Operation Birthday Cake

Maya adjusted her dad's old reading glasses—the essential disguise for her self-appointed mission as an unofficial spy at Northwood High. Her target: Tyler's birthday party invitation list, currently sitting on his desk during third period English while he was at the bathroom.

"I'm not a stalker," she whispered to herself, carefully flipping through the neon-covered notebook. "I'm conducting socially necessary research."

Her best friend Jia thought she was obsessed. Maybe she was. But ever since Tyler had complimented her Pyramid Stud earrings back in September (a vintage find she'd sworn made her look cool, not try-hard), Maya had been strategically gathering intel. The social hierarchy at school was like some complex ancient civilization she needed to decode before making her move.

"Maya?" Tyler's voice made her jump like she'd been electrocuted.

She slapped the notebook closed. "I was just—uh—admiring your organizational system. Very structured. Like, geometrically pleasing."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, but his expression softened into that almost-smile that made her stomach do unnecessary gymnastics. "You're weird." He paused. "Weird in a good way."

"Is that a yes? For the party?" she blurted before her brain could veto the question.

"Actually, I was going to ask you." He rubbed the back of his neck—classic nervous body language she'd catalogued from months of careful observation. "But I couldn't find you earlier."

Maya's heart was hammering like it was trying to escape her chest. "Oh. Cool. I mean, yeah, I'll be there. With appropriate emotional enthusiasm."

"Great." He handed her a card, which she took with fingers that were definitely not shaking. "It's at Bear Creek Park. My mom's making her famous tres leches cake, so prepare for maximum sugar impact."

"She's the real MVP," Maya said, attempting casual. "I'll be there. With bells on. Not literally. That would be extra."

Tyler laughed—that genuine sound that had been the background track to her daydreams since September. "See you Saturday, Maya."

As she walked back to her seat, Jia texted her: *well????*

Maya grinned at her phone, officially retiring from the spy business. Operation Get The Boy was complete, and somehow, despite all her overthinking and elaborate planning, the hardest part had just been... asking.

*mission accomplished* she typed back, already wondering what outfit said "I like you" without screaming "I've been analyzing your micro-expressions for four months." Some mysteries weren't meant to be solved—just experienced.