Brandy Colbert - Pointe

Even though I know he cares about me, I wish it didn’t hurt to see them together. But I get to be alone with him later, if only for a few minutes. And that’s what gets me through the next hour as I wait for his text. That, and the tequila buzzing through my veins.

Sara-Kate and Phil come back from the dance floor. They look sweaty and happy. Phil goes off to get paper cups of punch while Sara-Kate pats at her face with the tips of her fingers.

“You should come dance with us,” she says. “I don’t like you standing over here by yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I say. Then I sway and thankfully it’s into Sara-Kate’s shoulder and not the other direction.

But maybe not, because she looks at me too closely. Peers at me. Says, “Doll, are you wasted?”

“Tipsy,” I say with a shrug that’s meant to be nonchalant but comes off as defensive. I think. I am so warm right now. So spacey and dizzy and loose.

“Theo—” she begins with this really worried look in her eyes, but I cut her off.

“I’m fine. I promise.” I run my right hand up and down my left arm. “Please don’t—just have fun with Phil. I don’t need you to babysit me while you’re on your date.”

Then I walk away because I don’t want to be a bitch to her, but the alcohol loosens my tongue and I don’t know how to stop. I amble through the horde of students, familiar faces at every turn. Familiar faces that want to dance with me, so I let them. Leo, wearing shiny black cowboy boots under his suit pants, tries to line dance with me during a fast song. Then Joey and I meet up again, and I think he confuses me for his date, but I waltz around with him anyway until Erika Healy comes by to claim him, gives me an apologetic smile as she lugs him away.

I wonder if Hosea sees, if he’s watching me like I’ve been watching him all night. Trying to keep track of his whereabouts and holding my breath anytime his hand so much as grazes his pocket.

He dances with Ellie a couple of times. Only slow songs and only because she pulls him onto the dance floor. I watch his hands, how they curve around her hips. I watch the way she looks behind him, scoping out the people around them instead of talking to him or resting her head on his shoulder. Klein and Trisha are out there, too, and they move toward Hosea and Ellie so they’re dancing side by side. So Trisha and Ellie can talk while they sway along to the music with their boyfriends.

Four songs later, I finally move off the dance floor. Sara-Kate and Phil have disappeared again, so I’m zoning out a few feet away from the refreshment table, staunchly ignoring the new plate of cookies McCarty just set down, when Klein saunters up. Sans Trisha. His eyes are rimmed with red and he teeters from one side to the other as he walks, but he makes it over to me and sets his feet deliberately in place as he stops.

“Purple is definitely your color, Legs,” he slurs, digging his fingers into my shoulder like a vise grip. However much I had to drink, Klein has surely exceeded it. Not to mention whatever else he’s on.

“Thanks,” I say as I shrug him off. And then, because I’m feeling good, I say, “You look nice.”

It’s partially true. The suit is nice. Dark gray, cut well, and paired with a jewel-toned shirt that would bring out the green of his eyes if the whites weren’t so red. His collar is streaked with dark marks and it takes a minute to realize it’s Trisha’s makeup.

“Hey.” He looks over his shoulder, about as stealth as a parade float parked in the middle of the cafeteria. Then he scream-whispers, “You wanna get out of here?”

“No,” I say firmly, crossing my arms.

“Come on, Legs. Got some new shit from Hosea,” he says, patting his pocket. “The good shit. Don’t tell me you’re not down.”

“I’m not,” I say. “Actually, I was just getting ready to—”

My phone vibrates in my clutch and I stop. I don’t even try to send Klein away before I check my phone. It’s Hosea. I know it. And when I look down, there it is:

Five minutes? You go now. I’ll get rid of Klein.

So he has seen me, and he’s watching me right now. I give the room a cursory glance, but it’s dark and I’ve been looking away from him too long to see where he ended up. I make sure Klein can’t read the screen as my unsteady fingers type back a simple See you then, and I drop my phone back into my purse.

“I have to go,” I say, already turning my back to him.

“Atta girl,” he says with a wicked grin so large he’d make the Joker proud.

“Not with you. I’m going to the bathroom.”

The hallways are ominous at nighttime. The window panels between the strips of lockers cast shadows across the floor and walls, angular and sort of eerie. I walk slowly, take my time as I travel down the corridor and when I get to the end, I turn around to see if anyone is watching. Nope. I slipped through the back door in the cafeteria, the one the cooks use to exit the kitchen.

I hang a left and move down the hall, sticking close to the lockers until I reach the door to the science lab. It pushes right open and I nearly fall into the dark room. I’m waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light coming from the back when I see him. Standing by the light, a little lamp on a lab table in the back that’s not visible from the hallway. The beam is so muted, the lamp so small that it’s barely visible from the front of the room.

“You made it,” he says with a smile I can’t see.

“I did.” I start edging my way around the tables, trying not to snag the delicate fabric of my dress on their sharp corners. It’s harder than it looks when you’ve drunk half a flask of tequila.

Ever so faintly, I hear the chords of a slow song starting up in the cafeteria. I like that we can hear the music back here—in our place; that it’s like we’re at the dance together, if only for a little while. It feels magical.

Hosea is walking toward me. “You look . . . ,” he starts in a low voice, but he doesn’t finish. He shakes his head as if he can’t find the words and I give him a shy smile because he’s looking at me.

So intently that my skin warms, as if I can feel his gaze lighting on different parts of me, sliding from the curve of my neck to the slight dip in my waist. Now I know what Sara-Kate felt like earlier and I was silly for being jealous. This is more than worth the wait.

He pulls me to him and his fingers find the open back of my dress, send shivers through me as he rubs the small of my back in slow, gentle circles.

We kiss. Slowly. With my arms wrapped around his neck and his hands sitting low on my hips. I tangle my fingers in his hair as our mouths find each other in the dark. We step to the faint strains of the music, swaying so slowly, our bodies are hardly moving at all.

I look at his chest as we pull away, start to rest my head there as we dance. I jerk back at the last minute. Hosea stops for a second, looks at me, confused.

“My makeup,” I say, touching my carefully done face. “It’ll get on your shirt.”

“Oh.” He lets out a breath and then nods. “Right.”

I want him to tell me he doesn’t care, to put my head there anyway because that’s how you dance when you’re with someone you really like. Someone special. I want him to tell me he doesn’t care if he gets caught, that maybe it’s time Ellie figured out what’s going on between us.

But then his hands move away from me, move to his collar, where he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugs out of it, lays it on the table to his right. His eyes never look away from me, not even as his fingers move down to his belt. I slip a dress strap over my shoulder. Then the other. The satin drops to the floor and pools around my feet.