Orange Hair, Steel Nerves

The orange hair dye job had been a disaster. Like, a genuine catastrophe. Maya had meant for auburn vibes, but she'd somehow ended up looking like a walking traffic cone. Three months of awkward cafeteria seating arrangements later, and she'd fully embraced the chaos.

"You're literally glowing," Jordan said, sliding into the booth across from her at Tilly's. "Like, actual radioactive vibes."

"Shut up, Jordan."

Jordan was gorgeous in that effortless way that made Maya want to simultaneously scream and take notes. They'd been in the same homeroom since sixth grade, and Maya had spent approximately 97% of that time being lowkey obsessed.

Today Jordan was wearing that oversized black hoodie with the paint stains, the one that made them look like they belonged in a sad indie music video from 2007. Maya's chest did that thing where it forgot how to lungs work.

"Hey, so." Jordan toyed with the straw wrapper. "My mom's making me take dog training classes. Because apparently Bear is literally unteachable."

Bear. Jordan's chaotic golden retriever who'd once eaten an entire birthday cake at Jordan's sister's quinceañera. The dog was a legend. Maya had seen Jordan walking Bear around the neighborhood sometimes, looking exhausted while the dog investigated every single mailbox like it contained secrets.

"Bear needs all the help he can get," Maya managed. "That dog is a menace."

Jordan laughed. "Literally. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come with? Like, for emotional support? Bear stresses out and I stress out and it's a whole situation."

Maya's brain short-circuited. Jordan. Asking her to hang. For dog training. The most romantic non-date ever conceived.

"Yeah," she said, way too fast. "I mean, sure, that sounds fun. If you want."

Jordan's phone buzzed. Their face lit up.

"Bear just brought me a shoe. He's so proud of himself."

They showed Maya the photo: Bear sitting next to a sneaker that was definitely not Jordan's, looking like he'd just discovered fire.

"He's so good at being terrible," Maya said.

"Right?" Jordan looked up, and their eyes met. "Hey, you should come over after training. We can order that orange soda you like. The fancy one from that bodega by your house."

Maya froze. Jordan knew her favorite soda. Jordan paid attention.

"I'd like that," she said, and this time her voice didn't shake.

"Cool." Jordan's grin was genuine. "It's a date. Like, platonically. Unless."

"Unless?"

"Unless you don't want it to be."

Maya looked at her orange hair, messy and imperfect and completely hers. She looked at Jordan, waiting for an answer with actual hope in their eyes.

"I don't," Maya said. "Want it to be platonic, I mean."

Jordan's smile could've powered a whole city. "Cool. Cool cool cool."

Sometimes, Maya thought, traffic cone hair and all, things actually worked out.