Code Name: Tangerine

Maya's phone buzzed at 2:47 AM. Again.

She'd been a zombie since Monday—three hours of sleep total, existing on caffeine and anxiety. But the notification from Jordan's Instagram story was like jumper cables to her heart.

Orange hair. Jordan had dyed his hair orange.

The same Jordan she'd been secretly spying on since he moved away in seventh grade. The same Jordan whose every social media post she'd memorized, whose Spotify playlists she followed, whose life she monitored from behind six different fake accounts. A regular spy novelist of unrequited feelings.

"What are you doing awake?" Her mom's voice sliced through the door. Maya slammed her phone facedown.

"Homework," she lied.

Her orange hair dye had been sitting in her drawer for two months. Since the day Jordan posted that story about his band practicing, captioned "transitions." She'd bought it on impulse, but hadn't had the guts.

Until now.

The bathroom mirror reflected someone she barely recognized—tired eyes, messy bun, the weight of expectations from everyone. The perfect student. The reliable friend. The girl who never took risks.

She opened the dye kit.

Forty minutes later, Maya ran a hand through her newly orange hair. It was bright. Unapologetic. The kind of color that announced your presence before you even spoke.

Her phone buzzed again. A DM. From Jordan.

"Saw you've been watching my stories. Miss you too."

Maya's breath caught. She wasn't invisible. She wasn't just lurking in the shadows of his life. She was seen.

The zombie-like exhaustion lifted. For the first time in forever, she felt awake.

She snapped a selfie—orange hair, genuine smile, eyes alive with something like hope.

Posted it. No fake account this time.

Code name: Tangerine. Operation: Stop hiding.

Her phone lit up almost instantly. Jordan had liked it.

Maya grinned. Some transitions were worth making.