Orange Sneakers & Secret Crushes

Maya's orange Converse practically glowed against the beige hallway tiles, which was exactly why she wore them. If Liam from AP Chem was going to notice her, he'd have to actually *see* her first.

"You're literally glowing," said Jordan, her best friend since sixth grade, who'd definitely noticed Maya's sudden interest in sitting near the trophy case during third period. "Again."

"I'm not stalking him," Maya lied, opening Instagram on her phone. "I'm just... aware of his schedule."

"You're literally a spy at this point," Jordan laughed. "You know he has padel practice at 4, that his locker combination is 12-24-36, and that his sister's goldfish died last Tuesday."

Maya scrolled through Liam's profile for the hundredth time that week. It wasn't creepy—it was research.

That afternoon, she hovered by the padel courts outside the rec center, pretending to be deeply interested in a text message while actually watching Liam's team destroy their opponents. He was sweating, his hair messy, and for some reason, wearing these ridiculous bright orange socks that Maya decided were the best thing she'd ever seen.

"Nice socks," she said, before her brain could stop her mouth.

Liam looked up, surprised. "Oh, thanks! My mom got them for my birthday."

"My goldfish has better taste," Maya blurted, then immediately wanted to die. WHY did she say that? She didn't even have a goldfish.

Liam stared at her for a second, and then—miraculously—he laughed. "That's specific."

"I'm specific about fish fashion," Maya managed, her face burning.

They talked for twenty minutes about nothing—padel strategies, how weird it was that Ms. Henderson gave a pop quiz on a Friday, whether orange was actually a legitimate color for athletic wear. Maya learned that Liam's goldfish was named Bubbles, that he'd been playing padel since he was seven, and that he thought Maya's orange Converse were "kinda cool, actually."

"Hey," he said, before walking to his bike. "Maybe I'll see you here tomorrow?"

Maya practically floated home.

"So," Jordan asked later that night over FaceTime. "Did you actually talk to him, or were you just low-key spying from behind a tree like a total creep?"

Maya looked at her orange sneakers by the door, thinking about Liam's socks and his laugh and how she'd definitely be at the padel courts tomorrow.

"I may have retired from the spy business," Maya grinned. "But I'm keeping the orange shoes."