how to catch feelings

4

I was seventeen minutes and thirty-five seconds into a YouTube video haul of thrift flips when I got a notification from Tik Tok.

More specifically, a notification regarding a message from Cole.

You'd better believe I ditched the YouTube video to see what he said.

He'd sent a Tik Tok from his profile, and a short text that made absolutely no sense: "Gin is the clout."

"What does that even mean?" I whispered into the darkness of my bedroom.

I clicked on the video.

Chickens, alright.

He set an egg on the ground.

"Day one of feeding my neighbors' chickens," he said.

Wait.

Or was it "day one of feeding my neighbors chickens"?

What?

I watched the video three more times over before returning to the DMs screen.

What was I supposed to say?

And what the hell was his text supposed to mean?

Fake it 'til you make it, right? I sent back the laughing emoji.

"Pods," he sent back.

What?

"Pods," he said again. "Pods!"

I one hundred percent hated myself for smiling like a fool, but I couldn't help it. "Pods?" I texted back.

"Meant to say oops. Damn autocorrect."

"Oh."

"And that was supposed to say 'chasing the clout.'"

I sent another laughing emoji.

God, Nat, you're so bad at holding conversations.

"I told the team to go watch and like all my videos," he said.

I didn't know how to respond. I'd seen most of his posts, but of course I hadn't liked them all. Couldn't come off as a creep, right? It's like when you scroll back through someone's Instagram and you have to be careful because if you like one of their posts from two years ago, they'll sure as hell know you were stalking them. Can't have that.

"IDK why yours don't have more likes."

My videos?

My what?

"IDK," I said. Fake it 'til you make it, fake it 'til you make it.

"You're hip."

Hip?

Okay, maybe I was just overthinking everything – which would be sad, because the antidepressant was working so well on that front until now – but did he just friendzone me?

It was like last summer all over again.

Wait.

Waaait.

But I wanted to just be friends, right?

I didn't want to make things weird.

No. Don't want to make things weird.

You're not girlfriend material, I told myself. You're great friend material, but you're not girlfriend material. You know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. That's how you've gone nearly twenty-two entire years being single as a Pringle.

Right.

So another laughing emoji it was.

Did I take too long to text back?

Good God, Nat, get a grip!

Forget it, forget it. It doesn't matter. We're just friends.

Just like that, the stupid-goofy smile had disappeared, replaced by a sinking feeling in my chest.

I hadn't meant to get my hopes up. I really hadn't. I'd never been in a relationship, and I probably wasn't anywhere near ready for one. You know what they say, you never know if you're choosing someone out of love or out of desperation until you're comfortable with being alone.

I liked to think I was pretty comfortable being alone, but I guess I could've done better.

I went back to YouTube.

He sent back a sad face a few minutes later. You know, the one with the frown and downturned eyes. Guess he sensed the change in mood as much as I had.

Then again, I was probably overthinking that too.

***

I went to the office in the morning, before either of the girls had gotten up.

There was no real need to go to the office, as stories weren't in for editing yet and ads wouldn't need to be placed on the InDesign pages until Saturday afternoon, but there had always been something comforting about being in that space.

It was a converted hallway, yes, nothing fancy about its white walls and row of tables with gigantic Macs, nor the three filings cabinets filled with old issues, the industrial printer, or the two old blue armchairs flanking the mini fridge.

However, there were a number of things about that room that made it feel like home. There was the bottom drawer of the one filing cabinet, home to McDonald's sauce packets and expired painkillers that had apparently "aged well," according to our previous editor-in-chief. There were the magazine clippings taped to the wall – inspiration for a paint job we would probably never take on. There was the infamous strip club ad on the whiteboard, earning its place of honor for getting said previous EIC in a whole crapload of trouble with the university administrators (still one of her proudest moments). There was the fish tank, where our "HR Representative" Gilbert Finley lived. There was the box of Goldfish crackers for mid-production snacks – or lunch on school days, if you were desperate.

And then, the subject of many editorial staff class projects – because let's face it, newspaper is life, and therefore it WILL bleed into your everything – the sign on the wall that read "Newspaper is Hard."

At some point, someone had done a small edit to make that "Newspaper is too Hard."

Not going to lie, I pondered that statement every time I punched in the code and entered that sad little room.

I fed Gilbert and settled myself in one of the armchairs.

No sooner had I pulled out my phone and opened 2048 than a notification popped up for Tik Tok.

Video from Cole.

I tapped on the notification, let it take me to my DMs.

Just another dog with bread on its face.

I sighed and switched back to my game.

*** ***