Fox in the Palm Grove

Maya's palms were literally sweating as she stood outside the beach house, bass vibrating through the wooden deck. Inside, Jake—the senior who'd been in her AP Bio class since forever—was hosting his legendary end-of-summer party. She'd spent forty-five minutes on her hair, naturally curly frizz tamed into perfect waves, only for the humidity to have other ideas.

"You good?" Marcus nudged her shoulder. He'd been her best friend since seventh grade, when they'd bonded over being the only two kids who actually liked the school lunch pizza. "If you don't go in, I'm bearing witness to you missing your shot. Again."

"Shut up," she muttered, but he wasn't wrong. Last year, she'd frozen when Jake had asked to borrow a pen, her brain short-circuiting like a crashed computer.

She stepped inside, and immediately someone shoved a red plastic cup into her hand. The air smelled like coconut sunscreen and something fruity. Through the sliding glass doors, she spotted Jake on the deck, surrounded by the usual crowd—Chelsea from the volleyball team, that sophomore who always posted aesthetic sunset pics on Instagram, people who made being cool look effortless.

Maya made her way to the deck's edge, where several palm trees swayed in the breeze. She leaned against the railing, pretending to be fascinated by the ocean view.

"Hey."

She nearly dropped her cup. Jake stood there, hands in his pockets, looking annoyingly perfect. "You're Maya, right? From bio?"

"Yeah," she managed, hoping her palms weren't as sweaty as they felt. "Hi."

"I heard something funny," he said, leaning against the railing beside her. "Marcus says you're like, secretly obsessed with foxes?"

Her brain screeched to a halt. "What? No I—"

"Relax, I'm messing with you." His grin was unfairly genuine. "Actually, I wanted to ask... did you ever finish that extra credit project? The one about ecosystem dynamics?"

"Oh my god, you remembered?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I literally spent three weeks on that, and Ms. Henderson still gave me a B-minus because my 'analysis lacked depth.' Like, what depth? It was a food web diagram."

Jake laughed—a real laugh, not the polite one he gave teachers. "Same happened to me! She told me my presentation style was 'too casual.' What does that even mean?"

They talked for twenty minutes about everything: their terrible teacher's grading philosophy, how Marcus always managed to borrow money for snacks but never pay it back, the fox documentary Maya had actually watched three times because it was legitimately good.

"So," Jake said, as the party started winding down. "There's this bonfire next weekend. At Miller's Beach. You should come. If you want."

Maya's heart did something genuinely alarming in her chest. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Cool." He pulled out his phone. "Let me get your number."

As she typed it in, she spotted Marcus giving her a thumbs-up from across the deck. For the first time all night, her palms were completely dry.