Catching Feelings: Chapter One

Little black dress or comfy casual? A question for the ages. 

Biting my lip, I considered both outfits laid on my bed. On the one hand, the little black dress has the capacity to bring any man to his knees. Well, maybe not Chris Immani, but it would certainly give him pause. On the other hand, the combination of jeans and a standard button up—my usual wear—would indicate I didn’t care, couldn’t be bothered really, about attending his housewarming party. 

“Why are you even going to this event, Orelia?” Clementine demanded of me over video chat.

I rolled my eyes at my younger sister, staring back at me through my phone perched against a coffee mug on my dresser. Clem’s judgment could be felt all two-thousand miles away from where she sat at our parents’ home in Minnesota. 

“My friends are going,” I said with a shrug and considered the two outfits again. I had no business wearing the pretty black dress. No business looking like I cared. 

“Yeah, but you don’t actually like the host,” Clem pointed out in that annoyingly astute tone of hers.

Even with my back turned, I could practically see her raised brows and the judgy purse of her lips.

“Not the point, Clementine.”

“Yes, the point, Orelia.” Clem laughed, but got distracted by something on her side of the call and I took it as my cue to pull on jeans and the button up. I knotted the ends at mid waist, showing a sliver of my stomach which was mostly flat, but didn’t completely disguise my love of sweets.

“I don’t dislike the host,” I said and it didn’t sound convincing. Clem’s eyes flew back to the screen only to narrow at me. “He’s just not my favorite.”

“Whatever, you liar.”

“I don’t hate him,” I said, sticking my tongue out at Clem and trying to find the right words. “You know in your friend group when there’s one person you like less than everyone else?”

“Yeahhh,” Clem said slowly, smirking. No one could smirk like my middle sister. “Basically, you’re secretly hoping if you wait long enough, someone else will confess they also dislike Chris.”

Man, if only. 

The reality was so much worse. Everyone else loved the guy, and if I wanted to be objective, I might’ve been able to see it. Former pro-athlete, stupidly handsome, generally kind. 

Ugh, gag me, I thought as I nodded affirmatively at Clem. 

Why didn’t I like him? It was simple and petty and borne from insecurity. 

He didn’t like me.

He’d never outright stated it of course, that would be pretty unhinged since we shared the same friend group. Instead, we mutually determined never to talk about our first interaction, and have been faking a cool acquaintanceship ever since.

“What is it?” I asked, a flicker of concern making my stomach jump, when Clem’s end of the line went silent.

After a few moments of hesitation, she said, “Dad’s been gone twenty years this summer.”

I knew when she said Dad, she didn’t mean Mom’s husband Marcello. I bit my lip hard, not from an onslaught of grief, not from a welling of tears, but from discomfort and a familiar tendril of shame. We didn’t talk about our biological father. Clem and Cassidy did, but Mom and I…we hadn’t been there. And it was—. I cut myself off before any further thoughts could dampen my rapidly sinking mood.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told Clem even as my cheeks heated over my cowardice. 

“You never do,” Clem muttered, only half trying to conceal her words. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’m joining a play-in poker tournament tonight and it starts soon.”

Grateful for the change in subject, my shoulders loosened ever so slightly and I cobbled together a grin. “Look at you, hotshot. Good luck.”

“You too, O.”

A few minutes later I strode out of my condo and sighed in appreciation as I locked the front door. The balmy evening and warm breeze reminded me more of peak midwest summer than late spring. This should have been familiar after five years in southern California, but I wasn’t upset to still be finding joy in it and I let it lift my mood, shaking off Clem’s perceptiveness about Chris, about our father.

I left my condo on foot, because less than a mile down the road was where Chris Immani now lived. Where his surf school was now located. A not insignificant breath caught in my throat at the proximity and the irony when I’d spent the last five years doing everything I could to avoid being in the same room as him.

Chris found a beautiful property near the water in disrepair during a major dip in the housing market. A mixture of luck, pro surfing funds, and Chris’ willingness to remodel the house by himself had finally moved his surfing school from a meet-up-at-the-beach situation to actually having a homebase near the ocean. When I stepped into Chris’ driveway, skirting around a dozen or so cars parked outside his house, the familiar noise of my friends washed over me and the homeowner began to matter less. Instead of heading directly inside, I walked around the house as the sun began its slow descent over the water.

