Forced Collision | English Version |

Of course, I'm late.

I'm rushing around, trying to put on my stockings without breaking them and at the same time grabbing my heels to wear. As soon as I manage to do so, I stop for a moment to look at myself in the mirror. After years of jumping from nutritionist to dietitian, from diet to diet, of all kinds, I finally think I've reached a point in my life where I know I can improve but accept myself as I am. In fact, I would dare to say that I am really starting to like myself, even though since I have been dating Brian, I feel the pressure to always look my best when I step outside the house... I mean, I can't let the captain of the rugby team down. “Not bad,” I think, smiling slightly as I look at myself. I already know that this dress is one of his favorites, and even though it's simple, short, and black, the V-neck that leaves my back exposed makes me feel really pretty. There's still something that doesn't convince me. I touch my hair, trying to fix it, and in the end I leave it with soft curls falling down my back. I don't have time to go over it with the straightener and fix it.

As I finish my makeup, I feel my phone vibrate. After throwing some forgotten items onto the bed with the rejected outfits, I find it and answer without looking: “Yes?”

I hear a deep breath on the other end.

“I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T MOVE, I'LL come up and grab you by the hair,” I hear my best friend say, with Nicholas laughing in the background.

“Yes, Ceci, sorry, I'm coming down, I know, I'll grab my bag and be right there,” I spray on the perfume Brian gave me for Christmas. Even though I'm not crazy about it, I know he likes it, and I try to run, as fast as my heels will allow, downstairs with my bag, phone, and coat in hand.

I get into the car, panting. Cecilia, the young lady who just yelled at me on the phone, is driving and now looks at me, pissed off, and next to her is Nicholas, her cousin and our best friend, who smiles at me from the front seat.

“Come on, forgive her, she must have worked hard today to look so hot,” I look at him, “HEY!” not understanding whether it's a compliment or an insult, and I laugh, “Yeah, you're not bad,” says Ceci, driving off and looking at me in the rearview mirror. I stick my tongue out at her and check my messages on my phone.

I notice that Brian has told me he's already arrived at the party with his friends and to let him know when I'm on my way. I text him, “I'm on my way,” and even though I don't get an immediate reply as usual, I smile. But it's a smile that doesn't reach my eyes, a forced curve that serves to reassure myself more than others. I stare at the phone screen until it goes black, trying to ignore the small void that has been opening up between us in recent weeks.

Between the end of classes, his training sessions, and exams, we haven't really been able to see each other these past two weeks. It will be good to be together with our friends again. It's the exams, I repeat to myself, like a mantra that is starting to sound false. It's the training sessions. But Brian's silence has a different weight tonight, an echo that reverberates in my stomach.

As soon as we arrive, the grip tightens. The house is full of people, and even though it's not warm yet, the garden is full of small groups talking, laughing, drinking, and smoking, and from the windows, you can see that the situation inside is not much different. Ceci finds a parking spot, and even though we're not far from home, I'm grateful she brought the car. It's still too cold outside to walk, and the dress I'm wearing, despite being velvet, is low-cut, which doesn't help in this weather. But as Ceci always says, cold is a state of mind, and we have to suffer a little to look good. As I get out of the car, the cold immediately bites my bare shoulders, and I hurry to put my coat on. I turn around, look at them, and greet them both with a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, you look really hot today, what's the occasion?” Ceci asks, looking me up and down, and I do the same.

“You're one to talk, you're literally wearing a top, jeans, and heels, and you look like a fucking model,” I say sincerely, smiling. With that dark hair, green eyes, and full lips, she's never had to try too hard to be beautiful.

“No special occasion, I just haven't seen Brian in a while.” Ceci and Nicholas look at each other and smile mischievously. “Ah, so today's a big night,” he says, and I laugh and wink.

“You don't need to try too hard, love, he's clearly head over heels for you,” Ceci smiles at me, and after waiting for Nicholas to finish his cigarette, we go inside.

As soon as I cross the threshold, the heat hits me in the face. Suddenly, the coat I'm wearing seems useless, so I decide to take it off. I realize that this party seems different from the others.

There are too many people, too much music, too much of everything. I look around for Brian, but the faces flow past me like blurry spots. Suddenly, I feel strange. The enthusiasm I felt in the afternoon has vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable knot in my stomach, and I don't know why, which annoys me even more. The enthusiasm that had driven me to spend hours getting ready has turned into a subtle anxiety, an irregular heartbeat right at the base of my throat, which, despite the loud music, seems to overwhelm everything.

“I'm going to look for Brian,” I shout in Ceci's ear over the bass of the music.

She nods, already distracted by Nicholas, who smiles at me after handing us both a drink. I go into the kitchen and ask one of the guys on the team, who points to the back room with a strange smile. Why did he smile at me like that?

