Crush Confidential

Maya's palms were sweating again. She wiped them on her apron—green, like everything else at The Green Blend, where she spent six hours a day crafting liquid health for people who'd probably just eaten a burger.

"Spinach kale combo, extra ginger," she announced, sliding a cup across the counter.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. The group chat was blowing up.

"Liam's posting pics of some party," Daria texted. "Looks lit."

Maya's fingers trembled as she opened Instagram. There he was—Liam, with his annoyingly perfect hair and that fox-like grin that made her stomach do actual gymnastics. She'd been basically cyber-stalking him for weeks, which felt pathetic but also, like, necessary research.

"You're such a spy," her friend TJ had teased yesterday when he'd caught her scrolling through Liam's tagged photos from 2019. "It's giving FBI energy."

"It's not spying," she'd protested. "It's… information gathering."

Her phone dinged again. A notification from Liam's story. He was live. At the party. Without her.

Maya stared at the vitamin display on the counter—Vitamin C for immunity, D for bones, B-12 for energy. She wished they made a supplement for crushing on someone who didn't know you existed.

"Hey, earth to Maya."

She jumped. It was Leo, the barista with the shark tooth necklace who always winked when she came in.

"Sorry. Long day."

"You've been staring at those vitamins for ten minutes," he said. "Everything okay?"

Maya's phone buzzed. A DM from Liam.

"hey, this party's actually kinda awkward without u here. u coming?"

She read it three times. Then four times.

"Yeah," she told Leo, her palms suddenly dry as desert sand. "Yeah, everything's actually great."

She untied her apron, grabbed her backpack, and didn't look back at the spinach display once. Sometimes, she decided, the best vitamin wasn't sold in stores—it was showing up, even when your sweaty palms begged you to stay home.

Fox emoji or not, she was done spying from the sidelines.