Running Toward Real

Maya's palms were sweating again. That's what happened when Jordan walked into the cafeteria wearing his signature beanie—the one with the tiny palm tree embroidered on the fold, like he was permanently on vacation somewhere cool while the rest of us suffocated in freshman year.

"You're literally staring again," whispered Kai, sliding onto the bench beside her. "Just talk to him already. Or at least stop looking like you're plotting to kidnap his cat."

Maya shoved her tray forward. "I'm not plotting anything. And my palms sweat when it's hot. It's called biology."

"Right. Biology. Totally not the fact that you've been crushing on him since homeroom."

That afternoon at track practice, Maya found herself running harder than usual—mostly because Jordan had joined the cross-country team and somehow always ended up at her pace line. She could feel her hat slipping, the one she'd started wearing to hide her constantly-frizzy hair, but she couldn't fix it without breaking rhythm.

"Nice form," Jordan said, falling into step beside her. His breath came in steady rhythm. "You're getting faster."

Maya's heart did something stupid and fluttery. "Thanks. Your beanie's not falling off. That's talent."

He laughed. It was better than track practice deserved.

Later, at the party everyone was pretending wasn't happening, Maya found herself on a stranger's couch, nursing a suspicious-looking smoothie. Jordan appeared beside her, holding a plate with something green and leafy.

"Spinach wrap," he said. "My mom's on this health kick. Want half? It's actually not terrible."

Maya took it. Their fingers brushed. Her palms were sweating again.

"So," Jordan said, sitting beside her. "I heard you like anime. What's your cable setup? Like, do you stream everything or—"

"Wait, you like anime too?"

"Dude. I have a Demon Slayer poster in my room. Not exactly low-key about it."

They talked for hours. About anime, about how much track practice sucked, about how weird high school felt like one long performance of someone who wasn't quite them. Maya took off her hat somewhere in the middle of it. Her hair was frizzy. Her palms were sweating. Jordan didn't seem to notice.

"You should come over sometime," he said, when the party started winding down. "We could binge that new season. My mom makes more spinach wraps than any human should eat."

Maya smiled so hard her face hurt. Running toward something real felt way better than running away.