The Bear in Her Palm

Maya's palms were sweating.

And her phone was buzzing in her pocket.

And her childhood bear—Mr. Cuddles, god, even the name made her cringe—was currently shoved in the bottom of her bag underneath a meticulously folded towel, because somehow at sixteen she still needed him at parties but was too embarrassed to admit it.

The pool house hummed with bass and chlorine and laughter.

Somewhere in the tangle of bodies, Jordan—Jordan with the jawline and the smile and the perfect everything—was talking to Skylar about palm reading, because apparently Skylar had taken a thirty-minute YouTube tutorial and was now practically psychic.

"Let me see your hand," Skylar said, and Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when attention landed on her, which was to try to exit her body through her throat.

"I'm good," Maya said, but Jordan turned and their eyes locked and her brain short-circuited.

"Come on, May," Jordan said, and the nickname hit different when it came from them. "Let Skylar predict your future."

Maya's hands were clammy. She shoved them in her pockets. "I don't really believe in that stuff."

"You believe in astrology," Jordan pointed out.

"That's different. That's science." Maya's laugh came out too loud.

Skylar grabbed her wrist and tugged. "Just let me see. I promise I won't tell anyone your deep dark secrets." Her eyes twinkled. "Unless they're really good."

Maya's heart hammered. Her palms were sweating so much she was practically dripping. Somewhere in her bag, Mr. Cuddles waited. If anyone opened that bag—

"Fine," Maya said, because Jordan was watching her with that soft expression that made her want to simultaneously dissolve and also exist more intensely than she ever had in her life.

Skylar traced the lines on her palm with careful fingers. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What?" Jordan leaned in.

"You've got a strong life line," Skylar said. "And your head line—" She paused dramatically. "It's connected to your heart line."

"What does that mean?" Maya asked, despite herself.

"It means you think with your feelings," Skylar said. "And you carry a lot." She looked up, her face softer now. "More than people realize."

The air between them went still. Jordan's gaze didn't waver.

Maya's throat tightened. "That's not really a prediction."

"Sure it is." Skylar squeezed her hand. "Your future is you stop bearing so much alone." She winked. "Also, you're gonna get pushed into a pool in approximately five seconds."

"What—"

Strong arms wrapped around Maya's waist.

"Sorry!" Jordan called as they both toppled forward.

The water swallowed her whole—cool and shocking and perfect. When she broke the surface, gasping, Jordan was already laughing, shaking wet hair from their eyes. The party cheered. And somehow, impossibly, Mr. Cuddles remained hidden in the depths of her bag.

Maya treaded water, heart racing, palms no longer sweating.

Jordan grinned. "So. That happened."

"It did."

"You okay?" Jordan's voice was gentler now.

Maya looked at them—really looked. At the way water droplets clung to Jordan's eyelashes. At the genuine concern in their expression. At the fact that somehow, some way, Maya was here. In the pool. At the party. With Jordan.

Her bear was safe in her bag. Her secrets were safe in her heart. And maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to bear everything alone anymore.

"Yeah," Maya said, and this time when she smiled, it reached her eyes. "I'm good."

Jordan's smile widened. "Good."

They treaded water together as the party swirled around them. And somewhere in the universe, or maybe just in her own heart, Maya felt the world tilt toward something new—something terrifying and wonderful and entirely worth the wait.