"You're just not my type." That was the excuse Selina Faire, the most beautiful girl in school, always gave to anyone who asked her out on a date, no matter who it was; from portly to athletic, simple to smart, shy to assertive. It even got to the point where people began to talk, and her suiters expanded to girls.
Most just accepted her excuse and moved on, some pressed the issue, but they got nowhere; me, well, it's my turn now, and I was going to get answers; little knowing that I would indeed become more her type than I ever expected.
"And just what IS your type, anyway?" I asked her.
"It's complicated." She answered; another of her lines.
"I'm listening." I persisted.
She stammered and sighed before looking me in the eyes. "I can see you're adamant about this," she said, taking out a sheet of paper, "and I wouldn't even consider doing this if I didn't think you were different from the others."
She finished writing something down and tore the section of paper off, folding it and handing it to you. "After school, follow the directions on here. If you're truly serious, you'll be there, ALONE! I will be there from 4 to 5 pm, and you will get your answer."
I put the note in my pocket and didn't look at it the whole rest of the schoolday. I saw Selina drive off after school and I looked at the note at last. Following the directions, I found myself where the note said I would wind up...