Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

Chicken, Waffles, and Unspoken Words

Cecilia

"I'm never buying something from Starbucks again," Jeremy grimaces and shakes his head after I just explained him the actual meaning about the Starbucks logo, that the woman on the logo, is a mermaid named Siren. According to Greek mythology, Siren is a mermaid who is known for her seductive singing that lured sailors to their deaths. On the Starbucks logo, Siren has her legs open and if you look at the logo upside down, it resembles the Baphomet. 

I discovered the true meaning of the Starbucks logo from a video I came across on YouTube four years ago and after watching that, I was like, fuck it. I could just go to Panera and order their food and beverages instead. 

"Yep," I nod and twist my lips in a grimace. "There are other coffee shops besides Starbucks in LA. There's Panera, Smooth Brew, House Coffee Co, Jurassic Magic, Alchemist Coffee Project, et cetera." 

Jeremy stretches his arms above his head, then lets them fall to his sides with a sigh. "Still can't believe it. I drank that stuff for years. Like a whole cult ritual before the cameras rolled." 

I smirk and and lean back against the couch, tucking one leg under me. "Well, your soul's still intact. Probably." 

He laughs—deep and from the chest. That kind of laugh that makes the room feel warmer. "You and your cousins always gotta roast me." 

"You make it too easy."

He shakes his head, smiling and then his eyes scan my apartment, settling on the kitchen. "What are we eating? I'm starving." 

"That depends," I say, standing up and stretching out my arms. "You in the mood for tacos?" 

Jeremy scrunches his face in disgust. "You know I don't eat tacos with you out of respect for your roots." 

"I don't even like tacos, though," I reply, walking towards the fridge. "Never have. My Aunt Darlene used to sneak vegetables in them and ruin the vibe." 

"You, a whole Afro Dominican with Mexican American blood, not liking tacos... that's gotta be a sin." 

"Probably," I shrug, pulling open the fridge. "But God forgives." 

"I forgot you don't like tacos," he chuckles again and follows me to the kitchen. "So, what are we actually making?" 

I grin, pulling a pack out a pack of chicken thighs. "Homemade chicken and waffles."

His eyebrows shoot up. "I've never had that." 

"Then you're in for a treat. It's a homemade version of Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles." 

 We get to work in the kitchen, moving around each other with an ease that comes from years of knowing where the other person will step. It's always been like this with Jeremy. Like a rhythm we didn't have to practice.

I season the chicken while he gets the waffle batter started. The radio plays an old Mali Music track in the background and I can feel his eyes on me as I rub paprika into the skin. 

"I had an amazing time with my cousins yesterday," I start and a reminiscent, yet enlightening smile creeps on my face while I feel Jeremy's eyes on me. "I'm starting to lean towards podcasting lately." 

"Really? What kind?" 

"Autobiographical. Just me talking about my life, my family, my friends, my faith, how I started singing, how I've been, and the way I see things. I feel like I've been quiet too long." 

He nods, flipping the waffle iron open and pouring the batter in. "You'd be great at that. You've always had a voice that makes people lean in." 

His words lean deeper than they should. Or maybe just exactly how they're supposed to.