Palm Sweat at the Pool Party

My palms were basically swimming pools by themselves. Standing at the edge of the Patterson's backyard bash, watching everyone else actually living their best lives while I was over here having an existential crisis.

"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, floating in the actual pool with his hair somehow still perfect after two hours of chlorinated chaos.

"Yeah. Just vibing," I lied. Totally not vibing. My crush was across the deck, laughing at something that tool Dylan said. Dylan, who was currently channeling his inner bull—chest puffed out, voice booming, holding court like he owned the place.

The thing about Dylan was that he was full of it. Complete bull. But everyone acted like he was some kind of oracle because his parents were rich and he had a car.

"Your eyes are practically doing cartwheels," Maya said, appearing beside me with a knowing smirk. "Just staring at her won't make the telepathy kick in."

I jumped. Maya was the kind of person who read people like she was studying for an exam. She'd been doing palm readings at parties since seventh grade as a "bit" but somehow she was actually weirdly accurate.

"I'm not staring," I protested. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"Mmhmm." She grabbed my hand, turning my palm upward like she was about to drop some divine wisdom. "You know what this line means? Because you've got some serious anxiety happening in the sweat department."

"My palms are just... hydrated."

"Sure, hydrated." She snorted. "Look, she keeps glancing over here too. The water's not gonna test itself, you know?"

That's when it happened—Dylan, in all his bull-filled glory, accidentally knocked over the massive punch bowl while dramatically gesturing. The contents went everywhere, soaking three people and creating a puddle the size of a small lake.

My crush—Elena—ended up literally drenched.

Before I could overthink it, I was moving. Grabbed some towels. Handed her one.

"You okay?"

She laughed, dripping punch everywhere, hair plastered to her forehead. "That was actually kind of legendary. Dylan's face looked like he'd just realized his entire personality was a mistake."

I smiled. "Yeah. Pretty legendary."

"Hey," she said, looking at me with actual eye contact, "you want to get out of here? My cousin's having people over, and I'm guessing you're not exactly having the time of your life here either."

I looked at my hands. Still sweating. But maybe, just maybe, that was about to change.

"Absolutely."