Palm Sweat & Party Lights

Marcus's palms were sweating so bad he could practically fill a water bottle. Not the kind of detail you'd put on your party invitation, but definitely the kind that made you want to hide in the bathroom for forty-five minutes.

"You coming out or what?" Jay's voice cut through the door. "Chloe's gonna think you died."

Marcus wiped his hands on his jeans—gross, but necessary. "Yeah, yeah. Just fixing my hair."

Bull. He was definitely psyching himself up.

Jay was his best friend since third grade, back when they'd trade Pokémon cards and eat glue sticks together. Now they were sixteen, and Jay had leveled up his social stats while Marcus was still grinding in the tutorial zone.

Chloe's house was packed. The smell of cheap cologne and something fruity filled the air. Marcus hovered near the snack table like it was his natural habitat.

"Hey!" Chloe appeared, bright-eyed and carrying a solo cup. "You made it!"

She was the kind of person who could make you feel special just by looking at you. Also the kind who'd somehow collected every cool person in school like they were rare Pokémon.

"Oh my god, try this." She pressed something gummy into his hand. "Vitamin C supplement but, like, actually good?"

Marcus swallowed it without asking questions. That was the problem with parties—you just said yes to things.

Jay was across the room, laughing with Sarah and Tyler from the soccer team. Marcus felt like a spy observing someone who used to be his whole world. Jay's new life seemed so bright and loud and everything Marcus wasn't ready for.

"You okay?" Chloe was suddenly in his space, close enough that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose.

"Just thinking," Marcus mumbled. "About how weird it is that people change."

Chloe nodded slowly. "Jay was saying you guys used to be attached at the hip."

"Yeah, well." Marcus stared at his sneakers. "Hip detached."

Chloe laughed—actually laughed, not that fake polite stuff. "Jay misses you too, you know. He's just... figuring his stuff out. We all are."

She held out her hand, palm open. "Dance with me? Like, terribly and embarrassingly?"

Marcus looked at her hand, then at Jay, who was watching them from across the room with this tiny half-smile.

"Yeah," Marcus said, and his palms were definitely still sweating but somehow that didn't matter anymore. "Yeah, okay."

Some friendships change. Some grow. And sometimes, you just need someone to drag you onto the dance floor and remind you that being sixteen doesn't mean you have to have it figured out yet.