Page 22 of Set My Soul Ablaze

“Cool. One sec.”

With a few taps of the screen, I opened the text thread and sent the screenshot. I heard a slight shuffling on his end before the line went silent.

“Does the number look familiar to you?” he asked.

I shook my head, then realized he couldn’t see me. “No. I don’t know if it's somebody playing on my phone or what. I know I shouldn’t take the threat as a joke, but I’m tired of being on the defensive, you know?”

“I get that for sure. What capacity do you need me right now?” he asked.

I blinked.

Never in my life had anyone asked what I needed from them. I didn’t even know how to fully respond to the question.

“Mali?”

“Sorry. Your question caught me off guard. No one has ever asked me something like that before.”

I could hear the smile in his tone, even if I couldn’t see it. “Do you need me to be your friend, your protector, or your confidant? Do you want me to give you solutions, change the subject, or what? Tell me what you need from me.”

I muted the phone and buried my face in the pillow and let out a muffled scream. As I did this, I kicked my feet. I held the action for almost a full minute before I recollected myself and unmuted the phone.

“Honestly, I just want you to be my friend. Offer a distraction for the night so I don’t go to sleep with this still on my mind.”

“I got you. Let’s play twenty-one questions,” he suggested.

“Not the horny man game. Let me guess, you’re going to start off by asking my favorite color, and three questions in, you’re going to ask what sex position I like the most?”

He let out a laugh so loud I was sure my parents could hear it from down the hall. It took him almost two minutes of full, deep belly laughter before he finally calmed down long enough to speak to me. “That’s some funny shit. I don’t know what type of niggas you’ve been dating, but that ain’t me. I genuinely want to know you without the pressure of sex looming in the back like a thief in the night.”

“Are you even human?” I questioned.

He chuckled. “Very much human. Very much still a man. I know how to handle my sexual needs without making women uncomfortable.”

“Period. You need to profit off this. You got men out here creating toxic nigga classes and becoming billionaires for these incels inability to get women. If they had a man like you teaching them the ropes, the world would be a better place.”

“That sounds like a nightmare. I’ma pass on that.”

“No, but seriously . . . I’ll play the game with you.”

“Are you comfortable FaceTimeing me? I want to see your face when I ask these questions.”

A feeling I hadn’t felt since I was in tenth grade filled my core: butterflies. The idea of being on a FaceTime call with Artez in my bare face and bonnet sent a surge of nerves through my body. Then I remembered . . . I was in nothing but a bonnet, a robe, and bear paw slippers when we first met.

“We can FaceTime.”

“Say no more. Let me switch the call over.”

I moved around in the bed so my back was against the plush, olive-green headboard. I twisted the lamp on the bedside table and waited patiently. When the call came through, I swiped the arrow and watched his picture spread across my screen.

He was shirtless. The tattoos covered his arms, chest, and neck. Under the light of his lamp, his freckles were so prominent. He wore a do-rag, and his beard looked moisturized.

“Hey,” I squeaked.

“Hey.” His smile was intoxicating.

“Not you wanted to match with me,” I teased at the sight of his do-rag matching the color of my bonnet.

“Great minds think alike. Most of my clothes are variations of black, gray, and white.”