May I?
flirting
Nate paused at the gate longer than he meant to. The Theta house glowed under a string of mismatched lights, and the bass from inside thudded through the lawn like a heartbeat. Students streamed past him holding red cups, greeting friends with the kind of loose confidence he always envied. He pretended to check his phone so he wouldn’t look like he was afraid to go in.
A group pushed through the front door, warm air spilling out beside them. Their laughter drifted into the night. Nate followed it inside.
The heat of too many bodies in too small a space hit first. Then the smell of lime, beer, and something vaguely sweet burning in a candle on the counter. People crowded shoulder to shoulder. Someone shouted the word “chug” from the living room. A girl with glitter on her cheeks danced on a table without caring who watched.
Zeke spotted him almost immediately.
“Dude, there you are,” he said, elbowing his way over. “I thought you bailed.”
“I almost did,” Nate said, tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt.
Zeke smirked. “Classic. Drink?” He handed Nate a cup that smelled like orange soda trying to hide the taste of vodka.
The first few minutes were a blur of noise. Nate stayed close to Zeke, nodding along as if he belonged in conversations he didn’t quite follow. The second sip warmed his throat. The third spread across his shoulders in a slow, loosening wave. He found himself laughing at a story about someone who tried to microwave ramen in a dry cup. He didn’t know why it was funny, but everyone else laughed, so he let the sound join theirs.
Eventually Zeke leaned in. “You good?”
“I think so,” Nate said. The music had settled into something rhythmic enough that he didn’t overthink where to put his hands.
Zeke launched into the tale of Nate falling asleep on a chemistry book. He reenacted the imprint with fervor. Nate groaned, but the people listening cracked up. Someone clapped him on the back. For a brief moment, Nate felt like he wasn’t dragging his awkwardness behind him like luggage.
Then he saw her.
Sarah Chen stood near the far wall by the couch, illuminated by the overhead globe light that made everything look a little softer. Her hair curled from the humidity, and she held her cup in two hands like she was warming them. She listened to someone next to her with a half smile Nate recognized from class, the kind she wore when she found something genuinely interesting rather than just polite.
Zeke followed his gaze, his grin widening. “Oh. Her.”
Nate didn’t respond.
“You should say hi,” Zeke said.
Nate kept his eyes fixed on Sarah but didn’t move. “I don’t know. Things are… weird now.”
“Weird how?”
“You know.” He lowered his voice. “People get called out for approaching girls wrong. There was this thing online about a guy talking to someone at a party and it blew up. Comments said you shouldn’t talk to a girl unless she makes it crystal clear she wants you to. Like, legally.”
Zeke made a face. “You think Sarah is going to file charges if you say hello?”
“That’s not the point.” Nate shifted his weight. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Or look like… that guy.”
A group pushed past them, one girl remarking loudly, “Ugh, I hate when random dudes try to hit on you at parties.” Her friend nodded vigorously. “Yeah, it’s creepy ninety percent of the time.”
Nate heard every syllable like it was aimed directly at him.
Zeke seemed to notice too. He lowered his voice. “Look, just be normal. Don’t corner her. Don’t be intense. You’re overthinking.”
Nate didn’t argue. His throat felt tight.
He watched Sarah for a while. She drifted between conversation circles with the ease of someone used to being welcomed. When she laughed, her shoulders relaxed and her cup tilted slightly so the liquid swirled.
He imagined walking up. Imagined her stiffening. Imagined a polite but sharp smile. Imagined words like “I’m good, thanks” said with a glance that made everything clear.
His heart thudded too loudly for the amount he had actually drunk.
A memory surfaced. A TikTok he had scrolled past late at night, an interview with a billionaire hedge fund manager. The message had been simple: Approach lightly. Offer space. Make it easy for the other person to decline without awkwardness. You’re not a threat. You’re just a human being trying to connect.
Nate stood with that thought for a moment. The party roared around him, but something quiet inside steadied just enough to push him forward.
Sarah stepped aside from her group and checked her phone, her attention briefly unclaimed. A pocket of stillness opened around her like a small clearing in the noise.
This is the chance, he thought.
His feet felt heavy, but they moved. One step, then another. A couple swayed nearby, nearly bumping him. Someone shouted when a cup spilled. The scent of beer clung to the air like humidity. Nate kept walking.
By the time he reached her, his pulse hammered so hard he could feel it in his palms. She had not noticed him yet. He hovered at her side for a second too long, considering escape. He could still turn away. No one would know.
He thought of the TikTok voice again. Light. Respectful. Easy out.
Nate lifted his hand. His fingers shook. He tapped her shoulder gently, almost apologetically.
She turned, eyebrows raised not in annoyance but in simple curiosity.
Nate swallowed, cleared his throat, and said, “Excuse me, uh . . . may I meet you?”