Sweaty Palms, Zombie Eyes

The party was already dead when Maya arrived, and not in the cool, intentional way. Her roommate had dragged her out at eleven PM, claiming this was THE rooftop event of the semester, but the only thing noteworthy was the questionable punch bowl and a guy wearing a ridiculous top **hat** with LED lights flashing in seizure-inducing patterns.

"You look like a **zombie**," said Jake, appearing beside her with two cups. "No offense."

"None taken," Maya managed, though her **palm**s were sweating against the plastic cup. "I've been running on caffeine and three hours of sleep since midterms started. Zombie is accurate."

Jake laughed, and something in her chest did that annoying flutter thing. He was in her econ class, always sitting three rows back, perpetually disheveled in a way that looked intentional rather than accidental. She'd been lowkey crushing on him since September, which was pathetic and she knew it.

"My little sister has this stuffed **bear** she calls Mr. Grumpy Face," Jake said suddenly. "You kind of have the same energy right now."

"Wow. Comparing me to a grumpy stuffed animal. Smooth." But Maya was smiling, and Jake's smile widened in response.

"I meant it as a compliment! He's her favorite. She takes him everywhere."

The conversation shouldn't have worked. It was objectively terrible — bears, zombies, and how econ lectures were basically extended naps with occasional bursts of panic. But somehow they ended up on the roof's edge, shoulders barely touching, while the party swirled distant and irrelevant behind them.

"So," Jake said, "are you gonna stay zombie-mode all night, or can I convince you to actually dance with me?"

Maya looked at his hand, extended and waiting. Thought about her 8 AM class, the mounting assignments, the fact that she was wearing her roommate's shoes and they were half a size too small.

Then she thought about Jake's stupid laugh, the way he'd noticed she was tired instead of just awkward, and how nice it felt to be seen.

"Depends," she said, taking his hand. "Can we critique everyone's dance moves from the sidelines first?"

Jake's grin was worth the sleep deprivation. "Absolutely."

Some nights, she decided, the zombie life could wait.