Get Me Back on Skates

“Hey!” I heard someone’s voice echo in the empty hall. I expected more insults, but I only heard the pounding of footsteps up the never-ending stairs. I tucked my knees up to my chest and leaned my head against the wall. Great, they all know where I live.
The footsteps faded to a stop. With a loud squeak, they started again, coming closer and closer to me. This time, the steps seemed soft and careful, though. I felt somebody kneel next to me, and I could feel their breath on my neck. As much as I wanted to turn and see who it was, I just couldn’t. I was too afraid they would hurt me. I grew up with four older brothers, so it was hard to defend myself, but eventually I learned.
Suddenly, I felt a strong hand on my back, but no one spoke. My eyes widened in shock, I knew they were going to hit me. Before I thought they could react, I turned and punched him square in the face.
“What the hell!” I recognized him immediately. He was the boy I spilled my coffee on; the boy who refused to take the money. I remembered his brown eyes, but not the blood dripping down the side of his face.
“Oh! I’m sorry, again! I-I was just scared you were gonna hurt me!” I tried to hide the Russain accent.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like this is anything out of the ordinary,” I bit my lip and gave him a confused look. “I play hockey.”
“Hockey!? I love hockey! My brothers all play in the KHL, and I play, too! I was planning on going to the Bruins game tonight, but I don’t know if I can ever show my face in this city again.” As my voice trailed off, I felt more salty tears run down my cheeks.
“Oh God, no. Please don’t- You-uh, I’m sorry, please don’t cry. Please?” Out of nowhere, he cupped my face in his hands and looked me straight in the eyes. “Please?”
I nodded my understanding and looked again at the blood that slid down his face and dripped off his chin onto his already coffee-stained shirt. He looked at his shirt, too, and simply shrugged it off. I laughed half-heartedly when he turned aroud suddenly and dragged my backpack in front of him.
“This yours?”
“Yea. Y’know I was pretty scared I wouldn’t be able to get into my apartment,” I stammered. “The key’s in the front pocket.”
He pulled the tiny silver key out and handed it to me. I stood up and unlocked the door, then invited him in. When he stepped inside, he locked the door behind us and took his shoes off.
“I’m Tyler,” he began. “Tyler Seguin. I actually play for the Boston Bruins.” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Now that you know this, you think you can make the game tonight?”
It took me a few seconds to react…
“Um, YEA I CAN! Are you kidding, of course! That’s amazing! Of all the people I can run into in Boston, it’s Tyler Seguin, number 2 draft pick, Oh my God!” I was extremely excited, and he knew it. He laughed the whole time and pulled me into a gentle hug.
“Oh, you’re so cute.” he sighed. I giggled like the fangirl I was, and he squeezed me tighter. When he finally let go, we were both smiling like idiots.
My eyes were drawn to the red stain that was on the carpet. Again, I stared at the side of his face, and watched the blood drip onto the floor. Before he could respond, I sprinted to the bathroom and wet a handtowel. I ran back over to Tyler, who made himself comfortable on the sofa. As I threw the towel to him, I went over to the kitchen to get an ice pack out of the freezer; I could already see the bruise forming on the side of his face. With a quick glance at the clock on the wall, I knew that I still had two hours before Em would be back.