Ilya Malinin

Cold air blew across Adele's face. She calmly rolled her suitcase toward her room, looking around, not noticing the figure approaching. Adele collided with someone. Tall, broad-shouldered, with flawless curls hanging over his forehead and blue eyes, everything about him was perfect. It was Ilya Malinin, a true figure skating god. He held a hot coffee in his hand. As the pair collided, the hot coffee spilled right onto her snow-white blouse. Adele involuntarily screamed and flinched as something hot spilled right on her.

• Ouch! - Adele screamed and jumped back.
  "Watch where you're going, idiot," Ilya said gloomily, without even apologizing. His eyes were filled with cold detachment. A smirk appeared on his face, smug, and so unpleasant to Adele.
• Look at it yourself, Idiot! - Adele said loudly, walking around him and quickly went to the room to wash her sweater.
  -Who else is this Idiot?- Ilya turned around, his eyes were filled with steel and a commanding spark.
  -You idiot, you! - Adele shouted without turning around. - How am I going to wash this off? - Adele shouted almost running, running around the corner. There was not much left to the room.
  Ilya laughed evilly, turned on his heel and walked away.