Page 3 of The Art of Catching Feelings
His eyes were in shadow, his batting helmet low over his forehead, but somehow she still felt his reaction like a punch to her stomach. His lips were slightly parted, like he was about to say something, his knuckles white where they gripped his bat. He wore the navy blue jersey of Carolina’s team,Batteryin stitched-on letters across the chest, and for some reason it onlythenhit her. She’d been yelling at the home team. Why would she yell at thehometeam?
Music pumped through the PA system, a swinging drumbeat, but still he just looked at her. And suddenly she couldn’t help but look athim—take in his broad shoulders and the way the fabric of his pants pulled tight over his thighs. Fuck, he washot.
He was also noticeably affected by her words. The way he waslooking at her made her feel ashamed for noticing his attractiveness now, made her regret that she’d shouted anything in the first place. It was like he saw right through her and didn’t even register she was there, all at the same time. She felt his focus as a shiver up her spine, and she waited for him to break the tension, tospeakand make the moment solidify into something concrete instead of just this unbearable crackle in the air. But instead he gave her one final glance before walking toward the game, ready to take his place at home plate. She was grateful he hadn’t said anything.
She had a twisted, masochistic need to know what he might’ve said.
“You got his attention!” Goatee cackled from beside her. “Now hopefully he steps up. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Daphne turned away, no longer as well disposed toward this hypercritical fan she’d been shouting with only minutes before. A thick wave of shame rolled through her, and she rested her elbows on her knees so she could lean forward and try to catch her breath.
“Oh my god,” Kim said from her other side. “Did that just—”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Daphne said, and Kim must’ve seen how close she was, because she didn’t say anything else. She just grasped Daphne by the elbow and helped her to her feet, guiding her through the crowd with more forceful words than she’d used to get in. No moresorryorexcuse me, now it was all,coming through, she’s sick, we need to leave. Behind her, Daphne was dimly aware that something must be happening, because the crowd stood up, a weird hush coming over everyone before the hum of conversation started again. She looked down before leaving the ballpark to see Chris Kepler striding away from home plate, head down, bat still in his hand. He’d struck out.
TWO
The first thing Daphne did when she got home was to get disgustingly, violently ill. Since she’d managed to keep it together in Kim’s car, she suspected it had less to do with the heat and the amount of alcohol she’d drunk on an empty stomach—although neither helped—and more to do with finally being alone and able to let it all out.
Andlet it all outis exactly what she did. Afterward, she left her clothes right there on the bathroom floor and turned on the shower, sitting in the tub while the water pulsed over her shoulders until she felt strong enough to stand up and grab the soap.
She could’ve stayed in the shower forever, except that it was one of the worst places for her thoughts. She couldn’t turn them off. They crowded her head, and the white noise of the running water did nothing to drown them out. She got out, fed her cat Milo, and wrapped herself in a thin satin bathrobe before turning on SZA as loud as she could without the neighbor complaining. The walls of her studio duplex unit were paper-thin. Sometimes she could hear when her neighbor had people over and they were chatting at the table she knew he had pushed against the shared wall behind her bed. The reciprocal problem was one Daphnenever had to worry about, since she never had anyone over to her tiny matchbox of a place.
She lay on top of her covers, trying not to think about what an absolute ass she’d made of herself at the game. It didn’t matter, right? Lots of people got drunk at sporting events and shouted at players. It was practically part of the experience. And sure, okay, normally those players may not be able tohearthem…but they got paid millions of dollars to put up with that kind of shit, right?
Except in that moment when their eyes had met, Chris Kepler hadn’t looked like an overpaid, untouchable celebrity. He’d looked like a guy. He’d lookedupset. Because of what she said.
But he wasn’t doing well in general. That’s what the toxic grandpa sitting next to her had been ranting about—so maybe it wasn’t about Daphne at all. Of course he was upset—his team was losing. She was an egomaniac if she thought anythingshecould say would have the ability to affect the way he felt.
Daphne rolled to her side, snuggling into her pillow. Chalk it up to a bad day. She’d had one; Chris Kepler had had one; but now it was almost over. And the good news was she didn’t have to think about any of this ever again.
—
A persistent ringing startled Daphne out of her heavy, dreamy sleep. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but the glimpse of sky through her one broken blind was black and the steam from her shower had cleared out of her small space.
She almost just threw her pillow over her head and went back to sleep. But then the ringing came again. Only this time it was even more piercing, if possible, like the person on the other end had turned up some volume button.
“Okay, okay,” she muttered, reaching to try to grab the phoneoff the nightstand without getting up. It was probably Kim. She’d texted after she’d gotten home, just to check in, but Daphne hadn’t been in much of a state to say anything other than that she’d be fine as long as she never had to get off the bathroom floor. She could see how that wouldn’t soundthatencouraging.
It was Donovan. Panic rose in her chest even as she accepted the call, her mind already skipping ahead to whatever this could be about. Their parents were traveling the country by RV right now, living their early-retirement dream. Had something happened? Or was it Layla—was she okay?
But Daphne barely had time to say hello before Donovan launched into it. “Daph, what thefuck?”
“What?”
It came out fluttery and scared. She was only half-awake, and still not sure why her brother was calling. Why he was practicallyyellingat her.
“Turn onSportsCenter.”
“I don’t have—” She didn’t even know where to start. Her “TV” was a large computer monitor, and she mostly used it to stream Spotify.
She could hear him muttering on the other end, and then her phone lit up with a text. “I just sent you a video. Call me back after you’ve watched it.”
And then he hung up.
Right from the title, Daphne’s heart sank.Chris Kepler gets heckled and breaks down, a breakdown.She clicked on the YouTube video, already dreading what she knew she’d see.
The Carolina Battery are playing the Toronto Blue Jays and the Jays are leading six to five in the bottom of the ninth. The Battery have two men on with one out, so they should be looking to tie the game at least, maybe a walk-off, right? Except they call onthisguy.
