Orange Soda Palm Promises

The pool party at Tyler's house was supposed to be legendary, but Maya had spent forty-five minutes hiding in the bathroom, psyching herself up. Her curls were doing that weird frizz thing that always happened when it was humid, and she'd already reapplied her orange nail polish twice because she kept picking at it when she was nervous.

"You coming out or what?" her best friend Jordan called through the door. "Everyone's asking where you are."

Maya took a deep breath and opened the door. The backyard was packed — the popular kids, the theater kids, everyone somehow mingling in that weird way that only happened during summer. The pool water sparkled with those underwater lights, and someone had started a game of chicken fights that was getting way too competitive.

She made a beeline for the snack table, grabbing an orange soda from the cooler. That's when she saw him — Lucas, leaning against the fence, looking unfairly good even in swim trunks and a damp t-shirt. He was the new guy from Seattle, quiet in class but apparently social enough to get invited to Tyler's party.

"Hey," he said, pushing off the fence. "I noticed you've been hiding inside."

Maya nearly choked on her soda. "I wasn't hiding. I was... strategically avoiding social interaction until I felt properly socially lubricated."

Lucas laughed. "Fair. That's actually a valid strategy." He held out his hand. "I'm Lucas, by the way. I think we have English together."

His palm was warm against hers, and something about the way his thumb brushed her wrist made her stomach do that weird flip thing. "Maya. Yeah, we sit three rows apart."

"Close enough to be friends though, right?" His eyes were this golden brown color, kinda like her orange soda. "Hey, you want to get out of here? Tyler's mom ordered way too much pizza and everyone's ignoring it."

They ended up on the back porch, eating cold pepperoni and watching the sunset turn the sky this incredible shade of orange. Maya's hair had graduated from frizz to full-on chaos, but Lucas didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't care.

"So," he said, wiping pizza sauce from his chin. "You believe in that stuff? That palm reading thing?"

Maya laughed. "You serious right now?"

"Dead serious. My sister's into all that woo-woo stuff. She claims she can read futures and stuff." He held out his hand again, palm up. "Read mine."

"Okay, first of all, rude assumption that I know how to do this." But she traced the lines on his palm anyway, her finger gentle against his skin. "You're going to..." She squinted dramatically. "You're going to have a really great summer."

"That's it? That's your prediction?"

"That's a pretty big deal, actually. Great summers are hard to come by."

Lucas smiled, and for the first time all night, Maya didn't feel like hiding. Not in the bathroom, not behind her orange soda, not anywhere.

"You know what?" he said. "I think you might be right about this summer thing."