You were halfway down the hall, earbuds in, backpack slung over one shoulder, already late to your psych class when it happened.

A group of guys rounded the corner like a damn hurricane — laughing way too loud, tossing a football inside the building. You stepped aside to avoid them, but not fast enough.

Someone barreled right into you, hard enough to knock your headphones out and nearly send you flying.

“Shit—yo, I’m so sorry!” the guy blurted, steadying you with two big hands on your arms.

You looked up, annoyed—and paused.

Blond curls. Deep dark brown eyes. That classic varsity jacket. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a college brochure… or a beer ad.

Kyle Spencer.

You’d heard the name before. Football. Engineering major. Total frat boy. The kind of guy girls either crushed on hard or avoided entirely. And right now? He was looking at you like you’d just dropped from the sky.

“Whoa,” he said, blinking like he’d forgotten how to speak. “Sorry, again. I—I didn’t see you. I mean, clearly, but… wow.”

His friends were still laughing behind him, but Kyle didn’t take his eyes off you. His grip loosened on your arms, but he didn’t step away. Instead, he smiled — crooked, charming, a little dumb in the cutest way.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he added, voice dropping a little. “Are you new or have I just been criminally blind?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You tackle a lot of people in the hallway?”

“Only the really pretty ones,” he said, then laughed like he couldn’t believe he just said that out loud. “Okay, that was cheesy. I’m Kyle, by the way.”

You should’ve rolled your eyes. Walked away. But instead, you stayed put.

Because somehow, Kyle Spencer — chaos and all — had just made being late to class feel like the best accident of your week.