That smile slips over me like hot oil, seeming to carry a hint of pity or derision that makes my heart race. I push my way through the crowd, and the smell of the party—a heady mix of spilled beer, smoke, and sweet alcoholic drinks—takes my breath away. My heart continues to beat faster than my stupid heels, which I feel sinking slightly into the carpet as I approach the living room at the back, each step heavier than the last. And then I see them.

Time stops flowing in a linear fashion; it becomes a series of grainy, painful frames.

Brian is there, sitting on a leather sofa, his back against the backrest with his usual confident air, as if he were king of the world, a pose I have always loved and joked about, as beautiful as ever. But he's not alone, surrounded by all the guys from the team, and not only them. He has a girl sitting on his lap, occupying the space that should be mine. She looks like April. Brian's hands are everywhere, moving over her with a familiarity that tears at my lungs. They are not distracted hands, they are possessive, as he whispers something to her that makes her throw her head back and laugh.

I try to get a better look at her face as I continue, now more slowly, to make my way through the crowd, and it really is April, a friend of Brian's twin sister who recently started attending our college, the girl who for the past couple of months has been in almost all of the stories he has told me.

It didn't really affect me before, considering she was his twin sister's friend. Since there wasn't much age difference between them, it was understandable that they had mutual friends or went out together. Before today, of course.

As soon as I get a good view, the world stops and so do I.

I feel the glass in my hand shaking, the cold glass against my sweaty palm. The ice inside clinks, a tiny sound that echoes in my head like a cannon shot, but I don't drop it. I stand there, motionless, as the scent of his cologne—the one I gave him, the one I thought smelled like “us”—seems to saturate the air in the living room, and I stand still, watching the man I made myself beautiful for, the man I couldn't wait to embrace again, as he takes her face in his hands. He does it with excruciating slowness, as if to make sure that everyone in the room can see. When his lips meet hers, I feel something break inside me, a sharp sound, like a frozen branch snapping under the weight of snow. It's not just my heart, it's the very perception of who I am to him, because he does it in front of everyone. Without shame.

I don't scream. I don't make a scene. I just feel a polar cold entering my bones, a chill that shuts everything down. I turn abruptly, knocking over a couple of people, and run towards the exit. I need air.

I need to get away.

I leave the house, almost tripping over my own heels.

The cold I feared before is now the only thing keeping me anchored to reality, an icy bite trying to wake me from this nightmare. My lungs burn, the night air feels like needles in my bronchial tubes. I move away from the party lights, staggering toward the back of the driveway, where the shadows are thick enough to hide me. Brian's features flash before my eyes, his sweet yet hard face, his perfect blond hair, and those light brown eyes that now seem to me to be nothing more than a reflection of his falseness.

I hear the sound of a lighter. A metallic click, then the orange glow of a cigarette lighting up in the darkness.

“You look like you've just seen a ghost, or maybe just the reality that everyone else already understood.” I freeze.

That voice hits me at the base of my neck. Deep, rough as sandpaper, steeped in a cynicism that makes my blood rush to my head.

Theo is there, leaning against an old porch column, one leg bent against the wood, smoke escaping from his lips in a slow cloud. The light from the cigarette illuminates his hard features for a moment, casting deep shadows on his cheekbones and perpetually clenched jaw. He's not wearing the team jacket, just a dark T-shirt that highlights his giant shoulders and imposing back, shaped by years of scrums on the rugby field. He doesn't look at me with the pity I saw in their teammate's eyes, he looks at me with contempt, with a brutal clarity that makes me feel naked. As if I were an insect under a his microscope.

“Fuck you, Theo,” I spit out.

I feel like a taut string ready to snap, trembling with rage, not cold.

“This isn't the time.”

He takes a step forward, stepping out of the shadows and invading my personal space.

I immediately smell tobacco and alcohol, mixed with a scent that almost smells like wild mint emanating from his skin, a violent contrast to the scent of the party.

The dim light from the street lamp illuminates his harsh features, his slightly disheveled dark hair, and those forest-green eyes, so dark that if you don't look closely they seem black, they always seem to read you and find only filth.

He takes a long drag, then throws the ash on the ground, crushing it with the tip of his shoe, carelessly moving his huge thighs wrapped in jeans.

“It's always time for the truth, Clara,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, becoming almost a whisper that vibrates in my bones.

“Except you prefer the kisses that taste like lies from my dear best friend.” He gives a half-smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes.

“Did you come here for compliments? You're beautiful, really. Too bad you're the only one in this house who doesn't understand that Brian doesn't know what to do with someone like you,” he continues in a condescending tone, speaking to me with an air of superiority.

I approach him, driven by a rage that is the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground. The urge to strike him is so strong that my hands are shaking; I want to wipe that cynical half-smile off his face. I feel the strands of my blonde hair slapping my face in the wind, while my blue eyes, streaked with that glassy yellow that makes them almost transparent, burn with held-back tears.

