Sweaty Palms at Sunset

Maya's palms were so sweaty she could barely grip her phone. Across the pool party, Jake was laughing with his friends, his hair still wet from swimming earlier, and honestly? It was criminal how good he looked in a cutoff shirt.

'You're literally staring again,' said Chloe, dropping onto the lounge chair beside her and scrolling through TikTok. 'Either talk to him or stop being weird about it.'

'I'm not being weird,' Maya protested, though she absolutely was. 'I'm just... appreciating from a distance. It's called safety.'

Chloe snorted. 'Girl, you've been crushing on him since seventh grade. At some point you gotta stop swimming in your anxiety and actually — I don't know — exist near him?'

The truth was, Maya had been doing a lot of running lately. Running from awkward conversations. Running from opportunities to actually talk to Jake. Running from the fact that high school was half over and she was still the same nervous person she'd always been.

Then Jake started walking toward them.

Maya's brain short-circuited. 'He's coming. He's actually coming. What do I do? Do I look okay?'

'You're fine,' Chloe said, but she was already sliding off the chair to give them space. 'Hey Jake! What's up?'

'Not much,' he said, and then his eyes landed on Maya. 'Hey, you're Maya, right? From English?'

Her palms were sweating so much she had to wipe them on her shorts without being obvious. 'Yeah! That's me. English. Good class. Very... English-y.'

Jake laughed, and it was better than she'd imagined. 'Smooth. Anyway, me and some people are running down to the beach for sunset pics. You wanna come?'

She could feel Chloe practically vibrating with excitement beside her. But what Maya felt in that moment wasn't anxiety anymore. It was something else — the sudden realization that everyone was just as nervous as she was, that Jake was just a guy who maybe thought she was cute, that she didn't have to be perfect to be worth talking to.

'Sure,' Maya said, and her voice didn't even shake. 'Let me grab my sweatshirt.'

As she walked toward the house, she looked down at her hand, the palm still damp but steady. For the first time in forever, she wasn't running away from anything.