Page 14

The warmth of the sun radiates through the office window and onto Mali’s jumper. Her shoulder blades finally feel toasty after the chill of turning the heating off in the office. It’s April, but it’s not warm enough to not heat the office sometimes. She still has to walk home with her hands in her pockets, but the river has no ice on it anymore. It hasn’t rained all week, and Mali wonders if Zach would ever want to walk home with her.

It’s been a week since he moved in. She has no full regrets, she’s just horny as fuck, and she barely sees him. He keeps to himself. The only reason she knows he’s there at all is because the milk goes down quicker, and at night she has to try and bribe Buffy back into her room with treats.

Mali misses him a little bit, which is stupid because every time he sees her, he barely says a word. There are no more rapid-fire questions. He’s always so busy with his mum or his brother, and she’s not sure how to get him to slow down. Maybe he’s avoiding her because he thinks she’s so hot he can’t bear to be around her. She can’t believe she told him she was nervous because he was attractive. Loser.

All he had from his last place was eight boxes and a handful of binbags, and every corner of her heart hurt for him. She wonders where his friends are. What happened at his last club. She’s desperate to know him, and for him to want to know her, but she’s not sure if it’s in the cards for them. Somehow, they live together, and she sees him less than she did before.

Mali takes a photo of the ducks at the edge of the river, smiling at the thought that in a few weeks it’ll be warm enough to sit here for a while. She’s not expecting Zach to want to go with her, but she’ll think about him here all the same. She wishes he was more himself around her. Sometimes, when she manages to get him to talk to her, she sees the part of him she saw on her couch, or when they saw his mum. Miriam knew who she was by name, which Zach blushed at, but Mali is choosing to believe it’s because he mentioned he worked with her and not the fact he wants to run her over. But then she didn’t recognise Zach moments later, and any semblance of happiness had wiped from his face.

Mali had thought him moving in with her would give him some peace, but he’s already moved on to finding a new place. He spends most of his time trying to get his mum some help, and God, Mali’s so tired for him. She gets it. She’d be the same if her family were in need, but she’d have help. She wants to help. She wants to tell him to stop looking at houses—he can stay with her for as long as he likes. She wants to tell him he can sit in the front room with her if he wants. She wants to tell him that she wants to be his friend.

Alas, she can’t force anything. There’s only so much she can do before it reeks of desperation, and she’s not a desperate girl. She sighs as she leaves the path beside the river and gets to the top of her road. Today was a lot. Blyke are being difficult. More difficult than she was anticipating. The deal is likely to go through, but it’s taking all her willpower to not tell them to fuck off. The way big corporations talk about real-life people makes her a little sick. Frankie told her it’s just the industry, and she gets it, but ugh .

Tonight, she’ll call her parents and see if they want to invite her around for tea at the weekend. She hasn’t seen them in at least two weeks, and she’s having withdrawals. They only live three streets over, but she hasn’t had the time to pop in after work. Not because she can’t stroll in, but because they’ll ask why she looks like that. Down, she thinks. There’s a part of her that feels weird having someone in her house. Mali doesn’t regret it—she likes seeing Zach’s jumper on the banister, and hearing him hum in the shower. But she always thought when she finally lived with someone, she’d be less lonely in the evenings. Someone would make her tea, and she’d unwrap herself from her blanket and share it with them. It’s a strange feeling, to have someone around that isn’t around.

Mali pulls her keys out when she sees the edge of her garden. The cul-de-sac is cute. She never cared what the front of her house looked like, even though her dad kept going on about kerb appeal. But right now, she’s glad he pushed for it. The brick pavements and the way everyone’s front garden has trees, or bushes, or iron railings make it look like a scene from a movie. Zach’s car isn’t in the driveway, and she can’t tell if it’s a bad thing.

Then, she realises it’s a very bad thing. It takes her too long to notice the front door is ajar. That there is a hooded figure in her hallway riffling through the sideboard. Everything in her body turns ice cold as she steps onto her front porch.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, her hands shaking in an effort to get her phone. Where is Buffy? Tears sting her eyes as the horror strikes down her neck. She should leave. She should back up, and call the police, or Zach, or her dad. Buffy will be fine. He’s probably curled up asleep on her bed. But she can’t leave him.

“Fuck.” She grabs her phone, her hand shaking so violently it takes her three tries to get the screen unlocked. By the time she can see the screen, the person in her house is moving. Towards her.

“What’s your problem?!”

He’s loud, but she doubts it’s loud enough for her neighbours to hear over the whirring of the air fryer or the sound of the television. God, she should have gotten a terraced house after all. Why had she wanted to be surrounded by trees when she could die here and no one would know?

