Page 56 of Catching Feelings

The freshman—Ella, I think?—bites her lip. “Are you sure? It’s not exactly good news, and you look kinda stressed…”

“Ella.” I’m nervous now. “What is it?”

“The theater,” she blurts. “They had a huge plumbing issue this weekend. Flooded everywhere, carpet soaked, they’re going to need to close it for a few weeks to replace everything.” Her eyes are wide and terrified. “They’ll probably contact you today, but my dad works there, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. I figured you’d want all the time for a backup plan that you could get.”

Bile rises in my throat. There’s only a week to the homecoming dance—what are we going to do? What else is available at this point?

My brain is all static, pushed over the edge by this latest disaster.

Ella coughs politely. “There is a backup plan, right? I have the cutest dress…”

My smile strains, and the knot in my gut gets tighter. “Of course. There’s always a backup plan. Even to the backup plan.”

Which is usually true.

Ella smiles in relief before waving goodbye, thumbs already working the keyboard on her phone as she walks away. My smile falls as soon as her back is turned.

What I wouldn’t give to drop a problem in someone else’s lap and just know it’ll all be okay. Why would this freshman know I’m currently feeling like I’m held together by a thread as fragile as the ribbons in my hair? Usually, I’m proud to wear a brave face and keep it all together. But today I wish I could fall apart and trust someone will be there to pick up the pieces.

Another problem I need to fix, when I just want to hide from everything. All I wanted to do this weekend was ask my mom if she could take a day off so we could do a rom-com and ice-cream night and I could confess everything into the soft nook between her neck and shoulder. The way I used to do when I was little, before I started keeping my problems from her.

Honestly, the person I’ve felt most comfortable unloading to this year has been… Tyler.

My eyes sting embarrassingly as I turn the corner toward my first period. And that’s exactly the problem. I texted Tyler a million more times:

you okay?

what happened with Ryan?

can we meet up Monday morning?

He didn’t answer any of them, and I can’t stop checking my phone, and I am not normally like this. Is he freaking out? Because Ryan saw us making out?

I flush. I mean, he really saw us making out. But so what! I thought Tyler was a big, bad football player! He can handle a little embarrassment, right? Can’t he have one awkward conversation with his cousin?

Never mind that I’ve been very much avoiding any of those same awkward conversations.

I frown, only vaguely recognizing that people are waving and saying good morning to me as I weave through the halls. I wave back without caring who I’m waving to, stomach churning with anxiety, lost in spiraling thoughts.

Do I need to go over to the Thompsons’ myself to make peace with both of them? The thought makes me want to vomit, but it might be the only path left. God, how do I have that conversation without causing even more drama? Is Ryan feeling totally betrayed? Is Tyler? And what the hell am I going to do about homecoming?!

Then someone snags my elbow, and I spin around, heart in my throat. I’m half expecting broad shoulders and deep chocolatey eyes and the scent of eucalyptus, but instead it’s Marissa.

In a… trench coat?

I take a deep breath, trying not to look disappointed. And then I frown in curiosity. A trench coat is not her usual aesthetic, and I gotta say, it’s not her most flattering look. Is she trying something new?

“Morning,” I say, doing my best to smile. “What’s up—”

“Not here.” Marissa cuts her eyes side to side and drags me around the corner, toward the much quieter hall leading to the library. My breath catches. This hall reminds me of grabbing Tyler by the hand and dragging him over to the reference books, and I shake my head to dislodge the memory of his fingers in my hair and his strong arms around my waist.

We’ll talk. Soon. And everything will be okay.

I take a deep breath. “What is going on?”

I half expect her to say something like, The walls have eyes, or There are enemies everywhere, based on how shady she’s acting. But instead she says, “I’ve been trying to figure out what went on at Tyler’s old school. Like you asked me.”

“Oh.” I blink, my brain hastily rescrambling. I’d completely forgotten I even made that request, and I’m torn between rabid curiosity and a weird feeling of disloyalty. Do I even want to know anymore, now that Tyler and I have gotten so close? It feels weird to be poking around behind his back. But—