Page 32 of Catching Feelings

But then I catch sight of Sabrina, and the smile drops off my face. Not because I’m not happy to see her—because happy doesn’t quite cover it.

She’s dancing with her friends Kara and Naomi and Priya and Harper, hands over her head. She’s changed out of her football team T-shirt into a simple, soft-looking white tee that exposes the stretch of her collarbone. The light of the bonfire glints off her hair, which is loose for once. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it around her shoulders, and it shimmers and glints in the firelight. My vision of her wearing her hair down for homecoming slams back into my mind. And watching her dance now makes it impossible to repress the fantasy of wrapping my arms around her waist in front of everyone, of twirling her in a formal dress.

She seems so happy, so accomplished, so relaxed. As she should be—that pep rally was an amazing feat. I’m glad she’s letting herself celebrate it. I love how hard she works and how much she still lets herself enjoy moments like this.

She doesn’t have any idea I’m watching. Seems to be lost in the moment with her girls, swiveling her hips and waving her arms, eyes closed and grin wide.

I can’t look away. Happy doesn’t cover how I’m feeling—but reverent might come close.

I shouldn’t be getting so invested in whatever this is between us. I’m floating through, keeping my head down, keeping it cool. So there’s no chance of a repeat. So I don’t risk my last shot at a normal senior year.

And we’re just friends. She gives me rides sometimes. I like learning about Gilmore Girls. We have a mutually beneficial agreement, protecting each other from unwanted attention. She’s made it very clear anything else is more complicated, more drama than she wants this year. And I told Ryan it isn’t anything to worry about.

We’re just friends. That’s all this is.

Right?

Then she looks up.

And when she meets my eyes, there’s no denying the heat there. She stops moving for a moment, as if my gaze has frozen her.

I should look away—away from the darkness of her eyes, the soft fall of hair around her face, the flush in her cheeks. Away from her slightly parted lips. I try to make myself.

But I can’t.

Then she bends toward her friends, murmurs something, and gives a little wave. Naomi pouts, Sabrina shakes her head apologetically, and I gather she’s leaving.

Sure enough, she starts weaving through the crowd, heading for the path that leads to the street. She glances back once, catching my eye again, but looks away just as quickly.

Does she want me to follow her? Or is she leaving because she feels too weird about this connection between us?

Because she has to feel it too. I know it, deep and sure in my gut. Maybe it’s liquid courage, but I can’t let her go without hearing her say it aloud.

So, I follow, waving off the guys who try to talk to me on my way. “I’ll be right back—just one minute—getting some air—”

The front yard is empty and stunningly quiet after the noise of the party. It’s dark, only the warm, dim light from the porch shining weakly on us, and for a minute I worry I miscalculated. Don’t be the creep who follows a girl into the dark, Tyler, what are you thinking?

And then Sabrina turns, and she’s smiling.

It’s a different one than usual—a little shy, complete with a hair tuck behind her ears—but it’s still pure Sabrina. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

She looks even more beautiful than usual, every delicate line of her face illuminated by moon and shadow. I take another step forward, noting how her head tilts back as her eyes follow my face. “Had to make sure your car started okay.”

The breeze rustles through the trees lining the boulevard, still thick with greenery before the creep of autumnal colors. The air is warm enough that we don’t need sweaters—the last gasps of late summer.

The crickets chirping in the night are deafening as my excuse falls heavily between us. “My car is perfectly fine,” Sabrina finally says. But there’s more color than usual in her cheeks.

My heart thuds in my ears, my mouth going dry. I swallow hard—and fuck, her eyes dart to follow the tiny movement. Then they linger on my mouth.

I take another half step, so we’re toe to toe. So I could wrap my arms around her with no effort, if I wanted. “Well, then… maybe I just wanted to tell you good night.”

“Okay,” she breathes. “Then tell me good night.”

I raise an eyebrow. Tilt my head toward hers. Note her tiny, almost imperceptible intake of breath. The way she raises her eyes to mine in challenge.

She does feel the connection. We both do.

And if she’s not going to admit it out loud, I’m happy to make it impossible to deny.