Papaya Apocalypse at the 7-Eleven

Maya felt like a zombie working the Friday night shift at 7-Eleven. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as she restocked the energy drink aisle for the third time, her phone blowing up with texts she was too dead to answer. Everyone at Connor's party was probably living their best lives while she stood here in this neon-green polo, watching the clock crawl toward midnight.

"Yo, this papaya is busted."

Maya turned to find Jake Torres from AP English standing there, holding a suspiciously soft fruit like it was a radioactive football. Jake, who she'd lowkey had a crush on since homecoming, was currently in her checkout lane looking unfairly good even with his hair messed up from the wind outside.

"That's what happens when you squeeze it, Torres," she said, trying to sound chill. "It's not a stress ball."

He laughed, and Maya felt her face heat up. "My little sister's cat ate her pet hamster today, so my mom sent me to get comfort fruit. Make it make sense."

"Your cat ate a hamster? That's dark."

"Bear's a predator, Maya. Straight-up serial killer. We should've named him Dexter instead." Jake leaned against the counter, all long limbs and easy confidence. "Anyway, what's your deal? Why aren't you at Connor's? The zombie makeup contest was literally made for you."

Maya froze. Jake knew her name? And remembered her obsession with special effects makeup from that one project in October?

"Someone's gotta pay for my tambourine lessons," she joked. "Plus, parties aren't really my vibe. Too much performing, not enough... existing."

Jake nodded slowly. "Same. I literally walked in, grabbed a soda, and immediately plotted my exit. The air in there was toxic. Found myself wondering which was worse — being alone or being around people who make you feel alone."

"Facts," Maya said softly. Something in her chest loosened. This whole time she'd thought Jake was one of them — the popular kids who floated through life unbothered. Turns out he was just good at pretending.

"Hey," he said, fumbling with his wallet. "Since neither of us wants to be at that party... you want to hang out after your shift? I could teach Bear not to murder small animals, and you could show me how you do that zombie makeup thing. No pressure."

Maya looked at this boy who noticed things, who felt like she did, who was choosing to be here instead of there. She checked the clock: eleven minutes to freedom.

"Only if you let me pick the movie. And you're paying for this papaya with your life."

Jake's grin was worth everything. "Deal."