Goldfish in the Aisle

Maya smoothed her apron for the third time, checking her reflection in the bakery case glass. First day at Gourmet Fresh, and naturally she'd already managed to knock over a display of organic oranges, sending them rolling across the linoleum like escaped tribbles. Her supervisor had given her that look — the one that said, "Should've hired the responsible one."

The store's summer promotion: tropical fruit sampling station. Which meant Maya was stuck behind a table arranged with papaya slices that nobody wanted. She'd spent three hours watching customers speed-walk past her, avoiding eye contact like she was soliciting for a cult.

"Hey, can I try—"

Maya jumped, sending a papaya chunk flying. It landed perfectly in the hood of a sweatshirt.

A boy. A very cute boy with shaggy hair and dimples. He stood there, papaya chunk resting on his shoulder like a tropical parrot.

"Your aim's killer," he said, grinning. "I'm Lucas."

"Maya. And that was... not my finest moment."

"Nah, it was memorable." He picked the papaya out of his hood. "10 out of 10 for presentation."

Her face burned. She was the queen of awkward first impressions. Last month, she'd been at a party where someone brought a baby pool, and she'd been peer-pressured into riding it like a bull. For exactly three seconds before wiping out spectacularly. The video had circulated through school faster than mono in the drama department.

"So," Lucas said, leaning against her table. "What's good here? Besides the papaya cannons?"

Maya's brain blanked. "Um. The papaya is... papaya-y?"

Smooth. Really, really smooth.

He laughed, and something in her chest did that stupid flutter thing. "I'll take your word for it." He tried a piece, made a thoughtful face. "Not bad. Better than cafeteria pizza, at least."

"That's setting the bar incredibly low."

"Hey, low bars are where I thrive." He checked his phone, grimaced. "I gotta run. My mom's making me help set up for my sister's birthday. She bought twenty goldfish as party favors. Twenty. Who does that?"

"That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"Exactly." He started walking away, then turned back. "Hey, Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, aim for me. I'm down to be your target."

He winked. Actually winked.

Maya stood there, heart pounding, as the store intercom announced cleanup on aisle four. Somewhere, a baby cried. Somewhere, twenty goldfish were probably plotting their escape. And Maya, for the first time all day, didn't feel like hiding.

Maybe first days weren't so terrible after all.