The Riddle of Friday Night

My palms were sweating — like, actually dripping — which was gross but also totally on brand for me. Standing outside Tyler's house while bass thumped through the walls, I felt like a zombie. Not the cool horror movie kind with awesome makeup and the whole tragic backstory thing. More like the walking dead version: junior year exhaustion, three hours of sleep, and that special kind of existential dread that hits when you realize you're the only one who didn't get the memo about tonight being "special."whatever that meant.

Inside, the air smelled like expensive perfume and something that was definitely not vitamin supplements despite what Jordan's mom thought. The whole grade seemed packed into the basement, phones flashing like fireflies in the Twilight Zone.

Then I saw her. Maya. Leaning against the doorway like a human sphinx, surrounded by a circle of guys who looked like they'd bear-hug a cactus if she asked them to. She had this look — half-smile, half-something else — like she knew exactly how out of place I felt and found it low-key hilarious.

"Hey, earlier-than-usual," she said, sliding past the guys. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost. Or maybe you ARE the ghost and haven't realized it yet."

I laughed, which was accidental but also not terrible. "Yeah, no. Just tired. And maybe regretting everything."

"Story of my life." She held up a red solo cup. "Wanna play?"

And here's the thing — Maya Chen, who I'd been crushing on since approximately forever, was talking to me. Not just talking — actually talking. Like she meant it. And suddenly, being the zombie who showed up too early wasn't the worst thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where I needed to be.