Page 83 of The Art of Catching Feelings

After the loss, she also headed to the clubhouse for a quick interview with the starting pitcher. Several of the players jostled her as they went by—not in a rude way, but just in the inevitable way when everyone is headed to the same place. For the first time, it occurred to her to wonder if Chris had told anyone about what had happened between them. Randy, at the very least, probably knew. And if Randy knew, that meant the entire team knew. She hadn’t gotten a weird vibe off anyone yet, but it slowed her steps a little bit, made her less confident as she moved toward the dugout.

But even after a few minutes among everyone else, she knew he hadn’t said anything. For one thing, why would he? As far as she could tell, he was doing a bang-up job of pretending like it had never happened. He was back to his old stoic self, his face not giving away any hint as to what he might be feeling. Then for another thing, a word from him could be enough to poison the entire team against her, and somehow she just knew he wouldn’t do that.

Still, if this was how the rest of the season was going to be—the tense silence, the way her heart seemed to live permanently in her throat—it was going to be a long one.

With everything else, it had completely slipped Daphne’s mind that tonight was when Chris had unveiled the new walk-up song after the fan vote. Her own initiative, and she’d barely paid attention to what the selection had ended up being or even whether it had played during the game. She had notes from Greg that she was supposed to get a quick quote from Chris about the song, what he thought about the choice, how he thought it was going to help pump him up, that kind of thing. She could think of nothing she wanted to do less.

By the time she got to him in the clubhouse, he’d already taken off his jersey, was only wearing the navy athletic shirt he wore underneath. He was sitting on the bench, messing with his glove in some way, and it was only when she got closer that she realized he was cleaning it with a paper towel and a bottle of hand sanitizer. He must’ve retrieved it from the trash can.

She cleared her throat from behind him, and he turned, looking over his shoulder at the sound. There was a split second when his face was open and waiting—just ready to talk to whoever had come up to him—but then it quickly shuttered again when he realized it was her. He set the glove a little away from himself on the bench, like he didn’t even want her looking at it, and stood up.

God, he was tall. She knew that already, of course. But he seemed extra tall now, looking down at her with those hazel eyes and those eyelashes and that mouth that once again was back to looking like it had never known a smile a day in its life.

“I’m supposed to talk to you about the walk-up song thing,” she said.

He just looked at her, and for a moment she almost imagined he was taking her in the same way she’d been taking him in. Thathe was cataloging every detail about her face, that he couldn’t help staring at her mouth. But then he glanced away, and she realized she’d been silly to even imagine it. He hated her now. If he’d been looking at her at all, it was probably just to remember how angry he was with her, how much he resented having to talk to her.

“Okay.”

That was all she was going to get out of him, she realized, so she waved the cameraman over and waited until he’d framed the shot before she pasted on the brightest smile of her own that she could muster. “I’m here with Chris Kepler, who had the chance to unveil a new walk-up song tonight, chosen byyouat home in a fan vote that got quite heated in the last round of voting. Chris, how do you feel about what the fans chose for you?”

“It’s great,” he said, and he wasgoodat this. He switched into Chris Kepler, Professional Athlete so well that for a moment she was only relieved that he wasn’t looking at her the way he had before. He was neutral, a vaguely positive shade of neutral, and even that was like taking a long drink of water after being in the desert all night. He said two words and she wanted to cry.

“I’m not that surprised ‘Eye of the Tiger’ won,” he said. “It’s a classic for a reason.”

Wait. What? Daphne wished she had her notes in front of her, but she’d started handing them off to the cameraman in situations where she knew her hands would be in the shot. She’d been feeling more confident lately, more able to think on the fly if she needed to. But now she was struck speechless.Thathad been the song that won? It had been one that Chris had thrown out there as one of his picks, and he’d told her that it was only because he was having such a hard time thinking of anything else, so why not.

It was her turn to speak, to ask some question that would garner one more sound bite about how the song really fired him up, or thanking the fans for their input. But she didn’t know what to say.

Chris was definitely looking at her now. She was sure it was in awhat’s wrong with you?kind of way, but she couldn’t even make eye contact. She gave a helpless glance to the cameraman, likecan we just start over?

