Sweaty Palms & Fastballs

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her jeans, leaving dark streaks on the denim, which was basically her brand now. Whenever Jordan glanced her way in homeroom, her hands turned into mini waterfalls. Pathetic? Maybe. But also, have you seen Jordan's eyelashes? They were doing the most.

"You coming to the game tonight?" Riley asked, flipping her copper hair over her shoulder. It always looked perfect, unlike Maya's curly situation that had a mind of its own.

"Baseball? I don't really—" Maya started.

"Jordan's pitching." Riley raised an eyebrow. "Just saying."

So here she was, standing at the edge of the baseball diamond, clutching a cup of lukewarm lemonade like it was her only personality trait. The team was warming up, and there was Jordan on the mound, all focused intensity and baseball cap pulled low. Maya felt like she was intruding on something sacred.

Jordan's hair escaped their cap, curling at the nape. Maya's heart did this whole gymnastics routine.

Suddenly, a ball came flying her direction. Maya's brain went full panic mode. Everyone was watching. Jordan was watching. She froze.

"Watch out!" someone yelled.

But instead of dodging, Maya's body went rogue. She found herself running toward the ball, extending both hands—palms open, sweating, everything—and caught it. She actually caught it. The ball thunked against her skin, stinging but real.

Jordan jogged over, grinning. "Nice catch."

Maya's palms were still sweating, but for the first time, she didn't care.

"Want to play catch?" Jordan asked. "I need to warm up my arm before the inning."

"I've never—" Maya started, then stopped. Why was she always starting sentences with I've never? Like, be cooler, Maya.

"I'll teach you," Jordan said, and something about the way they said it made Maya think this wasn't just about baseball.

They tossed the ball back and forth. Each catch felt like learning a new language. Riley was right about some things—sometimes you have to put yourself in the game, sweaty palms and all, to catch what's being thrown your way.