Collision Of Fate

The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the campus as I made my way across the open field, my steps brisk and determined. The last few days had been a haze of avoiding Olivia's persistent attempts to get closer and ignoring Alessandro's increasing presence on campus. I had done everything in my power to steer clear of him, but Hawthorne College wasn't that big, and their paths crossed more often than I would have liked.

I kept my head down as I walked past the football field. The team was practicing again, their shouts and laughter echoing across the campus. I caught a glimpse of Alessandro at the far end, his tall figure impossible to miss. He was surrounded by his teammates, yet he still managed to stand apart from them—cold, aloof, and indifferent as always.

I quickened my pace, eager to put as much distance between myself and the field as possible. I wasn't in the mood to deal with the sight of Alessandro surrounded by adoring fans, all of them hanging on his every word and movement. It was nauseating how quickly he had become the center of attention.

As I walked past the edge of the field, lost in my thoughts, something hit me square in the side of the head. The force of the impact sent me stumbling, my vision blurring as pain shot through my skull.

A football.

I blinked in disbelief, my hand flying to my forehead as I felt the warm trickle of blood running down my nose. The pain was sharp and immediate, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. I looked down, seeing crimson drip onto my hand, and cursed under my breath.

Before I could process what had happened, I heard footsteps rushing toward me.

"Are you okay?" a deep voice asked, laced with concern.

My stomach clenched as I looked up and saw Alessandro standing over me, his green eyes sharp with worry. He knelt down beside me, his hands reaching out as if he wanted to help, but he hesitated.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, my voice sharp despite the pain.

Alessandro didn't flinch at my tone, but his brows furrowed as he examined the cut on my forehead and the blood streaming from my nose. "You're bleeding."

"No kidding," I muttered, pressing my palm against my nose to stem the flow of blood. I tried to stand, but the world tilted dangerously, and I stumbled again.

Alessandro's hand shot out, steadying me before I could fall. "Easy," he said, his voice low.

I jerked my arm away from him, glaring up at him through the pain. "I said don't touch me."

He sighed, clearly exasperated, but didn't move away. "You need to get that checked out. The nurse's office isn't far."

"I don't need your help," I spat, wiping the blood from my face with the back of my hand. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding from your nose and your head. You're not fine."

I shot him a cold glare, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and something else—something I couldn't quite place. I hated him. I hated how calm he was, how nonchalant he seemed even when I was hurt. But more than anything, I hated how close he was, the way his presence seemed to invade my space.

"I can take care of myself," I said through gritted teeth, my pride keeping me from accepting his help.

Alessandro studied me for a moment, his green eyes unreadable. "Suit yourself," he said finally, standing up and taking a step back. "But don't blame me when you pass out from blood loss."

I rolled her eyes, even though the throbbing in my head was getting worse by the second. "I'll be fine."

He shrugged, turning his attention back to the field where a few players were awkwardly hovering, unsure whether to approach or stay back. One of them, clearly embarrassed, called out, "Sorry about that! Didn't mean for the ball to go that far."

I waved him off, though my vision was still swimming. I could feel Alessandro's eyes on me again, but I refused to meet his gaze.

"Whatever," I muttered, starting to walk away, but my legs felt unsteady beneath me.

Before I could make it two steps, Alessandro was there again, catching me just as my knees gave way. This time, he didn't wait for my protests. Without a word, he scooped me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded, my voice laced with anger and something close to panic. I was too disoriented to fight back, but the fury in my eyes was unmistakable.

"You're going to the nurse," Alessandro said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need you to carry me!" I snapped, struggling against his hold, but my body felt too heavy, and the pain was clouding my thoughts.

"Clearly, you do," he replied, his voice calm and even as if he dealt with angry girls on a daily basis.

I fumed, but there was nothing I could do. My head was spinning, and every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull. I hated this. Hated him. I hated how he could just swoop in like some kind of knight in shining armor when I didn't ask for it—didn't want it.

And yet, despite my anger, there was something infuriatingly steady about the way he carried me, his arms strong and sure as they made their way across the field. I could feel the solidness of his chest against me, the warmth of his body seeping through the pain.

I clenched my teeth, trying to block out the confusing swirl of emotions. I wasn't some damsel in distress, and Alessandro was the last person I wanted saving me. But there I was, cradled in his arms, too hurt and dizzy to stop him.

They reached the nurse's office in what felt like an eternity, but Alessandro didn't say a word the entire time. He set me down gently on one of the examination tables, stepping back as the nurse rushed over.

My mind was a haze of pain and embarrassment as the nurse fussed over me, cleaning the blood from my face and checking the cut on my head. I glanced at Alessandro out of the corner of my eye, watching as he leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.

"I could've walked," I muttered under my breath, though I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince myself or him.

"Sure," Alessandro said, his voice low and neutral.

I glared at him, but the throbbing in my head made it hard to focus. I wanted to snap at him, to tell him exactly what I thought of him, but the words wouldn't come. All I could do was sit there, feeling utterly defeated as the nurse finished patching me up.

"You're all set, dear," the nurse said kindly, giving me a gentle smile. "You should rest for a bit. That was quite a hit you took."

"Thanks," I mumbled, rubbing my forehead.

Alessandro pushed off the wall, heading for the door without so much as a glance in my direction. But just as he reached the threshold, he paused and looked back at me, his green eyes meeting mine for the briefest of moments.

"Next time," he said, his voice cool, "try not to walk so close to the field."

I clenched my fists, the anger flaring up inside me again, but before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with her frustration and confusion.

I hated him. But something about that look—about the way his eyes had softened for just a second—made me question everything.

