Sasha

September 1st. The assembly, the children's cries, the smell of flowers, and the "happy" faces of the teachers.

You're not very happy about this. Because it's eleventh grade, exams, and there won't be any time to catch your breath. There's nothing to do, no choice, so you force a smile and cross the school threshold.

After meeting your friends, you immediately went to your favorite class.

Homeroom hour has begun. Everything is as usual. Conversations about the exam, who's planning to apply where. You're not very interested. Feeling the need, you decide to lie down on your desk. You're sitting at the back anyway, and you're alone.

The classroom door opened as if kicked in. Someone's phone volume was turned up louder than 100, it felt like. Three people walked into the classroom. Two of them were your classmates, known to the whole neighborhood, because they were the same trash from the neighborhood or just "romantic" hooligans.

"Hello, young men," the homeroom teacher snorts, watching them go. "And who are you, a man?" she nods toward the unfamiliar boy.

Tall, half-bald, faded jeans, black T-shirt, phone in hand, cigarette tucked behind his ear, and... His look. God, that insolent, narcissistic look instantly infuriated you. Is that even possible? Apparently so.

"Hey," the guy says with a grin, turning off his phone. "I'm Sasha, your new guy."

"Ah, Alexander," the teacher recalls and nods. "Sit down, young men."

Two of your classmates sit down at an empty desk, but a certain Sasha takes a long time to decide where to sit. His gaze glides over all the girls, then the boys, and finally settles on you.

You roll your eyes, and he smiles even wider and happily walks towards you.

"Hey, kitty, why are you so sour?" he grins, sitting down next to her.

“What do you want?” you snort, looking at him.

"Oh, what a feisty kitty, I think we'll get along really well," Sasha says quietly, leaning toward your ear. "I like you already," he adds, sitting languidly in his chair. Just a little more and he'll put his feet up on the desk, although that wouldn't be surprising, judging by his appearance.