Green Smoothie Disaster

Maya's first day at Juice Universe was already a disaster, and she'd only been working for twenty minutes. The spinach‑green smoothie she was making had somehow exploded everywhere. Like, literally everywhere—across her apron, up her arms, somehow even in her hair.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" This was Liam, the cute senior whose name she'd definitely Googled last night. He was reaching for a paper towel, his face creased with that perfect blend of amusement and concern that made her stomach do actual gymnastics.

"I'm so good," Maya lied, frantically wiping green sludge from her cheek. "Just, uh, really passionate about spinach."

Liam laughed. At her? With her? She couldn't tell. Her social anxiety was hitting different levels today.

Meanwhile, the papaya she'd been cubing for a tropical blend had rolled under the prep table. She bent down to grab it, and her phone earbuds snagged on something—the coaxial cable for the store's internet. The whole setup came tumbling down, papers flying, cables tangling around her ankles like she'd been caught in some ridiculous net.

"I meant to do that," she called from the floor, because apparently her mouth had just decided to go rogue today. "Cable management, you know? Very on trend."

Liam was properly laughing now, but not in a mean way. He crouched down to help her gather the scattered paperwork. "Your first week here?"

"First day. Can you tell?"

"The vibe is chaotic, but like, in a good way." His hand brushed hers as they both reached for the same receipt. Maya's heart did this embarrassingly obvious flutter thing that she felt in her toes.

The door chimed—her mom, of course. Because the universe apparently wanted to complete her humiliation trifecta. Her mother had brought a water bottle, like Maya was somehow incapable of basic hydration.

"Honey, you forgot—" Her mom stopped, taking in Maya's spinach‑covered arms, the cable situation, Liam kneeling beside her. "Oh. Am I interrupting?"

"No," Maya said, standing up way too fast and nearly tripping over the now‑tangled cable mess. "This is just—work stuff."

Liam stood too, wiping papaya juice from his jeans. "Your mom seems nice."

"She's the best," Maya said, deadpan. "Ask me about my curfew sometime."

He grinned, and suddenly the chaos felt less catastrophic and more like a scene she'd oddly replay in her head later. Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so terrible. Or maybe she'd just wear green to match her inevitable smoothie explosions. Either way, she was definitely keeping Liam's number. Professional reasons, obviously.