Danila

The economics department is a hive of ambition and sleepless nights. And at the center of this chaos is HIM, Danila. A cross between a Greek god and a devil. His favorite pastime is turning my already stressful student life into a freak show. He called my love of high heels "an attempt to visually reach the top of the food chain," and my pursuit of straight A's "a masochistic adoration of Excel spreadsheets." A vile genius!

And so, after yet another failed attempt at mastering matrix algebra, I was screwed. Literally. Tangled in my headphones, I crashed right into Danila at the coffee machine. Hot latte spurted all over his expensive shirt. "So, kamikaze economist?" he smirked, before pinning me between the machine and himself.

“Danila, let go!” I breathed out, feeling my cheeks flush.

And then there was an explosion. Not in the machine gun, but in his eyes. “Listen, Zlata,” he growled, his voice hoarse, like after a marathon, “this teasing… it’s completely idiotic, I know! It’s just… I don’t know how else to get your attention! Do you think I enjoy pretending to be a complete idiot? No! I’m just… so fucking in love with you! With your heels, your spreadsheets, even your perpetual headphones!”

And before I could respond, he stole a kiss. Right in the middle of the economics department. Chaos? No, this is love! And what difference does it make if my shirt is covered in coffee?