The Night I Stopped Running

The fluorescent lights of the gym hummed their usual anxious tune during homecoming, and I was literally running on zero chill. My best friend Maya dragged me toward the punch bowl, her orange dress somehow blindingly bright against the sea of muted pastels everyone else wore.

"You've been avoiding Jordan all night," she hissed, plopping a cup of suspiciously blue punch into my hands. "He's literally standing by the bleachers looking like a lost puppy."

I couldn't deal with Jordan's puppy eyes right now. Not after our moment at the bonfire last weekend—the almost-kiss that had me spiraling for days. My brain was still bear-hugging that memory, refusing to let it go, and every time I saw him in the hallway, my stomach did this ridiculous gymnastics routine.

"I'm not avoiding him," I lied, taking a gulp of punch that tasted like Hawaiian Punch and desperation. "I'm just... strategically positioning myself."

Maya raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Girl, please. You're running from your feelings harder than I run from my problems."

She wasn't wrong. But admitting that meant admitting that Jordan's awkward fumble toward me actually meant something. That his dorky dance moves and terrible jokes and the way he looked at me like I was the only person in a crowded room actually made me feel seen for the first time since starting high school.

The DJ transitioned into a slow song—the kind that makes everyone either couple up or aggressively check their phones. I spotted Jordan across the gym, still by the bleachers, now fidgeting with his phone. Our eyes met, and instead of looking away like I'd been doing all week, I actually held his gaze.

Three seconds of panic later, Maya shoved me forward.

"Go bear your heart to him already," she whispered, giving me a push that sent me stumbling toward the bleachers.

Jordan looked up, surprised, as I approached. The gym lights reflected off his nervous smile, and somewhere between his "hey" and my incredibly smooth "sup," I realized that running toward something scary was infinitely better than running away from something real.