I was awakened by the delicate sound of chirping. Upon opening my eyes, I was surprised to find a small bird perched within my hair. With a start, I leapt up, prompting the bird to hasten its departure. Frantically, I glanced at my watch, registering that it was already 1 PM. In dismay, I realized I had missed my morning lectures. My smartphone had accrued several missed calls from friends. I swiftly reached out to my closest confidant, Asher, who picked up after the first ring.
Asher: Good afternoon, Sweetheart! To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?
Me: Ash, this is not the best time for jests. I seem to have overlooked the time and missed my classes, haven't I?
Asher: Indeed, you have, but there's no need to worry. I've managed to cover for you yet again with the faculty.
Me: And what explanation did you offer on this occasion?
Asher: I improvised and mentioned that a canine had soiled your attire, a tale which, to my surprise, was accepted without question.
Me: You relayed that a dog soiled my shirt? Asher, that's humiliating! You've made a mockery of me in front of everyone.
Asher: It's certainly better than facing another suspension, especially considering it would be your sixteenth this month alone.
Me: Asher, I am not in the best of spirits; might we arrange to convene for a midday meal?
Asher: By all means, my home shall be ready to receive you within half an hour. The table will be set.
Me: I appreciate it, Asher. I'll be there shortly.
Asher: Take care, Deidre. We shall see each other soon.
He calls me sweetheart because he's single and desperate for love. He gets these déjà vu vibes, but he's had no luck finding girls. I never understood why people flirt so horribly these days. In the '90s, they'd say, "May I take you out for dinner? Are you free tonight?" But these days, guys just say, "Hey, let's chill." Who raised these boys?! Asher is different. He's a throwback to the '90s – he respects women a lot. I looked at my clothes and didn't care; Asher had some of my clothes back at his house. I unlocked the door, and the place was spotless. I walked downstairs, and the rain had been heavy the night before. How did I even fall asleep with that heavy rain? I left the club and felt a fresh breeze pass by. I kept walking and saw a bike taxi driver with a black helmet. He didn't look like a driver, but I didn't care and hopped on the back of his bike. It was a Kawasaki – they say it's one of the best bikes ever, but here, every family owns at least five Kawasaki. "Location?" the driver asked. "Asher Caperer's apartment," I replied. "Yes, ma'am," he said. He drove across town, and I could feel his sweet scent. It smelled fantastic – not good, fantastic. It was getting cold, and I was shivering. "You're shivering," the driver said. "Isn't it cold?" I asked, shaking. "Oh, yes, it is. You can hold on to me if it's that cold," he said, his voice low and husky. I put my hand around his waist, and his shirt was completely wet. He drove a bit faster to get there quickly. We arrived, and I got off, paying the driver $10. "Careful not to catch a cold," he said before driving off. That was weird.