The day Katrin is clearly dreading arrives — her first day at the institute in her new look. She nervously fidgets with the edge of her sweater, her fingers tremble, and her gaze darts around, as if searching for support in this new, unexplored world.
When we walk into the lecture hall, silence falls. Even the professor, engrossed in a debate with the students, abruptly cuts off his speech and stares at us. It seems time has frozen. All eyes are fixed on us, and I feel how Katrin squeezes my hand — her palm is cold and damp with anxiety.
Because of me, or rather because of Dimka, who distracted me with his questions in the dorm, we are late. Under the oppressive silence we take our seats, trying not to attract unnecessary attention. It is useless — everyone is looking at us. The glances vary: curious, surprised, judgmental. Katrin lowers her eyes, her cheeks turn slightly pink from embarrassment, but she tries to hold on. Though I know — inside she is on the verge of panic.
The professor is the first to come alive. Coughing, he continues the lecture, but the students have no time for him anymore. They are only interested in us, and they have a lot of questions.
First, why, upon entering the lecture hall, did we hold hands? The answer is simple: I squeezed her palm so tightly that, no matter how hard she tried, Katrin could not break free. Oh no, baby, we made a deal — you are officially my girlfriend. So don't try to escape, since you promised to fulfill my wish yourself. Her fingers are trembling slightly, but she did not resist, only frowned, hiding her embarrassment.
Second, why are we dressed like this? Rebel Girl — in trousers and a sweater, I — in black jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket. It is as if we swapped wardrobes. And this shocks everyone. Katrin always looked like a rebel, and now she is feminine and elegant. And I, used to a strict style, remind them of a guy who just returned from a rock concert. Our little rebellion. A statement to the world that we are not like everyone else, and the opinion of those around us does not bother us.
Katrin sits nearby, her shoulder touches mine. Her breathing gradually evens out. She stole a glance at me, and a shadow of a smile flashed in her eyes. Despite the glances and whispers behind her back, she knows she is not alone. I am near, and this gives her strength.
I sit, trying to look unbothered, but emotions are raging inside. Pride for her — for deciding to take this step. Light anxiety — over how this will affect her. And, most importantly, confidence. We made the right choice. Let the world look with surprise or condemnation — we don't care. We are together, and that is what matters.
Finally Dimka appears, stumbling at every step due to incorrectly laced sneakers. He is so eager to see my girlfriend that he rushes with all his might, out of breath and red as a tomato. But, barely catching his breath, he stares at Katrin and blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind:
"Holy sh*t, girl, you're something else," from shock he forgets where he even is, and his voice sounds louder than he planned.
The lecture hall freezes. The professor, who already started to get used to the strange atmosphere in the room, turns sharply and looks menacingly at Dimka. His eyebrows draw together, and his eyes flash with disapproval.
"This time I will pretend I didn't hear it, since it's such a situation..." it is felt in the man's voice that a similar thought is probably spinning in his head. "But one more swear word, and I'll send you to the rector. Understood?"
Dimka nods silently, his face becomes even redder, if that is even possible. He quickly mutters something like "got it" and, lowering his head, heads to his seat.
"Since you understood, take your seat," the professor adds dryly, before returning to his story, although it is obvious that the students' attention is still riveted on us.
My neighbor sits in his place, not taking his eyes off Katrin. His gaze is full of amazement, as if he sees in front of him not a person, but some inexplicable phenomenon. And, honestly speaking, I am not jealous. To see Rebel Girl in such an outfit — is akin to a miracle. The students look at her not as a girl, but as something incredible, going beyond the boundaries of their usual perception of the world.
At this time, she herself squeezes my hand so tightly that her fingers almost dig into my skin. Katrin does not raise her gaze, her eyes are glued to the floor, and her cheeks are burning from embarrassment. Her awkwardness comes not so much from their stares, as from the fact that she, it seems, feels naked, as if all her thoughts and feelings are on display.
I move closer to her, feeling how her breathing has slightly quickened. I decide to continue teasing her, whispering in her ear:
"My beloved Rebel Girl, when we return home..."
