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.”
“It’s definitely going to turn my nostril green. Worth it, though. I look sexy. Tupac is in Cuba, shaking. Be honest, does the gold hair make me look like Sisqo?”
“I don’t know. Do ‘Thong Song’ for me right quick?”
When Malakai did, immediately bursting into the chorus, clutching his fist, I snorted. “Yes. It’s cute, though.”
Malakai’s grin competed with the autumn sun, and instantly I was overwhelmed with an unidentifiable force that was strong enough to cause me to hang up, grab my key, and rush out of my flat braless, in my crop top, jersey booty shorts, and slippers, outside into the crisp November air and jump onto a surprised Malakai, who apparently had been trying to call me back. I threw my arms around his neck, buried my face into it.
Malakai was only momentarily surprised; his arms instantly circled my body, pulling me to him, almost lifting me up, my T-shirt hitching a little, so my skin was against his skin. It was cold, but at this contact, heat seared through me, made my pulse whirr. As we pulled slightly away, our rapid exhalations misted up and mingled in the tiny space between us; our arms stayed around each other.
“Kai, I don’t know what to say. This is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me in cosplay right now.”