Palm Lines and Finish Lines

Maya's palms wouldn't stop sweating. Gross, honestly. She kept wiping them on her running shorts like a total weirdo, but nervous sweat didn't exactly respect the two-minute warning before Regionals.

"You good?" Jordan asked, bumping her shoulder. "You look like you're about to yack everywhere."

"I'm fine," Maya lied. Her voice cracked. Fantastic. "Just... pre-race jitters."

Jordan raised an eyebrow but didn't push it. That was the thing about Jordan—they knew when to call BS and when to let things slide. They'd been attached at the hip since seventh grade, when Jordan had defended Maya against some eighth grader who made fun of her hand-me-down spikes. Solid friend material.

But Jordan didn't know about Maya's secret crush on Riley from the rival school. And Maya wasn't exactly planning to spill the tea right before the biggest race of her life.

The gun went off.

Running was simple. Running was honest. One foot in front of the other, lungs burning, legs pumping, everything else fading into background noise. Maya could've done this stuff in her sleep.

Until she saw Riley cheering from the sidelines.

Maya's brain short-circuited. She almost ate it hard on the second lap, stumbling like a toddler learning to walk. Jordan shot past her with that smooth, effortless stride that made everything look stupidly easy.

Focus. Breathe. Don't think about Riley's smile or how they'd high-fived at that meet last month or how Maya had practiced casual hellos in her mirror for twenty minutes that morning.

She finished third. Not terrible, but not where she wanted to be.

Afterward, palms still sweating, heart doing gymnastics, Maya found herself face-to-face with Riley.

"You were amazing out there," Riley said. "Your form is insane."

Maya's brain supplied zero coherent responses. Just static. A whole lot of awkward silence and

Jordan appeared at her elbow like a mind-reading ninja. "Maya's too humble to admit she's been working on that form since, like, September."

"Jordan!" Maya protested, face heating up.

Riley laughed. "Well, it shows." They held out their hand. "I'm Riley, by the way."

Maya stared at their outstretched palm. Then she wiped her own sweaty hand on her shorts AGAIN and shook it. "Maya."

"Cool name." Riley grinned. "See you at All-States?"

If Maya made it to All-States. If her palms would ever stop betraying her. If her heart would quit trying to escape her chest every time Riley looked at her.

"Yeah," she managed. "See you there."

Jordan waited until Riley was out of earshot. "So... you gonna tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?"

Maya covered her face with both hands. "I hate you."

Jordan just smirked. "No, you don't. But we're definitely getting boba after this. My treat."

Some things, Maya decided, were worth running toward. Even if her palms never stopped sweating.