The Glare

Maya's reflection in her iPhone screen showed her exactly what she'd been trying to avoid seeing all night: the dark circles under her eyes, the way her foundation was separating at the nose, the crack in the screen that perfectly bisected her forehead like some bad omen.

"You good?" Jordan asked, dropping onto the beanbag beside her. He held out a gummy shaped like a bear. "Vitamin C. My mom says my immune system is trash."

Maya hesitated. The last time she'd accepted something at a party, she'd spent three hours overthinking whether Jordan had offered her that drink because he liked her or because he felt sorry for her. Both options felt equally devastating.

"I'm good," she said, but her phone battery flashed 12%.

The charging cable was across the room, plugged into the wall behind Kyle's gaming setup. Kyle was currently explaining to everyone why he'd definitely get into NYU despite his 2.7 GPA, gesturing with a half-eaten slice of pizza like it was a pointer. Getting over there would require performing social cardio she didn't have the energy for.

"Your phone's about to die," Jordan said, stating the obvious like it was profound. He'd been doing that all night—commenting on things she was already painfully aware of. "You want my cable?"

The offer hung between them, surprisingly weighted.

"I—" Maya started, then stopped. The truth was, she didn't want to go home, but she didn't want to stay here either. She wanted to be someone who could float between rooms effortlessly, someone who didn't overthink vitamin gummies and charging cables like they were psychological tests. She wanted to be the person she performed in her Instagram stories, not the one staring back at her through the cracked glass.

"Maya?" Jordan was looking at her differently now. Not like she was some project to fix. Just looking.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks."

He handed it over. Their fingers brushed.

The phone died anyway, five seconds later. But for the first time all night, Maya didn't mind the dark.