Spinach Dip & sweaty Palms

Maya's palms were sweating. Literally sweating. She wiped them on her dress for the third time, probably leaving visible stains, but whatever. This was it—Jake's end-of-summer party, and if she didn't make a move now, she'd spend another school year watching him from across the cafeteria like a total creep.

The beach house was already packed. Someone had brought a massive bowl of spinach artichoke dip that was becoming legendary before Maya's eyes. Jake was by the palm trees in the backyard, laughing with his friends like he owned the world. Of course he was. That was the problem.

"You gonna stand there all night or actually talk to him?" Sierra appeared behind her, holding two red cups. "Or are you still doing that whole 'I read palms' thing to get attention?"

Maya's face burned. Okay, maybe she'd told people she could read palms that one time at lunch when she was desperate to seem interesting. And maybe it had kind of worked. But that was before Jake had started actually looking at her in homeroom.

"I'm not doing that," Maya lied.

"Good. Because that would be catfishing yourself, which is honestly a new level of sad."

Siriel drifted away toward some seniors, leaving Maya alone with her anxiety and the spinach dip that was somehow now symbolic of everything wrong with her life.

She was about to bail when she locked eyes with Jake across the yard. He started walking toward her, and her heart hammered so hard she thought it might explode.

"Hey," he said. "You're Maya, right? The palm reader?"

Maya considered jumping into the ocean.

"That was a joke," she managed.

Jake smiled. "I know. I think it's kind of cool, though." He held out his hand. "Read mine?"

His palm was warm and steady against hers. For a second, everything else faded—the party, the spinach dip, her sweaty palms.

"You're gonna fail your history test," she said, trying to sound mysterious instead of terrified.

Jake laughed. "Already did. Try again."

And just like that, they were talking. Really talking. About everything and nothing. And maybe the palm reading had been her way in, but what happened next—that was all them.

Sometimes the most embarrassing parts of yourself become exactly what someone else is looking for. Weird how that works.