Page 16

. . .

Aku stared at the numbers, letters, and figures sprawled across the screen like hieroglyphics from a world she didn’t belong to. She wasn’t dumb—far from it. She just wasn’t built for this kind of smart - not this kind of precision…not this type of logic.

“So what am I looking at?” she asked, not because she really wanted to know, but because his voice had gone quiet and she missed it.

She’d been poking around since she stepped into his room, pretending to be curious, but really she just needed to feel him in his space.

It smelled like Malik—earthy, clean, like spice and sweat and something warm that stayed in your throat even after the moment passed.

She inhaled again, slower this time, like she could bottle it up and tuck it away for when she was lonely.

Malik didn’t look at her right away. His fingers tapped keys, his eyes red from a mix of fatigue and the pill he popped earlier.

When he finally turned to her, his smirk was crooked, easy, and tired.

“This the backend of the app where I fix bugs, add features, make sure nobody can hack this shit. One wrong key stroke’ll blow the whole thing up. ”

She folded her arms and nodded like she understood, but she was too caught up in the fact that he said blow the whole thing up and her mind—drunk and vulnerable—went straight to how it felt being near him…unstable and magnetic like a bomb. Like he might ruin her, and she’d thank him for it.

“I guess it looks beautiful.”

“What you mean?” Malik’s thick brows creased.

She stepped closer, and tugged on one of his loose braids without asking, letting her fingers linger. “This shows your mind…and I think your mind is beautiful.”

His eyes dropped. That was the thing about Malik—he always tried to look away when something touched him too deep, but his skin betrayed him. Yellow-brown cheeks tinged with rose. He shook his head. “You just be saying shit…so what you see when you look at me?”

She tilted her head, studying him like he was art. “Fear.” The word came like it had been sitting on the tip of her tongue begging to be free.

He shook his head. “I ain’t scared of shit.”

“Says the nigga that’s scared of the best thing life has to offer…

Love. You real scared of that. Maybe you been hurt like me, but my shit bruised my ego more than anything.

Did I love him? Enough to see something with him.

Now that I’m free—allowing my inner thoughts to simmer—the truth is, I never saw him in my forever future. ”

Malik hung on to her every word. Even with the slur, Aku spoke like her words were scripture.

He leaned in, fingers dying to connect with her smooth brown skin.

“But you see all that with me?” There was no bravado in his voice now.

Just that soft ache people carried when they hope for something they don’t believe they deserve.

Aku looked around the room before her eyes found his again. “I really don’t know.” Her shoulders sagged. “I might just be love drunk or love blind.”

Malik swallowed hard. Her words dropped like confessions into the cracks of the room. “What does that even mean?”

The corner of her lips curved. “The hell if I know. I’m drunk and horny.” They both laughed. “Smoke one with me,” she threw out.

“I don’t smoke,” Malik’s eyes bounced around. “But I got some pre-rolls.”

Her head angled, her finger gripped his chin, staring into his red eyes. “You don’t smoke? One, you’re the weed man. And two, your eyes red—you’re high, Malik. What you lying for?”

“I’m dead ass…I don’t smoke. How I’m gon’ be the weed man getting high off my own supply?”

“Then what you high on? Remember you don’t lie.” Aku rested her hand on her hip.

Malik wasn’t a liar but he also couldn’t tell her he had a slight addiction to prescription pain meds. “You trying to smoke or not?”

“Omitting shit is lying,” she sassed, holding her hand out. “They don’t know that in Oz?”

She was hella witty. Malik liked that. It gave her substance—shit that stood out over her looks. She could enmesh herself into any environment with those pretty words laced in hoodology.

After he dug into his stash, he handed her the pre-rolled za. “You talking like you been here before. This ain't ya first time in Oz?”

She took the blunt and flicked the lighter, the flame catching on the tip like it was made to burn just for her. She inhaled real deep. She needed the smoke to calm the feeling clawing at her chest.

Aku examined the blunt as if it had ingredients on it.

The weed hit smooth…no harshness, just warmth sliding down her throat, into her bloodstream, settling in her belly like a slow fire.

“Shit hella on point,” Malik smirked, knowing he only served the best.

Aku smiled, inhaling again.

She leaned back against the edge of his desk, letting the smoke roll out slow, her eyes still fixed on his. “I see.”

“See what?”

She tilted her head, taking another pull. “Why they love you. You quiet, but you say everything without talkin’. You don’t even realize how loud your presence is.”

