The Riddle of Maya Chen

Maya stared at her iPhone screen, the glow illuminating her anxiety in the dim bathroom mirror. Three bubbles, then nothing. Levi had left her on read—again.

Outside, the party thumped. Inside, she practiced her smile, checking for spinach in her teeth. The salad at dinner had been a tactical error; she should've stuck to the safe chips like everyone else.

"You okay in there?" Her best friend Jaz's voice called through the door. "Levi's asking about you."

Maya's heart did that stupid flutter thing. Levi, the human sphinx. Beautiful, unreadable, impossible to solve. He'd moved here three months ago and immediately ascended the social pyramid like it was nothing—sitting at the top table with the varsity crowd, effortless in a way that made Maya's chest hurt.

She flushed the toilet for effect and stepped out. "Yeah. Just needed a minute."

"He's by the fish tank," Jaz whispered. "Go talk to him."

Maya's palms were actually sweating. She'd been crushing on Levi for weeks, watching him from across classrooms, drafting texts she never sent. Tonight she'd finally made herself approach him, and they'd talked for twenty whole minutes about his goldfish—who had "personality issues," apparently—and whether spinach was actually good or just a conspiracy.

It had been perfect. Then he'd stopped replying.

She found him still standing by the tank, watching the orange fish dart through plastic plants. His dark curls fell over eyes that found hers immediately.

"There you are," he said. "I was—"

"Left you on read?" Jaz called from behind them. "Rude."

Levi's face went pink. "My phone died. I was literally just about to tell Maya that—"

A scream from the living room cut him off.

Someone had knocked over the pyramid of red solo cups. As chaos erupted and people rushed to clean it up, Levi stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"I was going to say I'm glad you came tonight. Like, actually glad."

Maya's breath caught. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." A shy smile. "You're the only person here who didn't look at me like I was crazy when I talked about my fish."

The party raged around them—red cups scattered like fallen stars, bass thumping, someone live-streaming the cleanup. But in that corner by the tank, everything went quiet.

"My fish has separation anxiety," Levi added. "His name is Kevin."

Maya laughed, really laughed. "Kevin the goldfish. That's iconic, honestly."

"Is it?" Levi's forehead wrinkled. "I feel like it's—"

"No, it's perfect." She felt it then—that click, like solving something you'd been working on forever. The sphinx wasn't unreadable. He was just a person who talked too much when he was nervous, just like her.

"Want to get out of here?" Maya heard herself say. "There's an all-night diner down the street. They have milkshakes."

Levi's grin was everything. "I would literally love that."

As they slipped out the door, Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Levi—from Jaz's phone, his having died—that said simply: Kevin likes you too.

She left him on read. Some riddles solved themselves.