...January, Nine years ago, Boston College, Chemistry 101...

"You'll be fine," her roomate had said. "Just find your seat, and smile. No one'll give you a hard time, I promise."

It had sounded reassuring at the time, but now...faced with what had to be over 300 students crammed into one lecture hall...now she wasn't so sure. She fidgetted at the back of the room, studying the seating chart tacked to the wall, struggling to find the tiny square that would say 'Ivanov' as other students swiftly came and went..

"There ya go boys!" A flicker of motion behind her, as a large hand came over her shoulder, tapping the chart. "Right in tha middle...let's go." A swift step to the side, moving uneasily out of their way...but they were gone, rapidly descending the steps already. She sighed to herself, cursing under her breath about losing her place, and started over...finally managing to locate her seat as the professor entered the room. She ignored the whispers, crawling through the row to her seat, offering apologies in heavily-accented English, wishing she could hide under the chair with every dirty look...

At least it cannot be getting any worse

...she thought, slowly relaxing, immersing herself in the lecture.. She ran a slender hand over the shiny cover of her Chemistry manual, pleased with its newness, proud that she had finally made it to college after two years of modeling to earn enough money, and she smiled. No, it will not be getting any worse.

When class dismissed, eager to avoid a repeat scene at her next class, she rushed to exit the auditorium...and dropped her books just outside the door, as she fished her schedule from her pocket... Cursing softly, she bent to scoop them up...and froze as a hand planted itself firmly on her rear... "Now that's nice," laughed the chart-tapper's voice, hand squeezing her gently. She whirled without warning, quick as a cat, palm coming soundly into contact with his cheek as she hurled a curse his direction...and stared.

He was laughing at her, rubbing his jaw like she'd hurt him, but definitely laughing behind his hand, the mischevious glint in his blue eyes left no doubt in her mind. She growled, raising her hand to hit him again...and was halfway to her target when his hand snaked out, catching her wrist and pinning it forcefully to the wall over her shoulder...

"Now kitten, that's no way ta say 'hello'..." He grinned lopsidedly, leaning over her..."..why don't we start again?"

She stared at him. I hit him full-force, and it is like he did not even feel it.. She jerked at her arm, trying unsuccessfully to free it from his grasp, glaring at him.. "Let me go...you, you..lout!" The infuriating grin spread across his face, and he merely shook his head. "Not until we've had a proper introduction, kitten. You can call me Michael. " He stepped back, still holding her wrist... "Do ya have a name, or do I just need to keep calling you 'kitten'?"

"Kirochka," she spat back, more intrigued than angry, although the rage came boiling back as he shook his head, declaring that he preferred 'kitten'..

"Now kitten..." He was still laughing! "...I'm taking you ta dinner, to atone for my...wanderin hand." He grinned at her again, stepping closer. "..and you're going to accept, to make up for the slap. Understood?" She stared in disbelief as he released her, shaking her head, declaring that she would -never- go out with him, not after that!

He was halfway down the hall when he turned, flashing that infuriating grin again. "I'll pick you up at 8, kitten.."...and then he was gone...leaving her dumbfounded in the hallway, late for class...