Battery at 1%

Maya's lungs burned as her sneakers slammed against the rubber track, each stride a rebellion against the knot in her stomach. The practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but she kept running, lap after lap, until the October sunset painted everything in shades of burnt orange and gold. Her chugging breaths matched the rhythm in her head: he hasn't replied, he hasn't replied, he hasn't replied.

Her iPhone sat on the metal bleachers, screen glowing like a tiny judgment moon in the twilight. Three hours ago, she'd sent That Text — the one her friends said she should've sent days ago, the one that made her hands shake and her stomach do backflips. "Hey, wanna hang this weekend?" Simple. Casual. Low-stakes.

So why did it feel like she'd detonated a grenade?

At the opposite end of the field, the cross-country team's orange jerseys blurred together in a final sprint. Coach Rodriguez's whistle pierced the air. Maya's legs finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving, staring up at the first stars poking through the orange-tinged clouds like tiny pinpricks of hope.

Her phone buzzed once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

Maya scrambled up, knees grass-stained, heart hammering harder than it had during any mile repeat. She snatched the iPhone, thumbs hovering over the screen.

Group chat: Maya, your story post? We need DETAILS

Group chat: Is this about Jordan from bio?

Group chat: GURL spill the tea ☕️

She stared at the notifications, relief and frustration warring in her chest. Her friends meant well, but sometimes their hype felt like pressure, like she was performing her own crush for their entertainment.

Then another buzz. A DM. From Jordan.

Maya nearly dropped her phone. Her fingers shook as she swiped to open it, breath catching in her throat, that familiar stomach-flip sensation washing over her like a wave.

"Sorry! Practice ran late. Yes, absolutely. This weekend sounds perfect. Also your track form? Seriously impressive."

Maya read it three times. Then four times. A grin spread across her face, silly and uncontrollable, and she didn't even care that she was still standing alone on the field in her sweaty practice gear, grinning at her phone like an absolute dork.

The orange sunset had faded to purple, the air growing chilly, but for the first time all day, her breathing was easy. She pocketed her phone and started walking home, easy and light, ready for whatever weekend came next.