“I was worried about this song,” Chris said finally. “Not going to lie. It’s so iconic, and when you go out and have a night like I had tonight…but then I remembered that the whole point of the firstRockymovie wasn’t that he won, but that he went the distance. I think this team has a lot of fight in it.”

Daphne tried to sayI agree, but what came out of her mouth was more of a choked guttural sound than actual words.

“Although the song wasn’t used untilRocky III,” Chris continued after a pause. “I grew up in Philadelphia watching those movies with my brother and he would’ve had my ass if I didn’t correct the record on that point.” Now it was Chris’ turn to glance at the cameraman. “Sorry. He would’ve wanted me to correct the record on that point, is what I meant to say.”

Daphne tried to pull it together enough to do her job at least. If he was able to be professional and talk about the song like none of the past few days even mattered, then surely she could do the same. “Well,” she said, addressing the camera. “A little appreciation for his new song and a movie history lesson all at once. Thank you, Chris.”

If she had any fantasy that he’d be different with her now, that the interview indicated a softening of his attitude toward her, she was quickly disabused of that notion once the camera was off. He scooped up his glove from the bench and, without even a glance in her direction, headed out of the locker room and toward the hallway where all the training facilities are. Daphne had never been back that far—she’d never had any reason to.

I still think you should try to talk to him again, Kim had said, but Daphne didn’t see how she’d crack through his reserve evento set up a time to talk, much less get through the whole conversation. Maybe if she could interview him, if there were a microphone and a camera between them. Even then, all she’d get would be that same polite Interview Chris from when she’d taken the job. And if it came to a staring contest, she knew she’d blink first.

But it kept her up that night, after she finally got home and fed Milo, crawled into bed, and put on an old sitcom with the volume low just to try to tune out her thoughts. When she looked back on that horrible scene in his condo, she didn’t know that shehadbeen able to fully explain everything. Despite the fact that she’d been waiting for months for the other shoe to drop, when it finally did, she’d been taken completely by surprise. She’d barely been able tothink, much less get the words out that would help him to understand where she’d been coming from, why she’d done what she’d done.

Maybe there was no explanation. She knew that. Maybe anything she said would just be an excuse, maybe it would make Chris even angrier, if he bothered to listen at all. But she didn’t want to leave it without at leasttrying. Even if it didn’t change anything about the way he felt about her, maybe it would help to answer some questions. If she could give that kind of closure at the very least, she wanted to do it. For him, but also for herself.

She reached out to grab her phone off her nightstand, closing her eyes momentarily against the harsh bright light of the screen. It was already three thirty a.m., but she sat up, switching on the lamp so she could settle in. She knew she had a lot to say.

THIRTY-NINE

Walking away from Daphne after that interview had been one of the hardest things Chris had ever done. He didn’twantto walk away. There was a yearning, desperate part of him that wanted the complete opposite. It had been hard to even stand that close to her, the smell of her hair, the map of freckles on her skin. He felt like he could still see the imprint of his hands everywhere they’d touched. He saw her frowning down at her notes and wondered if it was anything he could help her with; he saw her smile at the cameraman and wondered if she was already past their relationship. When she’d stumbled during her questions, something in his chest had clenched, and suddenly he was rambling aboutRockymovies just to try to bail her out. She was still Daphne.

But she was alsoDuckie. There was a time when he would’ve wanted nothing more than to be standing next to her—to know what she looked like, to be able to see her in person and get to know her better in a real way that went beyond text exchanges. But that was before. Now he didn’t know how to feel—about DuckieorDaphne. He was angry.

He was hurt.

After getting wasted at Randy’s house that night after he’d found out, Chris had ended up crashing at Randy’s place for thenext couple of days. He hadn’t intended to do that, but the idea of going back to his empty condo after Daphne left made something twist in his gut, and so he’d passed out on Randy’s couch and then overstayed his welcome. Not that Randy had seemed to mind—he’d even asked Chris at one point what was going on, but Chris had waved him off, slurring something about how he just needed to unwind a bit. Or at least that’s what Chris hoped he’d said. He didn’t fully remember all of it.

---