Palm Reading at the Sphinx

The neon sign flickered above us: THE SPHINX. Oakland's most overrated escape room, but also the only place where seventeen-year-olds could hang out without adult supervision until midnight.

"You're doing that thing again," said Zara, popping her gum. "The fox face. Like you're plotting something."

I wasn't plotting. I was hyperventilating. Because HE was here. Jay—the one with that effortless wave that somehow looked expensive despite being made of dead skin cells and teenage apathy. He caught my eye from across the room and my palms instantly went nuclear. I shoved my hands into my denim shorts, hoping nobody noticed the sweat puddles forming.

"Your turn," said the escape room attendant, gesturing to a small curtained area in the corner. "Palm readings, five bucks."

"No thanks," I started, but Zara was already pushing me toward the curtain. "Do it! What's the worst that could happen?"

"She tells me I'll die alone and my cats will eat my face?"

"You don't even have cats."

"Not YET."

The fortune teller was maybe nineteen, with the kind of deliberately messy bun that takes forty minutes to perfect. She grabbed my hand and studied my palm like it was a complex math problem she hadn't studied for.

"You're overthinking everything," she said immediately. "You worry so much about what everyone thinks that you forget to have an actual personality."

Excuse me?

"But," she continued, tracing a line across my hand, "you're also sharper than you give yourself credit for. Cunning in a good way. Like a fox."

A fox. Not exactly the compliment I was going for, but okay.

"And you're about to make a choice," she said, dropping my hand. "Either you stay in your head forever, or you actually talk to that guy who's been watching you since you walked in."

I froze. Jay was watching me?

"One more thing," the fortune teller added, reaching under her table and pulling out a bottle of gummy vitamins. "You need these. Stress vitamins. You're literally vibrating with anxiety."

She handed me the bottle. I stood there, clutching generic-brand vitamins like they were ancient wisdom, while Zara doubled over laughing.

Jay walked over. "Hey."

"Hey," I said, sounding like a dying frog.

"Those escape rooms are terrible," he said. "Want to get food instead? There's a taco truck outside."

"Yes," I said, possibly too quickly. "I mean—yeah. Sure. Cool."

As we walked out, I slipped the vitamin bottle into my pocket. Future me would need them. Because present me had just agreed to tacos with Jay, and I wasn't sure whether I was terrified, excited, or about to throw up.

Probably all three.

"So," Jay said, holding the door. "What's your story?"

I thought about the fox-like cunning, the sphinx-level overthinking, the sweaty palms, and now this boy asking me to explain my entire existence.

"Complicated," I said.

"Good," he grinned. "I like complicated."

Maybe I wouldn't die alone after all. Even if my cats still ended up eating my face.