Asya Kovalova tugged her mask down to her chin and took a deep breath. Every day, her colleagues argued about when this quarantine would finally end. But all she wanted was to get back into shape. The virus hadn’t just robbed her of her health, sense of smell, and taste—it had drained her physically, too. She felt like she could shatter into a billion pieces at any moment. Still, she had to pull herself together. The second-year students’ exam was coming up soon.
The first to burst into the lecture hall was Nina, the class representative—a short girl with a curvy figure. Even though Asya, at five foot seven, didn’t consider herself particularly tall, Nina looked downright tiny next to her.
“Good morning!” Nina called out from the doorway. “Everyone’s here, so we can get started!”
Asya glanced at her watch, pulling back her sleeve. There were still three minutes until the bell. Three minutes of personal space, of peace. She could’ve scrolled through her Facebook feed in that time. She could’ve texted her mom to say she was feeling much better and would be home soon. She could’ve checked her reflection in a mirror to make sure her makeup hadn’t smudged. But no! The seventh group was itching to kick off their civil law exam.
“Alright, come on in then,” Asya said with a nod, adjusting her mask back into place.
The students filed in one by one, drawing their exam tickets and heading to their seats to prepare. Some scribbled diligently, the scratch of their pens breaking the silence, while others stared blankly at their papers with lost expressions. Martynenko, the notorious slacker, was trying to cheat. Asya spotted it immediately and shot him a glare so sharp that the poor guy dropped his cheat sheet on the floor in a panic. Good thing her mask hid the amused smile on her face. Too bad it couldn’t muffle her laughter. She couldn’t help but want to laugh at Martynenko—he just looked so ridiculous!
The exam dragged on slowly toward its end. Students received their grades for their efforts and left the room with relieved smiles. With just ten minutes to go—right as a terrified Martynenko was struggling to squeeze out even the bare minimum of knowledge—the door swung open. A guy Asya didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. He looked disheveled, like he’d just rolled out of bed and forgotten to change before the exam. Though, oddly enough, his clothes were expensive. Take that blue jacket, for instance—Asya had seen it in the window of a high-end boutique while strolling through the mall recently. Everything else he wore screamed money, too. This was no ordinary guy; he was clearly the spoiled son of some rich daddy. And Asya was certain he hadn’t paid for any of it himself. She’d seen plenty of these “silver spoon” types among the students.
The stranger’s golden-blond hair was so messy that she had the sudden urge to smooth it down with her hand, just to make him look halfway presentable. And that handsome face of his? It probably helped him charm naive, starry-eyed girls with ease.
The guy scanned the room, his gaze landing on the students who had looked up from their tickets. Some smirked, others shook their heads, and Martynenko covered his face with his hand, as if embarrassed on the newcomer’s behalf.
“Ah, must be Karpenko,” Asya guessed to herself. “At least he showed up—that’s something!”
Andriy Karpenko had never once attended her classes. Asya didn’t mind too much. Back in her own student days, she’d skipped a lecture or two herself.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, Andriy plopped down at the front desk, forcing the straight-A student already sitting there to move to the back. Then he started reading the other guy’s ticket.
His attitude only amused her. Asya kept her eyes on the truant student. He stared at the ticket for so long that she started to wonder if he was still sounding out words like a first-grader. She smiled to herself, then tugged her mask down to her chin again—she just couldn’t stand the stuffiness anymore.
“Excuse me!” she called out to Andriy. “I think you’ve got the wrong room. This is an exam for law students.”
“And I’m a law student,” Karpenko shot back confidently, looking at Asya from under his brow.
His piercing gaze hit her like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, she felt exposed, vulnerable. It was as if he wasn’t just looking at her but peering straight into her soul, her heart—anywhere but her eyes. She was so thrown off that she couldn’t even speak. Her brain scrambled to come up with something intelligent to say, but her heart kept getting in the way.
Their eyes locked in a silent battle for over a minute. The seventh group watched the wordless standoff, holding their breath, or so it seemed to them.
In reality, Asya was floundering. She didn’t know what to say next. She’d forgotten words altogether, forgotten how to form them. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of his gray eyes, stormy like a thundercloud.
***
Andriy didn’t want to study law. Truth be told, he didn’t want to study anything. What he liked was the carefree life of a rich kid: parties, clubs, bars, the whole scene. Even back in high school, he’d slipped effortlessly into the nightlife. He couldn’t even remember when his older friends—sons of his dad’s business partners—first dragged him to a bar. Was he fifteen? Fourteen? Good thing he’d always looked older than his age.
Who wants to grind through textbooks at nineteen? Not him. He had other things on his mind. Like what, exactly? Girls, for starters!
Andriy loved women. And they fell for him hard. Of course they did—he was good-looking, young, and backed by his dad’s money. The only downside was that, for him, they were just a one-night fling. He rarely spent two nights with the same girl. But he’d never made promises to any of them, either. That’s what his friends had taught him.
