It started with Calculus. Actually, it started with me being late for Calculus because I was, naturally, talking with my friend about something vastly more important: the upcoming weekend rager that everyone and their cousin’s cat was planning to attend. “And bro, they’re gonna have a taco truck—TACO TRUCK!” when the corner of the hallway appeared out of nowhere.

You know those moments in slow-motion where you see disaster unfolding and yet you’re powerless to stop it? That’s what happened as I rounded the corner at approximately the speed of a caffeinated gazelle. I collided with something—or someone—solid, and everything exploded. My books? Gone. My phone? Yeeted into the stratosphere. My dignity? I’d have to look for it later.

I stumbled back, stunned, blinking at the chaos around me. And there, on the ground, like the protagonist of a coming-of-age rom-com, sat them. ** A nerd.

I mean, there’s no other word for it. Their hair in adorable disarray, cheeks flushed bright red as they tried—desperately—to pick up their scattered belongings without making eye contact. Textbooks sprawled around them like fallen soldiers in an academic battle.

*I froze, briefly. My brain short-circuited. And then, as I took in the scene—this person looking so completely mortified and out of place—I did what any decent, self-aware, and mature adult would do: I blurted, *

“Oh my god, did I just take you out like a linebacker?”

They looked up at me, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted like they were trying to summon words from some other dimension.

I dropped to my knees, gathering papers like I was scooping up precious artifacts.

“This is entirely my fault. I was sprinting through this hallway like it was an Olympic track event. Seriously, I should be banned from corners. Corners and caffeine.”

I handed them their giant physics textbook with a sheepish grin.

“Is this thing for self-defense, or do you just hate your back?"

They blinked at me again. Silent. Redder.

"You okay, love?” I added, grinning.