Mali stands still, trying desperately to see around him so she can find Buffy. “I just— I want—”

His eyes dip to her hand, and she grips her phone tighter.

“Are you calling the fucking cops?” the man asks, his face screwed up as he gets closer to her. She shakes her head, leaning backwards as he walks towards her. His hand grabs at his waistband. He won’t have a knife, right? If she screams, would her neighbours come out? She takes a step back, but somehow, he’s steered her diagonally, and her foot slips onto the stones besides her path. He keeps moving until her back is pushed against the tall hedge.

“You can just go,” she says, her voice quiet, even to herself. “I won’t—you can—”

“ I won’t—you can— ” he mocks, moving closer. She could hit him. A swift knee to his bollocks would probably give her enough time to get inside, but she can’t get her limbs to move. She can’t figure out how to do anything other than stand here petrified as the man glares at her. Her house is her safe space. It’s the only place in the world she can be entirely herself, and he’s ruining it.

“What’s going on?”

Zach! Mali almost snaps her neck to look at him. Oh, thank God, it’s Zach. She didn’t hear his car over the sound of blood thumping in her ears. He must have been picking stuff up from his mum’s, because he’s got boxes in his arms. She hears him now. His voice is calmer than it was when he was angry at Toby, but it’s deadly, even as his eyes widen. He’s worried too.

“Get away from her,” he says. “You’re scaring her.”

“Bruv,” the man says with a smack of his lips, but he steps back a bit all the same. “This bitch—”

“I said get the fuck away from her De, or I will put you in the fucking ground. Do not test me.”

De? Zach knows him—the would-be thief. Though maybe he was snooping in her darkened house with no one else around with no intention of taking anything. She doesn’t care, as long as he leaves right now . He took a step back when Zach told him to, but he’s still too close for comfort. If she tried to move, she’d still touch him. A tear rolls down her cheek.

“Man, if I knew you were a pussy now, I wouldn’t have come see you.”

Zach drops his boxes on the ground, his hand heavy against De’s shoulder as he drags him out of the garden. It’s all Mali needs to run. She throws the light on in the hallway, and her breath comes too quick and short to be safe, but she manages to call out, “Buffy!”

Her feline companion comes sauntering out of the front room, stretching as he does. The tears that were threatening to come out ever since she saw the shadow spill over her cheeks, and she sinks to the floor, sobbing and heaving for breath.

Mali watches the kettle boil, then jumps as the key turns in the lock. Every time she’s heard a strange noise since she got home, she’s had to check the front door to make sure no one is there, but the only people with keys are Zach and her parents. She doesn’t mind who it is coming in—she trusts them both.

“Big stretch,” Zach whispers, and she can picture him stroking Buffy. Taking his shoes off and lining them up with hers on the shoe rack. She didn’t realise she needed the comfort of him being home until now. Mali stopped crying a while ago, and she’s only been home about an hour. That’s pretty good for her. Still, she feels the need to drag her hands down her face. There was a while where she didn’t feel herself—like she was existing outside of her body. It was fear; she knows that much. So, she washed her face and took her wig off, then threw herself into some pyjamas, and she feels better. Not good, but better. Zach helps. Somehow, despite his reluctance to talk to her, his presence helps.

She picks her favourite mug from the cupboard, and the one she thinks Zach likes the most, and makes the tea. Zach is yet to come into the kitchen. Mali wonders if he’s not going to mention it. If he’s going to hide upstairs. She wonders if she’d ever forgive him if he did.

“It’s just me,” he says, finally. She can hear him hanging his coat up.

“Hey,” she replies. “Can you pass the milk?”

He does, but he doesn’t sit down, instead pacing behind her.

“Zach—”

“I’ll be out of here by morning.”

“What?” Mali asks, her brow furrowed. She spins around, and he looks truly tortured. Tired. Like he might die on the spot. “I don’t want— what? ”

“My brother—”

“That was your brother?!”

“Yeah,” he replies, running his hand over his face like Mali wants to do to her own. “And I—God, I should never have brought him here.” He takes a step closer, then seems to change his mind. “Are you hurt?”

“No. No. I just—you weren’t here, and your car wasn’t here, and there was a strange man with his hood up looking through the drawers with the door half open, and I—I didn’t know he was with you. I wouldn’t have done anything if I knew he was with you.”

Zach looks furious, and she wonders what his brother said. Fuck. He’s never touched her beyond his fingertips on her neck when he did her hair, but she’d kill to have him hug her right now. She won’t ask for that, though. He already looks like he might pass out.

