Riddle Me This

Marcus's palms were sweating as he leaned against the museum wall, iPhone clutched like a lifeline. Across the room, Sam was laughing at something Jordan said—that perfect, musical laugh that made Marcus's stomach do cartwheels.

"You're staring again," whispered Kai, his best friend since seventh grade. "It's getting creepy, bro."

"Shut up," Marcus muttered, scrolling through Instagram for the third time in two minutes. "I'm not staring. I'm... observing. From a tactical distance."

"That's literally what stalking is." Kai adjusted his glasses. "Either talk to them or let it go. This pining thing? Not a good look."

Marcus rolled his eyes but didn't argue. They were on the sophomore field trip to the Egyptian exhibit, and somehow he'd ended up in the same group as Sam. The universe was clearly messing with him.

Their teacher Ms. Rivera clapped her hands. "Alright everyone, gather around the Great Sphinx! We're going to do something fun."

The class huddled around the massive limestone statue. Sam stood two people away, close enough that Marcus could smell their vanilla shampoo. His heart hammered against his ribs.

"The Sphinx was famous for its riddles," Ms. Rivera explained. "So we're going to play a game. Each person shares something true about themselves that others might not guess. Something that reveals who you really are."

Marcus's phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from his mom: *Don't forget to thank Ms. Rivera for organizing this!* He shoved it deeper.

"Okay, Jordan, you start."

Jordan smirked. "I can solve a Rubik's cube in under two minutes."

"Show-off," someone muttered.

"Sam? Your turn."

Sam shifted, suddenly interested in their shoes. "Um. I'm terrified of thunder. Like, actually panic-attack scared. It's embarrassing."

Marcus's brain short-circuited. Sam, who was cool and confident and everything Marcus wasn't, had an actual fear? It made them seem... real. Reachable.

"Marcus?" Ms. Rivera's voice cut through his thoughts.

Twenty pairs of eyes locked onto him. Sam included.

His throat went dry. He could say something safe. Something normal. But the words tumbled out anyway.

"I write graffiti," he said. "Not, like, tagging or anything. But I paint these... murals. Abandoned buildings mostly. No one knows." He paused. "Until now, I guess."

Silence. Then Kai nodded, slow and thoughtful. "That's actually sick, bro."

"Is that why you're always taking random pictures of walls?" Sam asked, genuine curiosity in their voice. "I thought you were just... I don't know, weirdly into architecture."

Marcus laughed, surprised. "Yeah. That's the cover."

"Can I see sometime?" Sam asked.

Lightning cracked through Marcus's chest. "Really?"

"Yeah." Sam grinned. "As long as you promise not to draw me as a sphinx. I'm not that mysterious."

"You're totally full of bull," Marcus said before he could stop himself, then panicked. "I mean—not that you're—I didn't—"

But Sam was laughing. That laugh, just for him.

"Fair," they said. "I kind of am."

Later, when Ms. Rivera dismissed them to explore the exhibit, Sam drifted over to where Marcus stood pretending to examine a pottery fragment.

"So," Sam said casual-like, "you gonna show me those murals or what?"

Marcus's phone buzzed again. This time he ignored it completely.

"Yeah," he said, and something in his chest unfurled, bright and terrifying and electric. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."