Palm Readings & Pay-Per-View

Maya's palm was sweating against Trevor's as their fingers brushed over the stolen hotel key card. This was it — finally alone in his parents' suite while they were at the conference. The moment felt enormous, like everything she'd been waiting for since seventh period algebra when he'd first caught her eye.

"My dog ate the remote," Trevor said, gesturing at the disconnected cable box sagging from the wall. "Been dead since Tuesday."

Maya blinked. That's what he'd brought her up here for? To complain about his cable? She'd spent two hours straightening her hair and another twenty panic-texting Jenna about what outfit said "I'm easygoing but not easy." All while Trevor was apparently mourning his access to HBO.

"That's rough," she managed, watching his hand flex against his knee. His hands were beautiful — she'd imagined them holding hers approximately a thousand times. Now here they were, in a hotel room with zero entertainment and rising awkwardness.

"My grandma used to read palms," Trevor continued, suddenly taking Maya's hand. His touch was electric, sending shivers up her arm. "She said everyone has a love line, a life line... and a line for when they're about to bail on a super awkward situation."

Maya laughed, surprised. Trevor grinned back, and suddenly they were both cracking up, the tension dissolving into something real and unforced.

"Wanna get spinach artichoke dip from the hotel restaurant?" Trevor asked. "My treat. I can tell my parents we ordered room service."

"Only if you promise to never mention your grandma's palm reading again."

"Deal. But you're totally going to marry a cable guy. Just saying."

They left together, fingers intertwined, Maya realizing this wasn't the moment she'd imagined but somehow better — messy, funny, and completely theirs. The unwatched pay-per-view flickered silently on the wall behind them, forgotten.