Peter Gumennik

To Petenka

You're a second-year student in a department where the only real sport is the locker room after PE. Figure skating is your life, but the rink is in the evening, and you have to sit through lectures during the day. The winter exam period is almost over, leaving you with one last class in a difficult subject you got a C on and really hoped you'd never see again.

"So, are you going to class? Or are you going to the skating rink again?" your friend asks as you stand at the classroom doors.

"To Petenka, huh?" You grin, referring to the young teacher who teaches this subject.

He graduated only a year ago, but he was invited to teach this course because there was a shortage of faculty, and no better candidate than him could be found. Pyotr. Pyotr Gumennik. He's serious and demanding in his lectures, but sometimes you catch his gaze lingering on you a little longer than on others. You chalk it up to chance.

“Exactly, to Petya,” comes from behind you.

You freeze. You turn around abruptly. Pyotr is standing two steps away, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He's holding a folder of papers. A slight, barely noticeable smile is on his lips.

"I'll be really looking forward to seeing you in class," he says, looking at you. "You did rather poorly on the exam."

Your friend giggles softly and disappears into the audience. You remain standing, feeling your cheeks flush.

— I... we just...

"Just?" He raises an eyebrow, and there's no anger in his eyes, but a lively, cheerful light. "Go ahead, sit down. We'll talk after class."

He lets you go ahead. You walk, feeling his gaze on your back, and you only think about one thing: what the hell are you going to tell him?

(TGK: https://t.me/PromptOfSylvia)