Page 9

“I don’t know, Dad,” Mali says with a laugh as she skips over a puddle. “I’ve only been here two weeks!”

“Mali-Ali,” he groans, rubbing his palm over his face. She loves video-calling on her commute. The weather has been bright and dry for the past few weeks, though she thinks it’s about to take a turn for the worse. She likes to walk next to the river while she can. “Just ask him for an autograph! Need I remind you I bathed and fed you for years?”

“I’m your child. It’s basic human rights,” she replies, smiling as she watches her father pout. Her purple hair blows in her face, but at least it’s not raining yet. “I’m here. Call you later!”

“Bye, kiddo.”

“Love you,” she replies, ending the call and rolling her headphones into a ball that she’ll regret later.

Mali is settling into a good routine with work. The players are pretty much invisible, unless she decides to sit out on the benches while they practice. She’s only done it a couple times, but she always goes back to work all… huffy isn’t the right word. Horny probably is, but she’s trying to pretend that’s not a thing. That she’s not thinking about the way Zach’s arms bulge when he lifts Kai above his head by his shorts. That she doesn’t imagine him laying over her when she slips her hands into her underwear with the soft glow of her bedside lamp.

It’s the weirdest feeling. She’s not sure she likes it, but still, her vibrator has been her best friend of late.

The sponsorships are shaping up as well. Blyke are the biggest sporting company in the world, and they replied to her email. She’s basically the Queen or something. She hasn’t told anyone yet. It’s way too early to get anyone’s hopes up. Also, she’s not sure who to tell. Frankie is her closest friend. They have lunch most days she’s in, but Mali’s not sure she wants to tell her yet. Blyke would come with a huge influx of cash. New uniforms, building refurbishment kind of cash. She wants to talk to someone that won’t put all their hopes on it.

She wants to talk to someone who understands that while an agreement with Blyke might go through, Mali still has her heart set on Goliath. She’s still saving something for them in the hopes they would ever want to sponsor the Titans. Goliath are a Black-owned up-and-coming sports brand, and their ethical stance is out of this world. They support so many initiatives that Mali wants to be involved with. They’d sponsor them in a way that could make community-wide change. A new junior league, perhaps. So, while Blyke are right now, that’s not her endgame. She wants to tell someone that would understand that part of her. That kind of friend for her doesn’t exist yet.

Individual sponsorships are moving forwards, kind of. Kai is her favourite because he’s so keen. So nice. So likeable. And his shoe contract is being negotiated right now. Mali had to send it for revisions because she thought they were taking advantage of him. She knows the Titans haven’t had much before, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth more—that they don’t deserve decent terms and rights—and Mali’s not about to let any of the players sign something detrimental just for a wad of cash.

She even managed to speak to Toby for longer than six minutes without throwing something at him. There’s still something sinister in his eyes whenever he speaks to her, like maybe he doesn’t trust her, or he doesn’t think she’s doing whatever she can so he’ll get a decent deal. Whatever. His contract with an energy-drink company is almost ready, so she won’t have to talk to him again. At least he’s engaging.

Unlike Zach, who, for some reason, is always in her eyeline. Like right now, as he walks to his car. She likes his face, but every time he talks (which is about three times so far) it makes her want to talk to him more, and he doesn’t want to talk to her. He told her his favourite colour was orange, and she forgave him for being short with her. A mistake, because now he doesn’t say a thing. She looks away quickly before she has to wave to him and have him ignore her like he has every day since she last spoke to him. (She had a blaring headache and was glaring at everyone; he put a tea on her desk and walked away. She said thanks, and it’s sad she counts that as a conversation.)

“Hey.”

Mali spins around, looking for who’s talking because there’s no way it’s Zach. He hasn’t spoken to her first. Ever. When she looks over at him, he’s looking right at her. She doesn’t reply because she’s not sure if she’s being punked. But then he waves, just a little. She blinks, then frowns. Zach looks down.

“Hi,” she replies.

Zach looks at her again. There’s nothing on his face that suggests he wants to talk to her. It’s possible there’s someone behind him with a gun, forcing him to say hi, though she has no idea why there would be. He looks down for a moment, and she should have run away, but now he’s looking at her again.

“It’s supposed to rain later.”

