Riddle Me This

The homecoming float sat in Maya's garage like a giant, half-finished pumpkin. She'd been voluntold to lead the decorations committee, which mostly meant her Saturday was disappearing faster than her phone battery.

"We need a theme," said Chloe, spinning in a circle and nearly knocking over a bucket of orange paint. "Something... iconic."

"Something that doesn't involve me looking like a zombie in three days," Maya muttered, already running on caffeine and anxiety. The deadline was breathing down her neck, and so was her mom's daily text about how this would look great on her college applications.

Then came the text from Jordan: *we need to talk.*

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when Jordan's name popped up—a mix of water park butterflies and low-key dread. They'd been dancing around each other since sophomore year, trapped in the friendzone's infinite awkward loop. Was this finally it? Or was she about to get curved so hard she'd need a paramedic?

Her phone buzzed again. *meet me at the diner. 15 mins. bring your sphinx riddle skills.*

"Since when do I have sphinx riddle skills?" Maya typed back, but she was already grabbing her jacket.

"Where are you going?" Chloe called. "We still have three gallons of orange paint and zero game plan!"

"Emergency," Maya said vaguely, because that's what it felt like.

The diner was mostly empty except for a couple of servers wiping down counters. Jordan sat in their usual booth, looking unfairly cute in a hoodie that said DRAMA DEPT across the chest. They'd been working on the school play together—some experimental thing where Jordan played a literal sphinx, riddling unsuspecting travelers.

"Hey," Maya said, sliding into the booth. Her heart was beating so hard she was pretty sure Jordan could hear it.

"Hey." Jordan pushed a milkshake toward her. "Orange cream. Your favorite."

Maya's brain short-circuited. "How did you—"

"I notice things, Maya." Jordan looked at her with those stupidly intense eyes. "Which is actually what I wanted to talk about."

Here it came. The friend speech. The "I see you as a sister" talk. Maya braced herself like she was about to get hit by a bus.

"I'm tired of pretending," Jordan said quietly.

"Pretending what?"

"That I'm just your theater friend who happens to memorize your milkshake order and walks you to class even when it's completely out of my way and—" Jordan stopped, running a hand through their hair. "You're not the only one overthinking everything, you know."

Maya stared. "Wait. You've been—"

"Stressing? Yes. Overanalyzing your Instagram stories? Also yes. Wondering if that time you fell asleep on my shoulder during bus call meant what I thought it meant? Absolutely."

A laugh escaped Maya, surprising both of them. "I thought you were about to friendzone me so hard I'd need a trauma therapist."

"Never." Jordan smiled, and it was real. "I was going to ask if you wanted to skip the dance committee drama and go see a movie. Just us. No group, no pretending."

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket—probably Chloe demanding to know where she'd gone with the paint supplies. But for once, she didn't care about the deadline or the float or the college applications.

"Yes," she said, and the word felt like water after running too long in the sun. "A thousand times yes."