Rimshot ❁ d.j.h

• chapter two •

"Emmy nominated actress, Normani Kordei, spotted in Calabasas with her wife of five years, Daniella Brynn. Doesn't the couple look so cute? I wish my husband and I could match like that!" The talk show host droned.

Dinah held up her tv remote with a scowl, switching the channel with cheeks full of Chex mix. She chewed until the soggy mix went to its new home in her stomach.

"Can you believe that? I'm in fucking Santa Barbara with a roommate, trying to make things work, and Daniella Brynn is just strolling through fucking Calabasas in the sun with Normani Kordei and a goddamn Maltese!"

"No, DJ, I cannot believe that." Her roommate, Lauren, mumbled in between her sips of coffee. Her eyes were glued to the mail in her hands despite her ears being framed towards her friend's complaints.

"And Normani is so sweet! Did I tell you that she bought the entire crew donuts the other day? She didn't even have to. We have catering on set!"

"Yup. I remember." Lauren took another sip, mumbling under her breath. "For the thousandth time..."

Dinah stood up from the sofa, her white shirt falling off of her shoulder from being two sizes too big.

"I mean, I haven't even met Daniella and I just know she could do better than her. Did you see that video that was all over social media—"

"Definitely not one of her brightest moments."

"—Of her yelling at that cashier and making her cry because she mixed up her order?" Dinah laughed shallowly. "How could she be with someone like that?"

"Okay," Lauren set her dark green coffee mug down and finally looked up from her mail with a sniffle. Allergy season was not treating her well. "DJ? When are you going to just admit that you're in love with Normani? Or at least give up on the feelings. I mean, dude, she's married. And you work together. Not to rain on your parade, but judging by the pictures and tons of other publicity they get, she looks pretty happy."

The blonde pouted at her cereal as she listened to her friend rant. The words would be easier to digest if she didn't have five different experiences with Normani this week to disagree. People in happy marriages didn't cheat on their wives. People who were strictly colleagues didn't mix business with pleasure. And people like Normani Kordei didn't just give chances and attention to people like Dinah Jane.

When they were at work and on the set of Spear, they were two completely different people. Two women who fell in love with the world of film until it buried them knee deep with narratives that brought them together. Normani and Dinah. Dinah and Normani. So different yet so similar. And they didn't have to think about their lives outside of those walls.

In Spear, they were in love. True love that they write books about, the kind that grows slowly. And art imitates life. The same way that Dinah's character discovered that she could feel by falling in love with Normani's character, Dinah learned how she felt through the late nights rehearsing in their trailers. Running lines over runny cookies and cream ice cream and Ann Cole playing in the back. Having their phones off and falling asleep on the same couch. Not wanting to part ways until they got the scene memorized even if it meant staying up until four in the morning.

That was love, and it was love that she knew Daniella Brynn or Lauren would never be able to understand. It may feel or sound deluded to them. But when her and Normani snuck away, there wasn't a worry about the ring on her finger or what her wife would think. In that moment, the blonde could kiss her. She could imagine what it's like to wake up next to her, to talk about having kids, to wonder what she likes on her pizza or what her family called her growing up. Dinah could love her like real people do when they love someone.

And if she was honest, she was jealous that her wife earned the luxuries she could never afford. She didn't have to spend months on set or hours in a trailer. She didn't have to think of a witty way to grab her attention at breakfast so that she'd have something to reference at lunch. She could take her in public and kiss her hand. She could meet her family and her sisters. She probably knew all the small details that Dinah was just dying to know.

The blonde clanked her bowl onto the counter without a further thought. Lauren watched her warily for a burst of aggravation or an attempt at defending her feelings. But she only slumped her shoulders and walked away. The sunlight streaming through their windows shown on the path to her room. It'd feel like a good omen if Lauren's words hadn't flipped her mood.

They just wouldn't understand and she knew that. But she wished that she could talk about it with the one person who did. Dinah grabbed her phone off of her bed and scrolled through her messages until she found Normani's name. Their recent conversation, a sharing of an article on DNA remission from the brunette who was a secret science nerd, was followed by a read receipt. She found herself in their inbox often, looking for a joke or a word or something to keep them together.

But the black woman was too nervous for them to even be seen together outside of work.

"The public is too fickle," she'd say. "If I wasn't out, I'd be able to hang with women and it wouldn't be anything. But now, if I'm seen with anyone other than my wife, rumors start circulating. And what we're doing here is risky enough."

Dinah looked again at the empty text box. Risky. She swiped out of the chat. Why should she always be the one to reach out? Normani wanted her too. It was obvious in the way she teased her on set and pulled her to privacy at any given chance. Some days her lips would be so slick with honey that it would make the blonde's head spin. On others, they were full of spite and ravenous as if she had a point to prove.

So what was DJ going to do? Spend another day, another week, another month waiting for a miracle? Maybe Lauren was right, maybe it was time she gave up. But she knew better. The minute she'd see Normani on set again, she'd forget all of her irritation from the past year. A lack of a text back or a stupid talk show segment wouldn't even matter.

She turned on her heel and walked back out of her room to go to the bathroom. Maybe a shower and a walk would clear her mind.

"...In a recent study, about fifty five percent of couples stay married for at least fifteen years!"

The blonde instantly pivoted.

Okay, maybe just a walk.