Page 42 of Catching Feelings

My face hurts from smiling back, my lips tingling. I’m still surrounded by the scent of lemon and eucalyptus.

I was so, so wrong about Tyler being a safer person to be vulnerable with. I like him too much for that.

He might be the most dangerous of all.

“See you Monday,” I breathe.

It’s not until I drive away that I realize I’m still wearing his jacket.

18 TYLER

I do see Sabrina Monday. And Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday. She’s driving me home from school every day, to the point that Will and Gabe don’t even ask if I need a ride anymore. They just wave me off and tell me to have a good time with my “friend.”

The earliest maple leaves are turning gold, and the color reminds me of Sabrina’s hair. I recognize the streets of Hamilton Lakes as we drive down them now, can wave to the business owners on Main Street as we pass the diner.

I learn how Emily Gilmore is the unsung hero of the Gilmore family—what’s so bad about wanting a good life for her daughter? I listen to her worry about Spirit Committee business—bracelet sales are slightly down from last spring, and she wonders if she and Harper need to brainstorm a new line in order to keep the budget in the black before homecoming—though she always talks herself around to her usual bubbly optimism with minimal input from me.

I start to bring two smoothies every morning: a protein-rich one for me and a too-sweet strawberry banana one for Sabrina. She always drains it so quickly, I’m shocked she doesn’t get a brain freeze.

I stare at Sabrina’s profile, her upturned nose and long lashes and hair pulled back in an elaborate braid or a ponytail secured with the slenderest ribbon.

I lean through passenger-door windows to say goodbye, I open driver’s-side doors so she can slide through, she leans across the gearshift to grab snacks from the glove compartment—we close the distance between each other in a million different ways.

But we’re in front of the Thompsons’ house, or there are football players watching in the parking lot, or a Spirit Committee member pulls up next to us at a red light and rolls down her window to shout a hello to Sabrina.

We don’t kiss.

We don’t even touch.

All the repressed tension and desire is about to drive me crazy.

But being with Sabrina is about a whole lot more than just physical tension. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed someone to tell me exactly what she did until the words fell from her lips: I trust you. I’m willing to do anything to keep it that way.

I still help out with the dishes and laundry at the Thompsons’. Still chip in for groceries with my money from the diner. Still force a smile whenever reminders of my own family’s routines prick me with homesickness: classic rock in place of Taylor Swift during cleanup, pasta night favoring Bolognese instead of pesto, a family of night owls instead of early risers. But the reminders hurt less now that there’s something to make me smile for real.

“You’re really settling in, huh?” Ryan asks one night when I slip inside after telling Sabrina goodbye at the curb. He’s leaning against the open fridge, eating lasagna out of the Tupperware. “Hanging out with the team? I told you Will was a good guy!”

“Yeah.” I let myself pretend I’m just responding to the second question and not the first. Even though Ryan’s been spending a lot of time with Haley, I still feel bad about not being completely honest with him.

But what would I even say? I grab a protein shake from the fridge, not quite meeting Ryan’s eyes. I don’t know what Sabrina and I are yet, other than really dedicated carpool buddies who kiss sometimes. And it’s not like Ryan doesn’t know that we’re hanging out.

“Good. Told you this town was welcoming.” Ryan grins, then ducks to put his Tupperware in the sink. “But can I get on your schedule, bro? What’s the point of having your cousin move in if you never get to see him?”

I wince, guilt roiling in my gut again. He’s chill enough about it now, but how pissed would he be if he found out I’m ditching him because I’m kissing Sabrina behind his back and claiming we’re just friends?

Should I explain? Come clean now, before I dig myself a deeper hole?

But before I can say anything, he’s pulling out his phone. “Maybe this weekend we could see a movie? The theater downtown always does this monster movie marathon leading up to Halloween, and Zach and I used to love it.”

He looks up with such hope that I can only smile back. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

I don’t want to rock the boat just when things are getting good. Just when it seems like maybe I’m going to have a much better year than I planned.

There’s nothing to tell. I’ll fill him in when there is.

Friday night’s game has an even bigger crowd than our last one, if that’s possible. All I can see is a wave of blue, occasionally interrupted by Washington’s red. The guys are feeling the energy too—when we run out onto the field to cheers, their heads lift higher, their grins broadening. The air has the edge of fall now, and nothing makes me feel more alive than that breeze hitting my cheeks.

Hard though it was to leave my old team, I gotta say… playing for Hamilton Lakes is something else.