Palm Reader's Secret

The party was already lit when Maya slipped away to the backyard, her social battery fully drained after two hours of pretending to care about Tyler's basketball stats and Jordan's college application stress. She found herself by the pool, where some girl was giving palm readings to anyone who'd listen—probably another basic influencer wannabe trying to be mystical.

"Your love line is crazy long," the girl said, grabbing Maya's hand before she could escape. "You're gonna meet someone tonight. Like, lightning-fast connection."

Maya almost laughed. Right. Because her love life wasn't already a dumpster fire of situationships and almost-something-thats. But then she spotted him across the pool—the new guy, Sam, who'd transferred to their school last month. The one everyone kept talking about but nobody actually knew.

And he was looking right at her.

Not in that creepy way some guys stare, but like... actually interested? Maya felt her face heat up. This was so not her vibe. She was the girl who overthought every text message and had panic attacks about making eye contact in hallways. But Sam started walking over, and suddenly her palms were sweating and her heart was doing that embarrassing fluttery thing.

"Hey," he said, and his voice was somehow deeper and better than it should be. "I'm Sam."

"Maya." She mentally high-fived herself for not choking.

They ended up talking for an hour about everything and nothing—his old school up north, how much their math teacher sucked, their shared obsession with this obscure indie band. The whole time, Maya kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say something weird or for his friends to come drag him away or for her to say something incredibly awkward.

But none of that happened.

When they finally said goodbye (Sam had to get home before his mom killed him), he slipped her his number with a shy smile. And Maya stood there by the pool, palm reader's prediction actually kind of making sense now.

Sometimes the universe didn't hate you. Sometimes, lightning really did strike. And sometimes palm-reading-obsessed strangers were accidentally right about everything.