That Orange Fox Night

Maya's palms were legit sweating. Like, actually dripping onto her denim shorts. She'd been crushing on Liam since seventh grade, and tonight? Tonight was finally the night.

The beach bonfire crackled behind her, casting orange flames that danced across everyone's faces. Someone's Spotify playlist bumped from a portable speaker—something nostalgic that everyone pretended they'd always loved. The ocean **water** lapped at the shore, rhythmic and calming, but Maya felt anything but calm.

"You good?" Her best friend Sarah nudged her arm. "You've been staring at Liam for like, twenty minutes."

"I'm not staring," Maya lied. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"You're being a total creep," Sarah laughed. "Just talk to him already."

Easier said than done. Maya watched Liam across the fire, silhouetted against **palm** trees that swayed in the breeze. He was laughing at something—probably something Finn had said. Finn, whose username was literally @the_fox because he thought it made him seem mysterious and clever. It didn't. He was just kind of annoying.

But tonight, the annoying didn't matter. Tonight was about possibilities.

Maya grabbed an **orange** cream soda from the cooler—her third, because liquid courage, right?—and started toward Liam. Her heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest.

"Hey," she managed, and wow, her voice actually sounded normal.

Liam turned, his face lighting up. "Maya! Hey!"

They talked. Actually talked. About everything and nothing. The weird history teacher. The time he'd accidentally worn his shirt inside out during a presentation. How the stars looked different here than back home.

The **fox**—Finn—kept making dramatic faces from across the fire, but Maya didn't care. She was finally having *the moment*.

Then Liam's phone buzzed. He checked it, his smile falling.

"I gotta go," he said. "Family thing."

"Oh," Maya's stomach dropped. "Okay."

"But hey," he stepped closer, "we should hang out again. Like, actually hang out."

"Yeah," Maya managed. "That'd be... yeah."

Her palms were still sweating. But as she watched him walk away, silhouetted against the **orange** glow of the bonfire, she smiled. Maybe teenage romance wasn't like the movies. Maybe it was messy and awkward and full of almosts.

But this? This pretty good start.