I look over at her to see her smile slightly—she’s trying to tease, but I know she’s nervous. I nearly lost it in there, and I know how scary that can be. And now she’s walking around the dark football field with me after a guy practically attacked her in the dance and, god, I’m such a dick.

“I’m so sorry, Caitlin,” I breathe, my shoulders collapsing around me. “I never meant to—I just got so—But I wouldn’t’ve. I wouldn’t’ve.” I finish nonsensically, but something in her relaxes.

“I know, Caleb,” she says, “and you have nothing to apologize for. I actually—well, I appreciate it. You, standing up for me.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “It’s, uh, it’s no problem.”

“I was about ready to punch him myself,” she says. “God, he’s such a douchebag.”

“Yeah, he really is.” I huff a laugh.

“He’s just got one of those punchable faces, you know?” She smirks.

“Yeah, he really does.” I smile back at her, and there are the butterflies again.

“I’m still sorry, though.” Maybe if I keep talking, I can banish the butterflies. “I didn’t mean to ruin your whole night. You could have stayed, you know.”

“I know. But it was kind of lame anyway.” She shrugs. “This is more my speed.”

Caitlin is smiling sweetly at me and the butterflies are fluttering from my stomach up into my throat and I need to be honest with her, stop this feeling before she acts on it.

“Hey, Caitlin.” I stop walking and turn to her. I really don’t want to look at her perfectly symmetrical face but I’m not going to be a coward about this.

“Yeah?” she asks, blinking prettily up at me.

“Um, so, like,” I start, “you’re great. I really—I mean, you’re smart and funny and cool and I really like being friends with you.”

“Okay…” Her eyes narrow.

“But, um.” The butterflies are starting to wilt but it might just be my own anxiety drowning them out. “I don’t know what you expected. Like, I don’t know if this was supposed to be a date or not but, um…”

I’m waiting for her to cut me off—hopeful that she’ll rush to correct me, tell me that she never thought of this as a date—but based on the blush rising on her cheeks, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

“I’m not, um,” I stutter, “I just mean that … I like you like a friend. I’d like for us to be friends. Just friends.”

I exhale and stare at the ground as the butterflies whirl around in a frenzy before flying out of my body, hopefully for good.