He turned his head, fully awake now. “You sure? I feel like you be Door Dashing your bacon.”
Aku grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “First of all, don’t disrespect me like that. Second of all, I keep turkey sausage and eggs in my fridge. That counts.”
“I ain’t heard nothin’ about pancakes. So, I’m already judging.”
“You gon’ eat what I make or starve - your choice.”
He chuckled, turning on his side to face her. They stared at each other for a moment, comfortable in the kind of quiet thatsaidwe like being here, in this space, right now.The way the sun lit up her skin, made her look like she belonged in his dreams. Maybe she already did.
“You always wake up fine?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.
“I always wake up irritated,” she deadpanned. “Mostly cause my assistant swear she’s not ready but wanna be a boss so bad.”
He laughed. “She’ll figure it out…you did.”
“I’m built different though,” she said, smirking.
Malik nodded slowly. “I can tell.”
There was a stretch of silence. Not awkward. Just…breathing space.
Then, like the words had been sitting in his chest all night, he said it. “I wanna take you on a date.”
Aku just stared.
He said it again, firmer this time. “I wanna take you out. Like…for real - just me and you. Somewhere that ain’t dark with loud music and niggas tryna shoot their shot.”
Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the sheet. She tucked her sleek hair behind her ear. “I mean…we don’t have to go nowhere fancy.”
He studied her, really saw her as if he was just now recognizing how much space she’d started to take up in his spirit. She was there every time he blinked too long. Ever since she stumbled into Crescent—fine as hell, out of place, loud and wild in the middle of a hood that wasn’t made for women like her…Malik ain’t been the same since. She scared him because she moved like she didn’t know danger lived in the cracks of the sidewalks. Like the sirens didn’t mean anything and the blue rags couldn’t touch her.
“I ain’t broke, Aku,” he said with his face stone. “I can afford to take you out.”
Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but she stopped herself. “I didn’t mean it like that—” she started.
“I know,” he cut her off. “It’s cool. I know you sit high, but make no mistake - if a nigga wanna take you out, he gon’ take you to the fancy places. Not ‘cause he tryna flex, but ‘cause you deserve that.” He reached out, thumb brushing under her chin, gently lifting it. “Don’t ever lower your expectations for me.”
How was she not supposed to fall in love with a man who talked to her like that? Like her presence was power. Like she was luxury not just a pretty face with a slick mouth.
Damn. She needed her bitch, needed the group chat, needed to scream at Noodle through a voice note and tell herthis one felt different…this one feltreal.Tangible – like something she could hold without it falling apart in her hands.
But instead of saying any of that, she leaned forward and kissed him.
Pulling back her lips curled. “Okay, but if we’re being real… I’m still not making no pancakes.”
Malik laughed, and something about the way his head dropped back and his abs flexed under the sheets made her stomach twist.
“Say less,” he said, finally standing and stretching, tattoos shifting across his chest. “I’ll cook.”
She raised a brow. “You cook?”
“I doeverything, Dorothy.”
She bit her lip. “Yeah…I bet you do.”
Twenty minutes later the smell of butter and cinnamon started creeping down the hall. Malik followed it, bare chested, jeans slung low, socks still blessedly clean. He leaned against the island watching her flip French-toast sticks in the skillet. “That blue dress,” he said, chin tilted playfully. “Kinda miss it.”
“You better not,” she shot back. “Blue is your color, not mine.”
