Sweaty Palms and Second Chances

Maya's palms were practically dripping as she stood outside the gym. Fall formal. The night she'd been lowkey stressing about for weeks.

"You good?" her best friend Chen asked, adjusting his fedora like he was some kind of 2010s hipster.

"I can't bear it," Maya groaned. "I spent two hours on my hair, and I still look like a wet poodle."

Her hair was supposed to be beach waves, but instead it was more like beach disaster. The curls had gone frizzy, and the humidity was NOT her friend tonight.

Chen snorted. "You look fine. Marcus isn't exactly looking like a GQ model either."

Marcus. The reason she was even at this dance. The cute skater boy in her English class who'd finally asked her to dance today after school. She'd been crushing on him since September, when he'd made that hilarious presentation about why The Great Gatsby was basically just rich people drama.

The bass from inside the gym thumped against the walls. Students were already posting about it on Snap – she'd seen the stories. Everyone looked so confident, so effortless. Meanwhile she was out here having a full-blown crisis.

"Just go in there," Chen said, reading her mind. "Worst case, you bear through one awkward song and then we hit up Taco Bell like planned."

Maya took a deep breath. She checked her phone one more time – still no text from Marcus. Whatever. She didn't need him to make or break her night.

She opened her palm and stared at it. "My hands are literally shaking. This is embarrassing."

"That's called being human," Chen said, actually being deep for once. "Now let's go before they play another slow song and you miss your chance."

Maya smoothed down her hair one last time, squared her shoulders, and walked into the gym. The lights were dim, the music was bumping, and somewhere in that crowd was Marcus. And if he wasn't there? Whatever. She'd still have Chen, Taco Bell, and the rest of her life to figure out.

Sometimes the best moments weren't the ones you planned for anyway.