Page 73 of Catching Feelings

I text Tyler good morning by way of still thinking about how well you played last night—congrats, Homecoming champs. (His response: you know they always rig the homecoming game, so winning isn’t that big of a deal—to which I mentally vow to be sure he celebrates tonight whether he likes it or not.) Then I drive downtown to Flora’s to pick up the flowers, praying the mechanic’s fixes on my car hold, because today is not the day for another breakdown. I send Tyler a rambling voice memo while driving, telling him how nice it was to meet some of his friends from Brownsville (and to warn them that they better not make him suffer ever again), and then I hurry to campus to make sure all the decorations are set up. I open my phone to a photo of Tyler raising a skeptical eyebrow, holding up two different ties for my approval, and I write back, the blue. Obviously. Plus it’ll match my dress…

You have my attention, he responds.

As I hurry onto the football field, I can’t stop smiling. I have to hand it to Tyler—the idea of having the dance under the lights was a stroke of genius. The field is even turf, so no heels getting stuck in the grass!

Not that I have any heels to worry about myself. There will be plenty of time to get dressed later. Once everything is perfect.

But the idea of Tyler in a suit makes me swoon on the spot. The breadth of his shoulders beside me, his arms around my waist, getting a chance to pick back up where we left off…

I lightly slap my own cheeks. Just hard enough that the sting will bring me back to my body. There’s no time for swooning. Not when there are flowers to arrange!

“Priya, can you check on the refreshments?” I scroll through the note on my phone with a frown. “I told Ms. Dobbs to clearly label all possible allergens, but last year she got confused and labeled anything without carbs as gluten free. And Naomi, are you okay manning the photo booth? I swear it’s the easiest thing in the world to operate, but every time, people get so confused. Not to mention the ones who think it’s a cubby custom-designed for their make-out sessions.” I look up with a grin. “Although if you manage to get Jenna alone in there, I’d turn a blind eye. What’s the update on that front, by the way?”

Now that I have my own life under control, I have a lot of gossip to catch up on. But Naomi’s blushing, and she’s looking at Priya as if the two of them have some kind of secret. “So… Jenna was definitely not ready for a relationship after her breakup,” Naomi says.

Priya laces her fingers through Naomi’s, her cheeks flushing a rosy brown. “But I was.”

I have to blink a few times, looking between the two of them. Naomi giggles. “Turns out trying to orchestrate my homecoming date was far less effective than recognizing what was right under my nose.”

“And eventually realizing that watching every single video you sent me was a sign of deepest affection,” Priya adds with a smirk. “My screen time is out of control, and it’s all your fault. So… Sabrina, what do you say to the two of us working the photo booth together?”

As I recover, I start grinning too. Why didn’t I see it before? Priya’s a perfect complement to Naomi—grounded, earthy, always going on hikes and touching grass. A good reminder for Naomi to step away from her screen sometimes. Meanwhile, Naomi reminds Priya to keep it light and enjoy herself instead of taking things so seriously. And the way the two of them are always doing little favors for each other, looking out for each other at every turn…

Well, it reminds me a lot of Tyler. Sometimes the best things are under your nose after all.

Sometimes, they start as just friends.

My smile broadens. “Yes! Yes, of course!” I shoo them away. “Go forth and multiply. Well. Maybe don’t multiply anything other than your photos. At least not in public. And don’t hog the booth too much!”

Priya’s taking a step away when Naomi tugs her to a halt, frowning at me. “Wait, when are you going to get ready?”

“Oh, soon, soon.” I wave a hand dismissively, turning to straighten the balloon arch that’s drifting sideways. I frown toward the DJ—should I ask to check his playlist?

Naomi checks the time on her phone. “You should probably do it now,” she says. “People are going to start arriving any minute.”

“Of course, of course.” I’m so focused on assessing the field that it’s not until they both leave that I freeze in my tracks.

I left my dress at home.

Shit. I swipe open my phone and dial my mom, pacing and biting my lip. It goes to voicemail. “Hi, Mom—sorry to bother you! I thought you were off today, but maybe you’re napping? I just forgot something at home, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Sorry! Bye!”

I hang up, hot and flustered. I shouldn’t have called for help on her day off—pure desperation overriding my usual instincts to just take care of myself—so it’s probably a good thing she didn’t answer. I don’t exactly have time to drive home and back and get ready, but… whatever. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. My top priority right now is making sure this dance goes off without a hitch—we came way too close to not having any dance at all, and there’s no way I’m going to let this school down at the last minute. Everything needs to be perfect.

I square my shoulders and continue working down my checklist. With each ticked box, my pulse slows and my stress settles. I run these events for everyone else; I’ve never really cared about the dance for myself. There’s never been anyone I wanted to dance with so badly, I could neglect my responsibilities for them—no one I let get close enough. That was the whole point of Tyler as my date in the first place!

But the thought of him brings a little flutter to my chest. Because there’s no denying that he’s different from everyone who came before. He’s the guy who helped me open up, and face my real feelings, and let my hair down. I want to see him dressed up. To steal a dance with him. To let myself get carried away, just for one night. After all this, I think we’ve earned it.

I take a deep, calming breath. As soon as I check on the DJ—

“Sabrina?” Haley’s hovering by the drinks table, arms wrapped around a gigantic orange Igloo water cooler. Her hair’s clipped back with glittery barrettes and her short green dress shows off legs that are toned and tanned from soccer practice. I’m marveling at the coordination it must take to juggle that water cooler in her heels when she says, “Ryan said you might need more water? So, I thought I’d bring this from the team’s gear.”

My pulse skips a nervous beat. Ryan said Haley had told him to get serious if he wanted to be taken seriously—does that mean he told her his version of events, before I cleared things up? Old nerves about ruffling feathers rear their heads, and I swallow hard.

Just be honest, Sabrina.

“That’s really nice of you—thanks. And, um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Ryan… I don’t know if he said anything about us, but I just wanted you to know nothing ever happened there, and I’m really happy with Tyler, and I’m super glad you two are figuring it out—”

She’s grinning. “Chill, Sabrina. We’re not really dating. I’m too focused on soccer season.” She takes a teetering step forward. “So… can I drop this somewhere…?”