And then they lived happily, and we who hear the story are happier still.
—Andrew Lang.

Galina sighs loudly with a shake of her head as she makes her way out the door, dragging two boxes behind her. The gardener, Sylvester, the man who is apparently very much in love with Galina, follows her out struggling with a particularly large box.

I would smile at the sight but I don't want Galina to get the wrong idea. She already thinks I'm not exactly fond of her and that's the exact opposite. If I ever wanted a bodyguard, she'd be my number one choice. All the Avengers mixed in one? Fuck yes.

Unfortunately for her, I don't want a lifestyle that involves her acting as my second hand shadow. I have a few weeks to be free— to pretend like my life isn't going to be ripped away from me anytime soon.

I squint my eyes against the bright sun light, following Galina out the door to say a proper goodbye. A cab is already waiting for her by the curb. I cross my arms as she starts putting her boxes into the boot of the cab and Sylvester does the same, although he struggles with the weight.

Finally, Galina turns to face me. Her lips are set in a straight line but her green eyes glint with emotion. "I suppose I'll be seeing you in three weeks."

I nod, stepping closer to her and holding out my fist. "I'll try and call you before then because I know you can't wait to oppress my life."

She smiles and shakes her head. "Gain some sense before den."

She ignores my fist and pulls me into a hug. I try not to go stiff at the unexpected contact but it's hard. I've never been much of a hugger. Father has never hugged me, Mother never hugged me when she was alive and Reyna is too much of an awkward fuck to properly hug me. So in other terms, you could say that this is the first time I'm properly being hugged by someone I consider kind of close to me.

I slowly pat her back with one hand in a gesture to return the embrace. "There there. Don't cry."

She doesn't feel particularly feminine but she smells like lavender— she smells like how a mother would. I try to fight the emotions welling up in me and suddenly, I'm regretting this whole thing of sending her away. Time with Galina wasn't bad— in actual fact, for a moment, I didn't feel so alone with her around. Reyna may have been ignoring me but it was easy to forget with this female Hulk watching my every move.

Finally, she pulls away and I ignore the sudden chill I feel in my bones despite the ever shining sun. She gives me a grim look and slides into the backseat of the cab before turning away to smile at the gardener.

The cab drives off. Sylvester and I watch it till it turns a corner and disappears out of our vision.

Well. I'm a free girl again.

For now.

***

Father is out doing whatever he usually does— booking photo shoots for models working under his firm or trying to release a new clothing line that could make the world go ballistic.

So like Father like daughter, I'm going to cruise out of the house and look for something to do with my life because I'm productive like that.

I pretend like I don't see the way majority of the staff aren't around to work— fired because it's Father's favorite pastime— as I make my way through the halls and out the door. My car keys clang against my thigh as I march towards the garage and think about what I'm going to do.

I tore my bucket list and I threw the one Ian Ross made away. Sure, I remember some of the stupid things— like randomly kissing ten people and skinny dipping in Venice beach but still.

I take in a deep breath and slam my head against the steering wheel.

I need a mocha.

***

I drive to my favorite Starbucks branch in Downtown L.A and make my way out of the car. I breathe in a lungful of fresh air and stalk my way towards the building with something close to a smile.

I walk in and the sweet smell of coffee hits me. There's another person on duty and from the looks of it, he seems to only be slighter older than me with extremely tan skin and inky black curls. He smiles brightly at me and I nod in return with a small smile of my own.

I glance at his name tag. Victor. "One venti iced white chocolate mocha. Extra whipped cream," I say my order.

"Coming right up—"

"You absolute bitch," someone says behind me and my cat fight senses tingle. I've never really been one to get into physical fights surprisingly but watching other girls fight in action? Oh yes please. That's where my interest lie.

I turn around and see that no one behind me is fighting. Instead, many of them are busy reading novels or falling in love with their coffee.

"I'm not that short, you know."

I blink and revert my gaze to look down at the girl in front of me. Her eyes are basically blazing with hate and her red hair is in a complicated bun. She's wearing a white jumpsuit and— wait, what the hell? Why am I checking her out? The idiot just called me a bitch for no apparent reason. I mean... she looks kind of familiar but I don't remember.

"Oh. Hi," I tell her and shrug, leaning against the counter behind me. "You called me a bitch, why?"

"Do you even remember me?" She asks me and I internally hope to the stars that it's a rhetorical question. I bite my tongue from saying something snarky and instead, shake my head.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She hisses. She isn't being loud but considering the fact that we're talking on a nonexistent line, we're definitely being watched. "I invited you for a party. A sort of courtesy and you didn't even have the decency to call me and cancel."

I blink. Now I remember her. "Diana?"

