The Fox Tattoo

The party at Tyler's house was already giving me major anxiety when I spotted the fox tattoo on Maya's shoulder. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, laughing at something Tyler said with that effortless cool I'd been trying to fake all night.

I'd been crushing on Maya since sophomore year, back when she'd transferred from Roosevelt. We'd partnered for that bio project where we'd had to take care of those stupid goldfish that kept dying on us. She'd named hers glitter-bomb-sunshine or something equally extra. Mine was just Fish.

That project was literally the only time we'd talked.

Now here she was, two years later, looking like she belonged in music videos while I was still trying to figure out if my outfit was trying too hard or not enough. The sudden lightning flash outside illuminated the kitchen, throwing everything into stark relief. Thunder followed seconds later.

"Storm's getting closer," someone said.

Maya's eyes met mine across the room. My palms started sweating immediately. I wiped them on my jeans, trying to look casual and probably failing.

"Hey," she said, suddenly standing in front of me. "Aren't you Goldfish Guy?"

I choked on my drink. "What?"

"From bio. Fish guy." She grinned, pointing at my chest. "Your fish died first. I felt so bad for you."

"Oh my god, don't remind me." I groaned. "That was literally my lowest moment."

"Same. I cried for three days when mine died. I was so extra back then." She laughed, and something shifted. The cool-girl veneer cracked.

"You still are," I found myself saying. "But in, like, a good way."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of calling me extra?"

"Maybe."

Maya's cat-eye eyeliner was perfect. Everything about her was perfect. I couldn't believe I was actually talking to her.

"Show me that tattoo," I heard myself saying, gesturing at her shoulder. "The fox."

She turned, pulling her hair aside. The fox was mid-leap, detailed in black ink with orange accents. "Got it last summer. Rebellion phase, you know?"

"Your parents let you?"

"LOL no. That's why it's somewhere they won't see." She winked. "I'm not as reckless as I look."

Another lightning flash, closer this time. The power flickered.

"We should probably—" Tyler started.

The lights died. Complete darkness.

Someone shrieked. Then laughter.

"Everyone stay calm," Maya's voice cut through, steady and amused. "Goldfish Guy, you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, surprised by my own calm. "I'm good."

"Cool. Stay put, flashlight coming."

In the darkness, her hand found mine. Our palms pressed together, her grip surprisingly strong. Lightning flashed again, and in that split second of illumination, I saw her smile—genuine, unguarded, nothing like the practiced cool from earlier.

"So," she whispered, "since we're apparently bonded by dead fish trauma and now this... you gonna ask for my number, or what?"

I laughed, the tension in my chest finally releasing. "Is that a thing people do during power outages?"

"Only the brave ones."

The lights flickered back on. Everyone cheered. But Maya didn't pull away.

"Well?" she said, her palm still warm against mine.

"Yeah," I said, grinning like an idiot. "Yeah, I'm gonna ask."