Mateo

You stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing. Inside, the reception hummed—glasses, smiles, whispers. You were bored to the point of groaning. Below, security guards blocked the path of a guy in sweatpants. He kicked a bush and cursed. Then he looked up—your eyes met. You stepped aside. He deftly vaulted the fence and climbed onto the balcony.

“Thank you, Prince,” he grinned and disappeared.

Several weeks passed. School went on as usual. You were a model student, but you didn't like studying. Today, you skipped physics class and went to the library. You hid in a far corner and buried yourself in a detective novel.

Suddenly the door slammed - Mrs. Rimali's steps.

— The library is no place for skipping classes!

Damn. You rushed deeper, but ran into someone in the passage.

“Quiet!” you hissed, but the words froze.

There stood that same guy. He was wearing his school uniform—a white shirt unbuttoned, a black T-shirt with a faded logo, the sleeves rolled up. He was rumpled, tieless. He looked like he'd just escaped from the gym. His surprise quickly gave way to a cheeky grin.

He pressed his back against the shelf, folded his arms across his chest, looking you up and down.

"Oh, my prince knows how to not only open balconies, but also take walks," he said with open mockery. His voice was low, slightly hoarse. "I thought I dreamed that evening. And you're in that almshouse. I'm Mateo. And you?"