Sweaty Palms and Cat Whispers

Maya's palms were sweating through her favorite flannel. Again. The whole gym smelled like cheap body spray and desperate hormones — classic freshman dance energy. She leaned against the wall, third cup of punch in hand, watching couples sway to something that was definitely too slow to be considered dancing.

"You're being a total cat about this," said Jessie, appearing with two cookies stolen from the VIP table. "Hiding in corners, judging everyone. Either dance or let's bounce."

"I'm not being a cat," Maya muttered, though the comparison wasn't entirely off. Her actual cat, Mittens, had more game than her. At least Mittens didn't overthink every interaction until she wanted to dissolve into the floor.

Across the room, Tyler — the Tyler who'd sat behind her in bio since September — was making his way through the crowd. Maya's heart did something stupid and fluttery. They'd been paired up for that frog dissection (gross bonding experience) and had exchanged approximately twelve memes since. That was it.

"Hey," he said, suddenly there. Actual distance: two feet. "You wanna —"

"SHE'S BEEN WAITING ALL NIGHT," Jessie stage-whispered, then grabbed Maya's punch and disappeared into the crowd like the chaotic best friend she was.

Tyler's ears went red. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to get some air? It's kinda bull in here with everyone shoving."

Bull. As in bullshit. They were saying bullshit now. This was happening.

"Yeah," Maya heard herself say. "Yeah, let's."

Outside, the air hit cool against her flushed face. Palm trees framed the school entrance, their shadows stretching long across the parking lot. Tyler kicked a rock.

"So," he said. "I like your flannel."

"Thanks," she said. "I like your... everything." Then immediately wanted to die.

He laughed, though. Like, actually laughed. "Everything? That's specific."

She turned to face him, weight shifting from one foot to the other. "You know what I mean. You're... you."

"You're pretty you too," he said, and then they were both laughing, nerves dissolving into something else entirely.

His hand found hers, palm against palm. The contact sent electricity up her arm — cliché, but whatever. This was happening. This was actually happening.

"Wanna walk around?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, and they did.

Inside, Jessie was definitely losing her mind. But that was a problem for Future Maya. Present Maya had better things to worry about — like whether Tyler's hand would stay in hers, and whether this night would ever end, and whether maybe, just maybe, she wasn't so bad at this whole being-a-teenager thing after all.