The Prince's Little Honey Badger

Chapter 3

Remich settled down to how it was just a month ago. Businesses ran, as usual, the talk of the Royal family suddenly diminished; this week's big news was the town's cat that lived up to an astonishing 32 years. It was always interesting how we anticipate something for so long, and it's over within moments. The preparation of it all, the efforts we put in. Suddenly it's forgotten; a piece of history.

My face contorts when I take a swig of whatever was in my glass. I could feel it burning my throat as it went down. Henry's lips parted; a laugh escapes him, enjoying my sudden regret of drinking something so horrendous. "So where's your partner in crime?" his hazel eyes are on me. Everyone has moved on about the Prince's appearance except for her. "She's still upset," I muttered.

"You're kidding, right? It wasn't like anything would have happened anyway. Does she think the Prince is going to remember her or you?" his eyebrows furrowed, bewildered by my response.

"That man sees over millions of people, and she's upset about something that was an extreme 'what if'" he scoffs, gulping the rest of his drink. I couldn't help but be in awe that he can remain a straight face drinking that disgusting thing down. His hand ran through his disheveled brown hair – a habit of his whenever he was annoyed or frustrated.

"Just tell her to take that rusty stick outta her ass already," I shrugged it off; Jessica wears her heart on her sleeve. I always looked up to her for that reason.

"Ellie, you are my Idol," he smiles.

"I can't believe you had the guts to tell Prince Alexander off the way you did," he reminisces, still stunned. I've known Henry for almost a decade. We met freshman year of High School. Unlike my relationship with Jessica, I am very much like him. We had the same humor, beliefs, and views in life. You don't speak politics or religion to anyone – he was the exception. He appreciates my social awkwardness and clumsiness; in fact, he finds it amusing.

Henry was an outcast like me in grade 9, thick glasses, braces, and pimply skin. We were two peas in a pod. Lucky for him, puberty hit him gracefully; by senior year, he chose to wear contacts, his teeth straight and pearly white. His skin tanned, and his body filled out perfectly. His narrow shoulders broadened, Henry grew a foot over one summer. Even with his transformation, Henry was still Freshmen Henry. Never letting his popularity affect our friendship, I was respected for being his friend — not known as Ellie but Henry's best friend. He made sure I was included in everything.

"Cheers to the Fuckin' Prince," he raises his Belgian Moon, I follow suit with my Guinness, clanking our glasses.

Henry and I spend the rest of the evening drinking away our frustrations and fears, daydreaming about our future. He, an executive at some Bougie Company, I would be Luxembourg's best Intelligence Specialist.

Henry was born to be a lawyer. He was always great with debates; he loved to speak in front of the crowd and argue about the simplest things. He once wanted me to agree that hotdogs should be eaten with Mayo, not ketchup. His lawyer ass convinced me. I now prefer my hotdogs with Mayo.

On the other hand, I liked to solve puzzles and work behind the scenes, where I didn't need to be on stage and never have to speak in public. International relations suited me; I can be invisible; a spy cracking codes.

I guess in that sense, we were different, going to separate universities. We make it a point to meet every summer and winter break here at Toca Bar. They play oldies like the Beatles and Led Zeppelin; music we both enjoy.

Henry makes me laugh and feel free; I wasn't so much a prune around him.

"Hey," we both turned toward the voice, an unfamiliar girl was standing at the edge of our booth. Her brown eyes flicker between us, assessing our interaction. She hesitates a second before asking if we were dating. There was a moment of silence before we're looking at each other awkwardly, I couldn't help but snicker, shaking my head.