The outdoor space that spilled from the back patio to the beach was magnificent. And I knew from our group chat that Chris had built the porch. There were a half-dozen chairs and even more people spread out between the grill, the beach, and the outdoor shower on the farside of the house.

I knew exactly where Chris stood when I stepped around the corner, but forced my gaze to dance over him, and not linger. But after I’d scanned the porch, looking for familiar faces, my stare returned to him. Chris had warm brown skin, dark from the sun and his half-Haitian heritage, along with full lips and piercing green eyes. With dark hair falling in soft waves around his face, and the top section tied back in a half ponytail on his head, he looked every inch the surfer he was.

He turned away from the people he was talking to and his eyes found mine immediately, like he’d known exactly who was watching and from where. He didn’t raise a brow or nod in greeting as we held the stare for one, two. With our birthdays two weeks apart and just months from our thirtieth, we were definitely too old to be having staring contests. Yet neither of us looked away. 

“There you are,” came a familiar shout from behind and drew my attention. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Orelia Kane.”

I snorted at the way Theo emphasized my full name in a dramatic flare only he was capable of. Theo was golden skinned, blonde and had a jawline that could cut glass. His looks had gotten him through the door in Hollywood, but his dedication was doing the rest now. 

Belatedly, I wondered if Chris’ eyes would glint victoriously, but I forced myself not to look back. 

Very slowly and very suspiciously, I asked Theo, “What, pray tell, do you need me for?” 

Theo glanced over his shoulder and satisfied no one else was approaching, said quickly, “I have a specific wedding gift I want from you.”

He rubbed his hands together, nervously, uncharacteristically. 

“Okay,” I grinned, not bothering to hide my amusement. “What is it?”

“IwanttosaymyvowsinJapanese.” He said it all in one breath, laughed at himself and tried again. “I want my wedding vows to be in Japanese, but I don’t want to just memorize words, I want lessons. Scheduled lessons.”

“Awww,” I said, unable to help myself. “Ren will love that.”

Theo and Ren had been dating for nearly five years, and Theo tried on and off to learn the language because Ren was Japanese. Well, technically, he was British, but his family all hailed from Japan and although Ren could flit easily between cultures, he spoke almost exclusively Japanese with his family. And with me. Because it was fun to tease our friends who suspected we were trash talking them in a language they didn’t understand. 

And I could teach Theo, but—

“You don’t want to learn from Ren?” I asked. “He is actually Japanese. I’m just from Minnesota.”

Theo released a loud belly laugh and his face dropped to something panicked, as if the noise would draw attention. No one bothered to look our way as Theo’s personality had always been bold and loud and happy. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Theo said, cutting me off before I could finish. “You’ve studied Japanese for over half your life, and you’ve lived there, and you already work as a translator. Plus, if I learned from Ren, it would ruin the surprise.” Theo gave me puppy-dog eyes, which should absolutely not have been effective. 

“Okay, I’m in.” And immediately my mind started whirring at the possibility. “Weekly tutoring sessions at a minimum. And, well, what are you going to tell Ren you’re doing?”

“I don’t have any more projects until the winter, so I’m free as a bird. Chris suggested meeting here, at the surf house every Tuesday. We’ll tell Ren we’re surfing.”

Balking at the idea of doing this on Chris’ turf, I immediately turned to alternatives. “You don’t want to come over to my condo and study?”

Theo gave a sheepish half-smile. “I want this to be a surprise so badly, O. But, I’m pretty uncomfortable with lying to Ren about anything more than necessary. If we do it at the surf house, there’s at least some honesty to it.”

I sighed internally and melted just a little at Theo’s earnestness, relenting with a nod.

“Will we actually be able to surf?” I asked. 

Theo shrugged. “I suppose that depends on how well I do in our lessons.” 

Ren and Theo’s September wedding in London was heading towards us, full steam ahead. However, in the quiet, a new emotion was trying to make its way to the surface of my consciousness. One I recognized but didn’t understand. When the guys had gotten engaged the year before, sharing their happiness had been easy, but now, something that felt much too close to envy settled beneath my ribs. I didn’t like it one bit.

I’d been silent for too long, so I put on a big smile. “This is going to be great!”

Theo gave me a rib-breaking hug then turned back to the center of the party. I watched him head towards Ren and Chris. 

