The Art of Catching Feelings

by Alicia Thompson

I’m allergic—I really am, by the way. My throat completely swells up.

And it would be nice. To have someone to laugh in the corner with when Randy inevitably got a little toasted and started making outrageous predictions of what would happen in the game. To be able to casually touch her, a hand at the small of her back, a kiss on the cheek. To watch her across the room and know that at the end of the night, she’d go home with him.

We keep fucking but I just never get to meet your cat?”