The Fox in My Palm

Leo's palm was sweating so hard his orange soda was practically swimming. First real house party. He'd spent forty-five minutes on his hair and now he was wedged between the refrigerator and some sophomore who wouldn't stop talking about her uncle's boat.

Maya—aka Fox, because she'd somehow negotiated her way out of detention freshman year by convincing the principal it was "educational protest"—was across the kitchen. Laughing at something Brendan said. Of course Brendan. The guy whose parents owned the lake house. The guy who'd probably never had to wonder if his sneakers were cool enough.

"You gonna stand there all night or actually talk to her?"

Leo jumped. His cousin Jade, leaning against the counter with grape soda. "I'm not standing anywhere. I'm architecturally positioned."

"You're being a little coward." Jade smirked. "The bull in the china shop of your own anxiety."

"That's not even how that phrase works."

"Brendan's gonna make his move in like ten minutes. I heard him telling Kyle he's gonna 'seal the deal.' Whatever that means in fifteen-year-old terms."

Leo stared at Maya again. She looked perfect. Her orange streaked hair caught the kitchen light. Fox was right—she was clever, beautiful, and completely out of his league.

His phone buzzed. Mom. WHERE R U?

"Go," Jade pushed him. "Before your bull-headed parents track your location."

Leo's palm stopped sweating. He walked across the kitchen. Maya turned, orange hair flipping, eyes bright.

"Leo!" She smiled like she meant it. "I was hoping you'd show."

He held up his soda. "Wouldn't miss it."

Fox was right about a lot of things. But she was wrong about one thing: he wasn't a coward. Not anymore.