Friday Night's Pyramid Scheme

Maya's palm was sweating against her iPhone screen as she hovered over Jake's profile. Third period Spanish had been absolute torture—Jake had actually looked at her twice. Twice.

"You gonna stalk him all night or actually say hi?" Chloe whispered, appearing behind her with an orange soda in each hand.

Maya jumped, nearly dropping her phone. "I wasn't stalking! I was... strategically gathering intel."

"Right. Because staring at his profile pic for twenty minutes is totally CIA-level recon." Chloe handed her a soda. "Speaking of, the party's in full swing. Jake's by the makeshift pyramid of red Solo cups in the kitchen."

The kitchen table had been transformed into the most precarious structure known to teenage kind—a beer cup pyramid that towered over everyone's heads like the world's drunkest monument to poor decision-making.

Maya's stomach did that thing where it simultaneously wanted to evacuate her body and also dissolve entirely. This was it. The moment. Jake was right there, laughing at something his friend said, looking unfairly good in that flannel that definitely wasn't warm enough for October.

She took a breath, took a sip of orange soda, took approximately zero steps forward—

And then her cat chose that exact moment to crash the party.

Okay, technically it wasn't her cat. It was Mrs. Henderson's cat, Midnight, who'd apparently escaped and decided that freshman year Maya's nervous breakdown was the perfect time to weave through her legs like a furry agent of chaos.

"Who brought a cat?" someone yelled.

"I think that's the neighbor's—"

Maya tripped.

Time slowed down as she watched her orange soda arc through the air, landing directly on the pyramid. The cups collapsed in a spectacular shower of plastic and liquid, dousing Jake and his flannel in sticky orange tragedy.

The music stopped. Everyone stared.

Maya thought about moving to Mars. Mars seemed nice. No boys. No parties. No cats.

Jake wiped orange soda from his face. For a terrible moment, Maya thought he'd be mad.

Then he started laughing. Not mean laughing, but actual, genuine laughing. "Okay, that was iconic."

"I'm so sorry—" Maya started, face burning.

"Are you kidding? That was the most interesting thing that's happened at one of these parties since seventh grade when Tommy threw up in the aquarium." Jake grinned at her. "I'm Jake, by the way. Destroyer of pyramids, savior of boring parties."

"Maya," she managed, her heart doing something complicated and fluttery. "Professional party crasher, apparently."

Chloe appeared with paper towels. "I'd say you made an impression."

Later, as they cleaned up cups together, Maya's palm stopped sweating. Jake texted her later that night, and for the first time, Maya didn't overanalyze every single character.

Sometimes the most embarrassing moments become the best origin stories. And sometimes, you accidentally destroy a pyramid and somehow, inexplicably, get the guy.