Game Night Chaos

Selena's POV

My stomach was a damn washing machine.

The bleachers were packed. Screaming voices, bodies stuffed shoulder to shoulder. The air was hot even though it was cold outside. Too many bodies. Too much heat. Too much tension.

I sat near the front, close enough to see the sweat on their necks and the way the blades screeched against the ice. Sarah sat next to me, whispering stupid things like, “Why do they all look the same in helmets?” and “If one of them throws off their jersey I will scream.”

But I wasn’t laughing.

Because he was on the ice.

Dominic.

Fast. Aggressive. Reckless.

I bit my lip so hard it felt raw. My nails were digging into my sleeves. I told myself I was just here to support the school. Support the event. Whatever. But my eyes refused to look away from him.

He skated like he didn’t care what happened to his body. Like he had something to prove or destroy. Maybe both.

Ravenshore was brutal. They shoved and elbowed and pushed like it was war not a game. One guy slammed into Dominic and I gasped out loud. My whole body jolted. He hit the ice hard but bounced back up like it was nothing.

But I saw it.

The way he winced. The way he held his ribs for half a second too long.

"Selena," Sarah whispered. "You okay? You look like you’re watching a horror movie."

“Fine,” I said. My voice was scratchy. “Just... intense.”

The buzzer blared. Timeout.

Players skated off toward the benches. Dominic pulled off his helmet, and I swear I could see steam coming off him. His jersey was torn on the shoulder. Blood on the fabric. Just a little, but enough to make my breath catch.

He didn’t sit with the team.

He walked off.

Out of the rink.

And my legs moved before my brain did.

I mumbled something to Sarah and rushed out. The hallway behind the rink smelled like rubber and sweat and something metallic. My shoes squeaked with every step. My heart pounded faster with every turn I took.

I don’t know what I thought I was going to say. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I just needed to see him.

I turned the corner and there he was.

Leaning against the wall. One hand braced behind him. The other gripping the edge of the bench. His chest was rising and falling like he’d just sprinted laps.

Blood trickled from his shoulder where the jersey tore. His hair was messy, damp with sweat. His face was tight, jaw clenched. Angry. But tired too. Worn.

He looked up.

His eyes locked on mine.

“What?” he said. Voice sharp. Like a blade across skin.

“You okay?”

“Why do you care?”

I winced. That hit harder than it should have.

“Because you’re bleeding. And you look like you’re about to punch a wall.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared like he was trying to burn a hole through my head.

“Stop pretending.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Like you don’t care. Like you’re not watching me. Following me with your eyes. Laughing with Caleb just loud enough so I hear it.”

My lips snapped. My fists curled.

“Excuse me?”

“You act like I’m not even real. But you keep showing up. You keep watching.”

“You made me look like a fool!”

“I didn’t remember!”

“Exactly. You forgot me. You pretended I never existed. Then you act like I should still care about you?”

His jaw flexed.

He stepped closer.

I stepped back.

He stepped forward again.

My back hit the wall.

His hand shot out and caught my wrist.

I gasped. My heart exploded. Not literally but it felt like it.

His eyes burned into mine. His breath hit my cheek. His chest was rising and falling like he just ran a mile. No, like he just fought a war. And I wasn’t sure if I was the battlefield or the reason for it.

“Why do you always run away?” he said, low.

“Why do you always pull me back?”

His grip on my wrist softened, but didn’t let go. His thumb brushed my pulse. My knees nearly buckled.

His hand slid up—slow, unsure at first—until it was on my jaw. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone. Gentle. Too gentle for how angry we both were.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest was so tight, it hurt.

He leaned in. Closer.

I could smell him. Sweat and ice and something sharp beneath it. Something that made my stomach twist and my skin burn.

His forehead nearly touched mine.

His lips hovered just above mine—so close I could feel the heat of them. Not touching. Not yet.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered.

I swallowed. “Good.”

His lips twitched like he might smile. But he didn’t.

We were nose to nose.

My breath stuttered.

His fingers slid into my hair.

He tilted his head.

And then—

His lips brushed mine.

Barely.

Just a breath. A ghost.

But it was fire. My whole body lit up like a fuse was burning from the inside out.

He didn’t press in. Didn’t deepen it. Just stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, breathing like he wanted to kiss me harder but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, voice wrecked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Because yes. I felt it everywhere.

My knees were shaking. My hands had curled into his jersey. I didn’t even remember reaching for him. But I was holding him now, like I couldn’t let go.

He leaned in again—

Then—

CHEERS.

The crowd exploded.

The whole rink shook.

The buzzer had gone off. Something must’ve happened—our team scored or maybe they started a fight—but I didn’t care.

He pulled back.

Too fast.

My lips still tingled. My breath came in short, sharp bursts like I’d just run for my life.

He turned around and walked off fast, his shoulders tense, not looking back.

I stood there. Frozen.

My fingers were still curled in air where his jersey had been.

My chest heaved. My pulse was loud in my ears. My lips still burned.

And then I saw her.

Cherry.

Standing by the corner. Watching.

Eyes narrowed. Mouth tight.

Arms crossed over her chest like she’d been standing there for a while.

I didn’t say a word.

I just walked the other way.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, cry, or try kissing him again.