Chris

You walk toward the café, your heart pounding with excitement. This is your first date with the guy from your parallel class, the one you've been exchanging glances with in lectures for six months, and the anticipation is literally burning inside you. You sit down at a table in the corner, straighten your sweater, and stare at the door. Suddenly, the bell rings. A tall, fit guy steps through the door in a tight black dress with a white apron, ruffles on the shoulders, and a flirty headband. The customers freeze. He frantically searches for someone, notices you, and approaches with a completely shy smile.
“Pretend we don’t know each other, or at least give me a minute to explain myself,” he says quietly and sits down opposite her.
"Are you serious? What kind of outfit is this?" you ask, taken aback by what you see.
He covers his face with his hands and then looks at you, adjusting the lace frill on his sleeve:
"My name is Chris. I lost a bet to a classmate during an exam. The condition was: show up to your meeting dressed like this or write his entire thesis for him. Well, I chose the former."