Pointe by Brandy Colbert Page A

been on his best behavior,” I say with a straight face.
    Hosea lifts an eyebrow enough to make me laugh.
    â€œWell, for
Klein.
” A breeze whips through the field, cold and unexpectedly sharp, and I wrap my arms around myself, cup my elbows in my hands.
    â€œWhat are you up to when you’re done here?”
    What? Is he trying to hang out with me or something? I haven’t seen her tonight, but if Ellie walked up right now and saw us talking alone—again—her head might actually explode.
    â€œI’ll go find Phil, I guess.” Phil and I had the first shifts at our booths because no seniors had been assigned to them, but Sara-Kate’s hour at the face-painting station doesn’t start until ours ends. “Are you sticking around?”
    â€œYeah, I need to meet up with a few more people.” He pauses, threads a couple of his fingers through a diamond-shaped space in the chain-link fence. “And I have to grab a couple of drinks for me and Ellie.”
    Of course she’s here. I paste on a smile.
    â€œI should get back to my popcorn duties,” I say, half turning toward the brick building. “We’ve been pretty busy all night. Fake butter is in high demand, you know.”
    He’s standing at the vending machine next to mine now, feeding money into the slot. “What do you want?”
    â€œI can get my own.”
    â€œI didn’t ask if you could get your own, I asked what you wanted,” he says evenly as he looks over his shoulder to make eye contact.
    â€œDiet Coke,” I say quietly. Like that first day I saw him in ballet, I want to look away first, but this time I don’t. I wait for him to turn back to the machine and then I let out a breath. He makes me nervous. It’s exhilarating, in a what-happens-next sort of way, but I’m nervous all the same.
    He pushes the button and seconds later, a can comes tumbling noisily down the machine into the bottom tray.
    When he hands me the can, our fingers brush against each other and I tremble. I can’t tell if he noticed, but I snatch my hand away because I’m embarrassed.
    â€œThanks. Now I owe you a clove
and
a soda.” I smile at him as I shift my weight on the concrete square. “In case you’re worried I’m not keeping track.”
    I almost drop the cool metal can as his soft eyes land on me and he says, “I think I know where to find you, Theo.”
    The way he says my name, the way his voice dips a little lower, sends heat flaming across my chest and up my neck and over both sides of my face. I want to take his hand in mine, hold it against my skin, ask him if it’s normal to react to someone like this.
    I’m not brave enough for that, though. “I guess you do,” I finally say.
    We share a long look before I head back to the concessions building, arriving lighter than when I left and a thousand times more confused. Klein looks up from his phone as I come through the door and at first, I’m worried he’s mad that I was outside so long, but there’s nobody at the window. He’s probably just sending dirty texts to Trisha anyway.
    â€œMixer for your drink?” He slips the phone back into his pocket.
    â€œI think I’m good.” I look down at the soda in my hand. I kind of don’t want to open it now. It’s stupid, but part of me wants to save it because Hosea bought it for me.
    â€œHey, Legs?” He does this little waving motion with his hand, even though I’m two feet away from him.
    â€œHey, Klein?” I settle onto the stool in front of the window, place the soda can on the counter next to me.
    â€œWhy do you think we never got together?”
    His voice is so subdued, I can barely hear him over the sounds of the carnival outside. The shrieks and subsequent splashes from the dunking booth; the chatter surrounding a group of freshman cheerleaders passing by in a cloud of vanilla body spray