Sweaty Palms and Orange Soda

The cup of orange soda was already warm, condensation making my palm disgustingly slick. Great. Just what I needed before talking to Her.

I'd been crushing on Maya since seventh period English started, and tonight—Jordan's end-of-summer blowout—felt like my final shot before junior year actually started and everyone cemented their social circles for good. My so-called best friend, Chen, had already ditched me twenty minutes ago to go flirt with some sophomores by the pool. Classic Chen.

"You look like you're about to throw up," said Tessa, sliding onto the backyard bench beside me. She was Maya's friend—or maybe friend-adjacent? I couldn't keep track of their friendship drama anymore. It shifted more than my moods during exam week.

"Just thinking," I mumbled, taking a sip of the sad, flat soda.

"About Maya?" Tessa grinned, nudging my shoulder with hers. "She broke up with what's-his-face last week. You know, the guy with the terrible hair."

"Wait, really?"

"Really." Tessa's expression shifted, something almost calculating behind her eyes. That was the thing about Tessa—she moved through social situations like a fox, always three steps ahead, everyone else just prey in her carefully constructed games. "But here's the thing—I'll help you talk to her if you do something for me."

I should've known. Nothing at this party came free.

"What?"

"Convince Chen to stop texting my cousin. She's literally this close to blocking him." Tessa held up her thumb and pointer finger, barely any space between them. "He's being... a lot."

I looked over at Chen, now somehow in the pool with his shoes still on, splashing water everywhere like an overgrown golden retriever. He was embarrassing himself, sure, but he was also my best friend since third grade, back when we'd bonded over collecting those weird airplane-pretzel things at lunch.

"I can't promise anything," I said finally. "Chen's gonna Chen."

"Fair enough." Tessa stood up, smoothing out her dress. "Maya's inside, by the way. Kitchen. Getting more snacks. Alone." She winked. "Your move, cowboy."

My palms were sweating again. But I stood up anyway, set down the orange soda that had somehow become my security blanket, and headed toward the back door. Some moments were worth the awkwardness. Maybe this would be one of them.

Or I'd embarrass myself completely and Chen would mock me about it for years.

Either way, at least I'd have a story.

Whatever. Here went nothing.