Page 14 of Catching Feelings

I blink. “I’m with… sorry, who?”

“Tyler Holloway? He’s the new football player? You’ve heard about him for sure—apparently, he’s single and very cute.”

“He is.” I stare into the swarm of bodies in the parking lot, not seeing a single one. The only image in my mind is one tall, broad, half-naked football player. “I did the interview for the website.”

“Oh!” Naomi blinks at me. “Then… why do you not sound excited to be his buddy? I thought you’d like being paired with the new football player. You always keep an eye on the athletes.”

“Especially the cute ones,” Kara says with a raised brow.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay, guilty as charged—but I always keep it flirty without getting too serious! Ryan is my first miscalculation!” I groan. “Speaking of which, you’ll keep an eye out for him today, won’t you? I cannot fend off another homecoming invitation. I just want to enjoy my first day.”

Naomi watches me with wide eyes, the social media encyclopedia in her brain getting a brand-new entry. Thank God she’s one of my ride-or-dies, or that information could really be weaponized against me. “So… you’ll show Tyler around?”

“Right.” I give myself a firm mental shake. “Of course.”

You got this, Sabrina. You survived last year, even when Dad’s lies were emerging and Mom’s stability was crumbling—you spent your summer in strategic solitude, pasting every last crack back together—and you returned better than ever. You are not going to let one awkward interaction get the best of you.

By the time Tyler climbs the school steps, I’m already there, smile firmly in place. Kara even fixed the blue bow wrapping my ponytail. I’m invincible.

The sight of our new offensive lineman doesn’t rattle me at all, even if he rises head and shoulders above everyone else. He really does have the build for football—and every ounce of it is muscle, as I know all too well.

I bite my lip, repressing the memory of running into his bare chest for what feels like the four billionth time this week. Not rattled at all, I repeat to myself.

“Good morning,” he says, ducking his head in greeting as he climbs the steps. “You need anything else for your website? It sure seems like you got enough content.”

There’s an edge there, but I’m too frazzled to figure it out. “I’m your buddy,” I blurt.

He frowns. “My what?”

“Your first-day buddy. My job is to show you to your classes, make sure you know where you’re going, what halls to avoid when, where your locker is, how not to piss off the office ladies.” I smile my practiced head-of-the-Spirit-Committee smile, optimistic and helpful and not at all flustered.

It’ll take a lot more than a hot football player to do that.

There’s gratitude in his eyes, but Tyler shakes his head. “That’s awfully nice of you, but I don’t want to impose. I don’t need a tour guide. I’ll figure it out.”

I raise a challenging eyebrow and prop my hands on my hips. “I’d like to see you last two minutes at Hamilton Lakes without getting lost. Come on, Mr. Wayfinder, or you’ll be late for first period.”

I lead us through the front doors without even checking to be sure he’s following me. There’s something nice about him not wanting anything from me—which Kara would probably psychoanalyze, but whatever. Right now, I’m feeling light and in control.

Or maybe it’s the fact that there’s an extremely hot new football player whose eyes are locked on me as we weave through the first-day crowds.

I know the halls of Hamilton Lakes High are nothing special, but they’ve always seemed kind of romantic to me. The lockers scratched with graffiti from previous owners, the smell of artificial lemon disinfectant, the tall windows casting dappled shadows from the trees outside… Maybe I watched too many teen movies as a kid.

Or maybe this school has always been the place where I could be whoever I wanted to be, separate from whatever drama was going on outside these walls. Maybe that’s what gives it a special glow.

I keep sneaking looks at Tyler. Is it anything special to him, or just another school?

But he keeps his eyes straight ahead, facing deliberately forward. Almost determinedly. As if he’s trying not to make eye contact with anyone else.

And that’s when I notice that he actually creates a wake in the hall behind him, people moving to the side and watching him pass. He ducks his head bashfully, and a slight flush rises on his cheeks with every additional step we take.

“Hi, Tyler!” a girl calls as we pass her locker.

He raises a hand awkwardly. “Do you know her?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “Never seen her in my life.” He casts me a wry smile. “Your website must get some serious traffic.”

“Especially when there are hot, single, new football players on there.”