Fox in the Party Hat

Maya's palms were literally dripping as she stood outside Jake's house, the bass from inside vibrating through the soles of her sneakers. First party of sophomore year, and she'd already spent forty minutes psyching herself up in the bathroom mirror.

"You got this," she whispered, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans.

Inside, the air smelled like tropical punch and teen spirit. Someone had strung up actual palm leaves from the dollar store, creating a questionable jungle vibe that everyone was pretending was aesthetic.

Then she saw him. Fox. That's what everyone called Lucas Reed—sly grin, mysterious vibe, currently wearing this ridiculous neon green trucker hat that somehow worked. He was leaning against the kitchen island, surrounded by the usual crowd.

Maya's best friend Riley appeared beside her, phone already out. "Did you see Fox's hat? Someone said he's wearing it because he lost a bet to Jordan."

"Classic." Maya tried to sound chill, like she hung out with people who hosted house parties every weekend instead of spending Friday nights watching Netflix.

Then Fox noticed her. His eyes crinkled above that stupid neon brim.

"Hey," he said, pushing through the crowd. "You're in my English class, right? The one with Mr. Harrison's ancient book collection?"

Maya's heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. "Yeah. The dusty book room."

He laughed, and it was genuine, not fake polite. "Want to see something ironic?" He gestured toward the living room where people were doing palm readings with some tarot cards someone's older sister had left behind. "They think it's, like, totally mystical. But the cards are just from a board game."

Before Maya could respond, Riley gasped. "Wait, really? I just paid five bucks for a reading!"

Fox's grin widened. "Exactly." He looked at Maya. "You want the real tea on this party?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Jake's parents are away until Sunday, and nobody actually knows how to make drinks, so that's fruit punch with literally zero alcohol." He leaned closer. "Everyone's just pretending to be drunk because it's what you do at parties."

Maya started laughing. She couldn't help it.

"What?" Fox asked, but he was smiling too.

"I've been standing here for an hour trying to look like I belong, and everyone's just pretending the whole time."

"Nah." Fox reached out and gently adjusted her hair. "You belong more than most of these people. At least you're not faking it."

From across the room, Riley gave her a subtle thumbs-up. Maya's palms weren't sweaty anymore. She didn't need to pretend.

"So," Fox said, that mischievous glint returning. "Want to help me expose the fake palm readings?"

"Absolutely."