I Think This is Love

27: Pigtails

GABBY

I'm in for another sleepless night, tossing and turning while playing with the thermostat like it'll make a difference. But it's not the temperature that's keeping me awake. It's the conversation with Kevin—how it began and how it ended. Does he really think that? That I'm using him?

Come on now. Aside from that failed mall meet-up three months ago, he hasn't really done anything grand to push Francis and me together. The thing I can credit him for is his relationship with him because, as Francis puts it, Kevin's real friends are his real friends.

The idea of using him never seriously crossed my mind. Sure, I said yes at the start, but I haven't thought about it in forever. And, as much as being called a user annoys me, what hurts more is realizing I might be the only one who's accepted the shift in our relationship. Do I have unrequited feelings of friendship?

What a letdown.

I had unrequited feelings for a crush before, and now this?

I roll my eyes, shifting to my side as the pillowcase crinkles beneath me.

I... don't believe it. Kevin and I are on the same wavelength. He just needs a little space, and maybe it's my turn to show him how to create some healthy distance.

With a final sigh, I force myself to sleep. Somehow, I manage—barely. It's not the deep, restful kind, but at least time passes. Better than having my mind race the entire night.

When I arrive at the school, I learn that Kevin has skipped classes, which is unusual. I try to eavesdrop on conversations, hoping someone knows where he is, but everyone seems as clueless as I am. Even Jeff has no idea where Kevin's disappeared to. I consider texting him, but I hesitate—he's been ghosting me lately, and I really don't feel like being left on read again.

This is so frustrating. I actually have to shift how I'm sitting just to stop glancing at his empty chair. Like he's going to show up if I stare hard enough? I wish I could stop worrying about him already!

We're let out early, and with the season over, I don't have any club activities lined up. My friends head off in different directions, and before I realize it, my feet have led me to the gym. Honestly, I kind of wish we had practice today. Being part of something gave me a sense of purpose, made me feel seen. At least the team values my efforts.

As I've expected, no one's at the gym, not even the college team.

I inhale deeply, ready to head out when something catches my eye—a ball tucked under the bench near the court. I stroll over, grab it, and dribble my way—very ungracefully—to the free-throw line. I shoot, but it ricochets off the rim and bounces back toward me. I squeal, throwing my arms up to shield my face as it almost hits me.

"That's terrible."

I turn my head, immediately identifying the voice. Of course, it's him. The one person who would be so blunt with me.

"Kevin."

"What are you doing here?" he asks, tossing his bag onto the bench and stepping closer.

"What about you?" I shoot back. "You skipped class today."

Crestfallen, he keeps his lips sealed. He retrieves the ball and lines up a shot from the three-point line. It swishes through the net without a hitch.

"Why did you miss class? You don't look like someone who's sick," I press. "I'm not backing off this time, Kevin. You better just spill whatever's going on with you."

"Why do you care?" he huffs, resting his hands on his hips. "Ah, because we're friends?"

"Is that why you're pissed? Because I'm insisting that we are? Am I not good enough?" I snap. "You can just say what's on your mind. Stop playing games with me"