Page 67 of Catching Feelings

It emboldens me. “I’m working the closing shift at the Lakeside most days this week,” I say. I can’t help thinking about the last closing shift she visited. How much I want to rewind and have that conversation again. “In case you ever want to come and talk.”

Sabrina bites her lip. She looks torn, based on the sliver of her expression I can see, and the thought pierces me straight through the heart. “I’d like that. I’m just not sure when I’ll have the time this week, between getting this car fixed and salvaging homecoming.” She spits out the last word with bitterness.

I frown. “Homecoming? What happened?”

“We didn’t meet our fundraising goal.” She lets out a shuddery breath, shaking her head.

Oh shit. Fundraising for that thing has been her whole reason for living this fall.

Maybe her red-rimmed eyes aren’t just from thinking about us. A fierce protectiveness sweeps through me. All I want to do is make it better for her—but I don’t get that privilege anymore.

Before I can say anything, she meets my eyes in the rearview, and I’m struck entirely dumb. “But I’ll try to stop by.”

I only realize we’ve reached her house when Ryan slows to a stop. Sabrina tears her eyes from mine and slides out the front door. For a minute, I think she might run up the sidewalk without even saying goodbye—but then she turns and looks right at me, gaze unwavering. Hint of a smile. “Thanks for the ride.”

And then she whirls, ponytail a banner behind her, and disappears inside.

The pit of yearning in my chest is absolutely disgusting. Suddenly nothing sounds better than plating burgers and mopping floors at the Lakeside.

“Thank you, Ryan,” Ryan mutters as he pulls away. I think it’s supposed to be an imitation of Sabrina, though it sounds more like Mickey Mouse. “Thank you for the good talk, and for driving! But most of all, thank you for delivering me a chance to talk to the love of my life, Tyler Hollo—”

I scramble into the front seat—partly so I don’t feel like he’s my chauffeur, and partly to smack him. All that relief about coming clean to Ryan seeps away as the reality of his sure-to-be-eternal teasing sinks in. “All right, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But I do owe you a thank-you. I’m glad you and Sabrina figured things out.”

Ryan nods. “Me too. It was definitely shitty, the way you two didn’t fill me in. But I called Dawson, and he talked some sense into me. Same way I did for him once upon a time.” There’s a glimmer of a smile on his face. “He helped me see things from your perspective too. And I didn’t want to lose another friend, you know? It’s been kinda lonely here this fall. Dawson’s in Chicago, and Alex has Max, and…” He shrugs.

I frown, studying his profile as we drive underneath stripes of light and shadow cast by the streetlights.

I never would’ve considered Ryan lonely, but if this is how he’s been feeling, maybe he fooled me. He sure has a lot of acquaintances in Hamilton Lakes—enough to fill his house for every party—but between his busy parents, and his brother at college… maybe having me around meant more to him than I knew. More than just kindness.

“I’m sorry I kept blowing you off.” I look ahead, at the dark street unspooling before us. “That wasn’t cool. Let’s plan something this weekend—just the two of us. Because you’re not losing my friendship unless you want to.” My throat feels a little thick, and I swallow. Point a threatening finger at Ryan. “Not unless you move in on my girl.”

“Who, me?” He grins and pulls out onto Main Street again, and I slug him in the shoulder, and just like that, things are back to normal. But then his face clouds over. “Hey, did you know the homecoming news? That seriously sucks.”

I shake my head. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Guilt curdles in my stomach again. If I hadn’t fought with Sabrina, I could have been there when she found out. “You’re going with Haley, right?” I vaguely remember something about a flash mob, but I’ve been too consumed by my own shit this fall to pay attention to Ryan’s life.

Though to be fair, Ryan’s life is a lot to keep up with, especially when it comes to his flirtationships.

“Yeah,” he says, his frown deepening. He looks like he’s reflecting very hard about something, which is not typical Ryan behavior. That Sabrina conversation must have affected him more than I know. “If the problem is just where to hold the dance, it feels like we should be able to solve that, right? Why can’t we have it in the new hockey facility? It’s barely a year old!”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile. “Well, we can’t exactly have a dance on an ice rink. Would need to give everyone skates.”

But as we drive through the quiet streets of Hamilton Lakes, his comment gives me an idea…

30. SABRINA

That week, I do my best to focus on all the problems that need solving. I’m not willing to let homecoming go without a fight, so I make a laundry list of possible venues in my planner. It stretches over multiple pages, but as soon as I look into each of them, they get crossed off one by one. My notebook gains so many coffee stains, pages ripped through from violent crossing out, that it begins to resemble an artifact recovered from some madman’s lair.

I’m not sleeping more than a few solid hours a night, and whenever I wake up, my mind starts racing so fast, I can’t fall back into comforting unconsciousness. There’s more to do than time to do it in, I can’t come up with any real solutions… and I can’t stop thinking about Tyler.

The way he instantly arrived to help me out when my dumb car finally broke all the way down. The way he let Ryan and me talk, his hands in his pockets and back turned to give us privacy. The way he squawked from the back seat when Ryan started recounting the story of our aborted make-out session.

I frown, doodling in the margins of my to-do list. The idea of taking Tyler up on his offer to talk at the Lakeside is both intoxicating and terrifying.

The last time I witnessed an honest conversation about secrets and betrayal, it did not end well. I can still see my mom’s face scrunched up in hurt and anger, my dad’s wide eyes as he tried to backpedal out of his guilt. The weeks of fighting that ensued. The way they can’t even talk to each other anymore now.

I bite my lip, staring out the dark window. I’ve done everything to avoid another confrontation since. I’m not used to them making things better instead of worse.

But I got mad at Ryan—unfiltered, no-holds-barred, mad—and he actually apologized.