Page 61 of The Prez

“I need groceries and other shit my bike can’t hold, Mari.”

He shrugs. “That makes sense. Still thought you’d be a terrible driver.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Well, I’m not. Don’t mean to disappoint.”

Omari sighs dramatically. “I guess you really are just good at everything.” He turns to me and winks.

My stomach does a flip. He doesn’t know my past, or he wouldn’t be saying that.

We pull up outside of the bowling alley and Omari smiles. “I haven’t been bowling in ages. What about you?”

“I’ve never been.”

He whips his head over to me. “Never? Really?” He looks at me quizzically. “Why?”

Running a hand through my hair, I shift to look at him. I decide for honesty. “We didn’t have enough money to do things like that in Cuba. When I came to the states, I spent a lot of time going to school and working, trying to save money so I could get on my feet and get Elena. When I joined the MC, I didn’t have the time or the urge.”

Omari’s look of sympathy is replaced with excitement. “I can teach you. We’ll have a good time. Ready?”

His excitement is infectious. “I’m ready, beautiful.” I love the faint blush that appears on Omari’s face at the compliment.

When we step inside the bowling alley, the attendant does a double take when he sees me. He swallows roughly, looking at the tattoos on my hands and my cut. I probably should have left it at home, but whatever.

Swallowing roughly, he asks, “H-h-how can I help you?”

Omari steps around me, putting his hand on my chest to stop me approaching the counter and scaring the attendant more. “We need shoes,” he says. “Size nine for me, size thirteen for him.”

The attendant scurries back to get the shoes, handing them to me quickly. “Here ya go, sir,” he says, voice trembling. “If you need anything else, just … ask.”

We walk away, Omari shaking his head. “Is this whole town scared of you?”

I laugh, pulling him in and kissing his curls. I glance back at the attendant, whose mouth is gaped open. As I look at him, I kiss Omari’s head again, daring him to say something. He looks down quickly, knocking shoes off the counter as he pretends he wasn’t staring.

“No,” I say to Omari. “Because you’re in this town and you aren’t afraid of me. My brothers aren’t either.”

He chuckles. “Of course they’re not. They know you. And I’m not because you’re not as scary as you think you are.” Omari stands on his tip toes and kisses my lips. Then he steps back, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Kissing me?” He nods. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I want you to kiss me.” I drag him back and kiss him thoroughly.

He giggles when I pull away. When I look around, I see almost everyone looking over at us. Some women who I recognize from the clubhouse have wide eyed expressionswhile others show a mix of shock, intrigue, and disgust. “You got a problem?” I ask a doughy man with his lip curled up as he openly stares. He quickly fixes his expression and shakes his head, going back to his family time, the look of fear prominent on his face.

“Don’t worry about the locals,” Omari says, patting my chest before we sit down and put on our shoes. “They stare, but don’t say shit. There are a lot of LGBTQ folks around here. Especially with the college right down the street.”

I’m not ashamed of being with Omari. He’s mine and I’ll let the world know. After what Pete said, I don’t want to live with the regret of not showing the world who he belongs to.

Omari sets everything up on the screen for us to start bowling. We collect balls and he waves for me to go first. “Show me?” I ask, sticking my fingers in the ball and testing its heft.

He nods and grabs his ball. Omari holds the ball level in front of him, then throws his arms back and rolls the ball down the lane. He knocks down eight pins and claps like he just won a prize. When the fallen pins are collected and the ones still standing are lowered again, he knocks down the last two pins. “There. You got it?”

“I got it,” I say, smirking at his exuberance.

Bowling is easy, but hard. I can get the ball down the lane, but I can’t keep it in the middle. I get more gutter balls than anything else. Omari beats me in all three games we bowl.

“That was fun,” Omari says, sitting down beside me as we change our shoes. “Thank you for this. You know, I love Little Raf, but it’s nice to be out with an adult.”

“I had a good time too. I didn’t think bowling would be so hard.”

Omari collects my shoes and chuckles. “You did well for your first time, baby. Next time, I’m sure you’ll even score in the fifties.” I give him a dry look, making him laugh harder.

---