I sat on the edge of the nurse's bed, my fingers clutching the cold metal as I tried to push down the swirl of emotions that Alessandro had stirred in me. I hated him—hated the way he seemed to be everywhere, hated how he'd made me feel small, helpless. But beneath all that anger, there was a gnawing irritation I couldn't shake—something about him tugged at me in ways I didn't want to admit.

The nurse had left me alone, giving me some time to rest. I rubbed my temples, my head still throbbing from the hit. The scene replayed in my mind: Alessandro's green eyes, the way his hands had steadied me, how effortlessly he'd carried me even when I'd fought against it. It infuriated me. I didn't want to be the type of girl who needed saving, especially not by someone like him.

With a heavy sigh, I got to my feet, steadying myself before leaving the nurse's office. The hallways were quieter now, most students in class or scattered around campus, and I welcomed the moment of solitude. I needed space to think, to figure out how Alessandro had wormed his way into my mind, despite every reason I had to despise him.

As I turned the corner of the hallway, Olivia suddenly appeared, my eyes wide with concern. "Oh my God, Priscilla, are you okay? I heard what happened."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine, Olivia. It's just a bump. Nothing I can't handle."

"But you were bleeding! And Alessandro carried you to the nurse's office. That's… that's kind of a big deal," Olivia said, biting her lip, clearly unsure how to navigate the delicate topic.

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for his help," I muttered, brushing past Olivia, though a part of me knew I wasn't as unaffected as I pretended to be. "He just… happened to be there."

Olivia hesitated, glancing at me cautiously. "Look, I know you don't like him, but it was kind of nice of him to—"

"I don't care what you think, Olivia," I snapped, the frustration boiling over. I hated that everyone seemed to think Alessandro was some kind of hero. "He's not nice. He's… irritating."

Olivia raised her hands in defense. "Okay, okay, I'm just saying. Maybe there's more to him than you think."

I clenched my teeth, the irritation flaring up again. "I don't need to know him. I already know enough."

The conversation was making my head hurt more than it already was. I didn't want to discuss Alessandro, especially not with Olivia, who seemed far too optimistic about people in general. I hated that I couldn't escape his presence, that even when I tried to move past it, everyone around me kept bringing him up. He was becoming a problem—a problem I didn't know how to solve.

Olivia glanced down at her feet, her voice softening. "I just don't want you to feel like you're alone all the time. I mean, you don't have to hate everyone, you know?"

I sighed, a pang of guilt tugging at me for being so harsh with Olivia. I knew Olivia was just trying to help, even if she was being overly persistent. "I don't hate everyone," I muttered, her tone softening just a little. "I just… don't trust people easily."

Olivia smiled, though it was a little sad. "I get it. I really do. But sometimes, people can surprise you."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, expecting another barrage of angry texts from my father. But instead, it was a simple message:

"Where the hell are you?"

My stomach twisted. It was just a few words, but they carried the weight of so much more—unspoken threats, control, the constant reminder that no matter how far I was from home, I could never truly escape him.

"I have to go," I muttered, shoving my phone back into my pocket. I didn't want to deal with this, not now, not after everything that had happened today.

"Okay," Olivia said quietly, watching me with concern. "But if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

I nodded, though I didn't believe I'd ever take Olivia up on that offer. I wasn't the kind of person to open up. Not to Olivia, not to anyone.

The next day, I found myself once again avoiding the football field as I made my way across campus. It was easier this way—keeping my distance from Alessandro, from the team, from everything that reminded me of how utterly frustrating my life had become.But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As I passed the bleachers, a loud whistle caught my attention, followed by the sound of cleats pounding against the grass. I froze, my heart sinking as I saw Alessandro jogging in my direction. He was still in his practice uniform, sweat glistening on his skin, his hair slightly tousled from running drills.

"Hey," he called out, his voice carrying easily across the field.

I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to talk to him—didn't want to deal with whatever smug remark he had for me today. But before I could slip away, he was standing in front of me, his expression unreadable.

"Are you stalking me now?" I asked, crossing my arms as I glared up at him.

Alessandro's lips quirked into a slight smirk. "I think you've got that backward."

I huffed, ready to walk away, but Alessandro didn't move, blocking my path. I could feel my pulse quicken, not from fear or anger but from something I refused to acknowledge.

"I was just checking to see if you were okay after yesterday," Alessandro said, his tone more serious now. "The hit you took—it wasn't small."

"I'm fine," I replied curtly. "I've been hit harder."

"Clearly," Alessandro said, his eyes scanning my face, lingering just a moment too long on the spot where the cut had been bandaged. "But that doesn't mean you should ignore it."

I bristled. I didn't need his concern, didn't want him acting like he cared. "I'm not ignoring anything. And I don't need you playing the hero."

Alessandro tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Why do you hate me so much?"

I faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the directness of his question. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. Why did I hate him? It wasn't like he had done anything directly to me. But every time I saw him, every time he was near, it stirred something inside me—a mix of anger and something more dangerous.

"You just… annoy me," I said finally, though even to my own ears, the answer felt weak.

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "That's it? I annoy you?"

I clenched my fists. "Yes."

For a moment, Alessandro just stared at me, his green eyes searching for mine as if he was trying to read something deeper in my expression. I felt the weight of his gaze, and for some reason, it unsettled me. I didn't like being under his scrutiny—I didn't like the way he seemed to see more than I wanted him to.

"Well," he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm, "if you ever figure out the real reason, let me know."

Before I could respond, Alessandro turned and jogged back toward the field, leaving me standing there, speechless and more frustrated than ever.

As I watched him go, a knot formed in my stomach, and I hated that a part of me wanted to figure it out—wanted to know why he got under my skin so easily.