The Cat, The Cable, and The Strikeout

Maya's phone buzzed on her nightstand at exactly 7:03 PM. *Tyler's outside.*

She'd been waiting for this moment since September, when Tyler Martinez had moved to town and immediately become the starting pitcher on the varsity baseball team. Now it was December, and somehow they'd ended up in the same AP Bio study group, and somehow they'd ended up texting until 2 AM most nights, and somehow he was now standing on her porch.

Her cat, Mochi, chose that exact moment to bolt between her legs as she opened the door.

"Mochi, no!" Maya scrambled, tripping over her own feet. Tyler caught her elbow, steady and warm despite the freezing wind.

"You good?" He laughed, and it was this sound that made her chest feel weird, like she'd swallowed something fizzy.

"Yeah, Mochi just hates me. She's literally an assassin."

"She's chill. Come on, we're gonna miss the game."

They were walking to his house to watch the baseball playoffs because his parents had the deluxe cable package with all the sports channels, and her parents refused to pay for anything beyond basic. Typical.

The wind was brutal. Maya's vintage jacket—thrifted, obviously, because sustainability—was not cutting it. Tyler noticed immediately and shrugged off his letterman jacket, draping it over her shoulders without making it weird. It smelled like cedar and something that was just *Tyler*, and Maya tried to act normal instead of having a literal meltdown.

"So," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I was thinking—"

A stray cable, snaking across the sidewalk from someone's shoddy DIY repair job, caught Maya's sneaker. She went down hard, asphalt scraping her palms.

"Maya!" Tyler dropped to his knees beside her. "Are you okay? That cable was barely even visible, what the—"

"I'm fine," she started, then realized she wasn't. Her knee was bleeding. Great. Just perfect.

But then Tyler was pulling her up gently, supporting her weight like it was nothing. "We can go back if—"

"No. Baseball. Let's go."

His living room was exactly what she expected—sports memorabilia everywhere, a huge TV, his little sister doing homework at the kitchen table. Tyler tossed her a blanket and they settled in on opposite ends of the couch, which felt simultaneously too close and not close enough.

The baseball game was insane. Tyler actually knew stuff about pitching mechanics and strategy, explaining things without being condescending. Maya found herself leaning in, watching his hands move when he got excited about a double play.

Then his team scored and he turned to her, eyes bright, and she just *kissed him*.

It was impulse and panic and something else, something that had been building since September. For three seconds, everything went electric.

Then she pulled back, horrified. "Oh my god. I'm sorry, I don't know—"

"No," Tyler said, catching her wrist. "No, I've been trying to figure out how to do that for months."

Maya's cat would be disappointed to know she'd survived this night. Mochi lived for chaos, and honestly, so did Maya now.