Queens

2.4: Josh

2.4: Josh

Ashley is pushing me to my limits. I can act in love, I know I can, but pretending to be Ashley's boyfriend is like trying to fall in love with a dead bug: every time you push it, it only becomes a bigger mess. I love Ash as a friend, but her personal problems are overshadowing our fake-lationship. The worst part of this whole mess is that no matter how angry I am, I have to present as if I'm having the time of my life. I search for Tyler in the crowd occasionally, but mostly I eat. I'm starving.

I eventually run into a favorite of mine: old royalty. This couple, a Duke and Duchess of some remote section of England, love me. They're really great, and always real, which isn't something to be taken for granted with this crowd. As a royal, I'm trained in the customary greetings and traditions of hundreds of cultures, but at this point, it only takes me a split second to identify and carry out the acceptable bowing. It's not anything weird since I grew up with learning it, right after learning to walk and count pretty much.

"Prince Josh!" the aging Duchess coos. "My, my, how big you've grown! What a strapping lad you've become!" She claps her hands together and smiles.

Her mellower husband nods in agreement. "It's so lovely to see you here," his voice gets low and the Duke speaks out of the corner of his mouth, "Frankly, it hasn't been the most exciting of conventions," he chuckles.

"I couldn't agree more," I confess. "Maybe except for the crab, which happens to be excellent here," I inform them. I remember that the Duchess has an unusual love of seafood, and I like to tell her when I find something good.

The Duchess' eyes light up, and she thanks me. "I may just go and find that crab," her lips turn upwards.

"My, you're such a good boy! I hope our grandson will grow to be as wonderful a person as you are," the Duke praises. I think this is what it would be like having grandparents. My own grandparents all died before I was born, or when I was very little. I feel like if I were a normal kid, I'd get a serving of cookies every time I saw them or something. I thank her back and throw on a charming smile. I also feel like they wouldn't want their own grandson to be exactly like me-- sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together.

As the couple leaves, I realize there's little to do, besides be interviewed more, and I'm not really feeling that right now. And so I do what any bored teenager would do in my situation: I check out the boys.

I know most of the young princes and princesses, and when we're together, we get along pretty well, even if it's a little awkward.  I've had my eye on a particular Prince of Dubai for a few years now. We were friends when we were younger, and we bonded over a shared love for Mario Kart. I don't know what's happened to us over the years, but we've grown kinda distant. It's been something like three years since we've talked. He's gotten hotter and I've gotten gayer, and it makes for a lot of wishing but not a lot of doing on my part. I occasionally look around for his familiar face, but I usually see him only once or twice a year... I hope I see him here. I casually search around the edges of the ballroom, where a small group of the younger adults usually hang. I'm pleasantly surprised to spot Fazza (his nickname) with a few other kids. He's standing back a bit, mostly nodding and smiling. He's really nice, but Fazza is definitely shy. He fiddles with his hands a bit, looking a bit unsure of himself. I approach the group, attempting to pat down my hair.

I know I can be more relaxed with these people, so I come in with a light "hey," and they all turn and say hi back. A few of them continue to talk about some dramatic football game they saw, and two others are arguing about whether football should be called soccer or football.

"Hey Fazza," I smile, and he returns the greeting. "Long time no see?"

"Not since I beat you with the lamest character possible last time," he chuckles, not letting our old faux-rivalry go.

"Oh, really? I happen to remember me winning, like, 12 times before that," I squint my eyes as if trying really hard to remember this, but it feels like yesterday.

"Oh come on!" he rolls his eyes dramatically. "That sounds like a fever dream of someone who wants to be as cool as me," he coughs loudly, not caring to disguise the "that's you" thrown into his fake coughing fit.

"Hey, wanna go," I mime putting my fists up.

"Now back to this boy that's had a lot to say about me about MarioKart, Josh, what's good?" Fazza makes a lame attempt at impersonating Nicki Minaj, but not even this Prince can one-up the Queen.

I kind of forget everything but this conversation that's happening right now. I think that's the best kind of conversation, where I become so deeply focused on the other guy that I barely remember where I am. Fazza's really easy to talk to, and we wander around, chatting and catching up. The meeting isn't so sucky, after all.

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Dear Readers,
Josh is a stud. That's all.
Much love,
J
Ps.  what would you do if you were a royal at one of these conventions?