That line made his breath catch. Malik looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, then dropped his hand like it didn’t matter.

He stepped closer. So close she could see the tiny scar near his temple, the way his lashes curled, the flicker of his pulse in his neck.

“You gettin’ bold now, huh?” he whispered.

She smiled with her whole mouth this time. “Bold been in me. You just waking it up.”

He reached for the blunt between her fingers, their hands brushing. She didn’t let go right away…just let the pads of their fingers linger, touching like they had all the time in the world.

“I thought the weed man didn’t get high off his own supply.”

“Sometimes girls have us breaking our own rules,” Malik’s voice came out jumbled from the inhale and exhale of the weed.

He wasn’t a smoker but needed something so he could keep up with Aku. When he needed to think, you could catch him with an unlit cigarette or a toothpick in his mouth.

Malik held her gaze, the weed forgotten now. His voice dropped again, so soft it scraped her bones. “I want you to stay.”

“Why?” she asked, not to test him, but to make sure he meant it.

His throat flexed as he swallowed. “I don’t even know…just do.”

Something about the way he said it, sent a chill up her spine.

It wasn’t lust that made her toes curl into the carpet, it was longing…

that deep, slow-burn kind. The kind that didn’t just want your body — it wanted your name, your laugh, your bad habits, your silence…

all the shit she hadn’t given the world yet.

She stepped forward, pressing the blunt to his lips. “Then make room for me.”

And when he took it between his fingers again, his eyes never left hers.

Malik’s lips wrapped around the blunt where her fingers had placed it, but it wasn’t the weed that had him dizzy.

It was her.

The way she stood so close, like she wasn’t asking for permission to be here. Like she belonged in his space…in his world. Like her presence wasn’t disrupting everything he’d carefully kept sealed shut.

He blew the smoke out slow, watching her through it. “You dangerous.”

She didn’t flinch. “And you not?” Her eyes went to the shiny gun sitting on his nightstand.

Touche.

His eyes dropped to her lips. They were slightly parted, glossy with whatever she’d applied earlier—but now it was smeared from the smoke and the night and the words they didn’t say.

She held his stare, head tilted like she was daring him to do something. Her voice came quiet, but it pierced. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Malik blinked.

She didn’t sound needy. Aku didn’t beg. But it hit him all the same.

His stomach turned over, slow and hungry. He was too high to lie and too sober to pretend he hadn’t thought about it every single time he thought of her.

“You want me to?” His voice was tight.

“I ain’t ask for what I want.” She reached for the blunt again, letting her fingers skim his. “I asked why you won’t.”

She took another hit, then leaned in so close he could feel her breath against his neck. “You scared?” she whispered, lips grazing his skin.

That word again.

Fear.

It shadowed her voice, haunted his silence. Because he wasn’t scared of her, not really. He was scared of what would happen if he let her all the way in. Scared she’d see the dirty parts of him…and stay.

Or worse…leave.

Her hand landed flat on his chest, right where his heart was thudding way too fast. “It’s okay. You don’t gotta kiss me. I just needed to know if you felt it too.”

He reached up and grabbed her wrist. His grip wasn’t hard, but enough to make her eyes snap to his. “Don’t play with me, Aku.”

“I’m not.”

“You think I don’t feel it?” His voice cracked. “Shit been choking me since the first night you looked at me like I was more than what I showed you.”

Their silence felt loud again.

He let go of her wrist, but Aku didn’t move. Her eyes flicked between his lips and his eyes, then back again. “So what you gon’ do about it?”

His hands found her waist. Her body melted into him like it had been waiting. He slid one hand down, letting it rest at her lower back…holding her there.

“If I kiss you right now,” he murmured, “I’m not gon’ stop.”

“Then don’t.” Aku’s voice was breathy.

His lips met hers like a secret they wanted to keep between themselves—keep in Oz. Soft at first, then he carefully peppered her lips. Aku sighed—deep, heavy, and full of feelings she hadn’t released in a long time. It all pulled something primal out of Malik.

So he kissed her deeper.

His hands gripped her waist tighter.

Her fingers dug into his shirt as his mouth moved against hers, his tongue tasting her like he needed proof she was real. She moaned into his mouth, and it made his knees go weak, jarring him a little, yet not enough to pull away.

Their bodies pressed together. Both of them knew exactly what this was and what it could become.