Page 42 of The Art of Catching Feelings

“He doesn’t even know that I work there, actually,” she said before she could think better of it.

Kim had been right in the middle of a big bite of chicken wing, and she still had some sauce on her face when she finally got the words out. “Come again?”

“I originally messaged Chris as duckiesbooks on Instagram,” she said. “I mean, we moved it to text, but. He knows me as duckiesbooks.”

Kim carefully wiped her face and each finger with her napkin, as though she needed the break to figure out what to say. “So he texts you as…what does he think your name is?”

Daphne felt her neck grow hot, and she knew it wasn’t from the chicken wings. She was a total wimp and always ordered mild. “Duckie.”

“But meanwhile you see him almost every day as…Daphne?”

“Yes,” she said. “Obviously I go by my real name at work.”

“I don’t think you get to use the wordobvioushere,” Kim said. “What were you thinking? This kind of dishonesty isn’t like you, Daph.”

She knew her friend was right. It was the reason she’d had a pit in her stomach for the past couple weeks, and it wasn’t going away. At the same time, she didn’t know how to explain herself without sounding pathetic. In so many ways, those text messages seemedlike the most honest version of herself there was. She liked having someone to reveal herself to, someone who seemed to relish that reveal like each new detail was something special. She liked getting to know him on a deeper level than she probably ever could’ve if they’d met face-to-face first.

“I know,” she said finally, pressing her fingers to her temples like this was a headache she could make go away. “God, I know.”

“Listen, you know I’m pro you getting back out there,” Kim said. “But, like, swiping right. Messing around. Dating even. Notcatfishing. And not with some guy you have absolutely zero chance of a future with.”

That got Daphne to lift her head. “What do you mean by that?”

“Come on,” Kim said. “He’s a professional athlete. He makes stupid money throwing a ball around and probably has just as many women throwing themselves at him. It’s nothing againstyou. It’s just…how’s it going to be when the novelty wears off, you know? And you’re stuck in another Justin situation where you worship the ground he walks on and he barely even thinks about you.”

Kim signaled the waitress for a refill on her drink, like she hadn’t just thrown a bomb in the middle of the table. And who knew. Maybe she was right. Maybe she saw the situation clearer than Daphne ever could.

—

The minute Daphne got back to her apartment, she unhooked her bra from under her thin tank, slid off the skirt she’d put on to go out, and put back on her favorite dinosaur pajamas. She curled up on her bed, grateful when Milo immediately jumped up to lie next to her, even if he did go with the butthole-in-her-face orientation he seemed to vastly prefer.

She didn’t like to think that the text conversations with Chris were just a novelty for him, but she supposed it was possible—that he was briefly taken with the idea of corresponding with someone who didn’t want anything from him as a baseball player, and it would wear off. These texts felt so real toher, but of course, she had the benefit of knowing who she was talking to. She had no idea how they felt to him.

Daphne grabbed her cell phone off her nightstand, opening up Chris’ last text. At this point, hours had passed since it had come in, and the words just sat there, seeming to have gained extra portent with the passing time.

Just got on the plane—made me think of you.

They were playing in Pittsburgh that week, so it wouldn’t be too long of a flight. Probably he would’ve already landed by now, which would mean he’d be asleep in a hotel room. Or he’d be down at the hotel bar with some of the other guys, letting women lean in and ask suggestive questions about rounding the bases. She’d heard stories, especially about the other single guys like Randy and Beau. She hadn’t heard any stories about Chris, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Kim had a point—he was a professional athlete. Daphne had no idea what that world looked like.

She was half-tempted to text him something suggestive herself, likejust got into bed—made me think of you. She even started to type it, before deleting the words. Who was she kidding. She could never pull that kind of thing off.

Instead she texted,You still around?

His response came in quick, a single word.Yup.

Now that she knew she had him, she just had to think of what she wanted to say. She was feeling almost too many emotions to express them all. She wanted to tell him everything, from the very beginning. She wanted to beg his forgiveness and tell him howmuch it would cost her to lose his friendship. Because itwouldcost her, so much that she felt a physical ache in her stomach at the thought.

Maybe it was that ache that made her type,I wanted to let you know how much it’s meant to me, to have someone to talk to. Not just someone—you. My days are easier to get through because I know you’re on the other end of these messages.

There was more she could say, but already it was feeling like a lot, so she pressed send.

C: Same. And it’s not just having someone for me, either. It’s you.

Well, fuck. She felt that stir in her lower belly, a confusing sensation alongside the churn of guilt his words also caused. What would he actually think if he knew she was…her?

D: If you knew me in real life, you wouldn’t say that.

C: I want to know you in real life. You have no idea how badly.

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