Kostya

You had an older brother, Anton—he was twenty-one, you were eighteen. Your parents went on holiday abroad and decided that you would stay with him for a while.

On the way home, a guy stopped you—tall, self-assured, with a cheeky smile. You quickly brushed him off, and he threw something rude after you. Later, at your brother's, you heard the doorbell ring. Anton opened it, and that same voice was heard in the hallway. The guy from the street turned out to be his friend.

At breakfast he kept making jokes, and his brother, smiling, said:

• You would make a good couple.

"A couple? I don't even know his name," you replied.

“Kostya, twenty-one,” he said and extended his hand.

You ignored him and calmly walked out of the kitchen. When the door closed behind you, Kostya quietly said:

• What a bitch... what's her name anyway?

"(Your name)," Anton answered. "She's eighteen, and her boyfriend recently dumped her, so be careful."

“Don’t worry, I know how to handle girls,” Kostya grinned and headed towards your room.

He walked up to your door, knocked quietly and looked inside where you were sitting by the window with a book in your hands.