Spinach Teeth and Storm Skies

Maya's cat Luna decided to knock over the spinach dip three minutes before Jake was supposed to arrive. The ceramic bowl shattered, green globs splattering across the kitchen tile like a failed science experiment.

"You've got to be kidding me," Maya groaned, frantically dabbing at her jeans with a paper towel. Her phone buzzed — Jake was five minutes early. Of course he was.

She'd spent three hours straightening her hair, agonizing over outfit choices like her life depended on it. Now she smelled like spinach and panic. This was fine. Everything was fine.

Luna, sensing the chaos, bolted between Maya's legs just as the doorbell rang. Maya nearly face-planted, caught herself on the counter, and grabbed the backup chips she'd hidden in the pantry.

Jake stood on the porch looking unfairly cute in his flannel, rain spotting his shoulders. "Hey! Weather's getting crazy out here."

"Yeah, totally," Maya said, her voice weirdly high. "Come in, come in."

They ended up on her roof, watching lightning streak across the sky in brilliant violet forks. Jake was actually funny, actually listening instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. Maya felt that terrifying flutter in her chest, the one that meant this could be something real.

Then Jake leaned in, eyes dropping to her lips.

"You have a little—" He gestured to his own teeth.

Maya's stomach dropped. She ran her tongue across her front teeth. Green. Definitely green spinach.

She wanted to die. Actually expire right there on the roof.

But Jake didn't laugh. He just handed her a napkin from his pocket, like he'd come prepared. "Honestly? I was too nervous to eat before I came over. Almost choked on a granola bar walking here."

Maya snorted, then really laughed. Below them, Luna meowed at the front door, probably hungry and unimpressed with human romance.

"Next time," Maya said, wiping the spinach away, "I'm making you choose the restaurant."

"Deal," Jake grinned. "But I'm picking somewhere with napkins."