinking. Every day it was like tryna do some kind of romance sudoku. A peng puzzle. Who has the time? Okay, well, I did, I guess.”
It had been three or so weeks and I’d never once really felt like I had to work to know what was going on in Malakai’s mind, but I still felt a form of the block the girls spoke about, the way he veered away if I asked questions about before he got here, about why he was here.
Shanti nodded at Aminah and me as she rubbed the arms of her black bodysuit. Fur gilets looked sexy but weren’t exactly practical when you were straddling the cusp of autumn and winter in an English town. “Look, what you girls doing now? Chi-Chi and I were going to this new dim sum place in town—obviously they have a vegan option—and they’re doing a student discount tonight. Wanna come? Split a cab?”
To my surprise, Aminah jumped in immediately. “Why not? This workout has tired me out and I actually want to hear more about your makeup routine because your beat is immaculate.” She flicked her eyes across Shanti’s face, an everyday look that somehow shimmered, a pretty face that was shaped and pressed in a way that somehow unlocked even more beauty. “Also, I want to know if Chioma can really work out a way to hex Zack.”
I quirked a brow at Aminah and in response she twitched a shoulder and winked. Despite her earlier prickliness, I knew the girls had won her over by their dragging of Zack and their lack of judgment to my hooking up with him.
I smiled as we got up and headed toward the campus gates. “I’m down too. But could we please keep the origin of my and Malakai’s kiss to ourselves? And the whole Zack thing—”
Shanti wrapped her gilet around her and looked me in the eye. “Say less, sis. Secret’s safe with us. Besides, what matters is that what you guys have is real.”
I coughed and made a general sound of assent. My conception of real was growing more confused by the day. I didn’t know what real was anymore.
Chapter 18
The six-pack cardboard crate of Supermalt jangled slightly against two six-quid bottles of pinot as I rushed through the heavy glass doors into Malakai’s building. It provided percussion to the faded jumble of music flowing from open windows into the residential quad. A hall resident had gone in before me, allowing me to slip in without buzzing up. Malakai had technically invited me over to dinner, which meant it was custom for me to bring something. That’s what adults did on Netflix shows about married people with dark secrets. I wasn’t sure what wine would pair with jollof rice and chicken, and the attendant at Tesco Metro wasn’t really that much help. I think I’d seen them slamming down six J?gerbombs in a row at union before. So, alongside the dry white, I went for something foolproof, a staple of Naija hall parties, bought from a shop in Eastside. Personally, I didn’t have a taste for it. It felt more like a medicinal meal supplement than a beverage to be enjoyed, but Malakai loved it, frequently ordering the Supermalt float at Sweetest Ting, with the quip “It’s the one thing I know you won’t want”—although he never stopped me from picking at his plate.