Sweaty Palms in the Dugout

Leo's palms were sweating so bad he could barely grip his phone. He'd been vibing with Maya since third period—Spanish class seating arrangements were finally paying off—but now it was Friday night and the legendary baseball party was happening at Chase's house, and Leo had promised he'd actually show up this time. No more "maybe next time" energy.

The problem? Leo didn't do parties. His social battery was perpetually at 3%, and large groups of people were basically his personal kryptonite. But Maya would be there, probably wearing that sundress she'd Instagrammed yesterday, and Leo had already spent way too many Fridays overthinking his way out of living his actual life.

"You're overthinking it again," his sister Jordan called from the hallway, where she was attempting to palm a basketball against the doorframe like she'd seen in that TikTok. "Just go. Talk to her. If it's awkward, it's awkward. You survive either way."

"Easy for you to say," Leo muttered. "You didn't freeze up in front of half the baseball team last semester when you tried to ask that sophomore to homecoming."

"That was different," she said, finally giving up on the basketball trick. "Also, ancient history. No one remembers that except you and your brain that loves holding onto embarrassment like it's a personality trait."

She wasn't wrong. Leo's brain was basically a museum of his most awkward moments, curated for maximum late-night overthinking sessions.

At the party, the bass was already vibrating through the soles of his sneakers when he walked in. Chase's backyard had been transformed—string lights, a snack table that was definitely going to get raided by midnight, and people from school Leo barely recognized. The baseball team had claimed the patio, obviously. Some things were just universal laws of high school social dynamics.

Maya was near the fire pit, laughing at something her friend said, and Leo's palms started sweating again. He grabbed a soda he didn't even want, just to have something to do with his hands.

"Leo!" Chase appeared out of nowhere, clapping him on the shoulder with way too much enthusiasm. "Glad you made it, bro. We're setting up for beer pong if you're—"

"Nah, I'm good," Leo said, trying to sound casual instead of like he was actively hyperventilating. "Just here to... hang."

"Suit yourself." Chase shrugged and moved on to someone else, because that was the beauty of parties—you could just drift away from conversations and nobody cared.

Leo made his way toward the fire pit, practicing what he might say in his head. Hey, what's up? Too basic. Nice party, right? A little awkward. I like your dress? Too forward, maybe. Unless it wasn't. Unless Maya was waiting for him to say something and he was just standing there being weird about it.

Then their eyes met across the fire, and Maya smiled like she was actually happy to see him, and Leo's brain stopped overthinking for like three whole seconds.

"Hey," she said, moving over to make room for him. "I was hoping you'd come."

"Yeah?" Leo said, and then immediately wanted to die. "Yeah. I mean, me too. That I came. Because I wanted to. Obviously."

Maya laughed, but not like she was making fun of him. "Obviously. You gonna stand there all night, or you wanna sit down?"

Leo sat, and for the first time in forever, his palms were dry.