“I don’t know what he said, but I—”

With a sigh, Zach says, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Mali.” He places his hands on the counter. “I’m used to losing things because Devon is… he’s difficult to have in my life sometimes.”

“You’re not the result of your brother’s wrongdoings,” Mali says. “And I don’t want you to leave.”

He rolls his neck, then looks over at her. “You don’t?”

“No. And you can have people over. Just tell me.”

“He wasn’t supposed to go in. He was supposed to help me unload boxes, but he didn’t even manage that.”

Mali reaches across the counter and runs her finger across his balled-up fists. He flexes his hand, and she counts that as a win as she pulls her fingers back.

“Want to order in?”

Zach sits opposite her at the small dining table. Their knees bump a little, but neither of them mentions it. It’s quiet, as it always is, but for once, Mali doesn’t mind. It’s not like she’s expecting him to want to talk, especially after this evening.

“I like your hair like this,” he says, forking another couple of chips into his mouth. Zach eats impressively fast, and more than she’s ever seen someone eat.

“Thanks,” she replies. Zach has seen her without her wig since he’s moved in, but it’s usually when they pass each other in the hallway. It’s short right now. Almost a buzz cut, if you asked her dad, but there’d be a good half inch of hair if she tugged at it. Mali doesn’t feel self-conscious about her hair; she’s just in her wig era. She went through braids at school, but she fancied a change when she turned twenty-five. Zach hums, and she assumes that’s all he’s going to say.

“Can you tell me about your week?” he asks, and Mali almost chokes on her fish.

“Blyke are doing my head in,” she says, but then changes tactic because she doesn’t want it to seem like his fault. “But Kai’s sponsorship is going through next week, and he’s so excited. It’s really cute. Toby keeps looking at me, and I can’t figure out why, but that’s next week’s problem—”

“He fancies you,” Zach says, putting an unhealthy amount of tartare sauce on his fish. Mali gawks at him. He must interpret it incorrectly because he places a spoonful on her plate too.

“He does not.”

“Yeah, he does. He’s not subtle about it.”

Mali frowns. “Why would he think being a dick was going to get him anywhere?”

Zach shrugs. “Innit.”

Mali ponders if Zach is right. It doesn’t matter either way. Toby isn’t her type—he’s a knob.

“What would work?” Zach asks. She wishes he’d look at her so she could figure out if he’s still sad. Also, then his arms would move, and she’s about twelve seconds away from telling him his biceps are ruining her life.

“What would work with what?”

“Like, if he asked what would get you to like him. What would you say?”

“Oh my God, please tell me he hasn’t asked.”

Zach laughs, finally looking up at her. “I’m just checking. What if he asks me tomorrow?”

“You’re literally so annoying.”

“Mali,” he says, tapping his toes against hers. “Tell me.”

And since she’s a sucker and has no desire to ever say no to him, she tells him.

“I don’t know. He needs to be funny, so Toby’s shit out of luck. I like gestures. Like the stupid things you’d see in movies or something.” She remembers the purple tulips on her desk and smiles.

“You’re a romantic,” he replies. It’s not quite a question, but he looks at her like he wants to know the answer. If Zach tells Toby to turn up with a boombox, she’s never going to talk to him again.

“Yeah. I like people who are open, you know? Like they want me to know things about them.”

“Like what?”

Like their favourite colour. Mali can’t say that, though. “Mmm. Like what their favourite dinner is, and what scares them. I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”

“Should I tell him you want a cute guy, so he doesn’t need to waste his time?”

Mali throws her head back in a laugh. “Toby is cute, but he’s not my type.”

Zach looks at his plate again. “You don’t like rugby players?”

She swallows thickly, like she’s nervous he might be able to get into her head, and if she says no, he’ll call her a dirty liar because he can see all the ways she thinks about him. Mali has never thought about another rugby player in the way she thinks about Zach. She’s not even sure how she thinks about him. He’s just always on her mind. Mali doesn’t have a type, not really. But if she did, they’d look like him.

“I don’t like Toby. Having great shoulders isn’t a bad thing, though.”

Zach hums and moves the leftover chips around his plate with his fork. “My brother has been in and out of jail.”

“Oh.”

Quickly, as if he realised he’s told her something he shouldn’t have, he relates it to work. “If possible, I’d like to avoid any interview questions about it.”

“Sure. Yeah. Of course,” she replies. Zach’s toes tap against hers again, and she wonders if he knows. He leans back in his chair, and she traces his silhouette with her eyes.

