The Bull in the Bleachers

Maya slouched in the **baseball** bleachers, hoodie up, praying nobody noticed she'd come alone. Again. The varsity game was where everyone gathered—couples being disgustingly cute, friend groups taking up entire rows, and her, scrolling through Instagram like she had somewhere better to be.

Then came Tyler, sliding into the seat beside her like he'd been invited. Which he hadn't.

"Yo, Maya," he said, all confident swagger and flannel everything. "You gonna watch the game or pretend you're too cool for school?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"Right." He pointed at the field. "That's Chase Miller. Guy's a beast at the plate, but he's got zero **bull** in him when it comes to talking to people. Saw him freeze up when your sister tried to ask about his batting average."

Maya snorted despite herself. Tyler had this annoying habit of being observant.

"Speaking of," he continued, "I heard about what happened in homeroom. With Emma."

Her face burned. Emma had posted something shady on her story—subtweeting about fake friends. Classic girl drama, but it still hurt like hell.

"Don't," Maya warned.

"I'm just saying." Tyler leaned closer. "Emma talks a big game, but last year? She literally cried because her **cat** ran away and posted those sad animal videos for a week straight. Girl's not as tough as she wants everyone to think."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're sitting alone at a baseball game, Maya." His voice dropped, serious for once. "And because last summer, I saw you stand up to that jerk who was harassing your cousin at the pool. You went full mama **bear** on him, and I'm pretty sure he's still scared of you."

She blinked. She'd forgotten anyone had seen that.

"You've got backbone," Tyler said. "Emma's just noise. Don't let her mess with your head."

The crowd erupted as someone hit a home run. Maya barely noticed.

"Since when are you so wise?" she asked, trying to sound unimpressed.

"Since I realized the girl I've been trying to impress at every game sits three rows back, alone, and doesn't even notice me." He grinned, but there was something real underneath it. "So, you wanna actually watch this game together? Like, for real?"

Maya lowered her hood. For the first time all night, she didn't feel like the awkward girl who didn't belong.

"Fine," she said. "But if you start talking about stats, I'm leaving."

"Deal." He bumped her shoulder with his. "Yo, what's your deal with Chase anyway? You got a crush or something?"

"Oh my god, Tyler. No."

But she was smiling.

Somewhere beyond the field lights, the night felt different. Not perfect—Emma would still be petty tomorrow, and she'd still overthink everything—but better. Like maybe she didn't have to figure it all out alone.

Not anymore.