Strikeout at Maya's Table

The goldfish was already floating when I got to Maya's house. Not exactly the vibe I was going for on our first hangout, but whatever.

"His name was Bubbles," her little brother said, staring into the bowl. "Now he's in heaven." Awesome start.

Maya rolled her eyes, that gorgeous eye-roll that made my stomach do flips. "Ignore him. Come eat, my mom made that spinach artichoke dip you mentioned liking." Yeah, I'd mentioned it once in group chat, desperate for any connection. Now that connection was about to betray me.

Her family's dining table felt like a baseball stadium where I was already down three strikes in the bottom of the ninth. Her dad was a former college player, and the conversation turned to sports before I'd even gotten my napkin placed.

"So Lucas, you play baseball?" he asked, and I froze. I'd lied about playing JV in math class last week because Tyler's teammates were talking about the season and I didn't want to be the only one sitting there like I'd never touched a glove. Which I hadn't.

"Um, yeah, JV," I managed. "Second base."

"Nice! What's your batting average?" AND JUST LIKE THAT, I was sliding into home with my pants around my ankles.

Before I could catastrophize further, something orange streaked past my legs. Maya's cat, Chimichanga, launched herself onto the table directly into the spinach dip like it was a personal challenge.

Chaos erupted. Her mom shooed the cat while her dad laughed and Maya's brother started crying about Bubbles again. Green dip splattered everywhere, including my new white hoodie (because obviously I wore my best clothes).

But then Maya was laughing too, that full-body laugh I'd only ever seen from across the cafeteria. She looked at me—covered in spinach, watching a cat lick artichoke dip off her paws, surrounded by a family that wasn't even pretending to be perfect—and she grabbed my hand under the table.

"Well," she whispered, squeezing tight. "At least you didn't say you were captain."

I caught her eye and finally, for the first time all night, I didn't feel like I was striking out. Sometimes the worst moments are just the beginning of something real.