Palm Sweats and Vitamin C

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, leaving dark streaks on the denim. Great. Now she looked nervous AND gross.

"You good?" Jordan asked, popping open an Orange Crush. The fizz sounded like a tiny explosion in the quiet corner of the garage where they'd both fled from the party inside.

"I'm not ready," Maya admitted. "I literally can't go back in there."

Jordan rolled their eyes. "You're being dramatic. Nobody's watching you that closely."

But they were. Maya could feel it—the way everyone's eyes tracked her whenever she entered a room. The girls from AP Bio with their perfect hair. The guys who acted like she was invisible until they needed homework answers. It was exhausting, navigating these social minefields where one wrong word meant social suicide.

"I should just go home," she said, already reaching for her phone.

"No way." Jordan blocked the garage door. "You can't bail on me. Not after I literally forced myself to come to this thing for moral support."

"Moral support?" Maya snorted. "You've been talking to Kai all night."

"And I'm sacrificing valuable flirting time to babysit your panic attack. You're welcome." Jordan grinned, their braces catching the streetlight filtering through the garage window.

Maya sighed. Jordan was right—they were annoying like that. Always right.

"Fine," she said, adjusting her crop top. "But if anyone asks why I'm being weird, I'm telling them it's a vitamin deficiency."

"A what?"

"I don't know! My mom makes me take these vitamin C gummies every morning. Said I need more immunity. Maybe that's why I'm socially awkward—immunity deficiency."

Jordan laughed so hard they choked on their soda. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I love it."

They high-fived—Maya's palm was finally dry.

"Okay, okay. Let's do this." Maya took a deep breath. "But if things get awkward, you're swooping in."

"Always." Jordan linked their arm through hers. "That's what friends are for."

The garage door felt heavier than expected, like it knew what they were walking into. But Jordan's presence beside her made it bearable. Even survivable.

Maybe even fun.

"Hey!" Kai's voice cut through the bass. "There you are! Jordan, come dance!"

And somehow, Maya found herself pulled into the crowd, orange soda fizzing in her stomach, palms sweating again—but this time, she didn't wipe them on her jeans.

Some things were worth being messy for.