Screen Glitch, Heart Skip

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She adjusted her beanie for the third time, the soft fabric somehow both comforting and suffocating. The hat was her armor—hide the messy hair, hide the nervousness, hide everything.

Across the cafeteria, Jordan laughed at something Chloe said. That perfect, musical laugh that made Maya's stomach do gymnastics. She gripped her phone like a lifeline, thumb hovering over their text conversation from last night.

"You coming to the party Friday?" he'd asked.

"Maybe!" she'd replied, then spent two hours overanalyzing whether the exclamation mark was too much.

"Yo, Earth to Maya," snapped her fingers, startling her. "You've been staring at your iphone like it holds the secrets of the universe." Her best friend since seventh grade raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Jordan-related crisis?"

"Shut up," Maya muttered, but her cheeks betrayed her.

"Just talk to him, Maya. He's not a mythical creature. He's a guy who once accidentally ate a dog vitamin thinking it was a supplement and spent three hours googling if he'd grow a tail."

Maya snorted, imagining it. That was the thing about crushes—they put people on pedestals until you remembered they were just awkward humans too.

"What if I say something weird?" Maya whispered. "What if I freeze up?"

"Then you freeze up. So what?" shrugged. "Worst case, he thinks you're quirky. Best case, you actually have a conversation that doesn't exist solely in your head."

Jordan started walking toward their table. Maya's heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to escape. This was it. The moment she'd been practicing for, obsessing over, losing sleep over.

"Hey," Jordan said, stopping at their table. His eyes landed on Maya. "Nice hat."

Her brain short-circuited. All her practiced lines vanished.

"Thanks," she squeaked. Then, miraculously: "You coming to the party Friday?"

"Definitely hoping to," he smiled, and something in his expression made Maya wonder if maybe, just maybe, he'd been overthinking conversations too.

As he walked away, her phone buzzed. A text from Jordan: "Save me a dance?"

Maya looked at her friend, grinning so hard her face hurt. The hat wasn't armor anymore. It was just a hat. And she wasn't invisible background noise anymore. She was Maya—awkward, sweaty-palmed, ready for whatever came next.