Page 37 of Catch Me If You Can

Thirty seconds of misery later, my body’s trembling and my libido is officially gone. Good.

I kill the water and step out, drying off fast. My hair's still dripping when I hear Caleb’s voice through the door.

“No, I know, dad. I know.”

His tone’s tight, agitated. I freeze for a second, towel around my waist.

“Yeah, I’ll be there Monday.” His voice gets lower, more tense. “No, I haven’t seen her yet. Yes, I’m sure she will.”

I step out quietly, and find him pacing the room, phone pressed to his ear. His free hand rakes through his hair over and over.

When he sees me, he stops—and stares.

I realize then I’m still basically naked, towel barely holding on, water trickling down my chest. His eyes linger a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

Right. Becausethatisn’t awkward.

I rush past him toward my suitcase and pretend like I didn’t notice.

I check the time—close to 9 p.m. Wherever Sarah’s headed, she’s probably already on her way.

Caleb’s still on the phone, muttering responses. I can’t help but eavesdrop. The way he’s tense, guarded—it’s like his dad’s calling the shots on every move he makes.

Even about Sarah?

Is his dadthatinvolved? That explains the pressure. The way Caleb tries to please everyone.

I pull on boxers, toss the towel, and get dressed in a navy button-down and beige cords. When I turn around, Caleb’s marching toward me, phone in hand.

“So, Sarah’s going to a club called Sweeties tonight.” He shows me her story.

She’s with another girl I don’t recognize—dark skin, long black braids, both of them smiling with colourful drinks in hand. The caption reads:Sweeties with my sweetie tonight!with a kissing emoji.

“Well, at least we know where they’ll be.” I give a half-smile.

“Yeah. Remind me to give her a talk about internet safety,” Caleb says, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

We fall into silence.

His gaze lingers on mine again—and this time, itfeelsdifferent. Not awkward. Not tense.

Warm.

I should feel weird. But instead, I feel... seen. Like something unspoken is finally making itself known.

Shit.

“So, are we going to talk about—” I start.

“We don’t have to,” he cuts in, a small smile playing on his lips. “How about we just... get out of here. Grab a drink. Go find our girl.”

He winks.

“My girl,” I shoot back, matching his energy.

A flicker of something—jealousy? pain?—crosses his face. It’s gone so fast I almost doubt I saw it.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” He smirks, then turns toward the bathroom.

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