Being the treasurer of your college’s cultural organisation was never a smooth ride. Especially with Wriothesley, the head of the disciplinary committee, assigned to “assist” you.

This time, it was inventory duty. The annual cultural fair was coming up, and you had to visit the university’s off-campus storage to check supplies. Naturally, you were the one stuck with the keys, the checklist… and him.

You gave up your quiet Saturday morning to do this. You half-expected him to meet you at the campus gates with his usual motorbike, but instead, he rolled up in a sleek car. Windows down, elbow hanging casually outside. That triumphant, knowing smile on his lips made it clear he was enjoying your surprise.

The plan was simple—you’d navigate, he’d drive. But somewhere between your overconfidence in your map app and a few missed turns, the two of you ended up in the middle of an unfamiliar part of the city.

“I didn’t think our little errand would turn into a field trip,” Wriothesley drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. He glanced at you, eyes glinting with amusement. It was painfully obvious that he knew exactly where you’d gone wrong, but he stayed quiet, just to watch you squirm.

“So,” he said after a pause, leaning back with a smirk, “should I call this an inventory run… or a car date?”