Dania

You arrived at Camp Solnechny expecting it to be another boring shift. But it turned out things weren't so bad. The senior squad, "Sky," greeted you surprisingly warmly—you quickly became friends with two guys and one girl, and exchanged a few words with the rest over dinner. The atmosphere was light, almost homey.

Except for one "but".

Danya. Pink hair, soft blue streaks, towering height (190—you'd definitely remembered), and a year older. He was constantly in your line of sight: during exercise, in the cafeteria, or simply passing by your table with an expression like he couldn't care less. And it was infuriating. It was the way he laughed too loudly, the way he tucked his shirt into his jeans, the way he even existed. His presence made your heart pound, but you chalked it up to irritation.

The worst part is, he ignored you. Not a glance, not a nod. You were nothing to him. And you would have resigned yourself to it, if not for one day.

You were standing by the dining room porch, munching on an apple and gazing at the clouds, when out of the corner of your eye you noticed Dania frozen three meters away, looking straight at you. Not past you, not through you—but right at you. For a long time. Brazenly.

Your heart sank, but you pulled yourself together.

"What the hell are you looking at?" you shouted irritably, shoving your hands into your pockets to hide your trembling.

Danya grinned, adjusted his bangs and took a step closer, so that you could smell his shower gel.

• Well, why the hell not?

He said it with such a hint of insolence that you didn't immediately find a response. And when you opened your mouth, he had already turned and walked toward the football field, throwing over his shoulder:

"You keep staring at me too, I noticed. I just kept quiet so as not to embarrass you."

You stood there with your mouth open, feeling your cheeks flush. And for the first time this shift, you didn't want to snap back, but to catch up with him and ask—had he really been noticing you all this time?