“What do you know? What do you know about us?”

In an instant, Theo springs into action. In a second, he is in front of me with a sudden, catlike movement that takes my breath away. He is too close.

So close that I can feel the heat emanating from his massive body, a heat that defies the cold of the night.

He towers over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. Even though I'm not short, next to him I feel terribly small, like prey under the gaze of a predator.

His forest-green eyes are two dark wells that seem to dig into me, finding every single crack, every weakness.

“I know that while you were counting the days to see him, I had to listen to him bragging about how April was more... how can I put it... malleable than you,” he whispers, leaning toward my ear. The last words are pure poison, uttered almost in a whisper to my face.

His voice is sweet poison. “Do you still feel so special now?”

I punch him in the chest, trying to push him away, but he doesn't budge an inch. It's like hitting a concrete wall; the solidity of his muscle mass is almost offensive. My eyes fill with tears of frustration and hatred.

“You're an asshole, Theo. You're just as bad as him.”

He grabs my wrists, and I feel the pressure of his rough hands. His fingers are large and calloused, and they squeeze with a force that doesn't hurt me, just enough to immobilize me, make me understand that he is in complete control of the situation, and force me to look at him. The veins of his tattoos on his arms seem to vibrate under the light of the street lamps. For an eternal moment, his gaze falls on my lips, and for the first time I see something that isn't mockery, a flash of something that isn't hatred, a dark, almost suppressed desire that lasts a blink of an eye before being pushed back by the usual coldness.

“No, Clara,” he replies, his voice now possessing a frighteningly calm tone. “I'm worse. Because I would never have lied to you.”

He lets go of me so abruptly that I almost lose my balance and lean against the wall behind me. He walks back to the entrance of the house, his shadow merging once again with the darkness of the driveway, leaving me alone.

I hug myself, feeling his hands still imprinted on my mind and regretting the choice of my dress that leaves my back exposed, while the noise of the party continues, behind me.

Going back into that house is like taking a second punch to the stomach, but I have to if I don't want to freeze to death.

The heat, the smell of alcohol, and the bass notes of the music that make the floor shake suddenly seem unbearable to me. I move through the crowd like a ghost, trying not to meet anyone's gaze, feeling that everyone can read the humiliation written on my face. I retrieve the coat I left at the entrance, clutching it and my bag to me, and head to the kitchen, where I know I will find my safe haven.

In the kitchen, the situation is almost absurd in its normality. Cecilia is leaning against the counter, wrapped in the arms of her boyfriend—another giant from the team, Mike, all smiles and pats on the back—while Nicholas, with his usual casual elegance and that critical attitude that only he can afford, is finishing one of his hilarious stories about the last guy who tried to hit on him.

Nicholas is my rock, the only one who can make me laugh even when I just want to disappear, but tonight not even his sarcasm can save me.

I glance towards the back room. Brian is still there. I can see the back of his blond head, his laughter exploding at something one of his friends has said. He doesn't even turn around. He's not looking for me.

As far as he's concerned, I'm not even on his radar.

But as I let my gaze wander around the house, I feel a different weight on me. I turn abruptly and meet Theo's dark green eyes.

He's back too, leaning against the doorframe and staring at me with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't smirk anymore. He just looks at me, as if he's waiting to see when I'll give in.

I approach Cecilia and Nicholas, leaning toward them, whispering so Ceci's boyfriend can't hear me.

“I'm leaving,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ceci's eyes widen, and she pulls away from her boyfriend. “What? Already? Where's Brian?” Mike watches the scene with a slightly confused look, almost aware of the situation.

Nicholas studies me with his characteristic feline intuition; he immediately understands that my glassy pupils are not due to alcohol. “Clara, what's going on?”

“Nothing, I just have a bad headache. Stay, really. Don't ruin your evening because of me,” I say, trying to sound calm.

“We'll take you home, no question about it,” Ceci replies, grabbing her bag.

“No!” I stop her, perhaps too abruptly.

“I want to walk. I live a stone's throw away, the cold air will do me good. My mother was at a business dinner, she'll be back by now and fast asleep, she won't even notice, and at least today I don't need to sleep at your place.”

Nicholas looks at me for a moment too long, unsure whether to insist or give me my space.

Finally, he sighs. “Call me as soon as you close the door, or I swear I'll come and get you myself, okay?”

I nod, giving them both a quick kiss on the cheek. As I put on my coat and head for the exit, I can still feel Theo's gaze burning into the back of my neck, but I ignore this feeling.

I step out into the night, leaving behind the noise, Brian, and the girl I thought I was ten minutes ago.

First chapter out!✨✨

I'm sorry and i apologize in advance for any mistakes, but english is not my first language ahah.

I really hope you enjoy the story, let me know in the comments if you already hate Brian or if Theo is really the classic jerk!🙏🏼😂