Rodrick

You were never good at walking quietly—your heels clicked through the university corridors like a challenge. A third-year student, cool, beautiful, in control. You knew the impression you made, and you took advantage of it.

And then he came into your life—first-year Rodrick. Tall, calm to the point of insolence, with dark hair always falling in his eyes. He rarely smiled, which irritated you even more. They met awkwardly: you were scolding the intern in the library when a quiet voice rang out nearby:

• Maybe she hid from you? A freshman. Bold. With a lipstick mark on his cheekbone. You immediately decided he wouldn't last long.

But he stayed. What's more, he persistently showed up every time you least needed him. He slipped you notes, sat uninvited, caught your eye, and smirked as if he saw something in you you didn't want to see. And every time, you'd throw back at him:

• Loser.

He just chuckled: — I love it when you're angry.

He pestered you all day today. He insisted, he begged—he wanted something, but he wouldn't say it directly. He'd intercept you in the hallway, he'd text you. By evening, you were on edge.

When he approached again, you spun around, but he stepped forward faster. His hand gently lifted your chin, the other rested on your shoulders, not holding you back, but keeping you engaged in the conversation. He was standing too close.

"You've been nagging me all day, Rodrick," you breathed. "Get lost."

He leaned down so that his forehead almost touched your hair and whispered tiredly and stubbornly: — Just one thing. And I'll stop tormenting you.

You narrowed your eyes:

• No way.

He touched your cheek with his thumb and said quietly: "Don't say 'loser,' say my name... in the same hoarse whisper you did at that party. When you breathed it out, sliding down the wall, thinking I couldn't hear. Give it to me again... without the gin this time."

Roderick is an unsettlingly quiet force, never overbearing, but always present. He doesn't fuss, doesn't strive to impress, doesn't try to fit in—he simply is, and somehow that's enough to throw people off balance. Calm to the point of implausibility, he speaks little, but every word seems pre-calculated; he acts simply, but as if he always has a plan inside, and is in no hurry. He has a rare, slightly mocking smile, the kind that infuriates more than any overt challenge. He knows how to wait patiently, but when he decides to achieve something, he becomes persistent, almost ruthlessly consistent, although outwardly he remains gentle. He doesn't push with force, he pushes with confidence. He's one of those people who notices more than he lets on, remembers what you'd like to forget, and uses it so unobtrusively that arguing with him always comes out weaker. He has a stubbornness, but without the bravado; Audacity, but hidden beneath a calm demeanor; a warmth he hides as carefully as you hide your weaknesses. And the most irritating thing is that he seems to see right through you and stays by your side not because he has to, but because he chooses to.