The Fox at the Bonfire

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she had to wipe them on her ripped jeans again. Typical. Her first real high school party and she was already lowkey spiraling.

"You good, bestie?" Chloe asked, flipping her hair like she was starring in a music video. Chloe knew everything—seriously, the girl was like a human sphinx with all the secrets she collected from everyone's Snap streaks.

"I'm fine," Maya lied, staring across the bonfire at him.

Ethan. The fox. That's what everyone called him, not because he looked like one but because he was sneaky-smart and moved through social circles like he owned them. He'd transferred to their school three weeks ago and already had more followers than Maya had in her entire existence.

A cat yowled somewhere in the darkness behind them. Great. Even the stray cats were judging her.

"Go talk to him," Chloe pushed, practically vibrating with secondhand excitement. "Or I will, and I'll embarrass you on purpose."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Maya took a breath and walked over, her heart doing that thing where it felt too big for her chest. Ethan was sitting on a log, roasting a marshmallow with suspicious precision.

"Hey," she managed. Cool. Casual. Totally not internally screaming.

He looked up, and his eyes did that crinkly thing that made everyone's knees weak. "Hey. You're Maya, right? The one who drew that mural in the hallway?"

She blinked. "You know about that?"

"Dude, it's legendary. I was gonna ask if you'd help me with this art project I'm failing." He gestured to himself with the roasting stick. "I have exactly zero artistic talent. My stick figures look like they're having medical emergencies."

Maya laughed before she could stop herself. The tension in her chest cracked open.

"So?" He raised an eyebrow. "Help a fox out?"

Her palms weren't sweating anymore. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

Sometimes the scariest moments turned out to be the ones that changed everything.