can i ... you? | a short story

“Can I help you?” he asks 

“I don’t know, can you?”

He grins and my breath catches like a sweater on barbed wire. I hand him the bottle opener and he pops open the soda in one swift, cool motion.

“Thanks,” I say, wary of the warmth in my cheeks. His green eyes reflect the glow of the string lights. 

“No problem,” he says, then returns to the party. 

“Can I join you?” he asks.

“I don’t know, can you?”

He shakes his head with a smile and sits down beside me on the bleachers and I try my best not to bounce my leg. The crowd is forming, the guys are warming up, the game will start soon.

“Should be a good game,” I say awkwardly. I meet his gaze then.

“Oh–”

“What?”

“Your paint. it’s a little smudged. hold still.” He gently drags a finger across my cheek, smoothing out my red face paint.

“Thanks,” I say, and I can tell by the look on his face that he sees my blushing cheeks.

“No problem,” he says.

The rest of our friends appear and sit beside us in the bleachers.

“Can I carry you?” he asks.

“I don’t know, can you?” I giggle, the alcohol making me silly. 

He sweeps me off my feet and I squeal, my arm wrapping around his shoulders, padded in his dress coat. My homecoming dress glitters in the street lamps. My feet are so sore from dancing at homecoming and the after party. I clutch my heels as he carries me to the car, that same cheeky grin plastered on his face.

On the way back to my house, we stop at a 24-hour diner with a neon OPEN sign. We order burgers, fries, and milkshakes. It’s midnight when we exit the diner and wind through the streets towards my house. He parks the car, walks me up to the front door and asks,

“Can I kiss you?”

Before I can even think of busting out my usual witty comeback, I hear myself say, “Yes.” 

In the glow of the front porch light, he kisses me, his hands finding my waist, my hair and my cheek, where he fixed my smudged paint. When he pulls away, he smiles at me and my breath catches like a sweater on barbed wire. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” I smile. “Can you?”