"If we return. If you live to see this return," she interrupts, her voice sounds with a slight threat, but a smile can be read in her eyes.
"Then I will beg for your forgiveness with kisses. Where do you want me to kiss you?" I continue, speaking as tenderly as possible.
She raises her head and looks at me as if I am a complete fool.
"Do you really think your little kisses will pray away my shame today?" her voice sounds with a note of skepticism, but curiosity can be read in her eyes.
"Shall we check?" I get closer to her and kiss her behind the ear.
My girlfriend gets all covered in goosebumps and falls silent for a moment. Looking at her face, I realize that she has turned completely red. So this is where I needed to kiss my baby from the very beginning!
"When we are home, I will kiss you to death starting here," I run my finger from her ear to her collarbone, feeling how Katrin slightly shudders.
"Don't tease me even more," she growls with a threat.
"Or what? You will argue with me again?" I continue to tease, knowing that this turns her on.
"Arguing with you is like losing to myself from the very beginning, so no."
"And what will you threaten me with then?" I ask, smiling.
She falls in thought, pouting one lip. How much I want to kiss her, but I restrain myself with all my might, at least until the break.
"You'll be deprived of kisses and the bed too," her voice sounds serious, but playfulness can be read in her eyes.
I giggle at this.
"What's funny? It should be scary, not fun," the girl says, frowning slightly.
"This punishment is two-sided. You yourself won't be able to do without me. You will come running to sleep with me faster than I will to you," I myself am not entirely sure of my words. But I believe in this.
"Let sleeping dogs lie, so don't bring it to that," she declares instead of an answer, her voice sounds with a note of warning, but a smile is read in her eyes.
I understand that this is enough for today. We both know that this is a game, but there is something real in it, something that brings us even closer. And I am ready to wait until the girl herself decides to take the next step.
The bell rings like a funeral march for the silence.
The corridor, empty just a second ago, fills with a hum. Classmates crawl out from behind their desks, as if infected by some invisible plague — eyes glazed over, steps drawn-out, as if their feet are sticking to the linoleum. Their hands reach towards us like the tentacles of hungry creatures, and the smell of sweat, cheap coffee, and hopelessness hangs in the air.
"Like hell you get my girl," I hiss mentally through clenched teeth, feeling the adrenaline spread through my veins like a burning nectar.
Katrin.
Her fingers tremble in my palm, thin like butterfly wings, but I squeeze them so tightly, as if I can hold back time itself. We rush to one of the exits, but the door slams shut with a metallic clang that sends shivers running down my back.
"Over the desks," flashes in my head.
Desks, sharp corners, scattered notebooks — all this merges in a kaleidoscope of panic. I vault over the nearest one, hearing my backpack fall to the floor with a crash. I turn around — Katrin jumps right after. Her laugh, ringing and daring, cuts the heavy air like a sunbeam through storm clouds.
"Didn't expect that?" I shout, catching her by the waist as we rush away, leaving a chorus of bewildered groans behind our backs.
The corridor. An endless strip of light from flickering lamps, our shadows — two black birds, breaking for freedom. I jerk Katrin to the side, into a dark nook with a door slightly ajar like a seductive trap. The room smells of dust and old books, but her breath — sweet as a ripe strawberry — eclipses everything else.
"Quieter," I whisper, pressing her against the wall, cold and rough under my fingers.
Her lips meet mine with such thirst, as if we are breathing each other. My hand slides under the sweater, groping the warmth of her skin under the thin fabric of the blouse.
"Bra... damn," a thought flashes, but her moan, low and broken, burns out everything rational.
I kiss her neck, digging into the salty taste of her skin near the collarbone, feeling her heart beating in unison with mine — a frantic rhythm that drowns out even the fear of being caught.
Rebel Girl arches under my palms, her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving marks — promises. The world narrows down to her sighs, to the tremor in her voice, to this moment where nothing exists except us.
"Don't stop..." her lips plead, when she bites them so as not to scream.
The bell. It cuts into the silence like a knife into butter. Katrin pushes me away, her eyes — two dilated pools, full of confusion and the unspoken — it is not the end yet.
