Sweaty Palms & Senior Year

Maya's palms were sweating through her favorite black hoodie. Again. Standing outside Tyler's house, music thumping through the walls like a heartbeat, she almost bailed. Third time this week she'd rehearsed what to say when she finally gave him the note she'd written during fourth period biology.

"You coming or what?" Jenna called from the doorway, looking annoyingly perfect in her crop top. "Tyler's literally asking about you."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like her internal organs had been replaced with a frantic **dog** chasing its tail. She'd been crushing on Tyler since sophomore year, and tonight was supposedly the night. Except her brain kept replaying every awkward interaction they'd ever had, like that time she'd accidentally called him "Brian" in front of everyone.

Inside, the air was thick with cheap body spray and desperation. Someone had brought a golden retriever puppy – apparently Tyler's cousin's new emotional support animal – and it was currently causing chaos by knocking over a tower of red Solo cups. The dog bounded over to Maya, tail wagging like it personally wanted to help her survive this party.

"He likes you," a voice said.

Maya looked up. Tyler. Standing right there. In his **palm** tree print shirt that she'd secretly Googled to buy matching versions of online (she'd never worn it, obviously).

"What?"

"Buster. He doesn't usually warm up to people that fast." Tyler smiled, and Maya's carefully practiced speech evaporated from her brain like water on a hot sidewalk. "So I heard you're trying out for the spring musical?"

They talked for twenty minutes. About musical theater, about how much they both hated pre-calc, about how Jenna had been trying to set them up for months but was "subtle" about it (she wasn't). The puppy curled up at their feet like a tiny, furry witness to this moment that Maya had been overthinking for literally two years.

"Hey," Tyler said, suddenly looking nervous. "My friends are going to the beach tomorrow. You should come. Unless you have..." He gestured vaguely at her.

Maya laughed. "Yeah, I take this giant **vitamin** D supplement because my doctor said I'm deficient. Basically I need sunlight or I turn into a vampire."

"So that's a yes?"

"That's a definitely."

As Maya walked home later that night, clutching Tyler's number in her phone like it was contraband, she realized something: all those hours she'd spent obsessing over what to say, how to look, whether she was good enough – none of it mattered. The scary moments, the ones that made her hands shake and her stomach twist – those were the ones that actually meant something.

Her mom was waiting up. "How was it?"

Maya grinned. "Perfect. Except I think I got dog hair all over my favorite hoodie."