Citrus Summer

Maya's summer job at Juice Universe wasn't exactly the influencer lifestyle she'd envisioned for herself. Every day involved blending the same neon concoctions while watching everyone else's summer play out through glowing screens.

"Can I get the Orange Dream with extra vitamin C boost?" The customer didn't even look up from his phone.

"Coming right up." Maya grabbed the oversized oranges from the display, their bright peels dimpled like imperfect planets. Through the storefront window, she saw her ex-best friend Chloe posting stories from the beach—Chloe, who now exclusively wore crop tops and used words like 'aesthetic' and 'living her best life.' Meanwhile, Maya smelled like citrus and minimum wage.

Her iphone buzzed in her apron pocket. Another notification from the group chat that had quietly stopped including her three weeks ago. The screen lit up with a streak of emojis she couldn't bring herself to open.

The bell above the door chimed. A guy her age walked in—Marcus from AP Bio, who she'd never actually spoken to but who sat two rows back and consistently wore those oversized hoodies even in ninety-degree weather.

He hesitated at the counter. "Uh, hey."

"Hey." Maya resisted the urge to fix her hair, which had been confined in a hairnet for four hours.

"What's actually good here? Like, not from the menu."

She paused. No one had ever asked her that. "The orange-carrot-ginger combo's pretty solid. But if you're feeling adventurous, add a splash of cayenne."

"Yeah? Okay. Let's do it."

As she worked, he leaned against the counter, actually looking at her instead of through her. "My mom's making me drink these. Says I need more vitamin everything because apparently 'growing boy' is still a thing."

Maya laughed. It came out more genuine than she'd expected. "Parents are obsessed with vitamins. My mom started hiding them in my breakfast smoothies sophomore year."

"Did it work?"

"I haven't been sick since. So maybe?" She passed him the cup. "First one's on the house. Consider it market research."

He took a sip, eyes widening. "Okay, that's actually fire. Thanks, Maya?" He checked the nametag. "Yeah, Maya."

"See you tomorrow, Marcus."

After he left, she pulled out her phone. The group chat notification still sat there, glowing with unopened potential. Instead of opening it, she started something new—a photo of the orange wedges backlit by afternoon sun, captioned: 'summer state of mind.'

Her shift ended. Outside, the air smelled like asphalt and possibility, and somewhere in the distance, someone's music played low and steady. She had three months of oranges ahead of her, and for the first time all summer, that felt like enough.