Orange Soda Summer

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could barely grip the Solo cup. The house party rumbled around her—some sketchy EDM remix rattling the windows, kids from AP Chem who usually wouldn't look at her now dancing like they'd invented moving. This was supposed to be Chloe's night to shine, but somehow Maya had been dragged along as emotional support.

Then she saw him.

Tyler from calculus, leaning against the kitchen counter with this casual energy that made everything else seem calculated. He held an orange soda like it was the most natural thing in the universe, not some做出的 choice to not drink like everyone else. Their eyes caught—lightning flash of recognition that made her stomach do something concerning.

"Hey," he said, pushing off the counter. "You're Maya, right? You sit behind me in Calc?"

"Yeah," she managed. "That's me. The one who asks too many questions about derivatives."

He laughed. Actually laughed. "Nah, you keep it interesting. Mr. Harrison would put himself to sleep without you."

Before she could respond, a golden retriever puppy bounded into the kitchen, chasing a abandoned glow stick. The room erupted in coos. Someone's cousin had brought their dog—a fluffy chaos machine that immediately decided Maya's shoelaces were its new obsession.

"That's Buster," Tyler said, crouching down to scratch behind the dog's ears. "My cousin's dog. He's got zero chill."

"He's perfect though," Maya said, and she meant it. Something about the dog's complete lack of self-consciousness made the whole party feel less terrifying.

"Want to go outside?" Tyler asked suddenly. "Buster needs air anyway. It's getting weird in here."

They ended up on the back porch, just sitting on the steps while the puppy chased moths. The night had cooled down, and Maya could finally breathe. They talked about everything and nothing—why calculus was both beautiful and evil, their mutual hatred for pineapple on pizza, how Chloe had been in the bathroom crying for twenty minutes because some guy had DM'd her best friend instead.

"You're cool, Maya," Tyler said as the puppy finally collapsed across their feet. "Like, genuinely cool. Not fake cool."

Her heart did that stupid flippy thing again. "You too, Tyler. You're... you're easy to talk to."

"Easy," he repeated, smiling. "I'll take it."

Lightning cracked across the sky, distant but bright. A storm was rolling in. Something about the moment felt huge—like the first page of something she hadn't known she was waiting to write.

"We should probably go inside," she said, but she didn't move.

"Yeah," he agreed, also not moving. "Probably."