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“Bet all the girls wanted to play house with you.”
“Yeah, but my true calling was football. Didn’t want to be tied down.” Malakai’s rogue grin grew wider at my rolled eyes. “Anyway, when he left, my mum started taking me. When the trim was over, I never wanted to leave. I loved being there—the men were like uncles to me, cousins, big brothers. The music of it, man. The rhythm. The razors, the football, Fuji music, Motown, Highlife, the banter, the debate, even though most of the time I never knew what they were talking about. Ishouldn’thave known what they were talking about half the time!” Malakai lit up, the brightness in his eyes so vibrant, it bounced its way over to me, grabbed the tips of my lips, and made me smile.
“I used to kick off so much when it was time to go that eventually my mum started leaving me there with snacks and a juice box while she ran errands. Working there was my first job—officially at sixteen, realistically at fourteen. Sweeping, cleaning... running to the chicken shop with food orders. And, whatever was happening outside, or at home, that place was always safe, always warm. And it wasn’t always safe outside. Wasn’t always warm.” I nodded and Malakai twitched a shoulder. He didn’t have to say what he wasn’t saying. “There was always love there.This, like, solid form of community. Someone had a job interview? Cut on the house. A link? Advice from the elders.”
I let a sly smile slip out. “Oh, snap. So that’s how you became such a relationship expert? Listening to the OGs?”
Malakai rolled a low chuckle in his mouth. “I learnt a lot from them, generally. The film—I guess I wanted to capture the energy I felt in that shop.”
A new side to Malakai had just been revealed to me—it was brighter, his eyes glittering with new, fascinating refractions when he spoke about his work, his home. I liked looking at the dispersions of beams. I cleared my throat. “Well. I think you nailed it.”
His eyes shot gratitude at me. “I appreciate that.”
The sincerity singed my guard. “So, um, Dr. Miller mentioned a new film?”
“Oh, right, yeah. Uh, this is going to sound completely nuts but I’m actually thinking of entering a film competition, The Shades of Motion.”
“Woah. That doesn’t sound nuts. That’s so cool. Isn’t it one of the biggest film festivals for new artists in London?”
“Yeah. Even being short-listed opens up huge opportunities.Cutsdoesn’t fulfill the requirements so I’ve come up with another idea. I feel like being short-listed would make filmmaking more than just a hobby, you know? Make it feel legit.”
I frowned. “Make it legit? You study it. You’re good at it. I imagine you love it—”
“I love it so much, man. It’s like...magicto me. Being able to capture life that way. Bottle it and open it up at the same time. Share it.”
A quiet fell between us. I could feel us both wondering how we got this far into earnest conversation with each other. It was too late to revert to small talk. I wasn’t sure our dynamic ever really allowed for small talk anyway. After a few moments, Malakai started to rub the back of his neck again.
“Uh, so my dad doesn’t exactly know I study film. I mean my degree is technically film and business studies, but still. I’m hoping that by the time he finds out what I’m really interested in I’ll have something to show for it. Something tangible, you know? Just to avoid all the long talk and headache. And maybe prove something to myself too.” He shrugged. “I mean I probably won’t even be short-listed, and I’m definitely gonna be up against more experienced people—”
“What’s your idea?”
He smiled at me, something warm that momentarily disoriented my vestibular system. I made a mental note to get iron tablets.
Malakai inhaled deeply, as if fortifying himself. “Romance in uni. Dating in uni.”
He noted my quizzical raised brows. “I know how it sounds. But I just feel—objectively—that romance is interesting. Especially here. It runs social interactions in Blackwell. It’s part of our foundation.” It was irritating that I couldn’t argue with this. Evidently sensing this was the case he continued, “I feel like a lot of romance is projected or performative. Not quite a fantasy—”
“But not quite real either.”
He nodded, “Exactly.I also think it would just be a cool way to understand women.”
I snorted. “There it is.”
“Nah, but hear me out.” Malakai flipped so he was in front of me, half walking backward, his gait as smooth as ever. “I just want to understand relationships. I’m honest, okay?” He pressed a broad hand against his chest, head ducking slightly to prove his humility.
“I don’t go into them because I can’t do them. But I want to understand what makes people want to enter them in the first place. What makes people realize that’s what they want?” His arms were spread wide as he stated his case to me, a charismatic preacher. Had I heard his good news, that it’s possible to be a player and not a dick?
“I want to understand the compulsion. And yeah, okay, if I understand gyal through it, that isn’t a bad thing. Maybe I could perfect casual dating without collateral. Knowing how to attend to emotional and physical needs without—”
“Two girls fighting over you at a campus linkup?” I finished.
Malakai grinned brightly at the flat tone of my voice. He repositioned himself next to me. “Right. Is that so bad? Figuring out how to perfect casual dating so you can approach it ethically? You know it’s actually kind of a social good? The boyfriend experience without the stress of actually having a boyfriend. I don’t need birthday presents, I won’t get jealous, but we’ll have a great time together, regardless.”
“So, my gut says it’s sociopathic, but your voice makes it sound reasonable, and my mind can weirdly rationalize it? Which makes me feel like that’s part of the sociopathy. I think you’d be a great cult leader.”
“Mystic Malakai.That’s what you called me, innit? Has a ring to it.”
“Man, you’re just like... the worst, aren’t you?”
