The Bear and the Bull

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip the railing. House parties weren't exactly my vibe—I was more of a stay-home-and-overthink-every-interaction type of person. But Mia had sworn this would be "chill AF" and practically dragged me out of my comfort zone.

"You good?" Marcus asked, appearing beside me with two Solo cups. He was Mia's older brother's friend, two grades ahead, with this effortless confidence I'd been low-key jealous of since freshman year.

"Yeah, just... vibing," I lied, accepting what turned out to be orange Fanta. Not exactly the party drink of choice, but Marcus remembered I didn't like soda with caffeine. Small details hit different.

The party was packed in someone's basement, LED lights casting everything in purple and blue. Someone had set up one of those mechanical bulls in the corner—the kind you see at country bars but somehow infinitely more ridiculous in a suburban basement. Jordan, this varsity hockey guy who'd been giving me shit since middle school, was currently holding on for dear life while everyone filmed.

"Total bullshit," Jordan announced afterward, adjusting his Snapback. "That thing's rigged."

"Bro, you lasted like three seconds," someone called out.

I pulled out my vitamin D gummies—my mom had been on my case about taking them daily since I'd stopped going outside for anything other than school. The container made that unmistakable crinkle sound that felt way too loud.

Marcus noticed. "You good?"

"Anxiety thing," I admitted, surprising myself. "Weirdly specific ritual, but it helps."

Instead of making fun of me, Marcus nodded. "My sister takes those. She says they actually work."

Then he did something unexpected. He pulled out his phone and showed me his lock screen—a photo of himself at age seven, clutching this ratty old teddy bear with one eye missing.

"Bear-Bear," he said simply. "Still sleeps on my bed. No shame."

I stared at him, then at the photo, then back at him. "Wait, YOU? The guy who literally doesn't get nervous?"

"Imposter syndrome hits different, doesn't it?" He grinned. "We're all just pretending, Maya. Some of us are just better actors."

Something shifted in my chest. Lighter. Easier.

"Wanna try the bull?" he asked.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on. I'll go first." He winked. "Watch me embarrass myself. It'll be legendary."

He lasted exactly four seconds before tumbling off, landing with such theatrical flair that everyone cheered. He lay there laughing, looking up at me like he'd just won an Olympic gold medal.

"Your turn," he called out, extending a hand.

I hesitated, then reached for it. My hand didn't even shake.

Maybe I didn't have to be a different person. Maybe I just had to find the ones who didn't mind that I was still figuring it out.

"Fine," I said, stepping forward. "But if I die, you're explaining to my mom why her vitamin D recommendations weren't enough."

Marcus's laugh was the best thing I'd heard all night.