The Night I Didn't Die (But Almost Wish I Had)

The spinach in my teeth felt like a radioactive meteorite. I'd been carrying it around for twenty minutes before Maya pointed it out, her eyes widening behind her glasses.

"Dude," she whispered. "There's... something."

I'd already felt like a zombie from pulling an all-nighter binge-watching that new show everyone was obsessing over. Now I was practically the undead version of myself, with garnish.

The house party was loud in that way that makes your chest vibrate. Someone's older brother had gone full bear with the speakers, bass thumping like a second heartbeat. I'd only come because Jordan was here, somewhere, and senior year was half over and I was still low-key terrified of talking to him.

I was trying to disappear into the kitchen when everything went sideways.

The TV cable, which someone had draped across the floor like a lethal tripwire, caught my ankle. Time did that slow-motion thing where you see your whole life flash before your eyes, except my life was mostly awkward moments and this one felt like the finale.

I faceplanted. Tray of nachos went airborne like a confetti cannon made of shame.

The room went dead silent. Then laughter rippled out, and I just wanted to evaporate. But before I could melt into the linoleum, a hand appeared in my face.

Jordan's hand.

"You good?" he asked, actually sounding concerned instead of entertained.

His friends were snickering behind him, but he wasn't. He pulled me up and didn't even mention the cheese in my hair or the spinach still lodged between my front teeth.

"I'm running to the store for more drinks," he said, already moving toward the door. "You wanna come?"

Later, walking back with two plastic bags swinging between us, he admitted he'd been nervous to talk to me too. That he'd pretended to be interested in that show just because he knew I watched it. That he thought it was cool I ran track even though I came in last at every meet.

I didn't magically become popular. But I learned that the nights you think will destroy you are sometimes the ones that quietly, surprisingly, make you believe that maybe you're not as unlovable as you thought.