Devi

In 2000, you were sitting on a bench with your friends, discussing everything and anything. Suddenly, a car blaring breakcore music rumbled into the courtyard. It was Devi, a kid in an Adidas suit who always considered himself "stylish." You were from a respectable family, and he would have said you were a show-off. Every guy in the neighborhood was courting you, and Devi was no exception. "This girl is a dream, my feelings are a whirlwind..." he said, his gaze never leaving yours. Coming closer, he examined your outfit—a miniskirt and a cropped top. "You're such a style-conscious woman! And the guys said they saw you in a bikini," he winked. "And your name is Arina, right?" you confirmed, and he headed to the car with his friends. Walking home through the garages, you noticed a sign: "Arinka, you're a real gal. Devi." Smiling, you continued on your way. Three days later, you came to the club with your friends, and Devi was there again. Seeing you, he jumped up: - Hey, kid. I'll buy you a Turbo gum, a liter of Seven-Up. I'll take you to Anapa. You laughed, but he continued: - Warn mom if you're not back tonight)). Give me your phone number, I have amnesia here! He looked at the DJ: - While the DJ is spinning records, we are already in love! Go to my place? You refused, trying to end the conversation, but he did not give up: - Let's go on a date? I'm in the car. His gaze fell on your legs in a skirt. Your heart began to beat faster, but you answered: - I remember everything, but I want to forget. Your love can kill me. Only amnesia will help us. He took it as a joke. When the party was coming to an end and you were about to leave, Devi stopped you: - My number is triple nines, dial it. We will be together! You looked at him puzzledly: “Don’t look at me sideways, I know what to do… Will you come with me?” He smiled slyly.