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“Compelling argument.” A pause. “Shirtless. Boxers.”
I imagined the taut muscle of his chest, the smooth, moisturized skin, a sweet plane for my tongue to glide on. My core constricted. I calmly noted that I had a raging thirst-on for Malakai Korede.
“Good to know. Thank you. Good night.”
“Wait, what? Nah, nah, nah. No fair. This is apartnership,remember?”
I grinned. “I’m a warm sleeper, so...” I let my voice dip. “I keep it light.”
“Oh. Okay. I see you want me to lose my mind tonight. Howlight?”
The delectable frustration in his voice wound me tighter, and I was just about to answer when he made an irritated grunt and swore under his breath, cutting the tension and sending me into a cold freefall. “Shit. I gotta go, Scotch. My dad is calling me and it’s better to pick up than get the stress of missing it later.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Speak to you tomorrow?”
Malakai exhaled deeply. “Yes. Put the books away soon. Watch Netflix. Night, Scotch.”
“Night, Kai.”
I hung up, vibrating, unsure of what passed between us but sure that I liked it. I wanted to curl in on myself as if to trap the clement heat in, but I also wanted to stretch, as if I’d just taken a deep, satisfying nap, let the energy from the good resting spread me straight, pull me taller. I was smiling. My phone buzzed—a notification pushed away the rosy warmth that filled me, dropping down from my screen almost gleefully.
Rianne Tucker has tagged you in a photo.
My heart moved to my mouth as I clicked, breath hitched.#ThrowbackThursday.A picture of both of us in year 10, hair slicked back into side buns, held by silver-toned snap barrettes that were there to control what Eco Styler couldn’t, 99-p hair-shop lip gloss slathered on as we pouted into the camera, arms slung around ourselves, holding each other tight.
Bedazzled on the throwback photo, pink and glitzy, were the words:BFFs 4 Lyfe.
