Sweaty Palms and Ancient Riddles

Maya's palms were sweating so much they were practically slippery. Which was exactly why she was hiding behind the concession stand at homecoming, clutching a plastic cup of lukewarm punch like it was a lifeline.

"You're literally spiraling," said Jules, flipping her hair dramatically. "Just talk to him already."

"Easy for you to say," Maya muttered. "You're not the one who's been crushing on Jordan since seventh grade and still hasn't managed to form complete sentences around him."

The gym was transformed into something vaguely reminiscent of Ancient Greece – courtesy of the sophomore class budget and way too much gold spray paint. In the corner stood a papier-mâché sphinx that looked more like a confused cat than a mythical guardian.

"The sphinx asked riddles," Maya mused. "At least that was straightforward. This? This is just emotional torture."

"Okay, first of all, weird flex bringing Greek mythology into this," Jules said. "Second, Jordan's literally over there looking in your direction. For the third time tonight."

Maya's heart did that annoying fluttery thing. "He's looking at the sphinx, Jules. The sphinx."

"The sphinx has been staring at everyone creepily since seven PM," Jules pointed out. "I don't think it's his type."

Before Maya could overthink it further – something she'd turned into an Olympic sport – Jordan started walking toward them. Actually toward them. Not the sphinx. Her palms were suddenly slick with panic.

"Hey," he said. His smile did this unfair thing where it was simultaneously adorable and devastating. "I was gonna get more punch. You guys want some?"

"Sure," Maya squeaked. Because apparently her vocal cords had decided this was their moment to betray her completely.

"Cool," Jordan said. "I was running track practice earlier and I'm literally starving. They ordered way too much pizza in the cafeteria if you guys want to head over there instead."

Jules was already moving toward the door with supernatural grace. Maya followed, legs feeling like they might actually, literally give out.

Outside in the cool air, Jordan fell into step beside her. "So I heard you're trying out for the fall play."

"Yeah," she managed. "Mary Poppins. The flying nanny who could also maybe murder you with kindness."

He laughed – actually laughed, not that polite thing people do when they don't get the joke. "That's... oddly specific. But yeah, you'd be good at it. You've got that presence."

They kept walking, autumn leaves crunching under their sneakers, and for the first time all night, Maya's palms were dry.