14. Savannah
SAVANNAH
I 'm sitting in my Anatomy & Physiology lecture, trying to take notes on muscle fiber types, but I keep checking my phone to see if Colin has texted me back from two hours ago.
He hasn't.
This is ridiculous. I sent him one text asking if he wanted to grab lunch between classes, and now I'm sitting here like some desperate girlfriend analyzing his response time.
Except we're not even officially dating, so I can't even call myself his girlfriend, desperate or otherwise.
"Miss McPherson?"
I look up to find Professor Williams staring at me from the front of the lecture hall.
"Yes?"
"Perhaps you could share with the class what's more important than understanding the difference between Type I and Type II muscle fibers?"
"Um. Nothing. Sorry."
"I thought so. Please put your phone away."
My cheeks burn as I shove my phone into my backpack. Great. Now I'm that girl who gets called out for texting in class.
After lecture, I'm walking to the dining hall when my phone finally buzzes.
Colin:
Sorry, just saw this. Can't do lunch - have to meet with my advisor about class schedules.
Me:
No problem. Dinner later?
I wait for a response, but nothing comes. Which is weird because Colin usually responds to texts pretty quickly.
I find Jess at our usual table in the dining hall, surrounded by what looks like an explosion of marketing textbooks and highlighters.
"You look stressed," I say, sitting down with my salad.
"I have three exams this week and a group presentation that my teammates are completely useless for." She looks up from her notes. "What's your excuse for looking miserable?"
"I don't look miserable."
"You're doing that thing where you pick at your food instead of eating it."
I look down and realize I've been stabbing my lettuce with my fork for the past minute.
"It's nothing. Just boy drama."
"Colin drama?"
"Maybe."
"What kind of maybe?"
"The kind where he's been weird for the past few days and I don't know why."
"Weird how?"
"Like, distant. Short responses to texts. Canceling plans."
"Did you guys have a fight?"
"No. That's what's confusing. Everything was fine, and then suddenly it wasn't."
"Maybe he's stressed about hockey stuff."
"Maybe. But usually when he's stressed about hockey, he wants to talk about it. This feels different."
"Different how?"
"Like he's pulling away from me specifically."
Jess sets down her highlighter and gives me her full attention.
"Okay, let's analyze this. When did the weirdness start?"
"I don't know. A few days ago? Maybe after he talked to his dad."
"His dad visited?"
"Yeah, and Colin was really upset afterward. But then he seemed fine, and we hung out that night and everything was normal."
"And then?"
"And then he started being weird. Like, we had plans to study yesterday and he canceled last minute. Then today he can't do lunch because of advisor stuff, but he's not responding to my dinner suggestion."
"Maybe he really is just busy."
"Or maybe he's avoiding me."
"Why would he be avoiding you?"
"I don't know! That's the problem. I have no idea what I did wrong."
"Maybe you didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why is he being weird?"
"Because he's an eighteen-year-old boy, and eighteen-year-old boys are naturally weird?"
"That's not helpful."
"It's realistic."
My phone buzzes, and I grab it hoping it's Colin responding about dinner.
Mom:
How are classes going, sweetie?
Me:
Good. Busy but good.
Mom:
Are you eating enough? And sleeping enough?
Me:
Yes, Mom. I'm fine.
Mom:
Just checking. Love you.
Me:
Love you too.
I put my phone down and realize Jess is watching me with concern.
"You're really worried about this, aren't you?"
"I guess."
"Why?"
"Because I like him. Like, really like him. And I don't want to mess it up."
"What if you're not the one messing it up?"
"What if I am?"
"Savannah, from what you've told me, you've been nothing but supportive and understanding. If Colin's pulling away, that's his issue, not yours."
"But what if I did something to make him want to pull away?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Maybe I came on too strong. Maybe I'm being too clingy."
"Are you being clingy?"
"I don't think so. But maybe I'm not the best judge of that."
"How often are you texting him?"
"I don't know. Normal amounts?"
"Define normal."
"Like, maybe a few times a day? Usually about plans or homework or whatever."
"That doesn't sound clingy."
"Maybe it is, though. Maybe he's feeling pressured."
"Or maybe something else is going on that has nothing to do with you."
"Like what?"