“Anything else?” she asks, because she’s greedy and wants to know everything, even if she wishes he was telling her because he wanted to and not because he wants it to stay out of the press.

“I’m bisexual,” he replies quickly. “That’s not something I necessarily want hidden. I just don’t think it’s out yet.”

And fuck . He does fancy Ezra. “Okay. If you don’t want it hidden, do you want to put it out yourself?”

Zach frowns. “Like on social media? I don’t know. I’m not against it, it just seems cheap.”

Mali laughs. “I mean, I could get you paid for it. I know you don’t want any sponsorships, but if you wanted something else, you could get it. I don’t have to tell you how much of a big deal it would be for a rugby player to come out. Terrifying also, so I would understand if you wanted to keep it low-key.”

“Well, I have the Blyke one,” he says, rolling his neck. He doesn’t seem annoyed about it. Just wrong.

“No, you don’t.”

“I thought the contract was going through this week?”

“Yeah,” Mali says. “But you didn’t want it.”

Zach frowns again, and she wants to live in the crease between his eyebrows. “So?”

“What do you mean, so? You said you didn’t want it, so I haven’t put you in it.”

“Oh.”

Mali spins a little in her chair, propping one of her legs up as she leans her head into her hand. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” Zach replies, and he mimics her movement. She feels her face heat up when his foot touches hers again. “I just… well, I thought you might do it anyway.”

“Why would I do that?”

He shrugs. Then, because he’s the worst person she knows, he stretches, and his top rides up, his stomach tensed with the movement. She sighs audibly. He doesn’t say anything, though—just links his hands behind his head. She’s going to think about his arms and his abs for the rest of her life.

“I’m used to people doing whatever they want,” Zach says. “Especially when it comes to money.”

“Oh. You’re not in it. For real.”

“Is that why Blyke has been so difficult this week?”

Mali laughs a little. “Yeah, but that’s not your problem.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my job. I don’t want you to sign anything you don’t wanna sign.”

Zach smiles, and she smiles back. “So, the coming-out thing. What do you think I should do?”

“Well, do you want to come out?”

“I’m already out. Well, my mum knows, and you know. So, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. And you’re right. It would kinda be a big deal. I don’t care about that, but if it helps some tiny, scared kid somewhere, then, I dunno. Feels kinda like I should do it.”

“You’re really great,” she says, and it shocks her how true she thinks that is. Even with his inability to talk to her before today, and the way he keeps putting his washing in the machine without turning it on, and the way he gets up way too early in the morning. He’s great. Really.

She clears her throat when he looks at her. “Think about it for a while, but we can do a magazine, or an advert. You know Tradios wants you for underwear so bad.”

“They do?”

“Yeah. They keep upping their offer. It’s my fault, though, because I haven’t told them you don’t do sponsorships.”

“Why not?”

Mali shrugs. “What if they don’t invite me to the photoshoot?”

This makes him laugh louder than she’s heard him laugh before, and she’s possibly obsessed with him. He lets his arms drop to the table.

“Perv,” he says, and his body stops shaking as his laughter calms down. “I’ll think about it. It’s kinda scary.”

“I’m sure.”

“My last team found out. Well, a few of the guys caught me making out with a dude in some sketchy alleyway.” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth, but this time, her stomach doesn’t flutter—her heart aches. “It was hard because the team didn’t have my back. We were all mates before that but, I don’t know, that seemed to disappear the moment they saw me.”

“I’m so sorry, Zach.”

He shrugs. “So, obviously, when I was hounded by the grackles in the stands, I was called all sorts. I was used to it because it was a white town, and I had no other black players,” he says, with a light scoff. “It sucked at the time, but I didn’t have a team like the Titans. Now, no one there likes me either.”

She reaches her hand over the table and hooks her fingers around the back of his hand. “I like you.”

He smiles like maybe that’s enough. “You like everybody.”

“So?” she replies, and he laughs, looking towards the ceiling as he manoeuvres his hand. She thinks he might drop her hand, but he holds it more securely.

“Not to be annoying…” he says, looking guilty. That fucker is going to say he’ll do the Blyke sponsorship she just spent weeks making sure he’s not in.

She watches his throat bob. “You’re not annoying.”

“If you wanted, I could do the Blyke sponsorship. I mean, if it makes it easier for you.”

Mali shrugs, but they’re going to be ecstatic. She’ll probably be able to double the budget. “It’s already done, but if you want it, I’ll change it for you.”

Zach shakes his head. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You’re not trouble.”

“No?”

“Not to me.”