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I rolled my eyes. “Prick.”
Malakai didn’t blink. “She-demon.”
My smile was a pastiche of innocence. “What happened to ‘angel face’?”
“I didn’t specify if the angel was fallen or not.”
I narrowed my eyes and yanked an increasingly waved Aminah up with me, rattled by the fact that I was rattled. I’d had enough.
“Have a nice life, dickhead.”
Malakai smiled brightly and reclined, sipped at his drink. “It will be. As long as we never have to do this”—he gestured at the space between us—“again.”
I paused.Inhale. Deeply. That’s it. And exha—I was picking up the glass of watery remains of my drink. I’d intended to down it, hoped that even in its ultraweakened state the rum would drown my irritation, but as I lifted it up, I found my hand tilting away from me, in the direction of Malakai Korede, so that the cold watery drink trickled down into hislap. He jumped up, eyes so shocked that the light in them sharpened to a blade.
Aminah gasped. So did I. A little bit. I decided the best thing to do was to lean into my actions.
I smiled sweetly at Malakai’s shocked face. “Don’t worry. We won’t be.”
I stalked out of Cuffing Corner, my best friend staggering gleefully behind me, while I made the determination that any mild kindles of warm feeling I had felt toward Malakai were simply the result of looking directly into the enchanted eyes of the Fuckboi Supreme.
