Liquified Signals

Maya's lungs burned. She'd been running for forty-seven minutes—exactly the kind of punishing rhythm she used to outrun her own brain. Her playlist shuffled to that song Josh had sent her last week, the one with the lyrics about catching feelings like they were contagious.

Her iPhone buzzed against her arm with the notification. Josh: "at the creek. u coming?"

Maya slowed to a walk, chest heaving. The summer air was thick enough to chew. She'd been avoiding Josh since the incident at Skylar's party—since whatever that moment was, the one where their faces had gotten entirely too close and she'd panicked, fleeing so hard she'd nearly knocked over a pedestal table.

She was always running. From awkwardness, from expectations, from the version of herself that wanted things she couldn't name.

The creek was their spot. Not like a romantic spot—gross, it was Josh—but a place. Where they'd skip rocks and complain about teachers and exist in that comfortable space between friends and something more.

When she got there, Josh was already in the water, jeans and all, floating on his back like an idiot.

"Finally," he called, splashing water at her. "I was gonna send a search party." He held up his iPhone—still in his hand, somehow not dead yet. "But I can still document your arrival."

Maya rolled her eyes but felt her chest unclench for the first time in days. "You're gonna ruin that phone."

"Worth it." He treaded water, watching her. "You've been weird lately."

"No I haven't."

"You literally ran away from me last week."

Maya sat on the dock, feet dangling near the surface. The water looked so inviting, so uncomplicated. Just dive in. No overthinking.

"I wasn't running," she lied. "I was... urgently needed elsewhere."

"Uh-huh." Josh swam closer. "Maya."

She hated how he said her name. Like he knew things.

"What?"

"Your phone's been blowing up. You keep ignoring it." His eyes got serious. "You're doing that thing where you disappear inside your head. I can practically see you running laps in there."

Maya's stomach did that stupid flippy thing. "Maybe I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine." Josh grinned suddenly, reaching up and grabbing her ankle. "Then don't talk."

Maya shrieked as she yanked her leg back, but it was too late—she tipped forward, plunging into the creek.

The shock of cold water knocked everything loose. She surfaced, sputtering, while Josh cackled like a supervillain. Her iPhone, safely on the dock, captured nothing.

"You are the WORST," she yelled, but she was laughing too. Something in her chest cracked open—something that had been tight and scared and stupid.

"Worth it," Josh said again, but softer this way. He swam closer. "You stopped running."

Maya treaded water, heart hammering for a completely different reason now. The creek smelled like mud and memory. Josh's hair was plastered to his forehead and he looked ridiculous and she wanted to kiss him so bad her teeth hurt.

"Maybe," she said. "For like, five seconds."

"Progress." His hand found hers underwater. "I can work with five seconds."

Maya's iPhone lit up on the dock with another notification—probably Skylar asking where she was. But for once, she didn't care about answering. She was too busy learning how to stay still.