Operation Goldfish

Maya's palms were sweating — literally dripping — as she stood in the corner of Jordan's basement party. Some spy she turned out to be. Her best friend Nina had given her one job: find out whether Tyler actually liked her, and report back with detailed reconnaissance.

Instead, Maya was currently trapped in conversation with Tyler's weird cousin who kept explaining his goldfish's personality disorders. Meanwhile, Tyler was across the room laughing at something Rachel said. Rachel, who had perfectly straightened hair and wore orange lipstick that somehow looked good instead of like she'd just eaten a popsicle.

"You okay?" Tyler appeared beside her, holding out a red solo cup. "You look like you're plotting someone's murder."

Maya's heart did that embarrassing flutter thing. "Just conducting surveillance," she said, then immediately wanted to die. Who said that?

Tyler's grin widened. "Cool. Can I join your spy network? What's the mission?"

"Classified," Maya said, reaching for the cup. Their fingers brushed and she nearly dropped it. "Top secret."

"Fair enough." He leaned against the wall, shoulder almost touching hers. "My brother says goldfish have a three-second memory. I think that's fake news though."

Maya blinked. "Wait, how did you know about—"

"I saw you listening to Leo. Sorry about that. He's really committed to the bit." Tyler's eyes were brown, flecked with green, and suddenly way too close. "So, what were you actually thinking about over here all alone?"

The truth was too embarrassing. That she spent half her time observing everyone else from the edges, like she was watching life through a glass wall. That she felt like a goldfish swimming in circles, forgetting whatever confidence she'd had three seconds ago.

Instead she said, "Water. I was thinking about how I should've brought water instead of trusting your mystery punch."

Tyler laughed, and it was better than Rachel's laugh, not that Maya was keeping score or anything. "Valid. Want to escape? There's a convenience store nearby. Real water, guaranteed."

They walked out into the night air, and Maya's palm stopped sweating. Maybe reconnaissance wasn't the point. Maybe some missions weren't about gathering intel — they were about finally participating.