Orange You Glad I Stayed

My iPhone buzzed for the third time in two minutes. Maya's glass cracked screen flashed with a text from Jake: *u coming? i'm at the food court*

Panic surged through my chest. I'd spent forty-five minutes perfecting my winged eyeliner, only to swipe on what I thought would be a subtle coral lip gloss. But under the mall's harsh fluorescent lights, my reflection revealed a screaming orange mouth that looked like I'd just finished devouring a bag of Cheetos.

I looked ridiculous. Everyone would stare. Jake would take one look at me and think I was trying too hard. I considered bailing—feigning sudden illness, claiming my mom needed me, anything to avoid this humiliation.

*just got parked!* I typed back, lying through my teeth. I was already here. I couldn't chicken out now.

The food court stretched before me like a minefield of social judgment. I spotted Jake immediately, scrolling through his phone at a table near the smoothie place. My stomach did that awful swooping thing it always did when I saw him—equal parts excitement and terror.

I forced myself to walk over, clutching my iPhone like a lifeline. "Hey!"

Jake looked up and his eyes went wide. For a second, I thought he was going to laugh. I felt my face burning hot, knew I must be turning as orange as my lips. I'd never been more embarrassed in my entire life.

Then he grinned. "Whoa. That color is... bold. I like it."

Wait, what?

"You're not gonna say anything about it?" I asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

"About what?" Jake tilted his head, genuinely confused. "That you actually showed up? I was kinda worried you wouldn't."

I blinked. "You thought I wouldn't come?"

He shrugged, looking suddenly vulnerable. "I mean, you've been blowing me off in chemistry for weeks. I figured this was my one shot to see if you actually wanted to hang out or if you were just being nice."

My phone buzzed again—my mom asking if I needed a ride later—but I ignored it. "I've been avoiding you because you make me nervous, genius."

Jake's smile returned, softer this time. "Same here."

We spent the next two hours talking about everything and nothing—his terrible attempts at cooking, my obsession with horror movies, why the school's pizza should legally be considered cardboard. And somewhere between our second round of pretzel bites and my failed attempt to teach him how to properly eat an orange without spraying juice everywhere, I realized something.

I didn't have to bear this weight of perfection I'd been carrying around. Jake wasn't looking for someone flawless. He was just looking for me—orange lip gloss disaster and all.

Later that night, my phone buzzed with a new notification. Jake had posted a picture of us on his story. My mouth was bright orange, my hair was messy, and I was laughing so hard my eyes were closed. The caption read: *finally.*

I screenshot it immediately. Some moments were worth keeping, even the embarrassing ones. Especially those.