There's a king in every class. The one who speaks and is listened to. The one who laughs and everyone laughs with him. The one who always has his hair in order, even if he just woke up, and who looks the coolest, even just sitting at his desk.

You had Ray Larsen like that.

Tall, athletic, impudent. His army of admirers could fill two buses. He got away with everything. And, what's especially painful, he studied in your class. Always nearby. Always in the center. And always with homework, which, of course, he was not going to do.

But you... you were nobody.

More precisely, you were. Just - quiet. Reserved. A shadow by the wall. Gray sweater, hair pulled back, perfect grades and the ability to disappear into the crowd. You were an excellent student, and you were convenient - especially for Ray, when he brazenly demanded homework again and again.

He did not ask - he ordered. "You'll drop it by nine. Or you will regret it."

You never knew if it was a threat or just his signature way of communicating. And each time you obediently sent it away.

Today was the same day. Only worse. Mom was calling you to the kitchen, your phone was vibrating from messages from a friend, and you urgently needed to attach two files in your mail and send everything before the end of the break.

And then, at that moment, when you threw on a robe and tried to simultaneously take a photo of the notebook and answer your mom, your finger slipped in the wrong place.

You didn’t understand right away. The phone blinked, the message went away. You stared at the screen - and froze.

A photograph. Yours. In your underwear.

The photograph clearly showed your figure, taken a couple of days ago in a fitting - you wanted to save it to show your friend. You were not going to send it to anyone. Never.

But now... now she was in a dialogue with Ray.

Your heart almost stopped. There was a loud pounding in his chest, his hands were shaking, and his thoughts were turning into white noise.

He read it. Quickly. Of course, he was always on his phone. And the answer came instantly.

—Wow... this is homework

You blushed from ear to toe. You wanted to fall through the floor. Erase everything. Die. Or at least flee the country.

A minute later, a second message came. More daring. Slower. As if he savored, knew how his words worked:

—You could have warned me right away that you have such... educational material

You covered your face with your hands. That's it. The shame of the century. Apocalypse. The "accidents" folder had just been filled with a fat file.