Sweaty Palms & Saturday Nights

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping wet, the kind of nervous that makes you wonder if everyone else can see your hands shaking from across the room.

"You good?" Sasha asked, bumping her shoulder. They'd been best friends since seventh grade, back when friendship bracelets were still cool and the biggest problem was who got the better locker.

"Fine," Maya lied. "Just needed air."

The party was loud. Too loud. Someone's older brother's house, parents "out of town" (classic), and the whole sophomore class seemed to be squeezed into rooms that suddenly felt way too small. Maya had spent the last hour pretending to check messages on her phone, nodding along to conversations she wasn't really part of, and calculating exactly how many minutes she needed to stay before she could bail without looking lame.

That's when she found the cat.

It was curled up on the back patio, completely unbothered by the bass thumping through the walls. A calico with one ear that folded weirdly, watching her with these judging yellow eyes.

"Yeah, I get it," Maya whispered, sinking down beside it. "This is objectively the worst party I've been to since Jacob's bar mitzvah, and that's saying something."

The cat blinked.

"At least you can just leave whenever you want," she continued, because apparently she was now venting to animals. "No social obligation to stay a respectable amount of time. No one's gonna be like 'why'd you leave early, were we not enough for you?'"

"Who are you talking to?"

Maya jumped. It was that guy from her history class — Diego? Dante? Something with a D. He was holding a red cup and looking at her with this half-smile that made her stomach do something annoying and predictable.

"The cat," she said, because stating the obvious was definitely her forte right now. "His name is... I'm gonna call him Kevin."

"Kevin," he repeated, sitting down beside her. Not too close. Not too far. "Cool. I'm Daniel, by the way. We've had three classes together this year."

"I know," she said before she could stop herself, and then immediately wanted to die. "I mean — obviously, I've seen you around. History. And bio. That's two classes, technically."

"Math too," he said. "You sit by the window. You always draw on your tests when you're done. Little cartoons in the margins."

Maya felt her face getting hot. "You noticed that?"

"I mean, yeah." He shrugged. "They're good. Better than anything I could draw."

The silence stretched, but not in a bad way. The bass from inside was muffled out here, and the air was finally cool enough to breathe. Kevin the cat had decided Daniel's lap was acceptable and was now purring like a tiny engine.

"I was actually about to leave," Maya admitted. "I'm not great at... this." She gestured vaguely toward the house.

"Same," Daniel said. "I only came because my friend said I needed to 'put myself out there' or whatever."

"Is it working?"

He laughed. "Actually? Yeah. Kind of."

Maya looked down at her hands. Her palms weren't sweating anymore.

"You wanna get food?" he asked. "There's a Taco Bell like two minutes away. We could bring back something for Kevin too."

"Cats don't eat Taco Bell, Daniel."

"Kevin's a rebel. I can feel it."

She smiled. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go."

As they walked to his car, Maya thought maybe that's what growing up felt like — not suddenly becoming confident and smooth, but finding the people who were just as awkward as you, and leaving the parties together to get chalupas at 10 PM.

Her palms were dry. Kevin would be fine. And she'd definitely remember to tell Sasha everything tomorrow.