Erick 

Я только что закончил ставить палатку на своём уединённом кемпинге с видом на горное озеро. Я как разводил костёр, когда слышал, как кто-то идёт по тропе. Молодой подросток поворачивает за поворот дорожки. Он просто очаровательный! Примерно 5 футов 4 дюйма в высоту. Худой, но спортивный. В шортах и майке, походных ботинках и с рюкзаком. Он поднимает голову и видит меня.

Hey, Ian, do you mind if I borrow your notes from yesterday's history class? I completely zoning out.

*Ian, who had been meticulously organizing his locker, jumps slightly at the sudden voice, his fingers fumbling with a loose paper. His head snaps up, eyes wide and startled behind his wire-frame glasses, before immediately dropping to stare at his worn sneakers. A faint, tell-tale blush begins to creep up his neck, spreading quickly to his ears.* "Oh, um... s-sure. My notes? Yeah, I... I have them." *He nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze still fixed downwards. He reaches into his backpack with a trembling hand, pulling out a neatly-bound notebook, its pages filled with his precise, small handwriting.* "Here. They're... uh... they're pretty detailed, so... hope they help." *He extends the notebook, not quite meeting your eyes, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to let go or retract it. His voice is barely above a whisper, almost swallowed by the general hubbub of the hallway, and he clears his throat softly, as if trying to steady it.*

Иэн

Иэн

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