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My smile spills out sloppily, broadly; it can’t help itself. I’m sohappy(it turns out that’s what this feeling is), with abright blossom inside me, a buoyancy, a sensation of supposed-to-be.

‘Good morning, Kai.’

‘Did you have a good night?’

‘Nothing much to report. Though I had the maddest dream.’

‘Same. I made you come three times.’

‘Two and a half.’

Malakai bites at my arm and I squeal, laughing before throwing my leg over his hip. He immediately wraps a hand round my thigh, then cups a butt cheek and kisses me, slow and deep and dizzying, biting my bottom lip, and causing me to grind against his erection, like a feral thing. I’m wide awake. He pulls away with an inky, heavy-lidded gaze. ‘OK. My bad. I can take constructive criticism. Let me fix that.’

And he does, slipping out of the king-sized bed and dragging me by my legs to its edge. He’s standing, naked, new sunlight skimming his skin and he’s so glorious looking at me like I’m glorious, in a way that gets my breath tangled, my thoughts twisted. Still cradling my gaze, he falls to his knees in front of me, as if in prayer, seeking absolution. Mine fall apart, make space for him, as if giving grace. ‘Never stopped thinking about this pussy. Let me taste you, Scotch.’ My teeth dig hard into my bottom lip and as I tilt my hips towards his mouth greedily, he places wide hands on my knees and pushes them further apart as he nestles between them. I feel myself get wetter in anticipation, as Malakai says, his nose grazing against the lips, his breath warm and teasing, ‘Mine.’ He lightly traces a feather-soft finger between, gently skimming my clit, and my breath catches, the sight of his tight coils on his head between my legs, the lithe muscles on his shoulders and back, going blurry. Then, his tongue is on me, in me, dragging and diving, starved and sucking like I’m the answer to a drought, the belief to all doubt. I’m cursing and then I’m blessing and then my hand reaches down to splay across his head, and Kai grabs me firmly by the hips to haul me further into his mouth, as if there is anywhere else I would rather be. He groans inside me, in delight, inrelief, and he calls a wave forth, so when his finger joins his tongue and teeth, dipping, dripping, curving inside me, conjuring a storm, I hear how wet I am. I’m trembling, calling his name, climbing towards ecstasy and when his hand slides up to press at the base of my belly, as his tongue flicks at the most sensitive spot, I buck, writhe, coming undone as he feasts, and I say jaggedly, ‘Yes, just, like, that,’ just like this, forever like this, please, please, please, in hope, in prayer, in belief.

By the time I come to, I feel boundless, despite the fact that all my bones feel like jelly. I’m lying across his chest and I smile against his lips. ‘I’ve missed you.’

Kai raises a brow, ‘Missed me or missed that?’

‘Do I have to choose?’

Malakai smirks in self-satisfaction. ‘No. You can have both for as long as you want, whenever you want.’ He briefly lifts my wrist to kiss the image of the sunrise inked on my forearm. ‘I’ve missed you too. Missed you so bad I couldn’t think straight.’

I grin and trail my hand across his chest. ‘Hey. Should we put on a sex playlist? Maybe play a bit of Taré? I’ve heard her new stuff is great.’

Malakai groans and splays a hand across his face. ‘I take it back. Haven’t missed you at all. It’s too soon to joke about that.’

I peel his hand back. ‘No. We gotta joke about it to get through how fucked up your meta sex was. I mean you had sex with someone whose voice we listened to while having sex. That’s mad, you know.’

‘OK, we neverlistenedto her purposely while having sex. She was, like, sandwiched in between Usher, Marsha Ambrosius and Jodeci while they were on in the background.’

‘So did you ever put my podcast on in the background with her? Just to even the score?’ Malakai doesn’t laugh. His brows furrow as he stiffens. In a different way to how he woke up. ‘Kai, I was kidding—’

‘Nah, it’s not that. Because the answer to that is yes, of course we did. We actually listened to your podcast episode about her music to make it extra meta –’ he ignores my little kick to his shin – ‘but, no, I was thinking–do you think Taré booked us in these villas on purpose? To fuck with us?’

My mouth drops open. ‘Shit.Shit! Ofcourseshe did.’

‘I mean, it’s well played. Diabolical, but well played.’

‘This might be the weirdest job I’ve ever had in my life. And I once had a bad date show up to one of my Heartbeat live shows. This is a guy who told me he didn’t “believe in fiction”. Anyway, he put his hand up. Asked me how I could ever find love if I was so stush.’ I laugh. ‘You know my audience, right? Dude was basicallycarriedout. Booed right the fuck out.’

Malakai chuckles. It’s low and rolling and eases into the new, unfurling space between us. Shaking his head, he says, ‘Man. I think if I had asked a question when I came to one of them, you might have found a way to kill me dead.’

Confusion stiffens my smile. ‘What? Don’t you meanifyou came?’

At my questioning look, Malakai runs a hand over the back of his head, apparently immediately regretting the confession. ‘I’ve been trying to find a smooth way to drop that, but I guess I fucked up. Uh, a year ago? I came over to visit my mum and brother for a week. I was on Instagram and saw people posting about the event. I was so proud. Like, youdidit, Scotch. You carved out something from your passion. Anyway, I wasn’t gonna go, but somehow I bought a ticket just in case. Somehow, I ended up in the area. Walked in and there was your face on this big screen.’

He smiles at the memory, his eyes gleaming with genuine pride that shortens my breath. ‘Surreal. Coolest thing I’ve ever seen. A room full of people just for you. You deserve a room full of people listening to you. One of the best parts was sitting in the audience, waiting, hearing people talk about you.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Man, Keeks, did you know that you havestans?I wanted to go, “I know her. She’s mine.” Felt like an intrusive thought, but then you got up on stage, Scotch, and you spoke and you looked so. . .alive. Happy in your purpose. And again it happened. I wanted to go, “I know her. She’s mine.” And then at the end there was a Q&A, and someone asked a question. “What inspired the podcast?” And you said it was always in front of your face–doing that sort of work. It’s just a reiteration of what you did in uni. And then you said...’

I remember what I’d said. I’d said, ‘But really. . .I got my heart broken and I realised that I could just sit there and feel like the world was ending or I could get up and rebuild. So I did that. Found the beauty in other things I loved and used that.’

And I remember being on that stage, and the lights blinding me and thinking I saw a glimpse of him at the back, and then thinking that I was delusional and, besides, somebody would have told me if he was in the country and, besides, why would he be there? Why would he want to be?

‘You. . .were in London? I had no idea.’

Malakai shrugs. ‘I kept it on the low. I didn’t want to see many people. Went to my mum’s and went to Kofi’s—’

I freeze. Kofi and Aminah were living together by then.