Fox Games and Sweaty Palms

Maya's palms were practically dripping as she leaned against the kitchen island at Jake's party. This was it — the moment she'd been overthinking all week. Tyler, the actual fox of sophomore year, was finally across the room, and she had approximately zero clue how to human properly.

"You're doing that thing again," whispered Chloe, basically her sister but with better hair and way more rizz. "The spy stare. You're literally spying on him from behind a bag of Doritos. Main character energy, but make it awkward."

Maya wiped her palms on her jeans. "I am not spying. I'm observing. There's a difference."

"Mhmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night, bestie." Chloe smirked. "Cat got your tongue or something? Just go talk to him already. What's the worst that could happen? He says no, and you move on with your life like the baddie you are."

Easier said than done. Maya's brain was doing that thing where it replayed every embarrassing moment from sixth grade to present day. The time she tripped in PE. The time she accidentally sent her crush a voice note of her singing. The time she catfished herself into thinking someone liked her back when they definitely didn't.

Tyler laughed at something his friend said, and Maya's chest did that little flutter thing that TikTok said was a crush but felt more like anxiety with extra steps. He really was cute — in that way where he didn't seem to know it, which somehow made him cuter. Messy brown hair, hoodies that definitely weren't from the school store, and that smile that could probably get him out of detention.

"I can't," Maya said. "What if I say something weird? What if I try to be funny and it's not? What if I say 'slay' unironically and he immediately knows I'm not built for this?"

Chloe grabbed her hand. "Okay, first of all, never say slay unironically. But also — you're overthinking it. Guys are literally so clueless. You could walk up to him and say 'potato' and he'd probably think it's some new trend he doesn't know about yet."

Maya snorted. "You're the worst."

"I'm the best, and you love me. Now go over there or I'm telling everyone you still sleep with a stuffed animal."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Fine. Maya took a breath, wiped her palms one more time, and started walking across the room. Her heart was doing jumping jacks, her brain was screaming abort mission, but her feet kept moving anyway. Tyler looked up right as she approached, and suddenly she was there, actually doing it, actually talking to the fox she'd been spying on for weeks.

"Hey," she said, and it came out normal somehow. "Cool party."

And Tyler smiled — like, actually smiled at her — and said, "Yeah, Jake's been planning this since last semester. I'm Tyler, by the way."

"Maya," she said, and somehow her palms weren't sweating anymore. "I know. I mean — I've seen you around. In a not-creepy way. Hopefully."

He laughed, and it was better than she'd imagined. "Don't worry, I've been noticing you too. In a definitely-not-creepy way either."

Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe this wasn't so terrifying after all. Or maybe her palms were just too busy being happy to remember they were supposed to be nervous.