“And now I’ll pay my penance.” Josh jumps to the ground and faces his backside towards me. “Get on.”
“What?”
“You can’t walk in those shoes, and the streets are covered in broken glass.”
“I’m sorry. Are you offering me a piggyback ride?”
He sighs in fake exasperation. “Will you just get on already?”
“Just because I’m short doesn’t mean that I don’t weigh anything.”
“Just because I’m skinny doesn’t mean that I can’t carry someone short. You’re what, five one?”
“Yeah.” I’m surprised that he guessed it exactly. “What are you?”
“Six one. So there.”
“Freak.”
He grins at me over his shoulder. “Get on.”
I stand, my heels in hand. “Okay. You asked for it.”
Josh squats down, and I climb on. It’s like trying to mount a thoroughbred. He hops in a way that bounces me up higher, above his waist, and I settle into him. My arms wrap around his shoulders. His hands rest above my dress, holding on to my lower thighs.
“Ah, I see. This was all a clever ruse.”
He heads towards our dormitory. “A ruse?”
“To get under my dress on our first date.”
The back of his neck instantly warms. “I promise it wasn’t.”
“Mm-hm.”
His neck grows even hotter. I breathe in his scent deeply, delirious with happiness. In the distance, Paris is still celebrating, but our own neighbourhood is quiet – the only sound, his footfalls. “You know my friend St. Clair?” he says after a few minutes. “He’s only a few inches taller than you, and his girlfriend, Anna? She’s taller than he is.”
“Kurt only likes tall girls. Maybe it’s made me paranoid that all guys might prefer partners closer to their own mouth height.” It feels strange to confess this aloud.
“I’d like to point out that we’ve had zero problem reaching each other’s mouths.” There’s a smile in his voice. I smile back against his neck.
Josh walks the next few blocks in silence. Unfortunately, it’s not actually comfortable to sit like this, and – judging by his laboured breath – it’s not comfortable to carry me, either. But he gallantly piggybacks me all the way to our dorm, through the empty lobby, and straight to my door. The dismount is awkward, and we’re both in at least moderate pain, but it doesn’t matter. Our lips find each other again. He’s out of breath, but he pushes me against my door until it bursts open. We collapse into the room.
Kurt blinks at us from my bed. “You really do need to fix that door.”
Sunday is Josh’s only detention-free day, and he texts me right as I’m waking up. I’m glad we remembered to exchange numbers. I squeeze my phone and roll over in bed.
“Watch it,” Kurt mumbles.
“He says good morning.”
“It’s the afternoon. Tell him he’s wrong.”
I text Josh a good morning in return and suggest that he ask for next Saturday off, too. After all, that’s his Sabbath. Winking smiley face. He texts me back a long line of exclamation points followed by a WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT??
I hug Kurt. “He likes me. He liiiiiiikes me.”
“Duh.” But he settles into my hug. “I’ve missed this.”