Page 49 of Catching Feelings

“Maaaaaybe it means we made out in the bathroom at the party?”

The car erupts in cheers and squeals, and the light turns green, and Naomi spins the radio dial up to blast Taylor Swift next, and I floor it through the intersection. I let myself smile as wide as I want.

This is what I wanted from my senior year. Scream-singing on dark roads, cherishing moments that will only come once, sharing one another’s joy.

It’s only when the song ends and we’re gasping for breath that Kara meets my eyes in the rearview mirror once more. There’s a tiny furrow between her brows.

“I don’t want to yuck your yum, but—”

“I asked him about the rumors,” I interrupt. My tone is fiercer than I expected. I’m ready to defend him to the death. “He said they weren’t true. That he never got kicked out of school. Sounds like just some drama with his team?”

“Okay.” Kara nods, though her expression is still serious. She reaches into the front seat to play with my hair, starting to braid a strand of it. The way she does when we’re sharing secrets at a sleepover, when we’re making up after a fight, when we’re talking about everything and nothing without censoring a single thought.

Though if I’m honest, there’s been a lot of censoring this year. About how much I’m running from at home. How much I’m struggling this year, deep down. How much of an escape Tyler is.

“I’m glad,” she says. “I want you to be happy. Just… be careful, okay?”

I hum affirmatively, but I’m not sure I want to be careful. Right now, I just want to cling to the feeling of Tyler’s lips against mine, his shoulders under my roving hands, laughing about it with my best friends—the only kind of night I want to have this year.

21. TYLER

After the party, it’s like a seal has been broken.

In public, we’re still just very good friends; but in private, we’re even more.

Sabrina waits for me outside Ms. Moore’s class and chatters about all the fun facts she learned about Shakespeare in English while we walk the halls without even grazing pinkies; but then she turns us down the deserted hallway leading to the library, and as soon as the coast is clear, she presses me against the dusty shelves holding the reference books.

I wait for her after football practice, and we sit under the big oak tree on the front lawn while the sky turns pink and purple. I tell her about the day’s best plays, and her eyes widen in newfound appreciation for the rest of the team, and the longer we talk, the more our legs and hands brush—until she pulls me up and insists on driving us home so we can hold hands over the gearshift. She keeps one eye on the road, and I keep one on the check-engine light.

I get a few texts from my old team, but I leave them on react, no longer as bothered by what they think or don’t think about me. I don’t even consider asking about Kate. I go days without thinking about her at all. She was fun to hang out with, but now I can see it for what it was: We never talked about anything that real. The trust only ran knee-deep. Maybe it’s not such a big deal that we didn’t work out.

Maybe it’s not a predictor of what still will.

I get texts from my parents. My mom asks if we can set up a FaceTime on Thursday nights for our traditional pasta dinner, saying she misses me; my dad says that Michigan scout called to set up an interview, which sends my stomach flipping in excitement. It all makes me feel way more hopeful than homesick.

And maybe that’s partly because I’ve got someone making me feel pretty at home here in Hamilton Lakes.

The only thing marring my otherwise perfect happiness is the fact that we’re still sneaking around. Ryan’s invite to the monster movie marathon downtown? Yeah, Sabrina showed up at the diner at the end of my shift that day, and I was so distracted I totally forgot. When I finally checked my phone, I couldn’t even tell him why I’d blown him off. He was cool about it—said he met up with Alex instead—but I still felt horrible.

Every instinct in my body is screaming to go public with this girl, and I have a feeling I can’t keep it in any longer.

One afternoon in late September, we’re sitting at the top of the bleachers after all the other guys have gone home at the end of practice. I’ve begun to take great pleasure in releasing Sabrina’s hair from its ribbons every time I get her close enough to kiss, but watching her put it back up brings just as broad a smile to my face.

Seeing her become Sabrina, head of the Spirit Committee who has it all together, just reminds me I’m the only one who gets to see her completely undone.

I lean back on my hands, grinning. “You need to get home?”

“Not really. Mom’s working. She’s been on nights all week. So, it’s just me and microwave Indian food and Gossip Girl while I do my homework!” She flashes me a too-bright smile.

My own frown wavers. “You okay with that? Not… too lonely?”

She shrugs. “A little. But it’s not so bad when…” She blushes, scrunches up her nose as if in disgust. “Ugh, no, I can’t say it. Too corny.”

“Well, now you have to.” I reach toward her ribs, tickling her in the spot I’ve discovered is extremely sensitive, and she doubles over in a gasp.

“Tyler! That’s not fair! Stop—” She wheezes for air when I merely redouble my attack.

“What’s not fair is starting to tell me a secret and then taking it back!”