I met her on a sweltering Thursday. I was striding across the street, textbooks in hand, returning from a study session at a nearby café. I was a careless, recklessly unobservant student.

She inevitably crashed into me. Not with her car, but with her bicycle. One would think that one of us would have noticed the other's presence before the collision but the two of us never did abide by logic.

Her bike slammed into my left side and sent me sprawling unceremoniously onto the scorching asphalt. She landed an arm's length away from me, kicking my books aside.

Splitting pain from my right wrist elicited an anguished scream from me. She scrambled to her feet then.

''Oh God, are you hurt? I'm so, so sorry, this is why I got my driver's license revoked, I never look where I'm going! Let's-''

''You stupid bitch!'' I spat, interrupting her monologue. I staggered to my feet and punched her squarely in the nose with my good hand. I sent her toppling back onto the road with a crack as her helmet yielded to the pressure.

She gasped, ''okay, I deserved that.'' Tears mixed with the blood that rained down her face. She looked so pitiful that I had to help her up. She saw my outstretched hand, reddening from the assault, and stared fearfully up at me.

''Here, get up. We'll go get help.''

She gingerly placed her small hand in mine, I eased her to her feet and she bent to pick up my books.

''It's unnecessary, I got it,'' I said, gathering up the remainder of my books.

She lifted up her bicycle and inspected it for damage.

''We're good,'' she said, relief colouring her voice. ''We can ride together to the hospital.''

''What?''

''Yes! Just sit over the handlebars, I'll cycle.''

''So that you can use me as a buffer between you and the next person you crash into?'' I answered coldly.

She flinched like I struck her again. A sensitive little thing, she is.

''I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me, I'll do anything I can to make it better,'' she grovelled softly, distress in her every feature.

Why does she care so much about what I think of her? We only just met and don't even know each other's names.

''Chill, we can ride to the hospital together,'' I reassure her.

''Okay then,'' she breathed, visibly calming. She had gorgeous eyes, even then.

I clambered up onto the front of her bike, clasping my books to my chest and doing all I could to ignore the throb in my wrist.

She climbed onto the saddle and pedalled slowly to the hospital.