Fox Mode Activated

The house party at Tyler's was already in full swing when I caught Maya by the upstairs bathroom. She was wearing that vintage hoodie she'd thrifted last week—rust colored, oversized in that way that somehow looked intentional.

"You came," she said, and the way she said it made my stomach do that thing where it forgets how to be an organ.

"Yeah. I mean, I said I would." Smooth. Real smooth.

She leaned against the doorframe, playing with the zipper pull. "I wasn't sure if you would. After last week."

Last week. When I'd spent forty-five minutes hyping myself up to ask for her number in the cafeteria, only to choke so hard I literally dropped my tray. The incident had been memorialized in the group chat as #traydown.

"About that—"

"Maya!" Some lacrosse bro yelled from downstairs. "Beer pong! You in?"

She rolled her eyes, then looked back at me. "I hate beer pong. You know that."

So we did what we always did when the party energy got too loud—we bolted.

Running through Tyler's massive backyard felt illegal somehow, like we were getting away with something. The grass was damp with dew, the air thick with that charged feeling you get before a storm. My phone buzzed in my pocket—Group chat: where'd you go?—but I ignored it.

Maya stopped at the edge of the woods. "So."

"So."

"Are you gonna ask me this time, or do I need to literally manifest it?"

"Manifest what?"

She gave me that look. The one that said are you actually this oblivious. Then her phone lit up her face—a flash like lightning, illuminating her tiny smirk.

"Your lock screen," I said. "Is that... is that a fox?"

"Fox mode activated," she said, tapping it. "It's my vibe. Cunning. Elusive. Intentionally chaotic."

The first raindrop hit my arm. Then another. Suddenly the sky opened up, dumping water like it'd been holding it in all day. We were soaked in seconds, hair plastered to our faces, clothes stuck to skin.

Maya didn't run for cover. She threw her head back, laughing, spinning in circles while lightning split the sky behind her. "This is PEAK cinema," she shouted over the thunder. "Tell me this isn't main character energy!"

I stood there, soaked and ridiculous, watching her. And suddenly it didn't matter that I'd dropped a tray last week. It didn't matter that I was awkward and overthought everything and still didn't know how to flirt.

"Maya."

She stopped spinning, water dripping from her eyelashes. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to maybe... I don't know. Hang out? Just us? Tomorrow?"

She smiled, and it wasn't her fake polite smile. It was the real one. "Finally. I thought I'd have to manifest it harder."

"Fox mode," I said, and she laughed.

"Fox mode," she agreed. "Now let's go before we literally drown."

We ran back to the house, shoulders brushing, leaving wet footprints on the patio. My phone buzzed again—Group chat: you guys missed it, tyler's mom came home early—but this time I didn't care.

I'd ask for her number tomorrow. For real this time. No trays involved.