Sweaty Palms & Screen Time

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, clutching her iPhone like it was a lifeline. The pool party was in full swing—literally. People were swimming laps, doing cannonballs, acting like this was just another Saturday. But for Maya? This was battlefield territory.

"You coming in or what?" Tyler yelled from the deep end. He was treading water, shirtless, looking annoyingly confident. Maya's stomach did that weird flip thing it always did when he talked to her.

"Maybe later!" she called back, way too loud. Her voice cracked. Smooth.

She'd been running from this moment all week. Ever since Jenna accidentally mentioned Tyler would be here, and Maya's best friend had raised her eyebrows like she knew everything. Which she didn't, because there was nothing to know. Except that Maya had been lowkey obsessed with Tyler since seventh grade science when he'd made that volcano explode and she'd pretended not to be impressed.

Her iPhone buzzed in her hand. Jenna: "STOP STALKING FROM THE CHAIR AND GET IN THE POOL"

Maya groaned and shoved the phone in her pocket. Her palms were still sweating, heart hammering like she'd just finished running a marathon instead of sitting perfectly still in a patio chair.

You know what? Whatever. She stood up, kicked off her flip-flops, and marched toward the pool. Tyler was still watching her, still treading water like this was effortless. Like everything was effortless for him.

She cannonballed.

Water went everywhere. People screamed. Tyler laughed, and it was this genuine, surprised laugh that made something in her chest feel light and floaty, like she was the one swimming in air now.

"Finally," he said as she surfaced, spluttering. "Thought you were gonna chicken out."

"Never." Maya wiped water from her eyes, her palms finally not sweating for the first time all night. "I'm just strategic."

"Yeah?" Tyler swam closer. "What's your strategy then?"

Maya grinned. She'd figure it out. Probably mess it up, overthink everything, and spend three hours analyzing it with Jenna later. But right now, in this pool, with Tyler smiling at her like she was actually someone worth noticing? She was done running.

"My strategy," she said, splashing him right in the face, "is to make sure you can't see me coming."

He sputtered, laughing. "Oh, you're going down."

Game on.