Pointe by Brandy Colbert

people stop by to say hey. David Tulip crams handfuls of popcorn in his mouth while he banters with Klein about the football game they watched last Sunday. Eddie Corteen walks up a few minutes later, his friends in tow, sweet and seeming a little unsure of whether he should be standing here. And of course Lark Pearson sidles up to the window, completely ignoring me as she bats her thickly lined eyes at Klein and asks if he’ll give her a “sample.”
    There’s a lull halfway through our shift and after a while I get tired of wondering if Klein really
has
been staring at my ass the whole time, so I turn around. He’s messing with the radio again and it reminds me of the first night we made out. He’d taken over the music at the house where we were partying, and when he saw me watching he’d grinned and motioned me over. Our arms and legs were touching as we’d scrolled through songs to add to the playlist and as soon as I sat down next to him I knew I would kiss him later.
    â€œWhat?” he says now, and I tune back in to find him staring at me because I was already staring at him.
    â€œNothing. I’m going to grab something to drink. You want anything?”
    He stretches, his long arms reaching for the ceiling as his mouth opens in a yawn. “Will it have rum in it?”
    â€œLike you don’t carry your own,” I say, reaching into my bag for my red leather wallet.
    â€œTouché, Legs. Just seeing if you were paying attention.”
    â€œI’ll be back,” I say, and then I’m out the side door again.
    There’s a set of vending machines adjacent to the concessions building, housed in a compact, fenced-in square of concrete. The fence is always locked, unless we’re having a game or an event on the field. I assume it will be closed off tonight, since the school is promoting its booth of Fall Festival drinks, but the gate is slightly ajar.
    I slip through and I don’t hear anyone walk up behind me, but right away, I know he’s there. The wind carries the heady scent of cloves and when I turn around he’s looking at me.
    â€œHey,” he says almost shyly, his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He must be freezing, walking around without a jacket. I’m already cold and I’ve been outside for less than a minute.
    His cheeks are chapped from the cold, but it looks cute on him. Sweet, almost. Little pink circles on such a serious face.
    â€œYou’re working here tonight?” I ask, rubbing my arms for warmth.
    â€œNot for the school.” Hosea nods toward the concessions building. “But you are?”
    â€œPopcorn duty.” I wrinkle my nose.
    â€œAh, that would explain the butter smell.”
    â€œFake butter.”
    â€œThe best kind,” he says with a smile that’s lightning fast but manages to melt my insides anyway.
    Fake butter makes me think of the movie theater, which makes me think of dates. Which makes me wonder if Hosea and Ellie ever go to the movies. Or if they go on dates at all. They show up at all the parties together and they eat lunch together and I’ve seen her getting out of his car in the student parking lot, but do they go
out
like a real boyfriend and girlfriend?
    I’ve never been on a date. Chris and I could never go anywhere for fear of what people would say if they saw us together, and Klein and I couldn’t drive at the time, so we met up at parties and made out in empty bedrooms. The closest we came to an actual date was winter formal freshman year, but we went in a group, so it didn’t feel like one.
    â€œWho’s in there with you?” Hosea asks, leaning against the fence.
    â€œKlein.” My hands are starting to sweat, despite the cold. I tuck my wallet under my arm.
    â€œNo shit?” He looks as surprised as I was.
    I shrug. “Desperate times, I guess.”
    â€œReally fucking desperate,” he mumbles.
    â€œHe’s actually