The Way He Looked At Me

Selena’s POV

I still don’t know what came over me.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Even now my hands feel kind of… hollow. My fingers are cold but sweaty at the same time. My head feels light, like I’m walking around half-asleep, except my heart won’t calm down.

It was just a practice. Just another stupid hockey practice. I shouldn’t even have been there. I could’ve gone home. I should’ve gone home.

But no.

There I was. Sitting on those hard bleachers with Sara, pretending to care what she was saying, pretending not to keep sneaking looks at him like a complete idiot.

And I did.

I looked at him.

Over and over.

I can’t help it.

I hate it.

The way he skates. The way he doesn’t even have to try to look like he owns the ice. His shoulders broad, his jaw tight, his stupid messy hair sticking to his forehead when he skates too hard. He doesn’t even see me there most of the time.

Or maybe he does.

God.

I don’t know.

I was staring when it happened. That’s what gets me the most — I didn’t even blink.

One second he was flying across the rink like he always does, and the next second he… just… collapsed.

He slammed into the boards hard enough that the sound echoed all over the room. And then he didn’t get up.

I swear something in my chest just snapped.

The world tilted and my stomach dropped and all I could think was no.

And then everyone was crowding around him, shouting, the coach yelling something, his teammates leaning down, too many people, too much noise—

And I moved.

Before I even thought about it I was off the bench, running down the steps. Sara called my name but I didn’t stop.

I don’t even know why.

I just had to.

I shoved through the players circling him, dropped to my knees on the ice next to him.

And I saw his face.

His lips were pale. His breathing was sharp and shallow. His shoulder… God, it didn’t look right at all. It was sitting wrong, the way his jersey bunched there. And when he tried to push up, he winced so bad it made my stomach twist.

But then…

I saw something else.

Something nobody else seemed to notice.

The way his ribs… moved.

The way his hand clenched in the ice, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw locked… and his chest rose steadier. Like he was already… fixing himself.

It scared me.

It scared me so much my hand shook when I touched his arm.

But even though it scared me…

I couldn’t just stand there and let them all see.

I don’t even remember the words that came out of my mouth — just that they listened. Even the coach.

“I’ll take him,” I said. Loud enough for them all to back off.

And somehow, they did.

He didn’t say anything when I slid his arm over my shoulder and helped him up. He just stared down at the ice like he hated himself.

I hated the way his weight felt on me. Heavy. Hot. Too much.

I hated that my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

But most of all I hated that I… didn’t mind it either.

I don’t even know how I got him outside. The cold air hit me so hard I almost stumbled but I didn’t let go of him. Not even when he tried to pull away.

I got him to the wall.

He leaned against it.

And he just… stared at me.

Those grey eyes.

So dark.

Like he was furious and broken at the same time.

And then he said, “Thanks.”

Just that.

And it was worse than if he’d said nothing at all.

Because it felt like it meant more than just thanks.

And I didn’t know what to say back.

So I just nodded and let him walk away.

And I stood there in the cold, clutching my hands together so no one could see how bad they were trembling.

---

I didn’t go home right after.

I couldn’t.

I don’t even know why my feet carried me here.

But now I’m sitting in the park across from my street, on one of the old metal swings, staring down at the ground.

The chains creak softly when I move. The air is sharp and cold and smells like damp leaves.

I keep playing it over and over in my head.

The way his shoulder hung like it was broken.

The way his ribs seemed to knit themselves back together right in front of me.

The way he looked at me like I’d just saved his life.

And the way my chest still aches. Right here. Like something inside me cracked and never went back.

I don’t understand him.

I don’t understand myself.

I don’t even know why I care so much.

I curl my hands into fists in my lap. My fingernails dig into my palms. My breath comes out shaky.

God, I’m such an idiot.

“You’re a fool,” I whisper under my breath. The words from the dream coming back to me.

Run, he’d said. Run away from me.

I close my eyes and shake my head hard.

When I open them again, I feel it before I see it.

Someone’s watching me.

I freeze.

There. Across the park.

A figure.

Standing perfectly still near the tree line. Too far to see their face. But they’re facing me. Just… standing there.

My stomach flips.

It’s not Dominic. I know it’s not.

But it still makes my chest go cold.

I stand up fast, my hands gripping the chains of the swing for balance.

I glance away just for a second, just to grab my bag.

And when I look back…

They’re gone.

Like they were never even there.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My heart pounds in my ears.

I walk home as fast as I can without running. My fingers clutching my bag strap so tight it hurts.

I don’t look back.

But I can still feel it.

Whoever they were…

They’re still watching.

And I don’t know if it’s him I should be scared of… or them.

Or myself.