Entering the tiny hallway, I took off my coat, carefully hung it on the hangers in the wardrobe and, throwing my bag on the old cloth sofa, gladly took off my autumn boots, and then went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on the fire: I was terribly thirsty for coffee.

After evening coffee I started my daily student routine: preparation of seminars, essays, reports, independent study of topics… And, although this evening I could do everything at once, but I decided not to burden my tired mind, and to do the tasks step by step. Study is study, but no one cancelled rest. And how could my brain, saturated with information and excitement, fix anything sensible? But I suddenly remembered that Monday was coming soon, and the knowledge of this inevitable event made me worry that when I met Cedric, my voice would rise to a second soprano.

No, enough of thinking about it! It's only Cedric Morgan. And it's a two-day weekend. But those two days flew by, and instead of building up my willpower, my mind went back to my conversation with Cedric.

Monday flew by like a second. I was inattentive in lectures, unable to concentrate on the lecturer's story, and I was even asked a couple of times if I was feeling well. The breaks were even worse: my classmates, who knew I was studying with Cedric and that we'd already had a class, were besieging me and terrorising me with questions, demanding to know how it went, what we'd talked about, how Cedric looked at me, and even what tone of voice he used. It was a mess! I didn't remember such little things, either, for all my thoughts and efforts were focused on trying to keep myself from looking at him.

For fear of being noticed by the gossipers again, as soon as the last class (an extra physics class for those who didn't understand the previous lecture well) was over, I literally flew out of the classroom and headed for the library. It was three minutes to five, and this time I could be late, and I didn't want to be late. I almost ran into the library, and as I looked around the room, I saw Cedric sitting at our table, reading a book.

I quickly walked over to the table.

– Hi," I said to Cedric, breathing hard after walking down the long corridors and stairs of the university.

– Hi. You shouldn't have been in such a hurry," Cedric said with a slight chuckle, pulling away from his book and glancing at me.

– I've had a crazy day," I explained, pulling out the physics textbook I needed. – I had an extra class, but I didn't want to be late. I'm punctual as Hell.

– I can see that," Cedric grinned again.

Today he was dressed extremely simply and did not look as dapper as when we first talked.

– What are you reading? – I asked: I was really curious about the book he was reading so avidly.

Cedric closed the book and showed me the front cover.

– Baudelaire? – I was genuinely surprised. – It was the first time I'd ever seen a guy who liked Baudelaire's poetry.

I thought guys like Cedric Morgan weren't interested in literature or poetry at all. And he's read Charles Baudelaire's Flowers of Evil. In the original.

Cedric squinted his eyes and put the book down on the table.

– Does that surprise you? – He asked in a mocking tone. His eyes lit up with an icy glow.

– To be honest, it does," I replied, feeling a chill run down my spine from his icy stare.

– Why not?

– Men rarely read poetry, because most of them consider it "unmasculine". And those men who like poetry rarely prefer Baudelaire and find his poems incomprehensible and too dark.

– That's how it is," he said mockingly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me contemptuously. His biting gaze made my soul shudder. – You're trying to be clever, aren't you? But instead of cleverness, you showed only that you know nothing about men and think like a naive fool.

I couldn't believe my ears. I was amazed. So astonished that I couldn't immediately find the words to respond to his open rudeness. To his insult. My hands trembled. And Cedric continued to sit there, killing me with his venomous stare.

– You are a prude, though! – I said quietly, trying not to let my excitement show in my voice. – This isn't the first time you've insulted a woman, is it?

– I insult only when the other person deserves it," was his calm but stern reply.

I was completely speechless. I stared in amazement at the boor sitting in front of me, whom I had just recently justified in my own eyes, and could find neither strength nor dexterity for a decent reply. I had been right all along, but I had let my guard down because of his amazing acting skills. Fool! I let myself be fooled!

– So that's how it is. Well, fortunately, I was raised well, unlike you, so I won't respond to an insult with an insult and stoop to your level. You can revel in your pride: you managed to insult me with complete impunity," I said in the same icy tone.

My mood sank. All I could think about was how wrong I'd been to mistake Cedric Morgan for a decent, nice guy. But he'd shown his true colours. Suddenly I realised the horror of my predicament: I would have to study with this bastard until the winter session. Three months, almost every day, to see that cold, proud face, those ice-cold eyes, and to feel that contemptuous stare.

Cedric grinned a nasty grin.

– If your upbringing is so perfect, you should know that meddling in other people's affairs is digging your own grave," he replied to my tirade.

– If a single question about poetry seems to you to interfere in your affairs, don't worry: I'll never ask you anything," I promised grimly. – Now let's not waste time and get to physics.

With another chuckle, Cedric picked up my textbook.

– What part of this material don't you understand?

– Paragraph sixteen," I answered briefly. I didn't like the sound of his voice.

– What's so hard about it? It's second-year review material," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his lips lifting in a new mockery of me.

I gripped my fingers tightly into my notebook, my knuckles turning white, and tried to calm myself with the thought that this torture would soon be over. And that Morgan wasn't worthy of making me as boorish as he was. No way!

For the entire hour and a half of class, I felt awful. Terribly small and stupid. Cedric was patiently explaining the material to me, but I could feel his contempt in every word, look, and gesture, but I didn't show it. But my willpower wasn't as strong as I'd hoped, and I was suddenly pierced by the realisation that I couldn't hear or understand anything of Cedric's explanations, and I was just trying to keep my composure. But my nerves were beginning to give way. I took a deep breath and covered my face with my palms.

– I'm sorry, Cedric. You explain it well, but I don't understand it. Think what you like about me! – I let out a cry of despair.

When I opened my face, I saw that Cedric was looking at me intently. Something strange flashed in his gaze. Probably another taunt.

"Bloody rector! Bloody university! Bloody programme!" – I mentally shouted.

– I think our meeting has come to an end! – With those words, I got up from my chair and started throwing my things into my bag.

Cedric silently looked at me with a cold stare.

As soon as I left the library, I felt morally relieved and remembered that Morgan and I hadn't arranged our next meeting.

To hell with it! To hell with these classes and physics! To hell with that arsehole Cedric! To hell with it all!

Tears came to my eyes. I wanted to cry at the thought of how unfair life is. Why is it that when you try to be polite to everyone, all you get in return is rudeness? When you try to be helpful, but instead of gratitude or friendliness, you get insults? But no! I will not cry! I am not a weak-willed girl who cries because some scoundrel called her stupid and naive fool! Because if I cry, it'll be funny! After all, then I will be ashamed of my weakness …