Between Reel and Reality (Lesbian Romance)

Chapter Eighteen: Winning Season

CIERRE

Amel's electrifying rendition of "Alright" jolts the previously drowsy award show from its slumber, seamlessly intertwining sensuality and skill in the choreography. Her daring performance pushes the boundaries of national television, showcasing her oiled body with captivating movements.

The performer's provocative hip movements and bouncing plump booty spellbinds her spectators. As she commands the stage, her vocals maintain a raw, magnetic quality, defying the challenges of non-stop dancing. It's almost surreal to think that days ago, this versatile sex symbol was confined to a bed.

The invasive cameras continuously focus on me, attempting to capture any signs of fawning or lust toward Amel. I refuse to give in to their desperate attempts. Instead, I remain dignified, singing and dancing, outwardly appearing like any other person enjoying the sexy electro-R&B jam. If anyone's going viral for fangirling, it's my momma. She's on the verge of throwing her back out.

Amel finishes setting the stage ablaze, blowing heartthrob kisses to the standing ovation. As we sit, Momma grabs my arm. "Girl, they grubbed that." She means, "They ate that," but I'll let her think she's hip.

Honey, Rozlyn Holyfield is more overjoyed than Cimel worshippers at our reconnection. Every friendly interaction between me and her once-desired daughter-in-law has graced her Instagram story with a caption such as "my loves" with at least three heart emojis.

Since our reunion, my daddy's already trying to plan a fishing trip with Amel and my big brother, Kamari. Even my little brother, whom I must find and grab by his ear to get his precious attention, texted me how he couldn't wait to skateboard with Amel—which isn't happening. I know I said I wouldn't coddle Mel, but if there's one thing they cannot do, it's safely ride a damn skateboard. The number of times I had to "doctor" them and hear them scream like a wussy any time I cleaned their "gnarly" gashes—yeah, no, thank you.

Anticipation snowballs as the ceremony reaches the final category of the night: Album of the Year. Without fail, Amel has swept every award they've been nominated for. The star infused each acceptance speech with playfulness, starting with a slurred Houston rap lyric and ending with quick remarks of gratitude. It's obvious they're saving the grand speech for their historic moment. I pray they get to say it, and the Grammy's doesn't play in their face. If they do, a rude awakening like none other will grace the committee.

My stomach turns as the show comes back from a commercial break. Amel slumps in their seat, seemingly unbothered, laughing at something Diamond's saying. Stepping onto the stage, the surprise presenter captures the entire room's affection. We all bask in the presence of the queen of Houston herself, sensing the legendary moment that looms.

As the nominees are announced, I steal a glance at Amel in my peripheral vision. A subtle smile plays on their lips as Jojo clasps their jittery hand. Everyone in our inner circle holds their breath as the climactic resolution to the evening approaches.

"And the winner is...

"heeeyyy...

"Amel for The Book of Amel!"

A deafening roar triumphs the arena as if the Lakers just won a championship game. Witnessing Amel's glowing, astonished smile, I shout and leap out of my seat. Von energetically jostles his friend's shoulders, encouraging them to stand. Once the icon rises, Jojo embraces his niece tightly, joyful tears mounting in his eyes. After the sweet interaction between the two, Von and Amel share their signature handshake and collide in each other's arms. Recognition for the duo's years of hard work has multiplied tenfold.

Amel takes their time, going around to all our friends, accepting hugs and screams of congratulations. As Diamond receives a warm hug, my smile loses some of its luster. In a flash, I tweak my lips. Surprisingly, Amel approaches me and my shouting ass momma. They engulf me in their muscular arms, giving me a sweet, breath-taking squeeze. When they pull away, my frame continues to pulse at their tenderness.