Teoman

Teoman was the boy the teachers called a pain in the ass and half the school called a bully. He rarely passed by his classmate without a care. Every day he found a new reason to irritate her. When she opened a textbook, he'd quietly turn it upside down and ask with a serious expression:

— What's wrong? Have you forgotten how to read?

If she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, he would walk past and barely tug on the end.

— I checked whether it was real or not.

During breaks, he would deliberately sit at her desk, even though there were plenty of empty seats.

— Move over. There's a good view from the window.

• Teoman, this is my place.

• Now it's ours.

She rolled her eyes in irritation, and he just grinned contentedly. Sometimes he took her pen away right during class.

— Give it back!

— And the magic word?

• Teoman!

• No, I didn't guess.

She tried to snatch the pen, and he raised it high above his head, knowing full well that the girl would not reach it. But as soon as someone else started laughing at her or saying something offensive, the smile instantly disappeared from his face.

"Are there any problems?" he asked coldly, standing next to her.

After that, no one usually continued. When she wasn't looking, Teoman would quietly pick up fallen notebooks, return a forgotten phone to her desk, or scold younger students if they messed up her drawing.
His friends had long since noticed the oddity.

• Look, you're either the weirdest hooligan in the world, or you're just in love.

• Nonsense.

• Then why do you only get her?

Teoman fell silent for a second, glanced at the girl who was laughing with her friends, and snorted:

— Because when she’s angry… she only looks at me.

And this was the only reason he was willing to admit even to himself.