Palm Springs Panic Attack

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip the steering wheel of Jordan's beat-up Honda. Which was exactly why we were parked outside CVS at 11 PM on a Friday night.

"Bro, chill," Jordan said, vaping something that smelled like blue cotton candy mixed with despair. "Just grab the stuff and let's roll. The wait for Palmspring tickets drops at midnight."

Palmspring — only the most exclusive music festival of the year. And if I didn't get tickets, my entire social existence was basically cooked. But first, I had to survive CVS.

I hopped out of the car, practically jogging toward the entrance. My grandma swore these immunity vitamins were the reason she hadn't been sick since 2019, and I'd been fighting this cold for like two weeks. Not exactly the vibe I wanted to bring to a three-day festival.

The automatic doors slid open and there he was.

Ethan. From AP Bio. The human equivalent of a golden retriever puppy who somehow also had a six-pack. He was standing in the supplement aisle, holding one of those protein powders that cost more than my entire wardrobe.

His dog — this massive Great Dane mix that was basically a bear in dog form — sat calmly beside him. Because of course Ethan had a bear-sized dog. Why wouldn't he?

I froze. My palms went from sweaty to full-on waterfall mode.

"Hey!" Ethan called, like we were friends or something. "You're running to the festival wait too?"

"Uh, yeah," I managed. "Getting vitamins first. Sick."

I gestured vaguely at the immune support section like an absolute maniac.

Ethan nodded, totally unbothered by my awkwardness. "Nice. I always crash without supplements. Actually, my friend Mira's hosting a pre-fest thing tomorrow if you wanna roll through? Her cousin's band is playing."

My brain short-circuited. Ethan. Inviting ME. To a THING.

"Yeah!" I said way too loud. "That sounds... actually sick."

His dog chose that moment to sneeze, spraying something questionable across the floor. Ethan died laughing, and somehow that broke whatever weird tension I'd been carrying.

I grabbed my vitamins, we exchanged Snap usernames, and I practically floated back to Jordan's car.

"What happened to you?" Jordan asked, eyebrows raised. "You look like you just won the lottery."

"Better," I said, staring at my palms. They weren't even sweating anymore. "I think I just figured out that maybe — possibly — the whole social hierarchy thing is way less terrifying than I thought."

Jordan made a face. "That's literally what happens in every teen movie ever."

"Shut up and drive."

We sat in that parking lot for another hour, refreshing Ticketmaster on our phones, but I barely noticed. For the first time all semester, my future didn't feel like something I needed to stress-plan for. It felt like something I could actually just... show up for.