Sweaty Palms & Stray Hearts

Maya's palms were sweating again. She rubbed them against her jeans, staring at Leo where he sat three tables away in the cafeteria, laughing at something his friends said. This was getting ridiculous. She'd been crushing on him since September, and the most they'd ever exchanged was "here's your homework" and "thanks."

Outside, the stray cat—the one everyone called Ghost because it was practically see-through under the streetlights—jumped onto the windowsill. Maya had been feeding it ham sandwiches from her lunch for weeks now. It was their thing.

"Yo, you gonna eat that?" Leo was suddenly beside her, nodding at the untouched sandwich on her tray.

Maya's brain short-circuited. "Uh, no. You want it?"

"Nah, not for me." Leo grabbed the sandwich, moved to the window, and tore pieces onto the sill. Ghost appeared like magic, weaving around his hand. "This guy's cool. I see you feeding him sometimes."

Maya's palms went from sweaty to straight-up tropical. "Yeah. He's chill."

"I'm Leo, by the way." He grinned, and she caught the tiny gap between his front teeth.

"Maya."

They stood there for what felt like forever but was probably thirty seconds, just watching the cat eat and dodging the awkwardness that hung between them like fog. Then someone yelled his name from across the cafeteria.

"Later, Maya." He bumped her shoulder with his—actual physical contact—and walked away, leaving her with damp palms and a heart running marathons in her chest.

Her phone buzzed. Friend request from Leo Martinez. Maya pressed accept with fingers that wouldn't stop shaking, already overthinking what to say, whether to wait three minutes to reply or two, whether this meant anything or if he was just being nice to the weird cat girl.

Whatever. She'd figure it out tomorrow. For now, she just watched Ghost finish the sandwich and felt something tiny and electric bloom in her chest, like the first day of summer break.