Goldfish in the Orange Kitchen

Maya stood in the kitchen, staring at the goldfish bowl on the counter. Her parents were out, and Theo—THE Theo, who sat behind her in biology and wrote poetry on his sneakers—was coming over for dinner. She'd spent two days menu-planning, three hours shopping, and was currently having an existential crisis about spinach.

"You're spiraling," she muttered to the goldfish. Einstein bubbled back, completely unimpressed with her teenage drama.

The front door opened. Too early. Way too early.

"Maya?" Theo's voice called out. "Your front door was unlocked, and... is that a dog?"

Buster. Her parents' ancient golden retriever, who was supposed to be at the vet. Buster, who was currently sprinting toward Theo with the enthusiasm of a creature who had never met a stranger and immediately decided this new human was his entire world.

"BUSTER, NO!" Maya bolted from the kitchen, sock sliding on hardwood, arms flailing like a distressed penguin.

She tripped over a tangled mess of ethernet cable they'd left from the WiFi router upgrade, faceplanted directly into the kitchen island, and watched in horror as her carefully arranged spinach went airborne like confetti. Green bits rained down on everything—the counter, the floor, Buster's delighted golden head.

Theo stood in the doorway. He had spinach in his hair. His orange hoodie was covered in green specks. He was laughing. Not pity-laughing. The doubled-over, can't-breathe, actual laughing.

"I'm so sorry," Maya groaned into the floorboards. "This is the opposite of chill. This is... un-chill. This is negative chill."

"Maya." Theo's voice was warm with amusement. He stepped over the cable, careful not to slip, and extended a hand. "This is literally the most interesting thing that's happened to me all week. Also, your dog just chose me as his favorite person, so I'm basically family now."

She let him pull her up. Their fingers lingered. Spinach rained gently between them like weird green snow.

"I was going to make dinner," she said weakly. "It was going to be normal and impressive and NOT covered in vegetables."

"Normal's boring," Theo said, and the way he looked at her made something flutter behind her ribs that had nothing to do with social anxiety. "Besides, Einstein needs backup." He nodded toward the goldfish, who was watching the chaos with what looked like judgment. "What's the plan?"

Maya looked at the spinach-covered kitchen, the dog now happily chewing on a dish towel, the cable still coiled like a snake on the floor, the goldfish judging her life choices, and Theo with spinach in his hair and that incredibly orange hoodie, smiling at her like she was the most interesting person he'd met all year.

"We order pizza," she said, starting to laugh herself. "And we never speak of this to anyone. Ever."

"Deal." He grinned, spinach and all. "But I'm definitely putting this in my poem."