Eternal Love: Beynika Oneshots

Senses II

I missed all the signs, one at a time
You were ready
What did I know? Starting our lives
Now my love, I'm ready to show
_______

Five minutes or five years. I wasn't sure which was longer as I waited for the numbers on my screen to change. Too caught up on what would transpire in the next few minutes, I was unable to concentrate on playing, which resulted in packing my harmonica away and picking up the bottled water that was next to my bed. I was parched.

The cap came off with ease as I leaned my had backward. Water slowly trickled from the bottle and made its way down my throat to soothe the achiness that had come from the weeping I'd done all day. Just as I began to place the cap on the now empty bottle, the chiming of my phone startled me.

An incoming FaceTime call from an unsaved number drew skepticism from my thoughts. My brows furrowed as they gathered in the center of my forehead, threatening to touch one another if my frown lasted much longer.

Seven. Seven. Seven. One. One. I began reading the numbers off in my head. It wasn't until I reached the fifth one that I remembered who they belonged to. Beyoncé. Immediately, I swiped the bar to the right side of my screen and connected the call.

My nerve endings were displaced. Heartbeat became unstable. Eyes fluttered. Chest expanded. Palms perspired. Lips curled inside of my mouth. Throat dried. Thoughts jumbled.

"Oni," she beckoned for my attention, but she'd already had it.

All of it. Undivided. Her voice had captured me long before her beauty, but the combination of the two was ruthless. Unfair and plain ole agonizing. Of course I'd seen about a quarter of a million women in my twenty-eight years on earth, but this damn woman was nothing like any of them.

Her smooth, caramel-colored skin housed freckles up and down her T-zone. The shades that she wore masked the bulk of them, but I was still aware of their presence. Her face was nothing less than perfection. The lips and nose that were perfectly positioned on her gorgeous face may have been characterized as subtle to others, but they were perfect to me. Suiting, even complimenting every other feature she possessed.

"Beyoncé," I managed, though extremely hard.

The twirling of the fork in her hand drew my eyes toward the bowl that was in front of her. While I'd expected one much similar to those that I had purchased from Walmart over the years, I was confronted with a white, glass bowl that was square-shaped.

I'd only seen those kind in movies when the bank account status of the character was established. The obviously expensive glassware led me to examine the unmoving fixtures of her background. Her status was immediately made abundantly clear as I glared at the large chandelier that hung behind her, the large lion statue that was to the left of the camera and the kitchen appliances that were a tad bit harder to see because of their distance.

Modern. Spacious. Minimalistic. Three words I'd use to describe the setting of what I assumed was Beyoncé's home. If my assumption was accurate, then I could confidently say that she was a woman of means.

"Yes?" Her brows hiked as she carefully maneuvered the fork toward her lips.

I'd almost forgotten that she'd been cheated in life. Blinded. It wasn't until I watched her judge the direction she was required to move her utensil in so that it would land in her mouth and not on the side of her face.

"Nothing."

I didn't want anything. Not a single thing. Her name had come as a simple reply and as an aftershock of my initial introduction to such a beautiful face. I hadn't expected it. Not one bit, but I was pleased and had no objections.