He didn’t show up to university often. When he did, it was usually just to pass an exam or a test—or more accurately, to lean on a professor with his father’s influence. Sometimes, he’d slip a little cash into someone’s pocket. A crisp green bill, or maybe a few. Only rarely did he have to pull strings through his dad’s connections at the top of the faculty to deal with the stubborn ones.
The civil law exam couldn’t have come at a worse time. Maybe if Andriy had checked his group’s chat even once in a while, he wouldn’t have been late to an exam for such an important core subject. Then again, there was no way he could’ve skipped his buddy Stas—aka “Syrup”—and his birthday bash.
The party was still going strong, but Karpenko had to drag himself to the exam. Can you believe it? Twenty straight hours of partying. Not a record, sure—he’d gone longer before—but no one was even thinking about calling it a night. So Andriy wanted to get this exam over with as fast as possible so he could get back to the fun.
Some classmates lingering outside the right classroom told him the exam was almost over.
Karpenko ran a hand through his messy hair, ruffling it even more in frustration, and pushed the door open.
At the front desk sat Knyazivsky, the ultimate nerd. Shoving the guy aside, Andriy dropped into the chair and started reading the questions on the ticket. There were just three. He didn’t understand a single one. Guess he wouldn’t make much of a lawyer. But his dad would be fine with that anyway.
“Excuse me!” a soft, feminine voice interrupted him. “I think you’ve got the wrong room. This is an exam for law students.”
“And I’m a law student.”
Behind the teacher’s desk sat a young woman. She looked youthful at first glance, but her amber eyes betrayed her true age. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-seven, tops. Her wavy ash-blond hair was neatly braided into a small plait that fell over her shoulder. Her pale, expressive face, with a mask pulled down to her chin, had a friendly look, as if this student hadn’t just barged into the room without so much as a knock. But those soft, brown lips, slightly parted, instantly sparked his imagination. He could already see himself pulling her small, tempting frame close, kissing those sweet lips, and hearing her hungry moan in response. He wanted to carefully unbutton her violet silk blouse and run his hand over her soft, velvety skin.
But those fantasies lasted only a fleeting moment, less than a second. Somehow, Karpenko knew right away: she wouldn’t be a one-night stand. For women like her, you’d have to lay the whole world at their feet. And Andriy? He was way too lazy to put in that kind of effort. Why bother when there were plenty of others who’d fall at his feet without him lifting a finger?
Still, her eyes were stunning! Kind, even gentle. In his circles, hardly anyone could boast such positive traits. Any show of good emotions was just a game, always tied to someone’s wallet.
“Your ticket,” the woman said, adjusting her mask and gesturing toward the desk.
Andriy felt like an idiot. He’d been so caught up staring into her eyes that he couldn’t process a thing. What ticket? What did she want from him?
“There’s one left. Number thirteen. Are you superstitious?”
Karpenko wasn’t, but for some reason, he nodded. The instructor shrugged, her small shoulders twitching upward. Once again, the thought flashed through his mind that he’d love to wrap his strong arms around those shoulders.
“Not my type,” he reminded himself, and went to grab the ticket.
She didn’t take her eyes off him. He felt like a sad clown on an empty circus stage. What was the point of all this? Everyone already knew he couldn’t pass this exam on his own.
As he got closer, he noticed her eyes seemed happier. She must have someone who brought her that happiness. She looked up at him, as if trying to unravel some mystery.
“Stanislava Viktorivna,” she said in a calm tone. At first, Andriy didn’t catch her meaning, but after a few seconds, it clicked.
“Andriy Oleksandrovych… Karpenko.”
“I know,” she replied, almost teasingly. Though he couldn’t see her smile behind the mask, the faint, cute crinkles around her eyes told him she was smiling anyway.
Andriy took the sheet with the questions, glanced at it for show, and turned to head back to his desk.
“And put on a mask, please,” Stanislava Viktorivna requested.
“I don’t have one,” he admitted honestly, stopping halfway and turning back to face her. It was time to end this charade. The longer he looked into those eyes, the more worthless he felt.
“Take mine.”
For a moment, Andriy imagined she’d take off her own mask and hand it to him. He wouldn’t have minded, but her offer did sound like that’s what she meant. His classmates burst into laughter. Stanislava joined in, then reached into her black purse.
“I meant I have a spare,” she clarified, laughing off the awkward joke. Or maybe she really had misspoken—who knows.
“Thanks!” Andriy nodded, hooking the white straps over his ears and letting the mask hang on his chin. Mesmerized by her eyes, he didn’t want to go back to his seat now. He wanted to keep talking to her. About anything. Just to keep seeing that kind look in her eyes.
The instructor sighed, as if his presence was starting to annoy her. His classmates laughed again.
“Are you planning to prepare?” she asked, a hint of reproach in her voice. “There’s not much time left.”
No, Andriy wasn’t planning to. But he silently returned to his desk and, just to look busy, started reading the questions.