What? Is she in the twilight zone?

“My app says it’s not supposed to rain until tomorrow,” she replies.

“Oh.” He keeps looking at her. It’s not creepy or anything. She kinda thinks she could look at him all day and she wouldn’t find it weird, but she doesn’t want to be late when she’s literally in the carpark.

“Okay,” she replies, pulling her coat closer. “Well, see you later.”

Zach disappears into his car like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sliding back into the sewers. Weirdo. Either way, Mali walks into the office with a smile on her face and the confidence to go ask Ezra for an autograph.

She drops her bag off and stomps right over to Frankie’s office. Frankie and Ezra are talking, but she has too much nervous energy pulsing through her, so she barrels right into the office all the same. (The door is open—she’s not insane.)

“Ezra, can I have an autograph, please? It’s for my dad. His name is Mosi Okeye.”

Ezra looks at her like she’s a freak. He might be frowning, or it might be how his face is, she doesn’t know. Either way, she tries not to look at him for too long in case he realises she exists. He’s the only one on the team she hasn’t spoken to about sponsorships yet. He doesn’t say anything, and she chances a look at Frankie, who gives her an encouraging smile.

So, she stares back at him. Her palms are sweating, and she truly thinks she might throw up—she’s basically Eminem. But then the miraculous happens. He grunts.

“Want it on a top?”

Mali smiles so wide she almost starts jumping on the spot. “Two.”

“Is your father two people?” he asks. Maybe he’s not grunting, that’s just his voice.

“Well, my mum—Zamina Okeye, by the way—is also a superfan, so how cute would matching tops be?”

“So cute,” Frankie replies.

“So cute!”

Ezra does grunt this time, but Mali takes advantage of his seemingly nice mood.

“Wanna go through sponsorships today?”

He stares at her, and this time, she does feel a trickle of sweat drip behind her ear.

“Zach is here,” he replies, and Mali swears she sees a hint of gratitude on his face. Like if she’d pushed hard enough, he would have done the sponsorships. Then, for a moment, she thinks Ezra’s talking to her because he expects her to care Zach is here. But then she realises it’s because she’s the only one who calls Zach “Zach.” Well, her and Ezra, apparently.

“I thought he was leaving,” Mali says, spinning around to check Ezra isn’t lying. Zach is right there. He’s in actual clothes, not rugby gear, and God, he is so fucking pretty. His hair is down today. She didn’t notice earlier because she was too dumbstruck that he was talking to her. He has a bunch of flowers in his hand—tulips—and places them on her desk while he hangs up his coat.

“These two are trying to sort out the Fun Day,” Frankie replies, gesturing to Ezra. “Good luck.”

Mali looks back at Frankie. “What Fun Day?”

“We used to do it years ago,” Ezra says, and Mali watches his face as he talks. He really does look like he’s angry all the time. She’s not even sure how. His brow isn’t furrowed, and he doesn’t have creases in his forehead, pushing his face down. He’s a very attractive guy. Smooth skin, lush cheekbones. How does he look so annoyed all the time? “But we didn’t have the money. Now we do.”

“Oh my God, the Titanian Fun Day?”

“Yeah,” Ezra replies, and his face lights up as much as she thinks it could. So, like, his eyebrow rises a millimetre. “You know it?”

“Yeah! My family used to bring me. It was… uh, cute.” Mali remembers getting her face painted and thinking it was the coolest thing in the world to be allowed on the rugby pitch. Then she got older, the nostalgia wore off, and she realised it was a few stalls with bric-a-brac and three rugby players. People still turned up, though. Especially if Ezra was going, which he always was.

“It was shit, but we’re hoping it will be better this time.”

“It wasn’t shit,” Mali replies. It could be better, though. “Well, it wasn’t shit for little kids. They love anything. But you need to get all the players here if you want everyone to like it.”

Ezra rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“Maybe you could get catering too? And if you asked local businesses to show up, that would be good. They could sponsor it and get free promo. Do you have a budget?” she asks, and Ezra looks at her like he hasn’t thought about any of this yet.

Zach hovers outside the office, looking between her and Ezra.

“Hey,” she says. Zach looks at her once, then back to Ezra. “Ready?”

