Palm Lines & Porch Lights

Maya's cat was the worst wingman in history.

She'd spent twenty minutes straightening her hair—because apparently at sixteen, nothing matters more than convincing the world you woke up like this—only for Barnaby to bolt straight toward Mr. Henderson's fence the second she stepped outside.

"Barnaby, no!" She scrambled after him, her sweaty palm slipping against the wooden panels as she peeked through the cracks.

That's when she saw him.

The new neighbor. The impossibly cute, possibly-out-of-her-league new neighbor who'd moved in last week. He was sitting on his porch, and—yep, this was happening—he was looking right at her. Or at least, right at the fence she was currently spying through.

Like a criminal. A genuine, fence-creeping, cat-chasing weirdo.

She froze. This was it. This was the moment her social life died.

"Your cat's pretty fast," he called out, and Maya realized she'd been spotted. He was grinning. Not like, laughing-at-her grinning, but actually smiling.

She squeezed through the gate, Barnaby already rubbing against the stranger's legs like a total traitor. "Yeah, he's... energetic." Her face burned. "Sorry about the fence thing. I wasn't—I mean, I was just—"

"Spying?" His eyes danced with amusement.

"Rescuing," she corrected, way too quickly. "From certain doom."

He laughed, and something in her chest did this stupid little flip thing that definitely didn't happen in real life, only in cheesy rom-coms. "I'm Leo, by the way. And I'm pretty sure Barnaby was just checking if I had food."

"Maya." She wiped her palm on her jeans—smooth, very cool—and reached out to shake his hand. His grip was warm, his fingers slightly calloused, and when their hands touched, she forgot how to breathe for approximately three seconds.

"Nice to meet you, Maya." His gaze lingered. "Hey, some friends are coming over later to play video games. You should come. Bring the cat if you want."

Her hair was probably a mess. Her palms were definitely sweaty. She'd literally just been caught being a creepy spy.

"Yeah," she heard herself say. "I'd love that."

Barnaby purred like he'd planned the whole thing. Traitor.