#adhd fidget

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The locker room buzzed with post-match energy—shouts, laughter, the thud of boots being kicked off and the hiss of water bottles opening. Katie McCabe sat on the bench, one leg bouncing furiously as she peeled her socks off with twitchy fingers. Her eyes darted around, barely resting anywhere for long. Her thoughts didn’t either.

It wasn’t that she was nervous. They’d won, and she’d even assisted Caitlin’s goal. But her body hadn’t got the memo to stop. Her hands were drumming against her thigh now, and she was halfway through retying her ponytail for no real reason when Beth’s voice cut across the room.

“God, you can’t ever sit still, McCabe,” Beth said with a teasing laugh, nodding at Katie’s constant fidgeting. “You’ve got ants in your pants or something?”

The words weren’t harsh. Not really. Just playful. The kind of banter that got thrown around after matches all the time. But it hit Katie sideways.

She froze, her leg stilled.

The room kept spinning around her, full of motion and sound, but she suddenly felt like she was glowing under a spotlight. Her jaw tightened as she forced a smile, then grabbed her water bottle a bit too quickly and muttered, “Just got energy, s’all.”

But she was quiet the rest of the time. Her body didn’t calm, but now every bounce of her leg felt like a mistake. Every wiggle, every twist of her wrist or shuffle in her seat, felt like something she should hide.

-

Back at home, the flat was quiet. Caitlin was in the kitchen grabbing two beers, humming softly. Katie sat curled up on the couch, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her phone screen flickering in her hand. She was still. Almost too still.

Caitlin noticed. She always did.

“Alright, what’s up?” Caitlin asked, setting the drinks down and sitting beside her, her arm slipping easily around Katie’s waist.

“Nothing,” Katie mumbled. “Just tired.”

Caitlin tilted her head. “You’re never still when you’re tired. You’re twitchy and adorable and annoying as hell when you’re tired.”

Katie gave a weak laugh, then went quiet again.

Caitlin waited. And when Katie didn’t say anything, she gently pressed, “Was it what Beth said?”

Katie’s eyes flicked toward her, then dropped. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you go quiet,” Caitlin said softly, brushing Katie’s arm with her thumb. “Talk to me.”

Katie let out a sigh. “It just… I know I’m always moving. I know I fidget and bounce and interrupt people sometimes and I can’t help it. I’m not trying to be annoying. But when people point it out—even when they’re joking—it makes me feel like… like I should just shut it all off, y’know?”

Caitlin’s heart clenched. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Katie’s temple.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You don’t have to shut anything off. Not for anyone.”

Katie blinked a few times, fighting the tight feeling in her chest.

“I love how your brain works,” Caitlin said. “I love that you’re always buzzing. That you think in twenty directions at once and have three different ideas before I’ve finished one sentence. That you’re alive in this loud, bright way no one else is.”

Katie turned her head, meeting Caitlin’s eyes, and there was something raw in hers now.

“And I love your fidgeting,” Caitlin added with a soft grin. “Means I always know where you are in a room. You’re like… constant motion. My own little storm.”

Katie cracked a smile—small, but real. “Your storm, huh?”

“Damn right,” Caitlin said, pulling her into a hug. “And if anyone can’t handle it, they can get out of the way.”

Katie laughed against her shoulder, and this time, her leg bounced again. She didn’t try to stop it.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Always,” Caitlin replied. “Now, c’mere. Let’s put on something crap on telly and you can fidget all you want. I’ll just sit here and admire it.”