The Way They Look At Me

Nora’s P.O.V

I stared into the mirror like it might crack. My black tank top clung to damp skin. Damp waves of black hair clung to me, still wet from the shower. My green eyes looked back at me, sharp and restless. Graduation was next week, but it did not feel real. Nothing did lately.

Nick leaned against the doorframe, tossing an apple in the air. “You going to Amelia’s after school?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Depends how annoying she is in third period.”

He smirked. “Leo’s picking me up. Want a ride?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Suit yourself.” He disappeared like he always did—

I grabbed my bag and stepped outside. The air was warm but not suffocating. The kind of summer morning that felt like a promise. Sunlight spilled across the street, catching on every parked car and cracked sidewalk.

Then came the rumble. Low. Dark. Leo’s car turned the corner like it owned the block.

He got out.

Black shirt. Ink-wrapped arms. That lazy, dangerous confidence that didn’t have to try. And his eyes—icy blue, cutting through me.

“Hey, Nora.”

God, his voice.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound normal while my pulse tripped over itself.

He smirked, and it hit me low, where reason couldn’t reach. Leo always looked like trouble—but the kind you want to touch just once, even if it burns. Nick’s best friend. Off-limits. I told myself that every time.

It never worked.

I kept walking. The school came into view—same busted brick, same chipped paint, same doors that always looked like they might fall off their hinges. I slipped through the crowd like smoke. Unseen. That’s how I liked it.

Until she found me.

“Dark angel vibes today.” Amelia, flawless and grinning, fell in beside me. Blonde hair, cheer uniform, mischief in her eyes.

“It’s just a black tank top.”

“Exactly. Boys love mystery. Especially a mystery with a body like yours.”

“Not trying to impress anyone.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to your face every time Leo looks at you.”

I didn’t answer. Because she was not wrong.

I slid into the back row just as the bell rang for first period. Mr. Jacobs was already mid-rant about Shakespeare being underappreciated by modern teens, but I wasn’t listening. I could feel Leo before I saw him.

He dropped into the seat behind me.

Didn’t say anything. Just existed. Loudly.

His knee bumped the back of my chair once—casual, careless. I didn’t move. Neither did he.

Halfway through the lecture, I tilted my head, pretending to adjust my ponytail. His eyes were already on me.

When class ended, he leaned forward just enough to make me forget how to stand up.

“You got something on your face,” he said, voice low.

“What?” I froze.

He lifted his hand, slow, deliberate. Fingers brushed the edge of my jaw—barely a touch, just enough to send heat racing through my chest.

“Ink. From your marker,” he murmured.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

His thumb dragged gently across my skin, wiping the smudge like it was an excuse to touch me. He took his time, gaze fixed on mine the entire time.

“There,” he said, letting his hand drop. “Got it.”

My skin burned where he’d touched me. I swallowed hard, heart pounding.

And his smile—small, dangerous, satisfied—told me he knew exactly what he’d done.

Second period dragged on. Numbers blurred, formulas mocked me. I barely heard the teacher.

Every time I blinked, I could still feel Leo’s touch from earlier. Still felt like heat under my skin.

The bell finally wrang. Biology was next with Amelia.

She poked my arm the second I sat beside her.

“You and Leo in first together? Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did he say anything?”

I paused. “Told me I had ink on my face.”

“And then?”

I looked down at my notebook, pretending to be busy. “And then he wiped it off.”

Amelia went still. “He wiped it off?”

I could feel her stare drilling into the side of my face.

“Yeah.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Nora. That’s not nothing. That’s hands-on, jaw-touching, smudge-slowing-down-time level flirting.”

I rolled my eyes and cracked open my notebook. Amelia leaned in.

“He’s so into you, and it is killing me watching you play it cool.”

I smirked despite myself. Then the lights dimmed for some grainy evolution video, and we stopped talking—but not thinking.

School was a blur of countdowns and chaos. Seniors already half-gone. I leaned against my locker, tuned out Amelia’s dramatic recap of second period.

“I’m telling you,” she said, “the sub was a serial killer. No one blinks that slow unless they’ve buried something.”

“Maybe he just hates this place as much as we do.”

Then a shadow fell across us.

Dylan. I think his name is stepped into my space. Tan, casual, too much cologne.

“Bonfire at the lake Friday,” he said. “You and Amelia should come.”

I blinked. “Uh. Okay?”

He winked and walked away.

Amelia gasped like she’d won the lottery. “We’re going. You need to get out. Maybe hook up with a hot stranger.”

“Not interested.”

She gave me a look. “Leo might be there.”

I didn't reply, I was already thinking about firelight and Leo.

I looked up. And there he was.

Leaning against his locker. Girls orbiting him like he was the sun—but he wasn’t looking at them.

He was looking at me.

Heat crawled down my spine. I quickly looked away.

But I felt it. Every inch of it.

Last period couldn’t come fast enough. I changed fast—black shorts, tank top, hair tied back, earbuds in. I hit the track.

I ran until the world fell away.

Just breath. Just sweat. Just the rhythm pounding through my body.

Then—a hand touched my arm.

I turned fast, heartbeat in my throat.

Leo.

Too close. His gaze locked on mine like I was the only thing in the world worth watching.

I pulled out one AirPod. The world rushed back in.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I said.

He smiled. “Didn’t mean to.”

“You did.”

“You didn’t look like you were stopping.”

“I wasn’t. Running helps me think.”

He nodded, gaze dipping—legs, hips, back up to my eyes. “You’re fast.”

“You watching me?”

“Maybe.”

I hated that it made me blush.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

Leo shrugged. “You going to that bonfire?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why not?”

“Not really my scene.”

He tilted his head. “Still. Might be worth showing up.”

I met his eyes. “Why?”

His eyes locked on mine. “Because I want you there.”

My heart stuttered.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, and turned before he could see the effect.

But I felt his eyes on me.

This was new. Leo and I had never really talked. Just the usual passing “hi” or “hey.”

But today? That was not nothing.

And I could not stop replaying it all.