Papaya Promise

Maya's palms were sweating. Literally sweating. She wiped them on her dress for the third time, probably ruining the fabric, but whatever. This was it—the first real party of freshman year, and she was currently hiding behind a potted plant like some sort of undercover spy on a mission to avoid social interaction.

"You look like you're plotting someone's murder," said a voice from behind her.

Maya jumped. Okay, not her most graceful moment. It was Leo from chemistry, the guy who always sat in the back and drew comics in his notebook instead of taking notes. He was holding a cup of punch and looking at her with amusement.

"I'm spying," she said, then immediately regretted it. That sounded weird. "On the party. I'm... observing. Like a scientist."

"Cool." Leo leaned against the wall. "What have you discovered, Dr. Maya?"

"That everyone is pretending to have fun, and the DJ keeps playing the same five songs on repeat. Also, I think someone spiked the punch with papaya juice."

Leo laughed. For real laughed, not that polite chuckle thing people did when they didn't actually think something was funny. "Papaya? That's oddly specific."

"My aunt served it at Thanksgiving last year and I have PTSD."

"From papaya?"

"Don't judge me, Leo."

They stood there for a while, watching the party unfold. Maya noticed Leo's hands were kind of fidgety, constantly tapping against his cup. Nervous? That made two of them.

"I hate this part," he said quietly. "The part where you're supposed to be living your 'best years' or whatever, but you're just standing against a wall wishing you were at home watching Netflix."

"Same," Maya said. "I'd rather be doing literally anything else."

"Then let's go."

"What?"

"Let's leave. We can go get actual food, not papaya-tainted punch. There's a taco truck two blocks down."

Maya looked at him, really looked at him, and realized something: her palms weren't sweating anymore.

"Only if you never tell anyone I was hiding behind a plant," she said.

"Deal."

As they slipped out the door, Maya thought maybe freshman year wouldn't be so terrible after all. Sometimes the best moments happened when you stopped spying on life and actually started living it.