Palm Readings & Orange Crush
The house party was exactly what Maya's social battery didn't need. Someone's parents were out of town, naturally, and the entire sophomore class had decided to descend upon this unsuspecting suburban living room.
Maya wedged herself into a corner near the sliding glass door, nursing a warm Orange Crush that she'd been clutching for twenty minutes like it was a lifeline. Around her, people were doing that thing where they pretended to be having the time of their lives while actually being hyper-aware of who was watching.
"Hey, you're Maya, right?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her orange soda. This guy with perpetually messy hair and an oversized hoodie stood there, holding—was that a cat? A very confused-looking calico was draped over his arm like a furry accessory.
"Yeah? And you're holding someone's cat."
"This is Peanut," he said, as if this explained everything. "She escaped from the neighbor's yard and decided to crash this party. Much like me, honestly." He gestured to the palm tree swaying outside the glass door. "I'm only here because my friend said there'd be free pizza. There was no pizza. There was only Peanut and my deteriorating will to socially interact."
Maya cracked a smile despite herself. "I'm only here because my friend said she'd introduce me to her cousin's friend who's apparently 'sooo my type.' I have yet to meet this mysterious cousin's friend, and I've been hiding in this corner for forty minutes."
"Tragic," he nodded solemnly. "I'm Leo, by the way. And since we're both clearly failing at this whole party thing, wanna bail? There's a taco truck down the street."
Maya looked at her warm Orange Crush, then at the confused cat, then at Leo's ridiculous hopeful expression.
"Absolutely," she said.
As they slipped out the side door, Leo still carrying Peanut, Maya realized she'd had more fun in three minutes with this random cat-napper than in months of perfectly orchestrated social events. Sometimes the best memories happen when you stop trying to make them.