Chris was chatting with a group of people, some surfers I recognized, and his current girlfriend Jessica. There was a tightness in his face, barely perceptible, but one that indicated irritation and stress.

I sighed. I had no business trying to ascertain what Chris was feeling and why. That’s probably, potentially, more-than-likely, why I’d agreed to two shots of tequila from Theo and another mixed drink from Ren. 

Two hours later, my rumbling stomach forced me to step away from the pack, away from the party outside. I entered the house through the sliding glass door.

Several empty bottles of champagne littered the counter, but I aimed for the snacks on the kitchen island and circled the cheese trays as their natural predator. Overall, I’d always been a bitch with priorities. I giggled to myself as I shoved little cracker and cheese sandwiches into my mouth. I couldn’t see the twenty-or-so guests on the back patio from my spot behind the kitchen island, but I could hear them, and the hooting and hollering made me smile too. It sounded like a group of people were making a beeline for the ocean. If I had to bet money on someone, I’d put it on Theo being the leader of the pack. That man never wasted a chance to get shirtless in front of company.

I wandered away from the kitchen, cradling snacks in my hands, as I observed the layout of the surf house. The entire first floor was for Chris’ business while his lodgings were on the second. There was a Keep Out sign on the door that led to a second floor staircase. I turned around before I made it to the front of the house because I finished off the tiny cheese and cracker sandwiches in my hands.

I snacked on the green olives no one else had bothered with. They were addicting, so I grabbed a handful and moved to go back to the party, to see if the others were taking a dark dip in the ocean. As I did so, I smacked my hand against the kitchen island and dropped the olives. With a dramatic sigh, and glaring at my mess on the floor, I bent to retrieve them. I had to get on my hands and knees to grab a rogue olive that rolled under the lip of the island cabinet and was still reaching for it when I heard the sliding door open.

At first, I didn’t think anything of it as the noise filtered through the open door and was cut off as it closed. Finally, I retrieved the last olive and started to stand. 

Tense voices filled the empty house, and I froze mid crouch, closing my eyes as I debated. Their voices were coming from the living room, and as it stood, I was safely hidden behind the kitchen island. If it had been anyone aside from Chris and Jessica, I would have revealed myself immediately and walked right back outside. But this was Chris.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice sympathetic in the way I recognized when he consoled Theo or Ren. “You haven’t been yourself this evening.”

“Look,” came Jessica’s nasally voice. “I tried to wait until after the party, but fine. We’ll do it now. I don’t want us to see each other any longer.”

I might’ve stood and awkwardly excused myself and bravely faced down the silent judgment of Chris’ gaze, but I’d waited too long and missed my chance, because this wasn’t a regular argument. This was a goddamn breakup. Albeit for a six-month relationship, but still.

The path from kitchen to patio was an obstacle of mythic proportions. I bit my lip and considered. If I stood now, they’d both see me. Slowly and as quietly as I could, I moved from my crouched position where my calves were burning to sit crisscross applesauce and buried my face in my hands. My jeans stretched and dug into the meat of my thighs, but I silently thanked myself for wearing the tight pants as opposed to the short black dress I’d originally intended. The floor would have been freezing against bare legs. Priorities, right?

There was a long moment’s pause before Chris exhaled, loudly like he'd been holding his breath.

“Why?” he asked, flat and emotionless so I couldn’t ascertain how he was actually handling the news. “And why now?”

“You’re not what I’m looking for long-term,” Jessica said. She didn’t need to continue, but she did. “You can’t give me what I want.” 

My face contorted with a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and sympathy pain. Chris was not my favorite person, but Jessica Strauss was a particularly nasty piece of work not even he deserved.

“You said you wanted a family,” he said. Chris’ voice was even, a deep tenor of calm he armored himself with, even now.

“I do want a family.” She paused. “Just not with you.” 

I shook my head and facepalmed even though no one was around to see. 

“Why?” he asked again. His voice didn’t pitch, no notes of hurt or begging in his voice. Probably not in his face either, but hiding as I was, I couldn’t see for myself.

Let it go, Chris. That’s not a question he really wanted answered, not by someone like Jessica, who would use the question to wound rather than explain. 

She gave a long-suffering sigh and I could hear the dripping condescension in her voice. “You’re not ambitious enough, especially compared to Ren and Theo. I thought they would rub off on you, but…”

Ouch. I opened my mouth in surprise and pressed my tongue against my teeth to stop the noise. I winced particularly hard in the ensuing silence. 

