Page 9 of Catching Feelings

5. SABRINA

It takes me way too long to tear my gaze away from Tyler. He holds eye contact with the tiniest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and he practically glows from postpractice endorphins and the bright summer sunshine.

Single, huh?

I flush. Good information for the fans only. Because I have work to do.

So, I raise a hand in farewell and hurry across the field. The air hangs heavy with Midwestern humidity, and everyone with any sense is either hiding in air-conditioned movie theaters or lying out by the pool, solidifying their tan before the first day of school, dipping into the chlorinated water whenever they start broiling.

But my to-do list is too long to fantasize about swimming pools and movie theaters: matching up football players with Spirit Committee members for locker decorating, getting updated rosters and class schedules from the front office for the buddy program, and running off posters for the pep rally.

I swipe open my phone as I walk, admiring the fruits of my Canva labors. We’ve got every football player and their fun talent represented. There’s Will, dark brown skin gleaming, hair freshly twisted, all QB pretty privilege in his perfectly-tailored dress shirt; Gabe, his light brown skin tanned a shade darker after summer, focused game face on; Kai, his undercut flopping dramatically over half his face, eyes sparkling with his unique mix of focus and humor.

There’s just one glaring absence.

I frown as I push through the double doors of the front entrance. We need to get Tyler’s face added to the team lineup ASAP. Hamilton Lakes is going to eat this guy up.

And that means my next stop is clear.

The headquarters of the Herald is tucked away in the back of the school. Its windows look out onto the football field, letting in the strong summer light, and a few fans run to mitigate the greenhouse effect. There’s only so much this ancient air-conditioning can handle.

Marissa’s the only one inside, frowning at her computer. I rap tentatively on the doorframe. “What’re you doing here?”

She doesn’t even look up, just keeps tapping furiously at her keyboard. “Well, if there’s going to be a first-week edition of the Herald, someone needs to review everyone’s articles. Standard editor-in-chief duties.”

“You got the spot?” I clap and hop up and down a few times. “Congrats!”

“Thanks.” Marissa even cracks a smile. “I’m holding a high bar this year. I’m getting into Medill if it’s the last thing I do. So…” She waves a hand impatiently through the air. “If you can ask your favor?”

“Oh.” I bounce forward and turn my phone toward her, displaying the notes from my interview with Tyler. “Can you get this added to the website?”

She heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Another one?”

I shrug. “Gotta keep the people updated.” I ignore the way my stomach flutters at the memory of Tyler and his muscled chest dripping with water, his wry smile when he said he didn’t have a girlfriend back home. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few months, it’s that guys that hot might not be worth the flirtation.

Marissa takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Of course. I’m trying to be less judgmental this year, you know. A good journalist knows the meaning of nuance. I’ll get it added right away.”

I bend to give her a quick hug goodbye, but she’s already turning back to her computer, so it turns into an awkward half-crouch kinda thing—but with Marissa, I’ll take it.

Next on the list is scouting homecoming vendors, so I head for the parking lot. But in between praying my car doesn’t have any issues today and vaguely wondering if we should interview Tyler’s old team for some juicy background details, I’m not paying nearly enough attention to my surroundings.

I should know better.

“Hey! Sabrina! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I freeze. My momentary distraction has cost me.

I turn slowly, coming face-to-face with that crooked grin and long waves that have gotten bleached an even brighter blond by the summer sun. “Hey, Ryan.”

He leans against my car, much more at ease than someone who’s been left on read for days logically should. It’s almost admirable. “Hamilton Lakes missed you this summer. How was your trip?”

That grin almost, almost melts me. There’s something so uncomplicatedly charming about Ryan, with his summer tan and easy insistence that nothing in life can possibly matter more than enjoying yourself. It almost makes me believe it myself. Hard not to, when you’re faced with his shrugging, hands-in-pockets, slouchy posture and constant smile.

I feel a pang of guilt at dodging him. “It was good. South Carolina’s pretty. But I’m, um, sorry I haven’t responded to you. It’s been super busy ever since I got back.”

And all I’ve heard from my dad since he dropped me at the airport was when he sent me a photo of Lisa kissing his cheek at the beach, which, to be honest, was the last thing I needed to see. The thought strengthens my resolve—I can’t talk to Ryan about that stuff, so what’s the point in getting further entangled?

He shrugs. “I get it. But we should catch up sometime.”