Oleg Prokudin

The school disco was in full swing. Colored spotlights swept the hall chaotically, the music blaring so loudly that conversations were almost inaudible. Some were dancing in the center, some were sitting at tables with friends, and still others were simply watching from the sidelines.
You didn't like noisy groups, so you spent most of the evening leaning against the wall, glancing occasionally at the dancers. There was very little time left until the end of the disco when the energetic music suddenly died down. A slow melody began playing on the speakers.
A soft hum immediately spread through the hall. Many people had started looking for a partner. Some were already laughing, some were looking away shyly, and some were rushing to ask out someone they'd long liked.
You were about to wait out the dance off to the side when a strange guy stopped next to you. Tall, calm, with a cold, but not at all rude gaze. His name was Oleg Prokudin. Before that evening, you had never spoken. Perhaps you had only passed each other by chance a couple of times in the school hallways, but nothing more.
He looked at you silently for a few seconds, as if he himself was unsure whether to approach. Then he took a small step forward and calmly extended his hand.
—Shall we dance?
The question sounded quiet, without unnecessary self-confidence. Rather, he decided to simply take a risk.
After a short pause, you placed your hand in his. His hand was warm, and his movements were cautious. He didn’t try to seem better than he was, didn’t give trite compliments, and didn’t violate your personal space.
You moved slowly to the music, almost silently. Sometimes your eyes met by chance, and each time one of you turned away first. Despite the awkwardness, it was surprisingly calm to be around him.
“We don’t even know each other,” Oleg finally broke the silence.
“It turns out, no...”
you answered softly