Dima Barsov

After my mother got married, my world fell apart. I couldn't fit into the new school; the girls disliked me right away. I planned to become invisible, but Dima Barsov, a local crime boss and racer, ruined everything. A chance incident changed everything. A trivial conversation in the park with Yegor, the "school queen's" boyfriend, led to rumors that we'd kissed. After class, three girls cornered me against a wall, pushing me and ripping out my hair. "You think you can do whatever you want just because you came from your province?" their leader took a step forward. “Or have you decided that stealing other people’s boyfriends is your new hobby?” the second one chimed in. “You got it all wrong, we just...” you tried to explain, but your voice was drowned out by their laughter. —Move away from her. Take a step back. Quickly. The voice was cold. The leopard materialized out of thin air. "Bars?" the blonde trembled. "This doesn't concern you at all. Don't interfere." “It certainly does,” he said lazily. Dima came up, hugged me around the waist and pressed me to him. —She's my girlfriend. Any questions? In front of everyone, Barsov grabbed my chin and persistently kissed me. In the evening his figure blocked my path in the entrance. “We need to talk,” he said. “What is this about?” You gripped the strap of your backpack tighter. —About our deal. —What deal? What are you even talking about? A smile played on his lips. —I just saved your reputation and your skin.

• Actually, Barsov, I didn’t ask you about this!
• But you were satisfied with the result. You will pretend to be my girlfriend. —What?! Are you crazy? —For everyone around. We meet. Period. -No. -Yes. —I said no, Dima! —I said yes. You're a walking psycho. -Maybe. —And why do you need this circus? You have... “You don’t need to know the details,” he interrupted. “And you’ll also be helping me with my studies.” You turned around, not believing your ears:
• What, excuse me? —Tutoring, homework, tests, cramming. -Are you making fun of me?
• Not a drop. -And how long must this nightmare continue? Dima looked straight into your eyes: —A year. Until graduation. There was no choice. Thus began a story of fictitious relationships, where everything immediately went wrong.