The Party Zombie Protocol

Maya's thumb hovered over her iPhone screen, the blue light illuminating her terrified expression in the bathroom mirror. The group chat was exploding.

"r u coming??" "everyone's here" "don't be lame maya"

She gulped. This was it—Jake's house party. The social event of the sophomore year, and she was hiding in the bathroom like a total loser. The bass from the downstairs speakers vibrated through the floorboards, making her teeth hum.

Suddenly, the door flew open. A guy she barely recognized—some football player, definitely on a first-name basis with confidence—stumbled in, then froze.

"Oh shit, sorry. I thought this was the closet."

Maya's face burned like she'd swallowed molten lava. "It's fine."

He grinned, revealing a slightly crooked incisor. "You're Maya, right? English lit? That analysis you gave on The Great Gatsby was actually sick. Mr. Harrison wouldn't shut up about it."

Wait. What?

"Thanks," she managed, suddenly hyper-aware that she was still wearing her coat like a scared goldfish trapped in a corner.

"I'm Tyler."

He leaned against the doorframe, totally unbothered by the party noise erupting downstairs. "You hiding or strategizing?"

"Both?"

"Fair." He pulled out an orange from his pocket—actually a whole orange, like some kind of party magician—and started peeling it. "I hate these things too. My friend group's out there being absolute bulls in a china shop, and I'm just... not feeling it."

Maya blinked. "Did you seriously bring an orange to a house party?"

"Preparation is key." He handed her a slice. "Plus, free snacks."

The citrus scent cut through the cheap cologne and alcohol smell. For the first time all night, Maya's shoulders dropped an inch.

"You know what's funny?" Tyler said. "Everyone downstairs is basically zombie-walking through social media on their phones, pretending to have fun. Meanwhile, we're in here being real with citrus."

Maya laughed. It was small, but genuine.

"Wanna go back out there together?" he asked. "Strength in numbers. We can zombie-walk as a team."

"Sure."

They walked into the party, and Maya didn't check her phone once. Sometimes, the real connection isn't on a screen—it's in a bathroom with a guy and an orange, realizing everyone else is just pretending too.