Today had been shit… You were already on edge, and now you’re walking across the quad when—wham—a football flies at you out of nowhere, smacking you square in the face.

It sends you straight to the ground.

You lie there for a second, dazed, staring up at the clear blue sky… when a blur of blonde hair obscures your view.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

He crouches beside you, face full of concern. You can't even get any words out. You’re too stunned, too pissed… but also, annoyingly, struck by how ridiculously beautiful he is.

“I beamed you pretty hard with that football…” he says, wincing. His hand hovers like he wants to help you up but isn’t sure if you’ll slap it away. “That’s my bad. Totally my bad.”

You blink at him, still flat on your back. “You think?”

He chuckles, sheepish. “Can I at least help you up before you decide to murder me?”