For five minutes, while my grandmother was talking about the new black-eyed susans in her garden, I miraculously stopped thinking about Banks. I clung onto that distraction like it was my only lifeline, asking her so many questions about gardening that I would never remember the answers to just because it was getting my mind off of him.

And then, my Cousin Becky served dessert and it was a mango tart.

I visited the smoothie booth at the union so many times, just to see Banks, that the taste of mango made me think of him now. Not only that, but my other Cousin Ryker wore an Eagles band shirt and that was one of the bands I always heard him listening to through my floor.

He sent a Happy Thanksgiving text to the group chat, which felt like progress even though it really wasn't. He was currently having Thanksgiving dinner with Ollie, Jordan, and Abigail from next door who was Canadian and decided not to go home for a holiday her family wasn't celebrating.

I wondered if he was thinking about the kiss as much as I was. If maybe, he was just forming his game plan in his head before he felt comfortable enough to talk to me. Needed to sort out his thoughts so that when we came back together in a couple of days, he'd know exactly what to say.

As I sat around the dinner table trying to stomach the delicious mango tart, I looked around the dinner table at my cousins and my aunts and uncles and grandparents and wondered what they would think if they knew that all I was thinking about was that my friend kissed me. That I was kissed by a dude and it was consuming everything inside of me like the sweetest virus.

My parents did stand up for Banks when I told them the story of the guy on the sidewalk, which gave me hope that maybe they wouldn't find it utterly offensive. But I never talked politics or social issues with my family, so I had no idea how they would react if they knew.

There was no way in hell I would tell any of them until I knew for sure what was going on, because I was absolutely clueless.

I had no idea where Banks's head was at and after so many excruciating days of obsessing over five seconds of time, I still had no idea where my head was at either.

"Why are you checking your phone so much?" my mom asked me, her voice quiet as to not attract the attention of anybody else around the table. "That look on your face makes me think there's a girl?"

"There's not..." I stopped myself from telling her that there wasn't a girl, because although that wasn't a lie, it felt like giving away too much of the truth. "I don't know. It's not really anything, just something weird going on."

She poured half a glass of red wine and slid it across the table cloth to me. "All the best love stories start out as 'something weird going on'," she said with a sly smile.

"Not a love story," I said quickly.

Although I did love Banks, at least in the way that I loved all of my friends. I punched a stranger in the face for him for fuck's sake. I nauseated myself on tropical smoothies just to hear his voice for an extra twenty seconds a day. I told him that he was my zen and as stupid as that phrasing was, it was true.

"Hey, don't stress about it too much," she said, running her fingers through my hair in a way she used to do as a kid when I was upset. Now, I was so much taller than her that it was almost comical to see her reaching so far to get to my hair. "If it's meant to be, it'll be."

I sipped at the wine and checked my phone again. No new messages. I texted Ollie.

Liam: How are things going?

Because I couldn't sit here doing nothing.

Everybody spread out in the living room after dinner was finished. The football game was on and everybody was moaning about how stuffed full they were from dinner.

My cousin's kids ran around with sticky fingers and Barbies in their hands and of course that reminded me of the times that Banks teased me for playing with Bratz when I was little.

Ollie sent back a text as I was in the middle of a conversation with Ryker about the Nashville FC season.

Ollie: Burnt the pumpkin pie. Having cookie dough and weed for dessert.

Liam: Should have known you'd burn the house down while we were gone

Ollie: Banks's fault

Something constricted painfully in my chest at the sight of his name, as if just being reminded that he was out there existing without me was a painful realization.

Ollie: Take some deep breaths. He'll come around.

Liam: time frame?

Ollie: unclear

I wanted to evaporate.

"We heard you're back on the field, Liam?" Uncle Dan said just as I was stuffing my phone back into my pocket. "What do you say to a friendly game of three on three?"

It was nearly freezing outside and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball in the darkest corner of my grandparent's house and wait for Banks to call me, or at least text. I'd take an email if that was more convenient, or even just a tag on Instagram.

"I'm in!" Quinn chimed, coming up beside me as she pulled my arm toward the door. "Liam's on my team."

"No fair, I want to be on Liam's team!" Cousin Sara whined as we all shuffled into thick coats and then grouped together outside.

"We should do girls verse guys," Ryker suggested.

I rubbed my palms into both eyes, trying to get my head in the game because the truth of the matter was that I wasn't at Tate and there was nothing I could do to talk to Banks aside from spam his texts and voicemail, which I wasn't going to do. I hardly ever got to see my family, especially all together like this, and I couldn't let my thoughts ruin what was supposed to be a nice day with them.

"I'll team with Quinn and Sara," I announced, building a makeshift goal with some lawn chairs.

Sara was a teenager, but I could never remember her exact age. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. I grabbed the ball and tossed it to her, saying, "You'll have more control over the ball if you kick with the inside of your foot, remember."

"I know, Lee," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm on the varsity soccer team this year."

"No shit?" How did I not know that?

