The Friday Night WiFi Miracle

Maya's sleek black hair was frizzing at the temples, the humidity absolutely murdering the blowout she'd spent forty minutes perfecting. She tugged at her cami, feeling like she was trying too hard. Which she was. It was Jordan's house party — the first real one of sophomore year — and the Instagram story stakes were high.

"WiFi's down again!" someone groaned from the basement. "No Spotify, no vibe."

Maya froze. Her dad worked in IT. She'd spent enough Sunday afternoons watching him debug routers to know her way around a ethernet cable. Maybe too well. Was it weird to volunteer? Was it loser behavior to care about the WiFi at a party?

"I got this," Maya heard herself saying, before she could talk herself out of it. A few kids actually looked at her. Jordan nodded, relieved. "Please. The ethernet cable is behind the gaming setup."

In the basement, between a suspicious-looking beanbag and what appeared to be three years of accumulated hoodies, Maya found the problem: the cable had been kicked loose. Easy fix. But as she crouched down, she caught her reflection in the darkened TV screen — hair wild, determination dialed to eleven, palm pressed against the floor for balance. She looked like she was mid-ritual summon. She cracked up. Sometimes you're the cool girl who fixes things. Sometimes you're just the girl who ends up on the floor.

"Need a hand?"

Cameron. The Cameron who'd sat behind her in bio since September, whose hair fell over his eyes when he concentrated, who she'd definitely written in her notes app exactly twice. He crouched beside her, reaching for the same cable she'd just reconnected. Their hands brushed — his palm warm against hers, the moment stretching like taffy.

"Actually," she said, "I just fixed it. But thanks for the moral support."

"I bear witness to your technical brilliance," he said, serious, before cracking a grin. "Also, you saved the party. Jordan would've lost it without the playlist."

The music kicked back on upstairs. Someone shouted "WiFi's back!" like they'd personally slayed a dragon. Cameron helped her up, their palms pressing together for just a second longer than necessary.

"Nice hair," he said, like he actually meant it.

Maya realized her frizz had gone full chaotic. She didn't even care.

"Thanks," she said. "It's got a mind of its own."

"Yeah," Cameron said, already turning toward the stairs, then glancing back. "I like that about it."

Maya followed him upstairs, bio notes and Instagram posts temporarily forgotten. The WiFi worked. The night was young. And apparently, sometimes being the person who fixes the cable was exactly the right move.