Smoothies & Sweaty Palms

Maya's palms were sweating — again. She wiped them on her apron, feeling like a total loser as Tyler from AP Chem walked into Tropical Swirl. This was her third week working the register, and she still couldn't make small talk without sounding like a robot.

"Hey, what's good?" Tyler asked, actually making eye contact. Maya's brain short-circuited.

"The Green Machine is... good. It has... spinach." Why did she say it like that? Who emphasizes spinach like it's a selling point?

Tyler laughed. "Spinach, huh? Sure, hit me with it."

Maya's hands shook as she punched in the order. Behind her, the blender roared to life, drowning out her awkward thoughts. She'd joined cross country to get away from feeling like this — all nervous energy and zero chill. But running three miles a day hadn't fixed her social skills apparently.

"You're Maya, right? From chem lab?" Tyler asked while she made his smoothie.

"Yeah. And you're Tyler. Who sits behind me and asks smart questions."

Wow. Did she just say that out loud? The spinach in the blender seemed mocking now.

But Tyler smiled. "Yeah, that's me. Hey, I'm having people over Friday. You should come."

Maya almost dropped the cup. "For real?"

"For real. Bring your running friends if you want. My cousin's bringing his band."

She handed him the smoothie, their fingers brushing for a split second. Her palms weren't sweating anymore.

"I'll be there," she said, and this time her voice didn't shake.

After he left, Maya leaned against the counter and actually smiled. Sometimes the most embarrassing moments led to something real. And if she survived spinach smoothies and sweaty palms, she could survive a party. Probably.