Sweaty Palms & Finish Lines

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping onto her phone screen, making the snap from Kai look like it was under water.

'u coming 2 jax's party or nah?'

She stared at her hands, the creases in her **palm** practically glowing in the harsh LED of her bedroom. This was the problem with being best friends with someone who was naturally, effortlessly cool while you were still figuring out how to exist in your own skin.

"Maya! You're gonna be late for practice!" her mom yelled from downstairs.

Right. Track practice. The one place where she didn't feel like a complete fraud.

Outside, the Arizona heat hit her like a wall. She started **running**—her weirdly long legs carrying her in that awkward gait that Coach Patterson swore was "promising" but her brother called "baby deer on ice." Whatever. Running was the only time her brain shut up. No overthinking every conversation. No analyzing whether Kai's mood shifts meant something.

Just footfalls. Breathing. The simple rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other until her legs burned and her vision narrowed to the dusty track ahead.

Maya rounded the corner and saw Kai sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through their phone. They looked up as she slowed to a walk, sweat dripping down her neck.

"So?" Kai asked, like they'd been reading her mind. "You coming tonight?"

Maya wiped her hands on her shorts. "I don't know. Parties aren't really my—"

"Thing. Yeah, I know." Kai hopped off the bleachers. "That's kinda why I asked. **Friend**ship and stuff. Figured we could both be awkward together."

Maya blinked. "You? Awkward?"

"Dude, I literally memorize conversation starters before I leave my house. My social battery lasts, like, seven minutes max." Kai shrugged. "Anyway. You don't have to come. Just thought it might be less terrible with you there."

Something in Maya's chest loosed. "Hold up," she said, already starting back toward the finish line. "I need to finish this lap first. But yeah. Text me the details."