Tikhanovich was visibly taken aback, his mouth opened and blinked. Well, Karpinskaya blushed thickly, drilling a thousand holes in me with a furious look in a couple of seconds.

And as soon as I, satisfied with the effect produced, was about to announce to my classmates that it was time for me to take my leave, Natashka Tarasova, with an indistinct cry, jumped up sharply and knocked over her chair with a roar.

- What? What? Everyone gasped, staring at her.

She, obviously nervous, grabbed her purse and ran headlong out of the cafe. I wanted to follow her, but that would only make things worse. Checked…

- What was it? What happened? Everyone asked each other and shrugged their shoulders.

- Nick, why did you hurt the girl? - Tikhanovich turned to one of the guys who was sitting next to Tarasova. - You rubbed something in her ear there …

“I didn’t say anything to her!” – rounding his eyes, he began to make excuses. “She is… sick.” With regards ... I just told her that she was nothing like that ... Well, he also said, like, maybe we'll meet sometime ... He took her by the hand. Didn't even take it! He just touched her and she jumped like crazy.

“Don’t bother,” Stasya Karpinskaya dismissed. - Tarasova simply does not have everyone at home. She's crazy. The fool is crying for her.

“Stasya,” the headman Lyuba quietly reproached her.

- Well, it's not like that, is it? She is wild, like Mowgli, shied away from everyone.

I alone knew why Natasha reacted this way, but I could neither say nor do anything ...

My chest hurt, as if my lungs were filled with broken glass. God, with what pleasure I would erase from my memory that terrible day when Natasha and I ... No, stop. If you want to forget something, then there is nothing to remember it over and over again.

- From you, Stasya, anyone will start to shy away, - I said wearily, then I also got up, took a backpack, threw one strap over my shoulder.

The dean's son followed me.

Are you running already? - Tikhanovich asked when I, followed by him, went out into the street from a stuffy cafe.

- Here's another! I'm just leaving slowly and with dignity, - I answered jokingly, putting on the second strap.

“Maybe we can meet again sometime?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. - According to the theory of probability, everything is possible, except for what is basically impossible.

- I meant on purpose. Okay, I’ll say it more clearly: let’s meet sometime, go somewhere?

Here I even got lost. The polished blond seriously decided that I didn’t understand his hints, and didn’t realize that he was simply delicately rebuffed? Okay, let me be more clear.

“Sorry, I already have someone to go with. I'm married in five minutes. And now I have to go to my husband without five minutes.

By the way, I didn’t lie now and didn’t even exaggerate - my Romka has recently been introducing me to the whole circle as his bride and constantly repeats: “We must save for the wedding.” It would only be something to postpone ...

Tikhanovich nodded understandingly, even squeezed out a smile, but he was clearly hurt. People like him are probably not used to rejection. He jerked his shoulder, chuckled, saying, as you know, he didn’t really want to. And the proud one returned to the cafe, and I rushed at full speed to the trolleybus stop, wondering in my mind what I could quickly cook up for dinner. I arrived home around eight. The auto repair shop where my fiance works is ten minutes from home, so time was running out. So I decided not to be smart with dinner and made naval pasta. Cheap and angry. I am picky about food, and my Romka is generally unpretentious and absorbs everything that can be considered edible.

At half past eight everything was already ready, but Romka, you see, got stuck somewhere on the way - here is the whole district of his "sidekick", as he himself said. And you can't just walk past them. It is necessary to shake hands, discuss some important topics. Although there could well be urgent work that needs to be completed.

We had both sidekicks and overwork on a regular basis, so at first I was not particularly worried. Turned on the TV, stumbled upon some movie. In advertising, she pecked at the cooled pasta. Well, at eleven o'clock I was already alarmed.

Where is he? I'm not an alarmist. I'm just from that breed of people who are physically unable to sit still and meekly wait for news. Therefore, after five minutes, I resolutely walked across the yard towards the auto repair shop.

I found Romka, fortunately, alive and well. Not just alive, but extremely cheerful. He was chatting quietly with two guys.

What they were talking about - I did not have time to understand. I heard only rolling laughter, which, however, immediately ceased, as soon as I crossed the threshold of a car service.

All three saw me and fell silent in embarrassment.

- Well, Chicha, come on! Till tomorrow! – these two hastily said goodbye and disappeared.

Everyone calls Romka Chicha. Everyone except his mom and me. His surname is Chicherin - that's how they cut him off like that. This idiotic nickname makes me cringe, but when we are together, all I hear from all sides is: great, Chicha! How are you, Chicha? Look at the racks, Chicha...

Brr...

But the control in the head is when quite recently someone, pointing at me, shouted: "There is Chichin's bride."

I then coughed in horror. Well, Romka is fine - he responds without grimacing. And these two smiled goodbye, as the best people on earth. He looked at me without much joy.

"It's half past eleven," I said harshly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Maris, don't be mad. Look what horse they gave me to mend. The owner said that by morning everything should be open. Well, what was I supposed to do? Do not refuse. I would have been kicked out of here immediately.

I didn't say it wasn't a big loss. There would be at least a normal auto repair shop, otherwise it would be an ordinary garage.

“But we need money. You have to save up for a wedding, well. I actually thought at first that I would be here all night mudohatsya. But the boys helped. We just finished before you came. Well, you look, what a wheelbarrow, huh?

Romka with feeling, like an opera singer on a long note, extended his hand to a shiny black Mercedes. I understand negligibly little about cars, but even I could see that this is a very expensive car.

- Clear. Well, are you done already? Let's go home?

– Yes, I finished, – Romka brushed off my question and continued with inspiration: – S-class, by the way. Suite. And almost zero. And what an engine! And the interior is generally beautiful. Gorgeous car. Well, look, Maris...

“Yes, just a bomb,” I agreed. - Let's go home?

- And what acceleration she has! Just a beast! And what a smooth ride! I would live in it, chesslovo.

- And today I got five in pedagogy. Last exam. Closed the session, by the way, everything is fine.

"Congratulations, you're really smart!" Let's go for a ride?

- You are crazy?! I choked.

- Why? Roman didn't understand.

“Because it’s crazy to ride in other people’s cars.