I’ve always thought that a new chapter in life should kick off with something big. You know, grand ambitions, bold plans, a bright future ahead. But in our case, it started with absolute chaos, a killer hangover, and… a catastrophic losing streak at cards.
Two days ago, Herman and I officially moved into our studio. It’s tiny, but it’s proudly ours. That meant freedom: no more parental nagging like, “It’s late, where are you?!” or “Arsen, why is your room such a mess?!” or “Herman, when are you gonna get a real job?!” Just us, total independence, and the chance to live life on our terms.
Of course, the first thing we did was a deep clean, neatly arranged the furniture, unpacked our stuff… Yeah, right! As if. No, we just invited some friends over and threw a housewarming party.
I can still remember Herman declaring:
— We gotta christen the place. You know, for good vibes.
— You don’t even know what good vibes are, — I shot him a skeptical look.
— It’s when you’re feeling good. And there’s booze.
— Good vibes aren’t about booze.
— What do you know about life, Arsen? — he shook his head, already texting our friends.
And now, two days later, our studio looks like a grenade went off in here. From the foggy remnants of last night’s memories, I recall it was loud, fun, and incredibly irresponsible. Herman danced on a chair until he wiped out, I nearly set the curtains on fire while popping champagne, and our friends… well, our friends are straight-up hustling us at cards. Two nights in a row.
— Alright, alright, one more round! — Herman tries to sound confident, but his eyes scream that we’re doomed.
— You sure about this? — I ask, my shaky hand picking up the cards.
— What’ve we got to lose? — he shrugs.
— Besides our dignity?
— Eh, we didn’t have much of that to begin with.
We lose again. Our friends crack up, while Herman and I exchange doomed looks, realizing these so-called “friends” aren’t gonna show us any mercy. What’s worse—we’re already sitting here butt-naked, sharing a single pillow for cover.
— Herman…
— Arsen…
— We’re screwed, — I whisper. — Like, deep in the hole.
— I’m afraid it’s about to get worse. — And judging by the looks on our friends’ faces, Herman’s unfortunately right.
This whole mess reminds me of past times when we thought cards were just harmless fun. But every single time, the outcome was the same. Herman once shaved off half his eyebrow and rocked that look for two weeks until it grew back. I had to post on social media that my first crush was a capybara. But the worst…
I sigh heavily and run a hand over my short buzz cut. The platinum blond on my head… Back then, we thought we’d get lucky too. And here’s the result.
— I told you I’d never play cards again, — I grumble.
— Yeah, well, we said that when we were sober. And as you can see, sober ain’t exactly our vibe right now, — Herman shrugs.
Meanwhile, our friend Ivy, who’s calling the shots on the dares tonight, is dragging out the suspense. She’s a real piece of work, and her wild ideas are what we fear the most.
— Well, boys, — she says with a predatory grin. — For the next month, you’re gonna attend every single class. No skipping.
Herman and I groan in unison. Model students? Yeah, right. If any exam had just one question—name your professor—we’d flunk it for sure.
— Oh, don’t look so worried, — Ivy continues. — That would be way too easy.
A chill runs down my spine.
— You’re also gonna play the part of a lovey-dovey couple. Make the whole department lose their minds over the news.
Now we’re not just groaning—we’re silently screaming.
— Ivy, come on, that’s too much! — Herman clutches his head.
— That’s straight-up reputation damage, — I add.
Ivy just shrugs.
— I can change the dare… if you tell us how you two met.
Herman and I exchange a look. We sigh heavily. And finally…
— We’re ready to go to class as a couple.
Now it’s our friends’ turn to groan. Because pretending to be a couple for the department is better than spilling that dark, buried secret!
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I promise you tons of good vibes ahead!)