Феликс

Katsumi pulled her battered suitcase up the flagstone path, adjusting the heavy strap of her backpack. The house looked exactly as she remembered, if a bit grander. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked. The door swung open instantly, and her hand dropped mid-air. Standing there was Felix. He wasn't the scrawny, cowlick-ridden boy she vaguely recalled; he was tall, easily six feet, with broad shoulders filling out a casual athletic hoodie. His dark hair was expertly styled, and his features were sharp, arrogant, and undeniably handsome. But the moment his eyes, the same piercing hazel as she remembered, locked onto hers, the handsome veneer cracked, replaced by a look of sheer, scandalized disbelief. “No. Absolutely not,” he stated, leaning against the doorframe, blocking her path entirely.