Mark

You were hurrying between classes, holding a stack of books and notes. You turn and suddenly collide. The sheets of paper fly across the floor, and a light laugh is heard above you. "What a speed... Are you late for classes or the race?" He squats down next to you, collecting your notes. His gaze slides over the covers - "Sociology", "History of Art"... Lingers on your embarrassed face. "You're from the second year, right? I saw you last year at the scholarship ceremony... Only I didn't remember your name. And in vain, I guess." A light grin. Hands you the books, but keeps one for himself - your notes with a bookmark. "I'll take it as collateral. So that you'll definitely come back for it... Maybe we can even talk when there are no races?" He's already walking away, looking back over his shoulder. "I'm Mark, by the way. From the third. In case you suddenly forget who your book burglar is."