The Only Right Way to Have a Birthday

"Everyone who says love is pain has loved, but has never fallen in love or been in love."

"And here's the man of the hour! Happy birthday, boy! Welcome to adulthood!" Trevor shouts as I unlock my apartment door. I give him the finger.

"Dude, just drop that broody loner act already! You're twenty-one now! Let loose and drink with us!" he adds.

"Thanks, mate, but I gotta catch up on sleep. Another time?" I reply.

"Huh, you know... there are girls," he says, dropping his voice into a whisper as he sidles up to me and slings an arm around my shoulder, "and they're waiting for you. So what do you say?"

I chuckle. "I prefer the booze, but still."

Trevor shrugs. "Your loss. Go to bed, kiddo, maybe you'll possess the body of your true love and finally see the girl of your dreams."

There he is, talking nonsense again. I believe he has had too much drinks. Lucky he has his girls with him.

As Trevor goes back inside his apartment, I open my door just to lock it again. Call me paranoid, but leaving the door unlocked at night is never a good choice. And I do not want my almost non-existing stuff to be stolen.

As soon as I crash on the couch, I drift off, leaving my small apartment on the outskirts of Columbus.

---

The sound of the clock ticking brings me back into consciousness. My blurry vision slowly makes out the clock on the wall across from me. As the blurriness goes away, I see the hour hand pointing to nine.

Wait, why am I waking up on a bed?

I lift my right hand to pinch myself. And yes, it hurts. I am not dreaming. Someone must have carried me to bed while I was sleeping.

If that was what really happened, that person must be strong as damn. I weigh almost two hundred pounds, certainly not easy to lift. Unless they are a weightlifter, of course.

I rest a hand on my thigh as I put my feet on the floor. Strange, I am not wearing the jeans I wore to bed last night. I remember crashing on the sofa, fully-clothed, shoes on. But now... I am half-naked?

Wait, where did the hair on my legs go? I chuckle at the soft skin I feel beneath my palm. My skin is smooth, like a girl's when she has just shaved.

Now, is it just me or is my bedroom neat?

I look around. Everything in the room is in its place, no sign of laundry piling up or cables tangling on the floor. How nice, the person who carried me to bed also did some cleaning. Hope they are still here, so that I will be able to thank them.

But everything is strange.

I woke up on a bed half-naked, my room is clean, and I see snow outside. I have never seen it snowing late in Columbus's winter. And it is freezing cold. Why did the person took off my clothes if it were cold?

As I scratch the back of my head in confusion, I notice another strange thing. How did my hair get so long? I did not realize that it was past my shoulders.

And black.

Damn, it must be Trevor. He decided to prank me because I did not drink with him and his 'girls' last night. Last year when I did not go with him to a basketball game between his brother's team and another team I cannot remember, I woke up in a bra and panties, a blonde wig glued to my head. I had to shave my head to get it off.

"Well-played, Trevor," I sigh. Hope he did not glue the wig as strong as he did last year.

Wait, whose voice was that?