Sweaty Palms Friday Night

Maya's palms were sweating against the plastic Solo cup. She'd been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes, clutching this lukewarm soda like it was a lifeline. Jordan's house party raged around her — bass thumping through the floor, people laughing in clusters, someone's questionable playlist blasting from a Bluetooth speaker that kept cutting out.

Then she saw him: Leo, leaning against the back wall, wearing that gray beanie hat he never took off, even indoors. Even in June. The one with the tiny fox patch on the fold, a gift from his sister who'd moved to Portland last year. He was talking to Sarah, who was gesturing wildly about something, probably her YouTube channel that was totally "about to blow up."

Maya's heart did that stupid flippy thing it always did when Leo entered her orbit. They'd been lab partners since September, and she'd spent approximately zero percent of that time acting normal around him.

The TV mounted above Jordan's couch flickered. Someone had knocked the HDMI cable loose, and the screen went blue.

"I got it," Leo said, excusing himself from Sarah's story. He climbed onto the coffee table, reaching behind the TV. His hat slid forward, covering one eye.

Maya watched, transfixed, as he fumbled with the cords. She should go help. She should just walk over there and say something cool. Casual. Not weird.

Her feet stayed rooted.

"Yo, Maya!" Jordan yelled from across the room. "You're good with tech, right? Leo's struggling back there!"

Every head turned. Including Leo's. He looked down from the coffee table, hat askew, one eyebrow raised.

This was it. The moment. Maya's brain short-circuited. She set her cup down on a side table and forced herself to move, each step feeling like she was walking through pudding.

"Need a hand?" she asked, stopping in front of the TV stand.

Leo grinned, all crooked teeth and easy confidence. "Please. I think this cable's haunted. It keeps disconnecting."

Maya reached up, her fingers brushing his as she took the HDMI cable from him. Electric shock — or maybe that was just her brain shorting out again. She plugged it in firmly. The TV snapped back to life, displaying someone's failed attempt at a karaoke performance.

"You're a lifesaver," Leo said, hopping down from the table. He adjusted his fox hat. "I'm basically useless with anything more complicated than a toaster."

"You're fine," Maya managed, her palms suddenly drier. "Happens to the best of us."

"Wanna grab some fresh air?" Leo asked, gesturing toward the back door. "It's getting kind of intense in here."

Maya looked back at her abandoned cup, then at Leo's genuine smile.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd like that."