𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐏𝐑𝐍 ❦

𝐭𝐰𝐨

. ROXANNE .

november 7th, 1983
minneapolis, minnesota

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

"You know you're the luckiest girl in Minnesota, right?" Tasha claimed as she walked me home from school. I shook my head in denial and used my mittens to warm my face.

My best friend has been hounding me nonstop about last night. She keeps telling me how 'lucky' I am when in reality, I don't see this as luck. If anything, I see this as a nightmare because I vividly remember the smug faces of many women who were trying to get his attention.

But instead, I just so happened to get it.

"No I'm not. He's a regular human being Tash."

"Um no, he's not just a regular human being Roxy. He's Prince. Sexy, yummy, delectable—"

"Tash!" I shouted before playfully shoving her. "Stop with this mess! He's famous and all but he's still just an ordinary guy. I just don't see what you're gushin' about."

"You're definitely buggin'," she shook her head. "If I were you, I would've went home with him right then and there. But what did you think?"

"About?"

"His music," she elaborated. "What did you think of his music?"

"It's... subjective. You know that's not my style of music."

In truth, the song Prince performed last night was the only song I've heard from him besides 'I Wanna Be Your Lover'. I didn't care to keep up with today's music being that I'm more of a classical girl. Hearing songs about sex and one night stands just seemed... tacky to me.

But what do I know? I'm a virgin.

"Subjective? Oh, wait—you listen to that classical shit," she giggled. "That those rich people dance to in fancy ass ballrooms."

"It's called Baroque music Tash," I informed her. "And there's nothing wrong with it."

Our conversation was cut short the moment we arrived at my house because my mother was standing at the door with an angered expression.

"Your mother still scares the livin' shit out of me after all these years," Tasha whispered in my ear. "I'll catch you later."

"Bye Tash."

As Tasha walked away and I walked closer to my front door, I couldn't help but wonder why my mother was standing outside in such snowy weather.

Especially with a deadly expression.

"Roxanne Evelyn Powers!" my mother shouted before grabbing ahold of my arm and aggressively pulling me inside of our house.

"Ouch! Mama, what's wrong?" I questioned after she released me from her grasp.

"What's wrong? Girl, don't play dumb with me. I know exactly where you were last night," she affirmed. "First Avenue, really? After I specifically told your ass not to go down there years ago."

"W-Who told you?" I questioned, confusion written all over my face.

"Don't worry about that," she snapped. "Let's worry about how you went behind my back and skipped your way to a place that you shouldn't have gone! You know better than this Roxy!"