Saltwater Signals

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating, gross slippery palms that made holding onto her phone practically impossible. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, checking her iPhone again. No new messages. Of course.

The bonfire crackled behind her, sending sparks dancing toward the star-strewn sky. Somewhere in that crowd of juniors and seniors, Noah was probably laughing at someone's joke, being effortlessly cool while Maya stood at the edge of the beach like a total weirdo.

"Hey."

Maya practically jumped out of her skin. Spinning around, she spilled half her orange soda down her front. "Oh my GOD, I—"

"Whoa." Noah's eyes went wide. "You okay?"

Maya stared at the orange stain spreading across her favorite vintage tee. This was it. The social execution of Maya Chen. She'd officially become the girl who dumped soda on herself at the biggest party of the summer.

"I'm fine," she squeaked. "Just graceful, obviously."

Noah grinned. "Same. Last week I tripped over nothing in the cafeteria. Lunch went everywhere. It was legendary."

Maya's shoulders dropped an inch. "Seriously?"

"Cross my heart." He held up his hands like he was swearing in court. "Anyway, I came over because your friend Sarah said you were looking for me?"

Oh no. Oh no no no. Sarah had promised she wouldn't—

"Unless I misunderstood," Noah added quickly. "In which case, pretend I never said anything and I'll just... slowly back away into the darkness."

"No!" Maya's voice came out too loud. She cleared her throat. "I mean, no, you didn't misunderstand. I just..."

A wave crashed nearby, and for once she was grateful for the noise.

"You just what?" Noah prompted gently.

"I just wanted to say that thing in English class? About your short story? It was actually really good. Like, genuinely good. Not just 'being nice' good."

The relief that washed over Noah's face was so real it made Maya's chest ache.

"Thanks," he said. "That actually means a lot. Coming from you."

"Me? Why me?"

"You're like, the smartest person in that class. Mrs. Henderson basically worships your writing." He laughed nervously. "I figured you'd think my stuff was mid or whatever."

Maya's palms had stopped sweating. "Your dialogue is actually fire though. That's the part I can never get right."

"We could trade notes sometime? If you wanted."

"Yeah," Maya said, and for the first time all night, she wasn't pretending. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The orange sunset had faded to purple-black, waves rolling in with ancient rhythm, and somehow Maya had accidentally, terrifyingly, made the first real move of her life. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—probably Sarah demanding updates—but she ignored it.

Some moments were worth living offline.