Page 80 of Not Like The Other Girls

Queeny joins in, backing him up. “Yep, and if you ever feel like becoming a full-time ruler, I’m going to lose my fucking job. I didn’t torture myself with political science of all things for four fucking years for nothing, bitch. If you ever take my place here, I’m gonna be homeless. Every, my man, convince your girl to stay home. Like barefoot and pregnant or whatever, man.”

Every nods. “All right, Lily. Feeling like staying at home twenty-four seven?”

“Fuck no,” the Dairy Queen, fairy queen says.

The alliance leaders around the room start getting impatient. Some of them, like the blue alien non-man, fall back into their beauty sleep; but let’s not mind these minor characters right now.

Every gets another bright idea. “Then what about we go home back to our cute little nostalgic-vibed, serene small town, and you stay at my penthouse.”

The absent fairy queen’s eyes go wide with dollar signs and gold coins. “You’ve got a penthouse? My man, you are rich.”

Now she really is impressed.

“I can’t believe you forgot that aspect of my life. It’s the most important detail about me, the billionaire CEO love interest. Girly, I bet there is a goldfish swimming in the place your brain should be.”

“And where is that place?”

“In your lungs, of course. Lungs are supposed to have water, aren’t they? That’s how you breathe.”

The others who are still awake just sigh at their exchange.

And he takes that as a sign of them being impressed with his knowledgeable remarks.

Glycogen, the bodyguard, whispers something to his sugar plum fairy, and she stands up once more. “ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, hoes and more hoes, we would like to wrap up this boring-ass presentation ours.”—she looks back at her new script—“It is finalized, now with all the agreements and voices from the alliance, and of our own personal decisions, that Lily, no surname, the heir of our late, beloved king, Poppo Potbelly, is to be the one hundred fifty-seventh monarch of fairy land, an independent kingdom somewhere in the world on a magic island.

“My queen, as it had been said to every monarch of Fairyland since the yore days, ‘you are the future of us, just like today is the future of yesterday’. Claps for me, y’all. And for Lily-girl, our new girl.”

They clap.

And just like that, Lily-girl, the one who is totally not like the other girls, is officially crowned the fairy queen of Fairyland, the land of sweets. The land of diabetes and diarrhea.

She smiles shyly at the crowd gathered in the room. “Thanks to y’all, then. Really, no shit.”

They clap some more as if the audiences are robots programmed to do that.

Then she continues, warm tears of gratitude in her eyes and rolling down her rosy-red cheeks. “Oh, I think I might’ve forgotten another important detail. Merry Christmas.”

The claps turn into cheers, then silence.

The tough alien warlord who woke up from the noise of all the clapping scratches his head. “But it isn’t Christmas yet. At least not back on my ice planet.”

The gym bro leader who we have all forgotten chugs down another gulp of protein shake before speaking. “Yeah, bro. It’s not Christmas on my planet either. At least not in a week. And like, where did that even come from? No offense, of course.”

CHAPTER 26: VANILLA AND LAVENDER

“Every, I’m pretty sure we just hit the eighty percentile mark of our story,” Lily points out as she walks down the winding marble staircase of the penthouse. She is finally there in her man’s large home of a two-floor penthouse, which happens to be in that same tower they got up the dumb-ass helicopter for the date that never happened. That sure feels like such a long time ago, and she has forgotten all the trauma it brought her.

“And?” Every asks, a robe over his chiseled torso and a cup of iced tea in his hand.

Lily looks at him with stars in her left eye and hearts in her right. She blushes. “I’ve gotta tell you something. I love you.”

“Me too.”

“What?” She can’t believe her man just said that without even blinking.

“Why?” He looks at her like a confused puppy, dark-or-light eyes wide.

“Oh, Every. You were supposed to say ‘oh, no, I can’t take this. I’m not built for relationships. I’m not the love type of guy.’”