"Like family pressure. Like hockey stress. Like general college anxiety."
"Maybe."
But even as I say it, I can't shake the feeling that this is about me. About us. About whatever we are or aren't.
"You know what you should do?" Jess says.
"What?"
"Ask him directly what's going on."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because what if he says he doesn't want to see me anymore?"
"What if he says something completely different?"
"But what if he doesn't?"
"Savannah, you're driving yourself crazy with what-ifs."
"I know. I can't help it."
"Yes, you can. You can stop obsessing and just have a conversation with him."
"That's terrifying."
"Most important conversations are terrifying."
"What if it ruins everything?"
"What if pretending everything's fine ruins everything?"
I hate it when Jess makes sense.
My phone buzzes again, and this time it is Colin.
Colin:
Can't do dinner tonight either. Have team stuff.
Me:
Okay. Everything alright?
Colin:
Yeah, just busy with hockey things.
Me:
Okay. Let me know when you're free.
Colin:
Will do.
I show Jess the conversation, and she frowns.
"That's... short."
"Right? Like, weirdly short for Colin."
"Hockey things?"
"He never calls it 'hockey things.' He says practice or film study or conditioning or whatever specific thing it is."
"So he's being vague."
"Very vague."
"Which means he's either actually busy with something he can't talk about, or he's avoiding you."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"I'm just being realistic."
"Your realism is depressing."
"My realism is honest."
I pick at my salad some more, trying to figure out what to do. Part of me wants to text Colin again and demand an explanation. Part of me wants to pretend everything's fine and wait for him to figure out whatever's going on.
And part of me wants to hide in my room and never talk to him again.
"You know what?" I say suddenly.
"What?"
"I'm done."
"Done with what?"
"Done sitting around waiting for him to decide whether he wants to be with me or not."
"That sounds healthy."
"I have my own life. I have classes and trainer responsibilities and friends. I don't need to spend all my time wondering what Colin Grant is thinking."
"Now you're talking."
"I'm going to focus on my own stuff and stop worrying about whether he texts me back."
"Good for you."
"Starting right now."
"Excellent."
"I'm not going to check my phone for the rest of the day."
"I support this decision."
"And I'm not going to text him unless it's something actually important."
"Define actually important."
"Like, work-related. Or if someone's injured. Or if there's an emergency."
"Not 'I miss you' important."
"Definitely not 'I miss you' important."
"Or 'what are you doing tonight' important."
"Or that."
"Good. You're learning."
I put my phone in my backpack and zip it shut, which feels surprisingly empowering.
"There. Phone is away. I'm going to finish lunch, go to my next class, work my trainer shift, and not think about Colin once."
"I believe in you."
"Thank you."
"Even though you'll probably cave and check your phone in like twenty minutes."
"I will not cave."
"We'll see."
"I'm serious. I'm done being the girl who waits around for some boy to figure out his feelings."
"You're eighteen. You're supposed to be learning how to handle this stuff."
"Well, I'm learning that I don't like feeling like I'm bothering someone by existing."
"That's a valuable lesson."
"Yeah. So from now on, if Colin wants to spend time with me, he can make the effort."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then I'll know where I stand."
"And you'll be okay with that?"
"I'll have to be."
Except even as I say it, I know I won't be okay with it. Because despite all my brave talk about focusing on my own life, the truth is that I really like Colin Grant.
And the thought of him not liking me back makes me want to cry.
But I'm not going to cry in the dining hall. I'm going to finish my salad, go to class, and prove to myself that I can function perfectly fine without constantly wondering what Colin is thinking.
Starting now.
My phone buzzes from inside my backpack, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to check it.
"That's probably Colin," Jess says.
"Don't care."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Because you're gripping your fork like you're about to stab someone with it."
I look down and realize she's right. I force myself to relax.
"I'm fine."
"You're really not going to check your phone?"
"Nope."
"Even though it might be him saying he wants to see you?"
"Even though."
"I'm impressed."
"Don't be impressed yet. Ask me again in an hour."
But as we're walking out of the dining hall, I can't stop thinking about that text. What if it is Colin? What if he's trying to explain what's been going on?
What if he's trying to apologize?
Or what if it's just my mom asking about my classes again, and I'm torturing myself over nothing?
This is going to be a very long day.