Palm Readings & Panic Attacks

Maya's sweaty palms practically slipped off her phone as she refreshed Instagram for the third time in two minutes. She was basically a professional social media **spy** at this point, stalking Jake's story from three weeks ago like it held the secrets to the universe.

"You good?" Marcus asked, not looking up from his Nintendo Switch.

"Peachy," Maya lied, wiping her hands on her denim shorts. "Just waiting for the perfect moment to have a complete and utter meltdown."

The party at Chloe's house was supposed to be lowkey. Instead, Maya had spent forty-five minutes hiding in the bathroom, psyching herself up to talk to Jake, who was currently in the kitchen being devastatingly normal while Maya spiraled.

Her mom had insisted she take her daily **vitamin** D gummy before leaving, claiming it would help with her "mood." Spoiler: it had not helped. Maya's mood remained a solid six out of ten, rapidly approaching four.

Then she saw him. Jake. By the snack table. Looking unfairly good in that oversized black hoodie that made him look like he'd been personally styled by tumblr itself.

Something inside her chest cracked open like **lightning** splitting the sky—sudden, electric, terrifying. This was it. The moment. She could either hide behind the potted palm tree (classic move) or actually approach another human being she had feelings for.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she walked over. Each step felt like wading through Jell-O.

"Hey," Jake said, and okay, wow. His voice was deeper in person. "You're Maya, right? From AP Chem?"

She nodded, probably too enthusiastically. "Yeah! That's me. Chemistry. And stuff."

Kill her now.

But then something weird happened. Chloe appeared behind Jake, dramatically grabbed his hand, and announced, "OMG, Maya's basically a palm reader! She did mine at winter formal and it was totally accurate!"

Maya had never read a palm in her entire life.

"No, I'm really—" she started, but Jake was already extending his hand, **palm** up, eyes bright with curiosity.

"What do you see?" he asked, completely serious.

Maya stared at his hand. The lines crisscrossing like a roadmap. His fingernails were bitten down. There was a small scar on his thumb.

"I see..." She swallowed. "I see someone who overthinks everything. Who pretends to be chill but actually cares a lot about what people think. Who's secretly pretty creative but doesn't show it much."

Jake's eyes widened. "That's... actually weirdly specific."

Maya shrugged, heart still racing but maybe, just maybe, in a good way this time. "I'm just observant."

"Cool," he said, grinning. "Wanna get food? I'm starving and Chloe's dad ordered like five pizzas."

As they walked toward the kitchen, Maya's palms were definitely still sweaty. But for the first time all night, she didn't mind. Being nervous was better than being on the sidelines, spying through a screen. Sometimes you had to get struck by lightning to realize you could handle the storm.