The Papaya Summer Bet

The humidity in Maya's bedroom could kill a houseplant, but that didn't stop her from curling her hair for the third time. Party hair. Important hair. The kind that says, "I casually woke up like this while thinking about absolutely nothing and certainly not about Lucas."

"You're doing it again," Jace said from her bed, not looking up from his phone. "That overthinking thing where your forehead crinkles."

"I am not."

"Your palm is literally sweating on the straightener."

Maya wiped her hand on her shorts. Whatever. Jace didn't get it. He'd been her best friend since seventh grade, back when she'd had that tragic bangs situation and he'd still sat with her at lunch. But he couldn't understand what tonight meant.

The annual end-of-summer party at Tyler's house. Everyone would be there. Including Lucas.

"So," Jace said. "Papaya."

"What?"

"I bet you won't eat one."

Maya blinked. "A papaya?"

"Tyler's mom always gets that exotic fruit platter. You hate anything that's not pizza or chicken nuggets. I bet you five dollars you can't swallow a piece without making a face."

"You're on."

***

The party was already loud when they arrived, music thumping from somewhere in the backyard. The smell of chlorine and barbecue hung in the air. This was it. The last big thing before sophomore year.

Then she saw him.

Lucas was standing by the pool, laughing at something. His hair was messy in that way that looked effortless but probably took twenty minutes. Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to exist.

"You're staring," Jace whispered.

"Shut up."

"Go talk to him."

"I literally can't."

"Bull."

"I can't just walk up and—what would I even say? 'Hey Lucas, nice weather we're having, also I've had a crush on you since May'?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "You're overthinking this. Just go up there. I'll distract his friends."

Before she could protest, Jace was already marching toward the fruit table, where—oh no.

The papaya.

He held up a slice like it was a weapon. "Maya! Five bucks says you can't handle this!"

Everyone turned. Including Lucas.

Her face burned. This was it. This was how she died. Social suicide by tropical fruit.

But then Lucas laughed. And it wasn't mean. It was genuine, head-thrown-back laughter that made something loosen in her chest.

"I've got five on her too," he called.

Maya grabbed the papaya slice from Jace's hand. It was soft and orange and smelled like summer mornings. She locked eyes with Lucas across the pool.

"Watch me."

The taste was ... actually kind of good? Sweet and musky and nothing like she expected. She swallowed it down without making a face.

The whole backyard went quiet.

Then Lucas started clapping. Slow at first, then faster, until other people joined in. Someone yelled, "Legend!" and she wasn't sure if they were being sarcastic or genuine, but Lucas was still smiling at her, and that felt like enough.

Later, as the sun dipped below the fence line and the string lights flickered on, Lucas found her by the snack table. She was pretending to be very interested in a bowl of goldfish crackers.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"That papaya thing was pretty bold."

Maya shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Just five bucks, you know?"

"Yeah. But still." He looked at her, really looked at her, and she realized this was the moment. The one she'd been curling her hair for. "So, sophomore year. You excited?"

"I think so."

"Cool. Cool." He shifted his weight. "You want to maybe walk to school together on the first day?"

Her heart did a full gymnastics routine. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

From across the yard, Jace gave her a thumbs-up.

Maya smiled, finally letting herself exhale. The papaya had been weird and unexpected and kind of amazing.

Kind of like tonight.

Kind of like growing up.