They leave, and Mali is left wondering, once again, what Zachariah Azan’s fucking problem is.

Frankie snorts. “I told you he’s a dick.”

“But he’s not a dick all the time,” Mali mutters, mainly to herself. “He literally said hello to me on the way into the building. Have I transformed into an alien in the past ten minutes?!”

Frankie laughs. “Don’t waste your time trying to figure that guy out. But maybe… do you think you could help with the event? Ezra doesn’t want to ask because you’ve got so much on, but it’s truly tragic, and I can’t deal with him moping around for weeks after.”

“Try and set up an event with Ezra the talkative and Zach the polite?”

“Yes,” Frankie says, “but Frankie the Lovely would be so grateful.”

Mali folds her arms across her chest. “Will you buy me a doughnut?”

Frankie smiles and pulls out a box from behind her. “As if I didn’t already.”

Well, Mali thinks, at least there’s one person here glad to see her.

Mali licks the sugar from her doughnut off her fingers, then squirts some anti-bac on her hands because Toby is by the sink and she can’t deal with another twat today.

“Okay,” she says, chancing a look over at Zach. His jaw has dropped a little, and he’s staring at her. “Oh God, do I have jam on my face?” She dabs a napkin around her chin, but nothing comes off apart from a little foundation because she’s an oily girl. “Zach?”

He blinks, snapping his jaw shut. “Er, what?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. He is so strange, but she doesn’t have the brain power to figure out why. Her daily headache is already looming.

“Okay,” she says, opening a new spreadsheet. She resists the urge to name it Mali and the two tossers. “So—”

“Are you?”

Mali frowns. “Am I what?”

Zach shuffles in his seat, looking from his lap to her face. “Are you alright?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m good, thanks.” Mali clearly looks at him for too long because he looks away again.

“You sure?”

Mali frowns. She wonders if she ever stopped. “Why?”

Zach chews on his lip, and Mali follows the motion like her life depends on it. “You’re frowning.”

“You always frown,” she replies. She’s not sure why she’s defensive. He’s not lying—she is frowning.

“Do you want a tea?”

Oh God. She does want a tea, but she keeps forgetting to bring her own teabags, and they only have own-brand here, and she’s a snob.

“You always get a headache because you don’t drink anything,” Zach says, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

“Untrue,” she replies, though now she thinks about it, he might be not wrong.

Zach shrugs. “I can make you a tea, or get you a water, or you can pretend you don’t have a headache the entire time, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t hurt.”

Mali pouts so hard her lips nearly touch her nose. “I don’t like the teabags,” she whispers.

Zach rolls his eyes, then gets up and walks to the kitchen anyway. Mali guesses she can drink it if there’s enough sugar in it. She follows him and leans against the counter while he pulls two mugs out.

“Two sugars, please,” she says, and he looks sideways at her.

“Did you like the tea I made the other day?” he asks. “I mean actually like it, not just saying yes because you want me to be happy?”

“I’ve seen you happy exactly zero times,” she replies, then gets a little sad about how true that is. “But yes, I did like the tea. Thank you.”

Zach hums, then opens the cabinet with the teabags, and Mali tries not to whine, but then she sees it overflowing with all kinds of tea. Twinings staring her in the face, right next to the PG Tips, which are glorified bags of sand.

“Oh my God!” she says, her hands against the worktop as she stretches to look. “There are loads!”

Zach hums again, but he won’t meet her eye. He stares at his arm, and she realises all too late that she’s in his personal space, her chest resting against his arm with her need to view the teabags.

She swallows and takes a step back. Mali’s thinking ridiculous thoughts, like maybe Zach got these. Not for her. Just—well, she thinks he got them. “Did you get these?” she asks.

“Nope.”

“Are you lying?”

He smiles a little as he stirs the water. “We’ve got an event to plan.”

Mali smiles as she follows him back to her desk, and she wonders if they’re going to truly be friends.

Unfortunately, a few of the players have decided to have lunch and be loud and annoying. (And yes, Mali is aware she sounds like a grumpy old woman.) In the combined five minutes she’s had in her life of talking to Zach, she’s realised he turns into a different person when people are around. It can’t just be the interview, because other players have said worse. It’s not his fault he went viral for it.

