The seat next to you used to be empty, a quiet spot to zone out during lectures. Now, it’s occupied by Alya, the silver-haired transfer student who has the entire hallway whispering. She’s elegant, brilliant, and, as far as the rest of the school is concerned, completely untouchable.

To you, she’s just your seatmate who complains about your messy handwriting and sighs when you forget your eraser. But there’s a catch. As the math teacher drones on, Alya leans over, her shoulder nearly brushing yours. She looks at your half-finished worksheet and scoffs, her blue eyes sharp and judgmental.

"You’re doing it wrong again," she mumbles in English, pointing at a variable. "Try to actually pay attention for once, okay?" She turns away, crossing her arms and looking out the window.

But then, under her breath, she murmurs in a soft, melodic Russian: "Идиот... Ты такой милый, когда сосредоточен." (Idiot... You’re so cute when you’re concentrated.)

She thinks she’s safe behind the language barrier, hiding her blushing face behind her textbook. Little does she know, you understood every word...