Crazy Flower

"I'm still waiting," Dawson's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"I would rather walk home in the rain than accept a ride from you," she scoffed defiantly.

Dawson's smile widened.

"Suit yourself then. But know that I am not who you think I am," he calmly responded before driving away, leaving Marissa to ponder his cryptic words.

"But know that I am not who you think I am."

"Who is he?" she wondered, her mind filled with questions about Dawson's sudden car ownership. "How did he, a mere waiter, manage such a feat?"

As the rain started pouring, growing heavier with each passing minute, Marissa panicked. She hurriedly took shelter under a nearby awning, regretting her stubbornness. However, she knew she had made the right decision. Dawson was still a mystery to her, and that made her hesitant to accept his offer.

With the rain showing no signs of stopping, Marissa grew increasingly apprehensive about spending the night outside. Reluctantly, she realized she had no choice but to brave the rain and continue walking home.

Shivering, she trudged through the downpour, feeling each droplet soak through her clothes. The streets were empty, and the sound of rain hitting the pavement echoed in her ears. Her teeth chattered as she tried to maintain a steady pace, the wet ground making her steps slippery.

Suddenly, as she neared a street corner, she noticed a figure standing under an umbrella. It was Dawson, his car parked by the curb.

Marissa hesitated, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty. Despite her earlier resistance, she knew accepting his offer now might be her only chance to reach home dry and safe.

Swallowing her pride, she approached Dawson. "I've changed my mind," she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of raindrops.

Dawson smiled warmly, holding the umbrella out to her. "I knew you'd come around eventually. Hop in, and I'll take you home."

Marissa climbed into the car, grateful for the shelter it provided from the relentless rain. As they drove, she contemplated Dawson's cryptic words and the enigma that surrounded him. The silence between them felt heavy, as if there were unspoken secrets lingering in the air.

Despite her reservations, Marissa couldn't deny the kindness Dawson had shown her in that moment. She wondered if there was more to him than met the eye, a depth she had yet to discover.

Arriving at her doorstep, Marissa expressed her gratitude, feeling a sense of warmth and appreciation for the unexpected act of kindness. As she stepped out of the car, she turned back to Dawson, wanting to express her sentiments.

"Thank you, Dawson, for saving me from the rain tonight," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Dawson nodded, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Remember, things are not always as they seem. Until we meet again, Marissa."

With those cryptic words, Dawson drove off into the rainy night, leaving Marissa with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. As she unlocked her front door, she couldn't help but wonder about the secrets that lay hidden behind Dawson's captivating smile.

…

Celdrick and Jackson started a drinking competition, while Nancy glared resentfully at Honeybell.

"What's all this commotion about her?"

"She's nothing but a frump, so why?"

Nancy reached for a bottle of alcohol and attempted to drink, but one of her guards stopped her.

"Young miss, alcohol is prohibited for you, sir's orders," the guard said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Get lost!" she snapped, then proceeded to drink directly from the bottle.

"Celdrick Synder!"

"Jackson McCoy!"

The students' screams continued as the two moved on to their third bottle of beer.

"Why don't we make this more lively? If you support my bestie, Jackson McCoy, go to the right," Leroy suggested, and many students followed his lead.

"If you're a fan of Celdrick Synder, come to the left," Leroy continued, and a significant number of students joined him, though Jackson's side clearly had more supporters.

Honeybell watched the scene unfold, feeling like she was caught in the middle of a live movie, utterly confused.

Why on earth are they drinking because of me?

Tifana joined her, curious about the ruckus. "Baby girl, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Honeybell replied, and Julienne pecked her affectionately.

"You're attracting attention like a magnet. Jackson McCoy and Celdrick Synder are drinking because of you. Be prepared for a lot of enemies," she teased with a wink.

"What?"

"I'm rooting for Celdrick anyway. He's not an asshole like Jackson," Julienne declared, standing up and joining Celdrick's team.

"Jackson McCoy!"

"Celdrick Synder!"

The screams continued.

They were now on their sixth bottle, feeling the pressure intensify as the cheers grew louder.

"Celdrick!" Harrison shouted, prompting Celdrick to grab the seventh bottle.

Jackson had already started drinking even before Celdrick took his own, and the contest continued.

Suddenly, Jackson's bottle slipped from his hand, his eyes rolling in a comical manner. His throat rumbled, and he vomited some of the alcohol before collapsing onto the floor.

Celdrick emerged as the victor.

"Celdrick Synder!"

Celdrick put down his bottle and looked over at Honeybell, flashing her an adorable smile.

Honeybell blinked at first but then, recalling what might have happened if Jackson had won, she returned the smile. Relief washed over her as she realized the potential trouble she had narrowly avoided.

…

Charles' eyes turned colder as he approached the couch where Flower lay. Her long hair obscured her face, and her slim legs were spread out on the couch. It was evident that she was deeply asleep.

Charles couldn't help but scoff, feeling frustrated.

"How dare she sleep on my couch," he muttered angrily to himself.

Frustrated and feeling the need to assert his authority, he tapped on her arm roughly.

Flower let out a tired yawn, barely opening her eyes.

"I'm not interested in buying a car; I already have a bicycle," she mumbled sleepily.

"What?" Charles gasped, tapping her arm again, this time more forcefully.

Startled, she jolted upright, awakened by his persistent tapping.

"I think my baby is coming! My baby!" she exclaimed, startled, before clumsily slumping back onto the couch once again.