The Oracle of Backyard Parties

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, watching as Tyler—the cutest sophomore in existence—laughed with his friends by the snack table. This was it. The moment. She'd been crushing on him since September, and tonight, at Chloe's end-of-year blowout, she was finally going to talk to him. For real this time. Not just "hey" in the hallway. Actual conversation.

Her orange soda sat forgotten on the patio table, condensation pooling around the base. Maya took a breath, grabbed her drink, and started toward him—only to be intercepted by Chloe, who was apparently doing psychic readings now. Because why not.

"Omg, come here, I need to read your palm!" Chloe grabbed Maya's wrist dramatically. "Your love line is... interesting." A small crowd gathered, including Tyler, because the universe had a personal vendetta against Maya's dignity.

"Interesting good or interesting like I'll die alone with twenty cats?" Maya said, and everyone laughed. Good. Working it.

"Your love line says you'll meet someone unexpected tonight," Chloe announced, then pointed at Maya's spilled orange soda. "And someone's going to have a wardrobe malfunction in exactly... five minutes."

Five minutes later, Maya's cat managed to escape his carrier (don't ask why he was there, long story involving Mayan internet going down and her little sister begging to bring him) and knocked over a decorative vase containing—wait for it—a single goldfish. The fish flopped dramatically on the patio stones while Tyler screamed like his life flashed before his eyes.

They both dove for the fish at the same time. Their foreheads smacked together. Hard.

"I've got him!" Maya's cupped palms cradled the goldfish like something precious. Tyler's hands covered hers, warm and slightly calloused from lacrosse.

"We make a great team," he said, still wincing from the headbutt. His face was inches from hers. "Sorry about your forehead."

"Sorry about your party," Maya called to Chloe, who was filming the whole thing. The goldfish swam in her makeshift palm aquarium, completely unbothered.

Later, they'd fish-sit (literally) while Chloe cleaned up. Tyler would ask if she wanted to hang out sometime, maybe get boba, and Maya would say yes with a calmness she definitely did not feel. But in that moment, crouched on the patio with goldfish water dripping down her arms and a throbbing forehead, she caught Tyler's eye and knew something was starting.

Chloe's prediction hadn't been wrong. Just unexpected.