The Friend Mission

Maya crouched behind the outdoor AC unit, phone clutched in her sweating palm. This was ridiculous. She was sixteen, not an actual spy.

"You got eyes on him?" Jordan's text pinged.

Maya peeked around the metal box. There he was—Ethan—standing near the bonfire in that hoodie he wore like a uniform. Jordan's crush since October.

"He's by the fire," Maya typed back. "With that bull from lacrosse."

Tyler, aka The Bull, had earned his nickname freshman year after he'd head-butted a goalie through the chain-link. Not exactly scholarship material, but terrifying.

Maya's legs were cramping. She'd been hiding in the bushes for twenty minutes because Jordan—her *best* friend since sixth grade, who'd seen her through braces and bad bangs—had decided tonight was the night she'd finally talk to Ethan. Alone.

But Jordan was currently "getting ready" inside, which apparently involved three wardrobe changes and someone's mom's expensive curling iron.

"Bull's leaving," Maya typed. "Now's your shot."

A moment later, Jordan slid the back door open, looking like she'd stepped out of a TikTok tutorial. Perfect waves, outfit coordinated like she'd planned it for weeks, which she had.

Maya stayed frozen. This was the part Jordan made her swear she'd miss—the reconnaissance, the strategic timing, the weird code names they used because it felt less pathetic that way.

Through the bushes, Maya watched Jordan approach. Watched Ethan's face light up. Watched whatever happened next unfold in that awkward, beautiful way first conversations do.

She crept back around the house, scaling the fence she'd hopped earlier because the front door was blocked by a cable repair truck blocking the whole driveway. Because OF COURSE her first real stakeout had been foiled by Comcast.

Her phone buzzed. Jordan's icon, followed by three words that made Maya's chest do that weird flippy thing:

"He asked for insta."

Maya grinned at the screen, forgetting her cramped legs, the bushes in her hair, the fact that she'd literally played spy for forty-five minutes on a Friday night like a total weirdo.

Some friends were worth looking ridiculous for. Even if they never got to hear the best parts.