Orange Soda & Empty Cups

Maya stood by the bathroom door, nursing a plastic cup of warm **water** like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Jordan's house party was everything she'd dreaded—loud music, people she barely knew from school, and that suffocating feeling of being the only one who didn't get the memo on how to exist in rooms like this.

"You look like you're calculating your escape route," a voice said beside her.

Maya turned to find Leo—the guy from her AP Bio class who always sat in the back, sketching in his notebook instead of taking notes. He held a calico **cat** in his arms like it was a completely normal thing to bring to a party.

"That's Jordan's cat," Leo explained, following her gaze. "Her name's Mango. She hates parties too."

"I feel seen by a cat," Maya admitted, and Leo laughed—a real laugh, not the fake one everyone else was doing all night.

He led her to the kitchen, which was surprisingly empty except for a bowl of sliced **papaya** on the counter. "My mom's obsessed with exotic fruits," Leo explained. "She swears it's a mood booster."

"Is it working?" Maya asked, trying a piece. It was sweet and strange, kind of like how she was feeling about tonight.

"Honestly?" Leo leaned against the counter. "I'm mostly here because Jordan said you were coming."

Maya nearly choked on her papaya. "What?"

His face turned that deep **orange** shade of embarrassment she knew all too well. "I mean—that came out wrong. I've been wanting to talk to you since you gave that presentation on climate change. You made it actually interesting."

The moment stretched between them, charged with all the things they weren't saying. Then the front door slammed open and someone yelled, "POLICE!"

Panic erupted. People scattered like roaches. Leo grabbed her hand. "This way!"

They scrambled out the back door, ending up hiding behind a **bear** statue in Jordan's neighbor's yard—because apparently rich people had bear statues, whatever—while sirens wailed in the distance. False alarm, someone's car alarm.

"We're idiots," Maya whispered, but she was smiling.

"Yeah," Leo said, his hand still in hers. "But at least we're idiots together."

Later, they'd sit on the curb sharing stories until 3 AM, the kind of night that felt like the start of something real. But for now, behind a concrete bear with papaya on their breath, Maya thought maybe parties weren't so bad after all.