Chapter Eleven: Aligned

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CIERRE

As I lay on my tummy, only a white towel drapes over my derriere. Refreshing aromatic scents waft over my body, clearing my nasal passages. Two talented masseuses lather and work warm, organic oils into my back muscles. The sleek water walls resound in my ears, sounding like an opera of tranquil waterfalls, nearly lulling me to sleep. Although it's Valentine's Day, and I have no one to hold or hunch, I'm at absolute peace.

"Care to detail us how you've spent two nights with Meli without killing them?" Kerani's taunting question interrupts my paradisiacal experience.

Sounding like a black Southern debutante, Yeli remarks, "Chile, they must've been fucking."

I'm starting to regret requesting the spa's staff to sign NDAs. If I didn't, maybe my girlfriends wouldn't feel so comfortable giggling about my business. After finding out Amel and I patched things up on the first day, Yeli and Von were generous enough to "allow" us to shorten our "Bel Air in Cabo" experiment.

Our first night, I made Amel stay up late and binge the final season of Insecure with me. While Issa and Lawrence got the happy ending I wished for, I'm so thankful I didn't watch the initial launch. My ex only had about fifteen minutes of screen time. However, they looked magnificent every second. If I had peeped them fresh off our breakup, I might've unblocked them and slid into their DMs for a late night creep. That would've added yet another embarrassing and disastrous chapter to the end of our relationship.

On the second day, we informed our friends of the gospel, played video games, and almost scuffled over the top three black 90s and 2000s sitcoms. Despite my adoration for Kyla Pratt, One on One shouldn't have ever left Amel's lips, especially not over The Parkers. Breanna ain't touching Kim, and Flex never said a funnier line than Nikki. Even T ate Arnaz up in the "hot guy friend" role.

But back on topic, yesterday was copacetic. If there was any challenge, it was dealing with my ex's half-naked nature. Regardless of the time that has elapsed since our romantic affair, my gaze remains conditioned to admire Amel and all of their majesty. Miraculously, I limited my gawking and pray my abstinence continues.

"Y'all need to let these people massage your brain cells next," I hum, as masseuses lower the blood pressure that my girls are trying to raise. "Because you know damn well that Amel and I will never mess around again."

"Do we?" Kerani asks, her voice squeaking as she goes up a pitch. "It's been two years, and y'all barely peeped at each other. You're telling me you don't feel some type of way now that you're able to look the nigga in the eyes."

"Rani..." Yeli utters the name as if it's a scold, but I hear the messy laugh vibrating in her throat.

"What? I'm just asking. Amel has pretty ass eyes. Shit, sometimes I swoon when I stare at them too long," Kerani defends. I hate how right she is. The honey-brown hue of their eyes possesses a captivating quality, instantly transporting you to a welcoming haven nestled by a warm fireplace. It's easy to get lost in them, especially when they're speaking about something they love. Their irises used to bore into mine, coaxing a smitten smile as they listed all the reasons they loved me.

Sighing, I reply, "Is Amel sexually attractive? Yes. Most people with eyes can see that." The edge of a palm presses deep into my upper back, and I release a quiet moan. "But I'm not acting on any temptations. It'd make shit more complicated, and I'd only embarrass myself. Mel doesn't want me in that way anymore."

"So, you do want them to dip their finger in your honeypot," Kerani instigates. "Is that the real reason you broke up with Tari?"

Annoyed, my eyes roll upwards and then to the back of my head as the masseuses hit my sweet spot. It may seem like my friends are being nosy, and they are, but we're so open with each other that we know each other's menstrual cycles. If I start cursing their asses out, they'll fall back. Fortunately for them, this massage is balancing my chakras and taming my rage.

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