Chapter 7 - Naledi

# Chapter 7: Naledi

"I take back any mean thing I've ever said about you," I say to Mandla as he hands me a giant plush springbok he won for me. Not only did the man ride every ride with me—even the lame ones—he insisted we had to play the games.

"You forget I used to work at the Middelburg Show when we were in high school. I know how to beat the games."

"Oh, I didn't forget. I just figured that's why you hated shows."

"Where is this idea coming from?" he asks.

"I guess it's just been a long time since I dated someone who knew how to actually have fun." I clap a hand over my mouth when I realise what I've said. "Yoh. Wait, are we dating? I probably should've asked—"

Mandla pulls me to a stop, tugging me behind a wood-panelled stall painted red. He presses me up against the side of it, cloaking me in darkness. "I told you, I don't let just anyone into my bed."

"That doesn't technically answer my question." The heat coiling in my belly would beg to differ, but I want to hear him say the words. "I need you to be crystal clear considering our history of misunderstandings."

"We're together, you and me." He cages me against the wall, a hand on either side of my head. I drop the springbok to my side, inviting Mandla closer. The heat of his body cocoons around me. "You're off the market, Naledi. So don't even think about going on any more dates unless they're with me."

"Not even fake dates to make you jealous?" I tease.