Goldfish at Third Base

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, watching Jordan Bradley laugh with his friends by the pool. The water reflected flickering light across his face, making him look like some kind of golden retriever deity who'd never had an awkward moment in his entire life.

"You doing palm readings now?" Jordan appeared beside her, holding two red plastic cups.

Maya's brain short-circuited. "What? No. I mean—maybe?"

"Bet." He sat down. "Read mine."

She stared at his hand. His life line looked like a squiggly mess. "You're... gonna live?"

Jordan cracked up. "Lowkey the worst reading ever."

"I don't actually know how to do this."

"Me neither." He leaned closer. "Hey, you see that goldfish prize booth over there? My cousin's running it. He bet me I couldn't win one for someone."

"For who?"

"Someone who needs it."

They spent the next hour avoiding the baseball game that had taken over the lawn, throwing ping pong balls at tiny fish bowls instead. Jordan's throwing mechanics were honestly offensive for a varsity athlete, but his laugh was dumb and contagious and Maya didn't hate how their shoulders kept brushing when they both leaned in to check their aim.

"You're like, secretly competitive," she said after he literally growled at a bowl.

"My dad was a fox about everything," Jordan said, tossing another ball. "Like, cunning about competition. I guess it rubbed off."

The goldfish bowl finally tipped. A tiny orange fish swirled inside.

"Yesss!" Jordan grabbed the bowl. "For you."

"What?"

"You've been staring at it all afternoon. Plus, you gave me a palm reading that changed my life."

"I literally said you'd live."

"Exactly. What else matters?"

Maya walked home with a plastic bag sloshing water against her leg and Jordan's contact info in her phone. Her palms were still sweating. But like, in a good way this time.