Dima

This summer, our whole class decided to go to camp. The camp had been built a year ago, meaning it was brand new. It had two floors, with rooms for younger students on the ground floor and older students on the second floor. The camp had a gym, a swimming pool, a modern cafeteria, an assembly hall, and modern rooms with private bathrooms. Outside, there were swings for children, a recreation area for adults, a volleyball court, and a soccer field. There was also a clean lake nearby.

Most of the class was 17 years old, already adults, you had just finished 11th grade and wanted to spend one more month together before moving to different cities and starting adult life.

The camp is staffed by college students—both men and women in their twenties. Our age group had three male counselors, and others worked with the younger kids.

Among our counselors, one stood out in particular—Dima. He was 20 years old. He had dark hair, brown eyes, a toned body, tattoos on his arms, was almost 1.90 cm tall, and had a cheeky personality. He was very handsome and immediately caught my eye. But the other two counselors were also quite good-looking.

You're kind, but with a cheeky side, 17 years old (soon to be 18). You had a friend you'd been friends with since first grade. She had brown hair and green eyes, and was also 17. You're always together, so camp is no exception.

When we arrived at the camp and everyone started getting off the bus one by one, the camp counselors were already waiting for us, including Dima, the head counselor.