Between Reel and Reality (Lesbian Romance)

Chapter Two: Bae

Deep down, you know it's best for yourself, but you

Hate the thought of her bein' with someone else

- Usher, Burn

AMEL

"Lastly, Father Gawd, we bless your holy name for this lovely Sunday you made," Kerani enunciates, stretching the terms, speech wobbling. "It had to be your mercy and forgiveness that shone on Amel and Cierre and helped them cease being petty, petty, petty bitches."

As we lower our heads and try to grasp decorum, I squeeze Zain's hand tighter, silently encouraging them to peek at me. They clock my goofy grin, and a snort bullies its path out of their nostrils, their cackles breaking loose. The wannabe deaconess unlatches her eyelids and shoots a deadly missile at my disruptive buddy. With a scapegoat, I liberate the chuckle I've held hostage for the past two minutes.

However, the praying woman's side-eye could melt ice. Although I've taken down some of the toughest ladies (in multiple ways), Rani has a "fuck around and find out" attitude. I push the boundaries of the potential killer, but whenever she seems on edge, I rein myself in. Who knows what she's capable of with those acrylics, or as I refer to them, talons?

With her lips tight, she prays, "See, Lord Je-sus! This is why I pray because these niggas like to play."

"Okay! Bars," my ex remarks with a funny quip, perfectly timed. I nearly suppress my laughter, but then she glances at me. The sportiveness swirling in those pretty chocolate eyes reminds me we made amends.

Kerani's prayer extends, her hold on Cierre and Nayeli's delicate hands tightening. Captivated by the might in the taller woman's grasp, I worry about early-onset arthritis developing in her shorter friends. "Al-migh-ty Gawd, please lay your hand upon my obeying forehead. Give me the strength to restrain myself from knocking the heads of these sinners together and generating a sonic boom."

Impatience creeps up on me, cutting the amusement bouncing around the prayer circle short. "Mane, c'monnn niiiie," I whine, sounding too country. "I'm hongry, bro." I withdraw my hands from Zain and Von's shaky touches. My brows point downward into a frown, urging Kerani to stop playing.

The glossy sheen on her luscious lips creates a vicious, sharp sound. "Fine, bitch, damn! A-men!"

Once she exclaims the magic word, I hop my ass between everybody, ignoring my aching joints. I haven't eaten since my conditioning session. If I had known I'd have to get through an emotional conversation and a sermon, I would've grabbed something on the road.

"Meli acting like they don't have a year's supply of nutrients in their muscles," Yeli jabs, nudging Cierre to laugh with her. Ci giggles while I grab my plate, checking her phone. She says she's changed since we broke up but still appears obsessed with her image.

"Girl," Cierre beckons Nayeli, backing away. "Tell me why Tari's lost. Let me run out front before he knocks on some white politician's door."

Who the hell is Tari?

As I wonder if the name sounds familiar, the aroma of succulent meats and mouthwatering sides draws my focus, prompting me to grab a plastic plate. I stack generous servings of Southern delicacies on its surface. Besides basic meal preps of proteins and veggies, I'm hopeless in the kitchen. If there's anything I miss about dating Ci, it's how her meals tasted, infused with pure love and care. Her culinary creations evoke the flavors of my momma's cooking, almost as close as my Unctie's does.