Page 57 of Catching Feels

I look up and see not one single star, but fuck it. “You’re right; they’re stunning.”

“I love the stars.”

“Who doesn’t?” Hudson asks and looks up. He cocks his head then looks at me. I shrug, and he smiles. “Favorite constellation. Go.”

“Any of you say the Big Dipper, and you’re kicked the fuck out of the astronomy club,” Bennett warns us.

“Canis Major,” AJ answers.

“Why?” Bennett asks.

“Because everyone else says Orion.” He shows us his phone and winks.

“Fair.” Bennett yawns and sits up as he looks at Hudson “Yours?”

“Virgo.”

“Why?” he asks.

“I feel like we should be studying,” Fawna whispers, and AJ slides his phone to her.

“Two of my favorite things—virgin goddesses and justice.”

“Hmm,” Bennett mumbles.

“Yours?” Hudson asks.

“I could never pick just one.” He reaches out his hand. “Help me up, man. I’m tired.”

Nour stands from his squatted position and helps him up.

“Sleep good, man,” Hudson calls to him.

“You, too.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, AJ mouths, “What the fuck?”

“He’s going through some shit.” Hudson nods. “Like, yeah, y’all need to keep an eye on that.”

12

Blooms

Jillian

Lying in bed, scrolling through the family text chain with dozens of pictures and videos Mom has sent since she began her gardening projects, seeing just how happy she is, it makes me miss her but not in a summer camp kind of way; in a way that lends hope to the fact that being benched for a year isn’t the end of the world. It’s what I do this year that matters most.

There’s also a part of me that questions if my decision to pass on Montana was a mistake. It wasn’t shocking, per se, to see Hudson show up here and Mom staying back in Central New York, but it was more a thought-inducing revelation. If Mom can have her own space, peace, time—whatever you may call it—then it makes me feel less guilty or selfish about wanting that, too. Kind of a Harts-won’t-break-when-they’re-apart discovery.

We’re all happy at the same time. I’m no longer a virgin and have quickly realized that my theory is correct—sex and the desire for that feeling with a partner, and not solo, is some kind of voodoo shit, for sure. I can see how it may fool people who have been manipulated by society and its norms that you need a man to truly be happy. I’m living proof that it’s not.

The man who punched my V-card is ever present, right there within arms’ reach, and I’m not pining over him. I’m not lying in bed, wishing he were next to me. I mean, yeah, I’d like him facedown between my legs again, but that’s a physical desire. I may not be the most experienced girl in the world or have been in love myself, but I’ve seen the good and the bad caused by the diluted view some have about it. I would take an orgasm over a man bringing me flowers any day. I can buy my own damn flowers, but I am not flexible enough to do what Nour Uyar did with his tongue to myself.

I’m no different after having a real dick inside me. I’m me with a new life experience under my belt. More knowledge and insight. I’m Dorothy at the Emerald Castle, having just unveiled the Wizard. But, unlike her, I’m not surprised that I’m not all twisted up about my discovery. I’m further liberated.

Knowledge truly is power.

Mom started a new chapter and is living a new experience. She’s in her home, in an empty nest situation, and she’s happy, thriving, growing … flowers and vegetables, something she always wanted to do.

---