The Runaway Catfish

Maya's thumb hovered over her iPhone screen, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always did when *trackstar99*'s name popped up. Three months of late-night texts, inside jokes, and him somehow getting her obsession with vintage band tees. He wanted to meet. Finally.

"You okay?" Sasha nudged her in third period. "You've been staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe."

"Trackstar wants to meet," Maya whispered, practically vibrating. "After school. By the old oak tree."

Sasha's eyebrows shot up. "The mysterious trackstar who's never sent a pic? Classic catfish energy, bestie."

"He's real," Maya insisted, but her stomach did that nervous flip thing. "He's just... private."

By 3:15, Maya was practically RUNNING toward the meeting spot, her vintage tee already damp with sweat. What if he didn't show? What if he did? What if—

A cat. An actual, calico cat was sitting by the oak tree, looking at her with judgment. Maya stopped, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Nice shirt," a voice said behind her.

Maya spun around. There was Liam, the actual track star, holding his iPhone and looking ridiculously good in his practice gear. "I, uh..."

"Trackstar99," he said, holding up his phone with their chat open. "Though I'm reconsidering the username now."

"You? But you're... you." Maya's brain short-circuited. "Why pretend?"

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "I keep it real on the track, but everywhere else? My whole life's filtered. I wanted someone to like me for, you know, me. No expectations."

The cat wound between Maya's legs, purring loudly.

"Traitor," Maya muttered, then laughed. "So, what now? We skip the awkward small talk and go straight to—"

"Food?" Liam finished. "I know this place. The calico actually belongs to the owner."

Maya's phone buzzed again. Sasha: "WELL??"

"Running with it," Maya texted back, falling into step beside Liam. "Like, actually running. And no, that's not a metaphor."

Liam laughed, and Maya thought: maybe some filters are worth keeping. And maybe some are meant to be broken.