how to catch feelings

3

Cole texted immediately after I posted the brief.

"That's crazy," he said. "About Dax."

"Yeah."

"Team dynamics are gonna be different."

Oh, right. Dax was on the baseball team too. "Probably. ☹"

"Crazy."

"For real."

And that was it.

Okay, so I was probably just totally crazy.

Right?

I went back to the dorm, ignoring all the buzzing from my phone. No doubt my post on the newspaper's Facebook page was blowing up.

Meg and Damaris were sitting on the couch when I walked in.

They both looked at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked.

Meg shrugged and went back to eating her mac n cheese.

"Just thought maybe you'd have talked to Cole," Damaris said.

"I did."

Raised eyebrows from both of them, which I ignored.

I just wanted to put my pjs on and have dinner.

My phone buzzed again. I checked it that time – you know, different buzzes – and saw it was another Tik Tok notification.

Just a video from Meg.

I tossed my phone on the bed and went back down to the kitchen to make pasta.

***

Newspaper production on Sunday was long.

First issue back, new editor to train, document design bugs to work out.

I finally got back to the dorm closer to three, leaving me with four hours to relax before I had to go back for our staff meeting.

I popped some chick nuggets in the oven and went into the living room to sit with the girls.

Both were already reading for their classes. Those crazy nursing students, man.

I went on Tik Tok, as one does nowadays, scrolling and scrolling and eating mt chicken nuggets and scrolling some more. If I found a really good one, I'd send it to Cole, but it had to be really good.

I wasn't going to send him just any Tik Tok.

Only the best of the best.

Eventually it came time to go back to the office – and leave me alone for being on Tik Tok for that long, like you haven't done it yourself, you smug egg.

Of course everyone was talking about the murder in every spare moment, before the meeting, in whispers during story assignments, after the meeting.

They wanted to know if I had any other information.

I did not.

"You're more than welcome to poke around," I told one of our returning sophomores, "but the university isn't saying much."

I'd rather have myself or one of the editors follow the story, but, watching them sit grouped at the far end of the table, essentially ignoring the reporters after having volunteered for a collective two assignments, I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Oh well. Trent could probably handle it.

And if not, no biggie.

My antidepressants said we weren't going to worry about that just yet.

***

The first week of classes was, as it usually is, surreal.

Going to class, listening to the prof talk about the syllabus and how hard the projects will be and how you'll get flunked if you don't participate. Dreading the next fifteen weeks and wondering what the hell you got yourself into.

And then, the added bonus of everyone on campus buzzing about the murder.

And I mean everyone.

Cafeteria staff. Students. Professors.

The baseball team was apparently besides itself, planning some elaborate memorial service for that Friday.

I could only imagine it would end in DUIs and a police brief about a busted party.

I walked back to the dorm, taking the long way that went past all the buildings and over the bridge.

"Natalie! Wait up!"

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised and confused that anyone would be addressing me.

Cole.

"Hey, Nat," he said, jogging up next to me. He slowed to match my pace. "I'm sure you heard about the memorial tomorrow."

"Yup."

"Are you going?"

Side-eye for that. Did I seem like a party person?

"Right. Okay, well, I just thought... I'll be there, if you change your mind."

"Alright. Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem."

The part that always stumped me – carrying on a conversation. "So... how are your classes so far?"

He laughed. "Horrible. Try taking math with a prof with the thickest Russian accent you can imagine."

"Oof."

"Yeah. How about yours?"

"Meh. They're not great. But I guess they'll be alright."

"That's a mood."

We were almost at the split in the path, and I knew I'd be going left and he'd be going right.

Convo over.

"Well, let me know," he said.

"For sure."

"Okay. See ya."

"See ya."

***

I was just stupid enough to mention the memorial to the girls.

"Well, you obviously have to go," Damaris said.

"And why's that?" I stood up on my chair, reaching for the fairy lights, all for no particular reason. Sometimes, when you're short, you just have to.

"Cole invited you," Meg said. "Sounds like he wants to hang out."

"I don't do parties."

"Girl. None of us do parties. All the more reason to go."

We'd reached our fourth year of college without attending a single party, and Meg and Damaris were positively itching to go to at least one before they graduated. Me, on the other hand... I'd be fine going my entire life without attending a party consisting of drunken college students singing Dua Lipa.

"Meh."

"Come on... We'll all go. It'll be fun."

"I dunno."

"Right, yeah, your idea of fun is sitting on the floor playing Uno Flip and drinking Moscato out of a frog cup."

"You do it too," I said pointedly.

"Fine. But come on, Nat. It's just one party. Just one night."

"I have newspaper stuff to do."

"No, you don't. We all know you're free until Sunday morning."

Sad times when your roommates have your schedule memorized.

"Fiiine. But I'm only going for a little while. And I'm not drinking."

"Lit!" Damaris and Meg high-fived.

*** ***