"What's the matter?" she asked me with a teasing glint in her eye. "Afraid that I'll come for your brand?"

"Careful. I won't hesitate to trade you for Ryker."

"Do it," she laughed challengingly. "I can kick circles around him."

"I heard that!" he shouted from the other side of the yard. She responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

The game went in a similar fashion to that of the scrimmage game at the beginning of the year, with a slightly higher level of competence. Everybody broke every rule, running around the field clueless and more focused on having fun than keeping score.

This kind of game, with these exact people, was how I learned the sport as a little kid. Quinn and Ryker, who were both about the same age and four years older than me, would always team up to pick on me and make sure that I lost. Maybe that was why I was always so determined to get really good, so that I could beat them some day.

I remembered Grandpa making us lemonade after we spent all day out back kicking the ball around and Grandma nagging at us for kicking the ball into her rose bushes.

This right here, with these people, in this yard, was where it all started for me. Being back made me feel like a kid again, who never dealt with anxiety before, who just loved soccer.

"You know that move where you go inside to outside super fast?" Sara asked me after everybody else called it quits. "Can you show me how you used to do that?"

I raised my brow at her. "The elastica? You think you're ready for that?"

She tossed the ball toward me with more force than necessary. "Teach me."

"It's quick and deadly, but it'll take lots of practice. I have no idea how many defenders I've made stumble or fall over with this move," I started, dropping the ball to the grass at my feet. "It looks like it's two moves, but it's actually just one motion. The outside touch is key to getting this right. You need to sell the touch by moving your hips, body, and arms."

"I think that's what I'm doing wrong, I'm not selling it enough."

"Start slow," I instructed, demonstrating the move in slow motion. Touching the ball with the outside part of my foot and then moving it around to tap the inside. "Once you're confident with it, keep speeding it up. Like I said, it's practice."

"Dad told me I wasn't allowed to ask, but do you think you could come to one of my practices sometime?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eye. "I hope it's okay. It's just, you're still such a legend at the high school and everybody would think I'm so cool if I could get you there to teach the team a thing or two. But, I get it if you don't want to."

"Maybe over winter break?" I suggested. "I know your season will be over, but you'll still be having practices, right?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "Really though, it's fine if you don't want to."

I pinched my lips together. Playing the sport again was one thing, but returning to my high school where it all was so great and then it all fell apart would probably not be great for me. Not to mention the fact that they'd be expecting the talents of Liam Howard the seventeen year old wonder kid. Not the twenty year old fucking wreck.

"I'll think about it," I finally said to her. "You want to learn another one? The V-pull is one of my favorites. Don't know if I can even do it anymore though."

We didn't get back inside until the football game was nearly over. Our cheeks were bright red and nearly numb, we were out of breath from running so many moves. I hadn't thought about Banks in a solid ninety minutes, which was a record for me in these passed few days.

But then as I fell onto the edge of the couch and pulled out my phone, I decided to indulge my inner masochist and open Banks's Instagram stories. He posted a picture of the burnt pumpkin pie and then another one of Jordan putting makeup on Ollie. The third one was a selfie of all three of them wearing bold eyeshadow and blush, smiling and looking like they were having the time of their lives.

I should be happy that they were having a good holiday, but all I felt was pathetic that I spent most of my day in my head, thinking about Banks and the kiss and what it meant for the future and turning myself into such a wreck. And he seemed perfectly fine.

What if that kiss made him realize something about me? Like he just wasn't interested in being my friend at all? What if he never came around like Ollie said he would, and this was just... it?

I stood back up from the couch and hid away in one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor, dialing Ollie's number as I took the steps two at a time.

"Hey, man. Happy Thanksgiving," Ollie answered the phone with an ease in his voice.

"This is driving me insane, Ollie," I said to him, my voice low with a slight waiver in there somewhere.

"I know." The ease dropped from his voice, now as serious as I was. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to get him to call you but he's..."

"He's what?" I pushed.

He hesitated and then said, "It's really hard being in the middle of this. He doesn't want me talking to you about it, but it's hard not to when I know you're struggling."

"Is he there right now?"

"He's taking a nap."

"I mean... what can I do?" I asked, hating how desperate I sounded. "Just sit here and wait?"

"I'll talk to him," he assured me, paused, and then asked me, "How are you feeling though? Not about the silent treatment, but about what happened?"

"No idea."

"Oh. Hm."

"What?"

"That's just not what I thought you'd say," he admitted. "I was expecting something along the lines of 'I'm not into him like that' and you being very sure about it. But you think that you could be... into him, like that?"

"How could I be, when he won't even talk to me?" I countered, trying not to let my frustration get the better of me. "I don't know what I could be into, my head is so messed up right now."

"Yeah. I get that."

I leaned against the corner of the bed, pulling at a loose thread on my t-shirt. "Is he... into me, like that?"

This made Ollie laugh, which was not the reaction I was expecting. "Liam, you are my best friend and I love you dearly, but hear me when I say this. You're a fucking moron."