Charged & Awkward

Maya's hair was doing that thing again — that weird frizzy halo she got whenever she was nervous. Which was, like, constantly tonight. Jordan's house party rumbled around her, bass vibrating through the floorboards, while she stood in the kitchen clutching a warm orange soda like it was a lifeline.

"You look like you're plotting someone's murder," Jordan said, appearing beside her. He'd ditched the flannel he'd been wearing earlier. His palm tree tattoo peeked out from his rolled-up sleeve.

"Just plotting how to leave without everyone noticing," Maya muttered.

"Same." He held up his phone, screen black. "My phone died three hours ago. I've been pretending to text people this whole time."

Maya actually laughed. "You too? I've been refreshing Instagram on a phone with 4% battery for twenty minutes."

"Wait." Jordan fished in his pocket and pulled out a tangled mess of charging cable. "I brought my cable, but every outlet in this house has someone's TikTok setup plugged into it. There's literally nowhere to charge anything."

"The garage," Maya said. "I saw an outlet by the dryer when I got here."

They ended up squeezed between the washing machine and a stack of boxes, sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor. Jordan's cable finally reached the outlet, and they watched his phone battery creep up from 2% to 3%.

"So," he said, tapping his palm against his knee. "You gonna tell me why you've been hiding in the kitchen all night, or do I have to guess?"

"Socially anxious," Maya admitted. "Also, I accidentally wore the same shirt as Sarah."

"No way." Jordan grinned. "She's been talking about that outfit all week. She thinks she started a trend."

"I've had this shirt since seventh grade!"

"Tell her that. She'll respect the vintage flex." He checked his phone. "Okay, 8%. Enough to order a pizza and ditch this party?"

Maya's hair was still frizzy. Her orange soda was still warm. But somehow, none of that mattered anymore.

"Absolutely."