"Well, you... You will... Um... Get it for this, as soon as we are home," the girl exhales, fixing her sweater with trembling fingers. I see how her cheeks turn scarlet, how her chest rises under her ragged breathing.
"I hope I will get all of you. Since you are promising this to me so much right now," I mutter, pressing my lips to her temple. She snorts, pulling away, but a smile dances in the corners of her lips.
"You are a bad Nerd," she throws, threatening with a finger, as if this can stop the storm that is raging between us.
"But I am only your Nerd," I answer her, biting the tip of her finger, feeling how her laugh trembles.
We walk out into the corridor, where the light already seems less bright, and the air — less alive. But somewhere in the pocket of my memory a plan is already maturing: home, silence and not a single bell for salvation.
We return back, as if nothing happened. Silence reigns in the lecture hall, broken only by the monotonous voice of the professor, who, it seems, does not even notice our absence. His gaze glides over the textbook, and his thoughts, probably, hover somewhere far away. Katrin and I sit nearby, trying to look as restrained and diligent as possible. We both sit with straight backs, our eyes fixed on the professor, like perfect students who don't get distracted by anything. I do not touch her, although every moment near her causes a storm of emotions in me — from tenderness to light excitement. But inside me everything is boiling. I feel her closeness, her warmth, and this drives me crazy.
When the bell rings, I am already about to quickly slip away, but suddenly a heavy hand drops on my shoulder. It is Dimka. My "friend", who, it seems, always appears at the most inappropriate moment. He sits down nearby, without removing his hand, and I feel how the tension grows. A crowd of curious classmates is already starting to gather around us. Their glances are full of questions, and the atmosphere becomes tense, like before a thunderstorm.
"Max, don't you want to tell us anything? Because you only show off, and we don't understand anything of what is happening," Dimka begins with a snide smile. His voice sounds like a provocation, and I understand that he won't fall behind. I decide to pretend that I don't understand anything, and shift the blame to Katrin.
"Darling, don't you want to say anything to them?" I utter, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
But Katrin's gaze is murderous. The girl looks at everyone like a tigress ready to defend her territory. It pleases me that her anger is directed not only at me, but also at everyone else. She is clearly not going to keep silent.
"WE ARE DATING!" she shouts so loudly that, it seems, the walls are shaking.
Everyone around freezes, and I feel how my heart skips a beat. This is so straightforward and frank that even I, used to her harshness, am slightly stunned.
"Well, it can't get more official," I think, holding back a smile.
The crowd, dumbfounded by her frankness, slowly disperses. Their faces express a mixture of shock and admiration. But Dimka, as always, does not calm down.
"And what's with the outfit?" he snidely smirks, pointing at her clothes. This is clearly too much.
Katrin, like a true rebel, sees a challenge in his words. Her eyes catch on fire, and I understand that it's going to get hot now.
"What do you care about me and my style of clothing, you piece of an idiot? Or do I have to report to you personally, you unfinished schmuck? Come here, I will personally tell you about personal boundaries, you bastard!" her voice sounds like a clap of thunder.
She bursts forward, trying to climb over me to get to Dimka. I wrap my arms around her waist, feeling the tension in her body — like a compressed spring ready to shoot. If I let go, my girl will either hit him or scratch his face.
Dimka understands that he has gone too far, and flies out of the classroom like a bullet.
"Let me go, he already left," the girl is still trembling from anger.
"Why? I like this pose," I feel how her body gradually relaxes in my embrace. Her anger is replaced by light irritation, but a readiness for battle is still read in her eyes.
"Stop sprouting this when there are so many people around. Let go, come on!" she tries to break free, but I only kiss her on her left arm, around the shoulder, and let her go. Her skin is soft and warm, and this kiss — is my way of saying that I love her, despite all her outbursts of anger.
After this, they do not touch us anymore. The day passes calmly, but in the evening a surprise awaits me. I take my things, having not found Dimka, and leave him a note: "You are a jerk." Everything seems peaceful. But I didn't take one thing into account — my Rebel Girl. She still decides to punish me. And it hurts. It hurts very much and is irrevocable for our relationship.