Page 37 of Catching Feelings

Across the room, Ryan has an arm draped around Haley, who’s regaling him with the details of her latest soccer game.

Good. He’s moving on like we discussed, which is healthy—and great news for me.

Okay, I take it back. I can think of a few other things I might ask for this year. Maybe if Ryan’s busy with Haley, I can take things up a notch with Sabrina? Ask her on a real date?

Thinking about how she coordinated the Spirit Committee during the game makes my pulse skip a beat. Blue ribbons in her hair, white paint streaked on her cheeks, at the center of the excitement as always. Everyone from Hamilton Lakes orbiting around her.

The only thing that would make tonight better is if she were here.

I frown and check my phone. I hope she’s okay—it must suck to miss the after-party. Maybe she ate a bad hot dog? That would turn anyone’s stomach.

A notification pops up that I was tagged in someone’s story. Naomi, who I already know is more chronically attached to her phone than anyone I’ve ever met. My stomach swoops, getting that feeling of being talked about and hoping it’s for good and not evil—but when I open it, it’s just a selfie of a grinning Naomi and her friends at the Lakeside. She’s tagged as many members of the team as will fit on her screen, and the text says, celebrating another win for the Hawks! ca-caw, motherfuckers!!!

I shake my head, laughing, and am about to put the phone away.

But then I notice who’s in the photo with her.

Harper, Marissa, Kara… and Sabrina.

My stomach drops. I thought she was sick? Either she’s feeling better… or she lied to me.

Is she avoiding me?

For the rest of the party, the congratulations and smiles can’t touch me. I know it’s not fair to compare Sabrina to Kate—a clearly established friendship is very different from a girlfriend—but I can’t help thinking of the way Kate started ducking my calls and texts last spring. The way spending time with me was suddenly something to avoid at all costs.

I keep pulling up the story to look at Sabrina’s smile.

It punches me in the gut every time. Like I’ve lost something I barely even had.

I spend Saturday in a funk. Ryan hovers around all morning asking if I want to hang out downtown or something, but even his puppy-dog eyes can’t motivate me to leave the house today. In the end, he shrugs. “It’s cool. Haley wants me to go to the mall with her anyway, get my opinion on her homecoming dress. Who am I to say no?”

I mumble something about another rain check—those are adding up—too grateful for the solitude to feel guilty for more than a second.

I turn my phone off so I don’t see anything else from either Sabrina and her friends or my team back home—that’s the last thing I need today. But even putting on the Ohio State game isn’t much of a comfort. I can’t get lost in it the same way I usually do.

It’s stupid to get so in my head about a girl. Didn’t I learn my lesson last year?

But Sabrina’s not just any girl, a defiant, yearning part of me whispers.

I drag myself to a diner shift Sunday afternoon, but it’s a lot harder to smile at the regulars than usual. Everyone wants to congratulate me on the game, patting me on the back and praising my hits, but it all falls flat.

“You okay?” Harper frowns as she passes me on her way to the kitchen to pick up her orders. “Dawson only looked that tortured after losing a game.”

“I’m fine.” I smile tightly at her. “Just preoccupied.”

She watches me shrewdly for a minute before shrugging. “Okay, well, let me know if you need to talk.”

I keep the smile on my face until I head outside to take my break. Yeah. Talking. Last year I would’ve had a dozen people to talk to, friends and family I trusted. But this year?

The only person I’ve started to feel that way with is Sabrina.

I tap my phone awake and consider calling home. The Thompsons are great, but they’re not my parents. But what would I say? I’ve been talking to this girl, but she lied to me so she could get out of seeing me at a party? I snort a quick, derisive laugh. Mom full-on cried when she dropped me off with the Thompsons, and I know Dad’s been dealing with the fallout of last spring with John and his dad.

My phone has gone dark again, and I don’t reawaken it. The last thing Mom and Dad need is to worry about me adjusting healthily. This is my chance to start over—as far as they’ll ever know, it’s all going perfectly. They already have enough of my problems to deal with this year.

So I do my best to smile as I go back to work, thinking of Sabrina the whole time.

I’m still not myself when I go to practice on Sunday. It’s a sharp swing from the flow I felt at Friday’s game.