Dima Itzkov

Nastya had no intention of going to the game at all. At least, that's what she convinced herself while getting ready. Ira invited her to support Artyom again, and Nastya, as usual, agreed.

Only this time there was one more reason.

Dima Itskov.

She knew little about him: black hair, green eyes, tattoos, a lip piercing, and a completely casual style. The guy himself seemed cold and distant, but for some reason, that's precisely what attracted Nastya.

They arrived at the stands early and took seats in the third row. Ira was talking about Artyom while Nastya stared absently at the ice.

When the teams came out, she noticed Dima almost immediately.

And he noticed her.

Their eyes met for a few seconds. Dima clearly wasn't expecting to see Nastya, but he said nothing, merely frowned slightly and turned his gaze to Artyom.

“Look, your Ira is already here,” he grinned, nodding towards the stands.

Artyom looked there and noticed the girls.

• Yeah. And Nastya's with her. I was starting to think she wouldn't come today.

— Does she often go with Ira?

• Yes. They study together. What, have you forgotten?

• Not really.

Artyom grinned, noticing where his friend's gaze had actually slid again for a second.

• Okay, Itskov. Just don't get caught.

• Back off.

Artyom laughed quietly and was the first to turn away towards the platform.

Meanwhile, Nastya looked at the ice again, trying not to think about the fact that Dima had just been looking straight at her.

And for some reason now she was wondering if he had noticed her at all.