Chapter 26 Collision course
IRIS
The sun is beginning its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the campus as Daisy and I walk out of our last class. My shoulders ache from carrying my bag all day, and I can’t wait to drop it and collapse somewhere soft.
“Finally,” Daisy groans, stretching her arms above her head. “I thought that lecture would never end.”
I chuckle, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Tell me about it. My brain is fried.”
As we make our way down the steps, a familiar voice calls out, “Iris!”
We both turn to see Adrian jogging toward us, clad in black soccer shorts and a sleeveless jersey that clings to his torso. His dark curls are damp with sweat, and his grin is as cocky as ever.
Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Wait. You play soccer?”
Adrian shrugs, his grin widening. “Sometimes. Gotta keep the fans entertained.”
I smirk. “You have fans now?”
“Always had them,” he says, winking. “But today might be the day I convert a few new ones.”
Daisy laughs. “You mean us?”
“Obviously,” he replies. “Some of the guys are putting together a quick game. Not official or anything, but we’re kicking off in twenty. You two should come watch. Who knows? Might make a goal or two in your honor.”
He looks at me as he says it, and even though I roll my eyes, I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter.
“Maybe,” he says, stepping back with a grin. “But you’re still coming, right?”
Daisy nudges me. “We’ll be there.”
Adrian gives us a salute before jogging back toward the field.
We find a spot on the bleachers, the sun warming our backs as we settle in. The field is buzzing with energy, players stretching and passing the ball around.
Daisy nudges me. “So, Adrian plays soccer. Who knew?”
I shrug, watching as he laughs with his teammates. “He’s full of surprises.”
The whistle blows, and the game begins. Adrian is quick on his feet, weaving through players with ease. He’s good, better than I expected.
But then, my breath catches.
On the opposing team, wearing a red jersey, is Asher.
I hadn’t seen him since the scene he pulled at the cafe the other day, and now here he is, on the field, playing against Adrian.
Daisy notices my reaction. “Is that…?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice tight.
Asher spots me in the stands, his eyes locking with mine for a brief moment before he turns his attention back to the game.
The match is intense, both teams evenly matched. Adrian scores a goal, shooting me a triumphant grin as he jogs back to his position.
I force a smile, but my mind is elsewhere.
I’m completely irritated by Asher’s presence.
I shake my head, trying to focus on the game.
But it’s hard.
Especially when Asher scores a goal of his own, his eyes flicking to me as he celebrates.
Adrian moves gracefully across the field, his focus evident. I can't help but smile as I watch him play. Daisy nudges me, "He's really into it, huh?"
I nod, "Yeah, he is."
Suddenly, my gaze shifts to Asher and now he's in the thick of the action, his eyes locked onto Adrian.
The ball is passed to Adrian, and as he prepares to make a move, Asher charges at him, delivering a harsh tackle that sends Adrian sprawling to the ground.
Gasps erupt from the crowd. Daisy and I jump to our feet.
"That was uncalled for," Daisy exclaims.
Adrian gets up, brushing off the dirt, his jaw clenched. He approaches Asher, words exchanged in hushed, heated tones. The tension is heightened.
Before anyone can intervene, Asher throws a punch, catching Adrian off guard. The crowd falls silent for a split second before chaos ensues.
Adrian retaliates, landing a punch that sends Asher stumbling backward. Players from both teams rush in, trying to separate the two, but the damage is done.
Daisy grabs my hand, "We need to go down there."
We weave through the crowd, making our way to the field. By the time we reach them, Asher is on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, his eyes dazed. Adrian stands over him, chest heaving, fists clenched.
"Adrian!" I shout, placing a hand on his arm. He turns to me, his eyes wild, but they soften slightly at the sight of me.
"I'm fine," he mutters, stepping back.
Coaches and players help Asher to his feet, leading him away. The game is called off, and the crowd begins to disperse.
Daisy looks at me, concern etched on her face. "Are you okay?"
I nod slowly, still processing the events. "I didn't expect that."
Adrian approaches us, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
I shake my head, "Are you okay?"
He offers a small smile, "I've had worse."
Daisy raises an eyebrow, "That was intense."
Adrian sighs, "He had it coming."
We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of the incident settling over us.
"I need to get cleaned up," Adrian says, turning to leave.
I sit down slowly, my mind spinning. I’ve never seen Adrian like that. Not once.
Daisy plops beside me, breathless. “Okay… what the hell was that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. That wasn’t Adrian.”
She exhales deeply. “Right? Like, I’ve seen him annoyed before, flirty and smug and sarcastic, but that? That was rage. Like pure violence.”
I don’t respond immediately. The image of him standing over Asher, fists bloodied and chest heaving, is still vivid in my head. It wasn’t just the fight. It was what pushed him there. Something snapped.
Daisy turns to me. “You don’t think he likes you, do you?”
I blink. “What?”
She raises a brow. “I mean, it’s not far-fetched. You two are always close, and the way he lost it when Asher got in his face…”
“No,” I cut in quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “He doesn’t. That’s not what this is.”
Daisy narrows her eyes. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I insist. “Adrian flirts with everyone. That’s who he is. That fight was about ego I mean, Asher pushed him down purposefully and for no reason or something. It has nothing to do with me.”
Even as I say it, I’m not sure I believe it.
She watches me for a beat longer, then shrugs. “Okay. I just… I’ve never seen him like that. It was scary, not gonna lie.”
I nod silently, and for a few moments, neither of us says anything. We just sit there, letting the weight of what happened sink in.
Then footsteps approach.
We both look up to see Adrian walking toward us, now in clean clothes, no longer covered in dirt and sweat, but still looking a little roughed up. There’s a light cut on his jaw, and his knuckles are bruised, but his posture is calm. Too calm.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can get a word out, a voice calls out from behind him.
“Adrian McAllister?”
We all turn. A man in a black jacket with a clipboard walks toward us, frowning.
Adrian straightens. “Yeah?”
“The Dean would like to see you. Now.”
Great.