Cross Country Crush

Maya's cheeks burned as she leaned against the gym wall, trying to look like she wasn't dying. Cross country practice at Oak Creek High wasn't supposed to be this brutal, but Coach Martinez had them running hill repeats until her legs felt like actual jelly.

"You good?" A deep voice made her jump.

It was Leo—the fox-eyed junior with the messy dark hair and the unfairly nice jawline. The guy she'd been lowkey obsessed with since September.

Maya instinctively wiped her sweaty palm on her shorts before realizing she was literally offering him a gross hand. She pretended she was just, uh, adjusting her waistband. Smooth.

"Yeah, just... existential crisis about my life choices," she said, which wasn't even a joke.

Leo laughed, and oh no, it was even better up close. "Same. Coach said if I skip one more practice, he's feeding my spot on varsity to his dog."

Maya snorted. "Buddy, his dog would literally die on this course."

"RIP Buster," Leo said solemnly.

They stood there for a moment, and Maya's brain was running through approximately 47 scenarios where she said something cool and he fell in love with her on the spot. Instead she said, "So, like, varsity?

"Trying out. Nervous af though." Leo looked at her, really looked at her, like she wasn't just some sophomore struggling through practice. "You're fast though. I've seen you."

Maya almost choked. "I am actively barely surviving right now."

"You've got heart, though. That's what matters."

Her heart did something extremely embarrassing in her chest.

The next day at tryouts, Maya's legs were screaming, her lungs were absolutely done, and the sun was doing way too much. But when Leo passed her on the final stretch, he flashed her a thumbs-up.

She didn't make varsity. Not yet.

But as she bent over, hands on knees, trying to remember what oxygen felt like, Leo jogged over and high-fived her.

"Next season," he said. "I believe it."

Maya's palm was still tingling when she got home. Her mom asked how practice went, and for once, she didn't complain about the running.

"Actually," she said, already planning tomorrow's workout. "It was pretty good."