One thing is for certain: Malaki does not give up.
I hate to admit it, but I sort of admire his tenacity. His persistence isn’t unusual. Most men refuse to give up, but he pairs it with patience, and that’s seemingly unconventional.
Still, I refuse to dance with him.
“Malaki.” I dig my heels into my shoes and try to stop him from taking the center of the dance floor with me in tow. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
His eyebrows fold together. “I just watched you dance with Daisy, so nice try.”
My lips flatten. “That’s different.”
Malaki comes in close, our chests almost touching. “How so?”
“Because,” I stress, “she’s my friend.”
His huff, hinted with the scent of beer, hits me in the face. He places his free hand against his heart. “I thought we were friends.”
I hate that he makes me want to laugh. I suck in my cheeks and look past his shoulder. “We hardly know each other,” I remind him.
Malaki’s hands land on my hips, and I pause. There’s chaos around us, couples touching intimately and girls dancing with their friends as their drinks slosh around, but with Malaki touching me, it fades.
“That’s not true,” he argues. “We know plenty about each other.” He guides my hips back and forth, and I let him because I’m too interested to see what he’ll say next.
“Like what?” I ask.
His lips turn up on the side, andGod,he could be a model for some high-end clothing line. Handsome with perfect, kissable lips and a double-edged sword for a jawline.
“Well, let’s see…” Malaki spins me around and puts my back against his chest. The pads of his fingers dip underneath my shirt, and goosebumps fly to my skin.
Shit.
“We know where the other works,” he notes.
“Kind of hard not to know when you’re on various posters in the city.” I angle my head, tipping my chin to look up at him to see his reaction.
He smirks. “I can’t help that the city is obsessed with me.”
I roll my eyes and go back to looking at the dance floor.
“What else…I know who your best friend is.”
Okay, so he knows two things about me. That’s nothing compared to everything else going on in my life. It doesn’t even come close to the surface.
“Is that all?” I ask.
Malaki spins me again. This time, he takes my hands in his and places them around his neck. I clasp my fingers together because apparently my body didn’t hear the warning inside my head.
“I know your favorite candy.” Our eyes catch. “Skittles.”
I narrow my gaze. “But you don’t know my favorite flavor.”
There. Take that, Mr. Know It All.
Malaki flashes me a half-smile. “Strawberry.”
My mouth parts, a slight gasp slipping in between us.
How does he–