Unambitious was an odd insult to me. Chris had surfed pro for several years, won cash prizes and even made it to the top ten ranked surfers in the world. Back when I first met him, I’d found his earnings online from his competition days and in his five years as a pro, he’d topped off above seven figures. After he quit the circuit, he opened his surf school in LA. Chris was still a new business owner when I’d met him that first time in Japan. None of those things seemed unambitious to me, especially considering his new home business literally steps from the ocean.

The silence was resounding though, and Jessica’s insults rang in my ears. Not ambitious enough. Not good enough.

Yeah, I couldn’t imagine having a follow up, but it was pretty telling that Chris didn’t lash out at her with equally cruel things. Because my god, he had to have them. I had them and I hardly even knew Jessica.

And this was my unending struggle with Chris, why I couldn’t just flat out hate him like I wanted to. He wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. He was the type of guy who picked you up on the side of the road when you called him at three in the morning. He was the type of guy who bought ice cream and feminine hygiene products without batting an eye for his uterus-possessing friends. For Christ’s sake, this was the guy who, in the middle of the harshest breakup I’d ever heard, didn’t cast stones back. 

He’d just never directed that empathy and charisma toward me.

There was nothing left to say in the breakup, at least nothing I could hear in detail as both their voices dropped low. When I heard them move toward the front of the house, I shuffled on hands and knees to peek around the kitchen island. I could see the sliding doors to the porch, my path to freedom. 

I carefully got to my knees to peek over the kitchen island and watched Chris and Jessica move away. I didn’t make a sound, but Chris must’ve sensed my presence because his head darted to the kitchen. To me in my undignified position on both knees, head just slightly over the counter. In the dim light, Chris was too far away for me to catalog his reaction, but his shoulders tensed before he turned around.

Fuck.

As soon as they were gone, I poured myself a large drink and debated if I should wait for Chris to return so I could apologize. The prospect of being caught alone in the house with him wasn’t worth it. Again, priorities. Gulping the wine, I shook my head and made my escape to the back patio where the guests were cloistered, having returned from their walk down the beach.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection. My shoulder length brown hair with hints of blonde from the sun, curled softly. The gold flecks in my green eyes weren’t visible in the lamplight, but the freckles on my nose were. And overall, I looked guilty as fuck. Unlike Clem, I didn’t have a poker face. 

Blood pounded in my ears, but the noise of the party took the place of the buzzing silence and my crime of eavesdropping. I went to stand next to Theo who for once in his life was standing alone, and soaking wet. As I’d suspected, he’d been the one to lead the group to the ocean.

Theo pulled me into a hug, crushing me tightly to him. I laughed and fought him off but came away damp anyway. He moved away, to the center of the party, as Chris came back outside. Alone. 

I’d have had no clue he’d just been walloped in the living room by the way he melded back into the party, like nothing had happened. As the clock struck midnight, Chris began making his rounds, where he gave a few of the familiar acquaintances goodbye hugs and a few kisses on cheeks.

I followed Theo to the center of the group where he met Ren and Chris in the middle, but I paused, just out of reach. Chris threw his arm around Theo who laughed at something he said and slapped Chris’ chest. As a group, the four of us had been nearly inseparable for the last five years, but Chris and I were careful to never be left alone, and rarely spoke to each other directly. 

Shaking off my sudden nerves, I stepped forward and was welcomed with open arms and a swinging hug from Ren. The evening was ending as everyone said their goodbyes. When Ren released me, I turned and found myself directly in front of Chris.

We stared at each other, assessing, for a moment too long, but neither of us seemed keen on faking our friendship tonight. I cocked my head to the side and wondered if I should reach out, maybe even apologize, because even though he was hiding it, pain welled in his dark green eyes. Fury too and maybe a little disgust at me. I winced in as close to an apology as I was willing to make. 

Chris’ nostrils flared and he turned away without a hug, without so much as a goodbye, and our friends didn’t notice, because why would they?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since this book died in the query trenches, I've decided to publish the chapters here on this blogsite as opposed to attempt to self-publish, because honestly, the literary agents were right that this wasn't ready for publication. Still, I enjoyed working on it and I want this story to have it's moment in the sun.

Story also available on Wattpad