Page 6 of Catching Feelings

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” No wonder he didn’t hear me knocking.

He tugs them off and finally takes a giant step back. “What are you doing here?” he asks, eyes flicking around the empty locker room.

“Me?” My voice is higher pitched than I’ve ever heard it. “What are you doing here?”

His whole face creases in befuddlement. “I was in the shower?”

“I called out! I knocked! A lot!” It is imperative that this guy know I was not trying to sneak up on him in the shower. How do I make him understand I was not trying to sneak up on him in the shower?!

That’s when I remember the flyers and almost collapse in relief. I bend to pick them up, which has the added advantage of avoiding looking directly into the pecs of one of the most built football players I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Unfortunately, he stoops to help me. Chivalrous, I’ll give him that, but he has to clutch the towel at his waist with one hand to keep it from falling open, and, oh God, that thought is extremely distracting, and is this locker room especially steamy or—

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” he says. “I—the headphones—I put them on when I got out—”

“Why are you still here?” I ask, my voice plaintive even to my own ears.

His is defensive. “I was practicing late! And it’s nice to have the showers to yourself!”

“If I had the showers to myself, I’d be playing my music out loud!”

“Felt presumptuous,” he mutters.

And then we reach for the last flyer at the same time, and his fingers brush mine, and I almost drop the whole stack again.

He looks up at me, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile, and suddenly the ridiculousness of this whole situation is bubbling up inside me and I have to bite back the laughter. “Presumptuous,” I echo. “Yeah. You’re definitely the presumptuous one in this scenario.”

His lips twitch again, his face shifting into something goofy despite his intimidating stature.

I straighten up, holding out the stack of flyers for him. He stands a beat later, accepting them automatically. “For the team,” I say as I back toward the door. My whole face is ablaze, and I suddenly wish I were wearing something cuter than cutoffs and an old tank top.

“O… kay?”

I wave goodbye with both hands, for some reason, and then I’m through the door and can take in a big lungful of fresh air. I close my eyes for one brief oh shit, what just happened? moment before opening them and booking it across the field at double speed. No time to savor the quality of light on the goalposts or the crows circling the trees when you’ve just mortified yourself in front of an extremely attractive guy. Where did he come from? Who is he? And why, oh why did he have to be wearing headphones?!

I’m breathless by the time I climb into my car and jam the keys in the ignition. The engine turns over once, twice, three times.

“Not today, Satan,” I mutter under my breath. After being handed down from my aunt to my cousin to me, this damn car is on its last legs and has been giving me trouble for over a year now. But today is definitely not the time for it to break down. Not when I need to make a clean getaway and consider fleeing the town entirely.

When the engine finally catches, I heave a sigh of relief and peel out of the parking lot as if the guy is chasing me.

It’s only when I hit the familiar shops of Main Street that my breathing stabilizes and my heart rate slows. And that’s when my brain starts working again.

Okay, so we had an awkward meeting. Big deal! That’s never gotten me down before. Embarrassment is a state of mind. I am certainly not going to let myself get flustered by another hot football player. They’re a dime a dozen, and it’s not like I haven’t had my share of encounters with them over the years.

The way his afterimage is burned on my retinas doesn’t mean anything. Just that I was taken by surprise, and anyone would be a little hot and bothered after a face-first encounter with that much muscle. A girl can appreciate some nice aesthetics, can’t she?

Besides, there’s something more interesting to think about here. I turn on the radio, clicking to the local college station, and start bobbing my head to the beat of the pop remix they’re playing. A smile spreads across my face as I crowd out the pulse-racing electricity of that meeting with a fresh project.

There’s a new football player in town. One I don’t know about.

I manually crank down the window and let the breeze run its fingers through my hair as I start a new mental list. There are stories to unravel, special talents to discover, and a new player to celebrate.

It’s my Spirit Committee duty to welcome the guy to town, isn’t it?

4. TYLER

Wednesday practice is grueling—we’re practicing hits, since we’re not yet on a Friday-night football schedule and don’t need to worry about battering one another too much. The first day of full-padded practice was always one of my favorites of the season, second only to the first game. The thump of pads colliding, the kinetic shock of it, the way it jolts all anxiety from your system… it always made me feel like myself.