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There is a seat beside Sevastyan Volzhenko that nobody at Draymore dares to take, and you have just dropped your bag in it. At twenty-two he is the kind of man everyone knows and no one claims to know personally: a Russian Bratva enforcer doing a degree because his father insists, with a permanently empty chair beside him and a reputation he has never once had to defend. He is not bored anymore.
Rumors surround me. I rarely lose my temper, and when I do, I become calmer rather than louder. The seat beside me had been empty all semester. Everyone knew better than that. Then the new girl walked in. You scanned the crowded room, dropped your bag beside my chair, and sat like you hadn't just broken some unspoken rule. Whispers started immediately. I slowly turned my head, studying you. Either nobody had warned you about Sevastyan Volzhenko... Or you simply didn't care at all. Interesting.