Not Some Princess ✓

1. The beginning

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"She is not a princess, and this is not a fairytail."

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1
The beginning

Havana, ooh na-na (ay)
Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na (ay, ay)
He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na
Oh, but my heart is in Havana (ay)
There's somethin' 'bout his manners (uh huh)
Havana, ooh na-na (uh)
—Havana, Camilla Cabello

HUMAN SWEAT will be the doom of all mankind.

This vomit-inducing stench had to be curbed before I would pass out, not because I was intoxicated but because of this toxic odour.

Want to kill a person?

These people here contained the superpower to just perform 10 push-ups and the other person is dead.

Okay, I might be exaggerating a little bit.

But just a tad.

The music thundered through the walls as I took another sip of my drink. My body was still clammy from all the dance I had just done. The amount of grinding I did in the last few hours was quite possibly more than the twenty-five years of my life combined.

This was not me. The sober me wouldn't be wailing in front of the bartender and lamenting about how I got fired and broke my marriage in one damn night. He assumed I was concocting this all.

Yeah.

I wish.

"Why aren't you believing me? The guy I have been with since sophomore year college just said that he's had enough of me! Can you believe that? He's had enough of me! I tell ya, I've had enough of him! I don't give a damn anymore!" I chortled and then hissed when someone stepped on my foot.

"Shit!" Profanities eluded my mouth as if they were the remedy to the shooting pain that crossed my ankle as I stood up to give the culprit a good time.

No, not like that. Like, kick on the shin kinda time.

Yeah.

My leg twisted in my six-inch Louboutin stilettos because of the rapid pain. And my exceptional balance skills decided to cede at the same moment. I waved my hands in the air for some weird attempt to obtain back equilibrium. I was unduly drunk to comprehend that I had a chair right next to me which I could've used as support.

But why will I do that?

Naturally, I fell.

Nearly.

A hand came out of nowhere and caught my hand and jerked me towards it.

My hair waved in front of my face as I gained balance and put my other unoccupied hand on this person's shoulder.

"Why would you wear those shoes?" A masculine voice rang through my ears. But I could barely comprehend what he said. It sounded like, 'why do you wear boobs?'

What? I don't have a choice. I was born with them. Such a stupid guy!

I was certain he was a he, but then some women do have manly voices. I would know, my ex-mother in law did.