Orange Palm Promposal

Maya's palms were sweating—literally dripping—as she stared at her phone. The group chat was blowing up about promposals, and she was the only one without a date or a plan.

"You good?" Riley slide into the seat next to her, dumping her bag on the cafeteria table. "You look like a zombie."

"May be," Maya mumbled, picking at the orange peel on her tray. " Caleb finally asked someone."

Riley winced. "Oof. That's rough, buddy."

Maya had been crushing on Caleb since seventh grade. They'd bonded over their shared obsession with The Walking Dead, spending countless weekends analyzing zombie apocalypse survival strategies. Now senior year was ending, and she was still stuck in the friend zone while he asked some sophomore to prom.

"Whatever." Maya shoved the orange slice into her mouth. "I'm over it."

"You're not," Riley said gently. "Hey, remember what you told me freshman year? That palm reading stuff?"

Maya's grandmother had taught her palmistry basics—life line, heart line, head line. She'd mostly used it to impress people at parties or distract herself during panic attacks.

"So?"

"So..." Riley lowered her voice. "What if your palm told you something you didn't want to hear? Would you believe it?"

Before Maya could answer, Caleb appeared at their table, looking nervous.

"Hey, Maya, can I talk to you?"

Her stomach did that thing where it felt like someone had replaced it with a bag of marbles. "Sure?"

They walked outside, where the sky was painting itself orange and pink for sunset. Caleb ran a hand through his hair—something he only did when he was stressed.

"I screwed up," he said finally. "I asked Skylar to prom because I thought you weren't interested. But then Riley told me you've had a thing for me forever, and I felt like such a zombie for not seeing it."

Maya's palms started sweating again. "You felt like a zombie?"

"Dead inside," he nodded. "So... I was wondering if you'd want to go with me instead? Like, actually?"

The old Maya would've analyzed every angle, checked her palm signs, overthought it until the opportunity passed. But new Maya—senior year, almost-college Maya—just said, "Yes. Obviously."

Caleb's grin was brighter than the sunset.

Later that night, Maya looked at her palm. The lines hadn't changed, but somehow everything had.