Zach’s not paying attention to her right now. She follows his eyeline, and he’s looking at the flowers he left on her desk. It reminds her to get some new flowers for her desk because she had to throw hers out last night. She makes a note on her stack of post-its.

“Right, so—”

“They’re for you.”

Mali looks up at him. “Hm?”

Zach shuffles in his seat. She wonders if he’s not particularly comfy in it. She makes another note—to look for a wider chair. “The flowers. Your vase was empty this morning, and I had to pop to the shop anyway.”

“Oh.”

“I just got the same ones as last time.” He did. They’re a different colour (pale purple) but the tulips make her smile as much as the last bunch had.

“Thank you,” she replies, running her fingertips over the petals. “How much do I owe you?”

Zach frowns. “They’re a gift.”

“Oh.”

He swallows again, and she hasn’t seen him look this uncomfortable since he stood in her hallway and they attempted to avoid talking about him living across the hall.

“You should put them in water.”

“Yeah.” Mali stands up too fast, her chair wobbling as she moves, then grabs the flowers and her empty vase and leaves. She can’t believe Ezra had to go help set up practice. At the time, she didn’t argue, because she thought it would be worse with him here, but she’s starting to think she should have forced him to stay. Zach is so confusing. She hasn’t been this confused since secondary school. There are some parts of her teenage years that she feels nostalgic over (the music, the deadly amount of eyeliner, the drinks at the beach) but being confused over a guy is not one of them.

It only takes a few minutes to fill the vase and arrange the tulips so they sit at different heights. They’re pretty, and she’s going to get caught smiling at them all the time. Ugh. Frankie was going to have a field day with this. But still, it was cute. Even if there was nothing behind it because Zach seemed to actively avoid spending any time with her. She’s not sure how to navigate this now. They’re just flowers from a sort-of friend. He noticed she didn’t have them and went to get her some. Friendly. Even if most of the time he’s anything but.

She sits back at her desk, and Zach watches the flowers as she places them next to her computer. She almost puts them in front of her so she doesn’t have to look at his face.

“They’re really pretty. Thank you.”

He nods. Mali thinks about the things she’s supposed to be asking him. The date of the event. What he wants from it. How much help he needs.

“You and Ezra are friends?” Mali asks. Zach rolls his neck, actively loosening up, as if he was expecting her to ask why he bought flowers for her desk. She wants him to talk more than three words to her, but she’s not sure being inside his mind is something she needs right now.

“I don’t think he hates me, but we’re not mates.”

“You’re friendly.”

Zach shrugs. “I guess.”

Mali has a silly idea. It’s so stupid she hasn’t said it out loud to anyone, but she wants to tell Zach. She leans over the desk. “Have you seen those movies where the grumpy person gets set up in a fake relationship?”

“Excuse me?” he asks, then the worst happens. He pulls the hairband on his wrist with his teeth as he puts his hair up. It’s like it happens in slow motion. Mali swallows. She’s never seen his arms from this angle. He rolls his neck, scrunching his eyebrows a couple times when it’s done. A few locs fall on the sides, but his face is entirely uncovered. Every three minutes, she forgets just how attractive she finds him. He looks at her, and she realises she hasn’t spoken at all. “Mal?”

Mal? Mal. Her heart flip-flops in her chest. If he ever cared enough to actually flirt with her, she might combust on the spot.

“Er, you know… like The Proposal .”

Zach looks positively tortured, and she wonders if he has a crush on Ezra. “I don’t want to do that.”

Mali laughs. “No one would believe you settled down, and you’re not grumpy enough. I want Ezra to do it.”

“You don’t think I’m grumpy?” he asks, sitting up a little. “And why wouldn’t I settle down?”

She avoids mentioning the newspaper articles about him being a playboy. Lord knows how he manages to pick up girls when he can barely look her in the eye. Perhaps he throws his hair up and they ask him to take them home. She’d understand.

“No,” Mali says. “I don’t know what you are yet. I haven’t figured it out.”

“Are you trying?”

Mali looks at the hopeful tilt of his brows, like he doesn’t ignore her most of the time. “I don’t know. Back to Ezra.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s not going to do it.”

“Dammit,” she grumbles. “Don’t tell him I told you. It’s like pillow thoughts. So, when is this event?”