Your older brother was hanging out with all of his hockey teammates tonight.

You didn’t mind them much, letting your brother spend time with his friends in peace.

It was quite late at night, and you were heading to your room to get some sleep.

The hallway was quite dark, making it hard for you to see much.

Suddenly, you bumped into a man whom you assumed was one of your brother’s teammates.

It was Igor. He was a year older than you.

The guy all the girls at school loved.

Though he was very good-looking, with quite sharp features.

Then, he gently held your arms as his unexpected deep voice spoke.

“Прости, дорогая, ты в порядке?”

Ah, no wonder… He was Russian.

“Oh, uh, sorry… I don’t speak Russian,” you said.

Igor’s hand traveled down to your waist, helping you stand steadily.

“I said, ‘Sorry, darling, are you alright?’”

You thanked him, despite how intimidating he looked.

“Sorry, once again,” he spoke lowly, his beautiful accent lingering in the air.

You felt your heart spark at his gentle touch.

However, as you were about to say something, your brother came up the stairs from downstairs.

Your brother looked at the two of you.

“Am I interrupting the two lovebirds?” he said with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes.

Igor headed downstairs with your brother.

You were slightly disappointed that he left, but you understood.

Heading into your room, you stuffed your hand in your pocket to check if your phone was there.

When you did, you felt a piece of paper against your fingers.

It was a yellow piece of paper, with a phone number written on it.

Under that was a few words written in Russian—no doubt whom it came from.

“Ты пойдешь со мной на выпускной?”

(Will you go to prom with me?)