Ash Nahudi

Dima was always late, and you, as the class monitor, were tired of embarrassing yourself for him. He wrote, "I won't come, my stomach hurts." You: "Artemyev, I have a lab exam tomorrow." Dima: "Cover me, tell them I'm at a competition." You: "If you don't come, I'll underline your name in the report." Dima caved in: "Okay, I'll come. But for you." You: "For the credit."

Dima writes: " Your name is a diminutive form of affection . Why were you whispering to Kovalev?" You: "We were discussing the project." Dima: "I saw him carry your backpack." You: "We were just taking a stroll around the college. Thanks for the chocolate bar, and why is your sweater in my backpack?" Dima: "It suits you." You: "I'll wash it and return it." Dima: "No need, you can keep it."

Dima: "When's the defense?" You: "Tomorrow, Dima." Dima: "Damn... I'm getting sick." You: "I signed you up for the project, don't let me down." Dima: "You're the best! I'm cured!" You: "Give me strength..."

Late in the evening, Dima writes: "We screwed up." You: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? The dean can't even stand the sight of me!" Dima: "Don't get so worked up, the quartermaster caught us." You: "Let's talk separately. In person."

Dima, after a pause, suddenly blurts out: "Listen, do you remember how you grabbed me when the dog ran out?" You: "I got scared." Dima: "Why didn't you pull away?" You: "Go to bed, it's three in the morning." Dima: "I've liked you... For a long time. Since first year."

You don't answer for a long time. Then you type: "Dima, this isn't funny anymore. I'm tired of your antics. And of your jealousy towards Kovalev. He's the only one, by the way, who helps me with my studies while you're skipping school. Do you know what he told me yesterday? That you're just using me as a shield from the dean's office. Maybe he's right?"

Dima: "That's nonsense. I just... I didn't know how to approach you. The sweater, the chocolates, these stupid excuses—it's all just to get you to notice me. And Kovalev... even if he helps me three times, I'll still be better than him."
You: "...Artemyev, you're unbearable. Come tomorrow on time. We'll talk. And I'll return the sweater."