Sweaty Palms & Spinach catastrophe

Maya's palms were sweating through her padel grip. Again. Across the net, Jake was laughing at something Tyler said, completely unaware that Maya had spent the last three weeks cyber-stalking his Instagram. She wasn't proud of the whole low-key spy situation, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Maya, you good?" called Samantha, her partner for the PE tournament. "You've been staring at Jake instead of the ball."

Heat rushed to Maya's cheeks. "I'm not—"

"Girl, please. We all know." Samantha rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Just hit the ball already."

The cafeteria aftermath only made things worse. Maya's brilliant plan to sit near Jake's table had backfired spectacularly when she'd chosen the spinach wrap for lunch—apparently, the universe had decided spinach stuck in teeth was her aesthetic now. She'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom with her phone camera as her only mirror, silently cursing every life choice that led to this moment.

When she finally emerged, Tyler was waiting by the door. "Jake was gonna sit with you," he said, confusingly casual. "But you disappeared."

Maya froze. "Wait, what?"

"Dude's been trying to talk to you forever." Tyler shrugged. "The whole spy thing? Mutual. He's been asking Sam about you since September."

Her palm hit her forehead. Hard. "I had spinach in my teeth, didn't I?"

"For like, twenty minutes." Tyler grinned. "But hey, at least you know he's interested now."

Maybe this wasn't a total disaster. At least she could stop stalking his Instagram and actually, you know, talk to him. Provided she never ate spinach in public again.

Small victories.