Her face almost matches her hair. She growls. "It's Dinah. Dinah. Not Diana."

I wave off her correction. At least I was close. "Yeah sorry. I honestly wanted to come but yeah... I was watching season one of Game of Thrones so I couldn't make it."

She rolls her eyes like I'm the most stupid person she has ever met. "Oh wow, what a great excuse. Scarlett, I just wanted to be nice to you. Invite you for a party. Stuff like that. And you didn't even bother to show up."

I shake my head. "I don't remember a lot of things but if I can recall, you had other hidden agendas. All you girls back at school do."

A tap on my shoulder makes me turn around. Victor passes me a wary look along with my drink. I pay him and thank him before turning back to look down at Dinah. "Now excuse me. I have other things to do, okay?"

I step away from her and make my way to the exit. Suddenly, a hand latches around my hand and I'm pulled back. I stumble back and look down at the small hand holding me back.

Oh, this bitch doesn't know when to quit.

"Let go, else, I'll make a fucking scene," I say but it's futile. Everyone is already watching and I can tell that they're interested in what is going on. Suddenly, I wish the stupid hall monitor from school will just walk in and stop this witch. "Let go."

She doesn't. "Hell no. I'm going to say my peace and you're going to listen."

"Bitch, you're making a scene," I retort because I don't know what else to say. "Now let me go or I'll sue. I'll get a restraining order on that awkward head of yours. I'll do something that will make you regret this."

"Do you think you're better than everyone else?" She starts preaching and I have a feeling she didn't hear my threat. Or she could care less about it. "People invite you for parties and you decline. What are you so scared of? Not everyone who tries to be nice to you is trying to use you to get connections to your father like Tara Patterson—"

I don't let her finish with her little motivational speech. Instead, I jerk her body towards me, crouch down to her height and use my lips to capture hers.

There's a sort of deafening silence as I kiss Diana-Dinah-whatever she wants to be called. I could have dumped my mocha on her but I'm not in the mood to wait for another one. I could have wretched my hand away from her grip and walked out without a backwards glance. Hell, I could have done anything but kiss her.

...But she's hot and kissing is the best way to shut someone up, so yeah.

She's stiffer than a board and I can practically feel her hormones trying to banish me as I cup her cheek and add more pressure to the kiss.

...Oh. She's straighter than a ruler.

...Why are the hot ones always straight?

I fight a smirk against her lips, biting the lower one and pulling away. I stand to my full height and look down at her as she blinks up at me in shock.

I can hear someone clapping in the background and I laugh.  Dinah blinks up at me. "...That was my first kiss. ...Y-you just stole my first kiss."

I clear my throat and take a step away from her. I can taste her lip balm— mango. I've never really been a fan of mango lip balm. "You're welcome."

She opens her mouth to say more. I raise an eyebrow. She thinks better of it before snapping her mouth shut quickly and covering her lips with both palms. I stifle a chuckle.

I basically moonwalk out of the building and make my way to my car. I let out a laugh before talking a long sip out of my styrofoam cup.

I pause as I realize I never gave him the name to write on the cup. I was meant to be Peter Parker today and... wait. Or maybe I did?

Cursing Dinah, her confrontational attitude and my slight bout of amnesia, I quickly look at the cup. I raise an eyebrow when I see a few digits along with the name Victor written on the surface with a ":D" acting as a punctuation mark.

I laugh even louder before opening the car door and sliding in. Poor guy.

I drive through the streets, making my way towards the closest hair salon.

Unfortunately, it's the one right next to The Canvas.

I park my car and look at the small building. Parker's Barbershop; one of the only hair salons I patronize simply for the fact that Parker does his job extremely well. He makes me look like a natural raven haired girl at the end of the day and not the brunette I actually am.

I purse my lips as I look at the building next to it.

The Canvas. With Ian Ross possibly inside, sitting at the counter reading some stupid comic book about Captain America and Iron Man fighting or whatever. Then he decides that he wants a quick shave and he can't do it himself because he's a wanker so he decides to lock up his shop and walk in only to find me trying to touch my hair up.

And then, he looks for some elaborate way to pick a fight with me. Then we argue although we don't even know what we're arguing about.

And then, I lose my good mood and storm out of the place with hair dye still in my hair. Then I'll end up with purple hair or fuck forbid, blue just because I left the dye in too long.

I narrow my eyes at the large looming sign and drive away from the general area, making my way back home.

I don't have to dye my hair right now. I mean, my roots aren't even showing— they're still as dark as coal. I don't need an immediate touch up right now.

Plus, does it really matter? I'll be blonde once my birthday comes around.

—To be heavily edited.