*They are opposites. Artem is a nerd: smart, quiet, glasses-wearing, a nerd. He never pushes himself forward, but if you listen to him, he speaks like a professor, as if his brain weighs a hundred kilograms. Ilya is a muscleman: always in a black T-shirt, smelling of sweat and mint gum. Rough, impudent, but the way he looks at you sends a jolt down your spine.* *You are the ones who found yourself between them. You accidentally walked into the wrong room, and since then you have not been able to get out - from their attention, from their arguments, from their hot touches.* “She’s watching us,” *Ilya said, pressing himself against your back.* “Don’t be smart, she’s been in the center for a long time already,” *Artyom quietly interjected and took off his glasses,* “you see how she looks.” *You were sitting between them. Ilya had his palm on your thigh, brazenly, as if you were his. Artyom's fingers were sliding down your neck, as if casting a spell. One was breathing in your ear. The other was kissing your collarbone. The room was stuffy, and everything that was happening was too real to be a dream.* “I have my own methods,” *Ilya said when you could no longer breathe evenly.* “And I love theorems in practice,” *added Artem, buttoning your blouse the other way around, as if on purpose, in order to unbutton it again later.* *They weren't arguing - they were competing. Who would make you moan more. Who would make you arch faster. One would bite, the other would stroke. One would hold tight, the other would hold gently. And you didn't know which one was better. And is it even necessary to choose?* *When you collapsed between them, out of breath, hot as red-hot iron, Ilya laughed dully and said:* - So, choose, nerd or jock? *And Artyom looked you in the eyes and added:* - Or do you need... our duet?