2026-04-01 00:14:35
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Riding a Bike?
Dylan knit his brows, staring at his screen. "Who is this?" he muttered to himself. He tried to recall if he had given his number to anyone new recently, but came up completely blank. At the bottom of the sender's profile, a short name was written: Nicole."Nicole?" Dylan repeated the name aloud. No face came to mind. Uninterested in dealing with a stranger and not in the mood for random social games, Dylan locked his phone and tossed it back onto the glass table.All around him, dozens of scholarship students were still living it up. They laughed, sang along to the live band, and enjoyed plate after plate of premium dishes continuously brought out by the staff. The joy in the room tonight was pure, completely free of the suffocating social hierarchies that had ruined their night at The Zenith.Just as Dylan reached for a piece of sliced fruit, his phone vibrated violently again. This time it wasn't a text, but an incoming call from the same unknown number.Dylan sighed. The thudding
A New Woman
Ultraviolet and magenta neon spotlights spun dynamically, cutting through the high ceilings of The Mirage. The primary VIP lounge, capable of holding up to a hundred guests, was packed with laughter and the hum of warm conversation. The bass from the speakers thudded with a perfect, clean beat—not loud enough to drown out voices, but more than enough to get everyone's adrenaline pumping.Across the long, black-glass tables, first-class dishes arrived in an endless, seamless parade. An exquisite feast was laid out: perfectly seared wagyu steak, platters of fresh seafood, and mountains of premium hors d'oeuvres crafted by the club’s five-star chef. Crystal glasses of sparkling water, exotic fruit mocktails, and top-shelf sodas were poured continuously by servers who treated the guests with the utmost respect.On a small stage in the corner of the lounge, a highly popular local jazz-pop band played live covers of current hits. The entertainment continued with a flair bartender who expert
Always a Way
One month later. The day that seniors had spent four agonizing years waiting for finally arrived. The university's grand auditorium was filled with the chaotic roar of pure joy, black mortarboards soaring through the air, and massive sighs of relief from graduates who could officially call themselves college alumni.But for the campus elite, the real celebration didn't start until the formal ceremony ended. A lavish, ultra-exclusive private graduation afterparty had been planned months in advance at The Zenith—the most expensive, high-end nightclub downtown, accessible only to the city’s wealthiest high-rollers.Inside the VIP lounge of The Zenith, wrapped in gold accents and dark velvet, heavy crystal glasses clinked. A tight circle of guys in tailored designer suits gathered around a curved leather sofa. It was Vance, Gavin, Tyler, and Eric—the shot-callers of the university's most exclusive trust-fund circle."So, the ground rules are the same as last year, right?" Tyler asked, tak
Dead End
Clarissa called Dylan."Yeah?" Dylan answered clippedly, his tone cold and flat, still harboring the deep residue of his disappointment from the other night.Clarissa cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice so she wouldn't sound nervous. "I want to invite you to dinner. Tomorrow night, at my parents' house. Are you free?"There was a long silence on the other end. Dylan was clearly caught off guard by the sudden invitation. "Dinner at your parents' place? Tomorrow?""Yes. Please, Dylan. This is really important to me," Clarissa pleaded, her tone softening with a genuine touch of vulnerability.Dylan let out a long, heavy breath into the receiver. His lingering irritation and bruised ego softened instantly just from hearing that submissive tone from the girl he was completely crazy about. "What time?""Seven o'clock. I’ll text you the address.""Fine," Dylan replied shortly before abruptly hanging up. Despite the gruff response, Clarissa knew it was just Dylan's signature compli
Complicated
Since late afternoon, Mrs. Winter had been busy in the kitchen, ensuring every dish was prepared to absolute perfection. In the living room, Mr. Winter looked sharp in his finest silk button-down, occasionally checking the wall clock. He offered a warm, welcoming smile to their special guest, who had arrived well ahead of schedule.Alan Foster stood in the foyer, giving a respectful nod as he handed a large, beautifully wrapped velvet gift basket to Mr. Winter. "Happy 30th anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Winter. Wishing your family a lifetime of health and happiness.""Oh, Alan! You shouldn't have, son. Thank you so much," Mr. Winter beamed, giving Alan an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Come on in. Make yourself at home."Right at seven o’clock, the low hum of an engine echoed from the driveway. The front door opened to reveal Clarissa. She looked exhausted from the workday but remained effortlessly elegant in a pastel blouse, carrying a large gift bag for her parents."Mom, Dad, I'm so
Future Plans
“I'm sorry, I don't really follow. Didn't we just reconnect after years of completely losing touch?"Alan didn't let his smile fade. He leaned back into the restaurant's wooden chair, locking his eyes onto hers with an expression he deliberately crafted to look as deep and soulful as possible."I'm talking about our future," Alan explained smoothly. "You know exactly what our parents were trying to do last night. Your mom and dad are incredibly invested in this setup. So is my father. I just want to know if you're willing to open that door and see where this goes. To explore a real relationship, rather than just treating each other like childhood friends who happened to cross paths again."Clarissa fell silent for a moment. Alan’s question was incredibly forward and demanding, making her head—already throbbing from workspace stress and the lingering fallout of Dylan's meltdown—feel twice as heavy."Alan, I genuinely appreciate your intentions, and our parents' as well," Clarissa repli
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