Sweaty Palms & Second Chances

My first job at Mario's Pizza Paradise was supposed to be chill — just sling slices, wipe counters, vibe with the after-school crowd. But my palms were sweating so hard I could barely grip the pizza cutter.

"You good, new kid?" Marcus asked, nodding at my shaking hands. He was a junior, varsity jacket, the kind of guy who'd never had an awkward moment in his life.

"Totally," I lied, swiping my forehead with the back of my hand. My phone buzzed in my pocket — probably my group chat blowing up about Jordan's party tonight. The one I'd been hyping myself up for all week.

Then Chloe walked in. Chloe with the perfect hair and the effortless laugh that made my chest do weird things. She ordered a slice with spinach.

"Extra spinach," she said, smiling like she didn't just destroy my entire nervous system.

I tried to play it cool. Really, I did. But my zombie brain from last night's gaming marathon had other plans. I knocked over the container of spinach topping. Green everywhere. All over the counter, my apron, somehow even in my hair.

Marcus lost it. Not in a mean way — he was practically on the floor.

Chloe just stared. And then she did the unthinkable. She started laughing too. Not at me, with me. "Honestly," she said, pulling a stray leaf off my shoulder, "this is the most entertaining thing that's happened all week."

My golden retriever Max would've been proud of my puppy-dog eyes in that moment.

"Wanna help me clean this up?" I asked, trying to salvage whatever dignity I had left.

"Obviously," Chloe said, grabbing a rag. "But only if you promise to save me a slice for the party tonight."

Wait. She knew about the party? She was going? My palms stopped sweating for the first time all day.

"Deal," I said, grinning like an idiot. Sometimes the most embarrassing moments become the best stories. And maybe, just maybe, I'd actually survive high school.