The Smoothie Incident

My first shift at GreenSip went exactly how you'd expect when your manager is a twenty-something who says things are "vibes." I was already sweating through my faded uniform when Chase walked in.

Chase, who sat behind me in AP Bio and had that effortless messy hair that definitely took effort to get messy. Chase, who I'd been lowkey staring at since September.

"What's good?" he asked, leaning against the counter like he belonged in a music video.

My brain short-circuited. "The—uh—the Green Machine?"

"Bet. Make it happen." He flashed a smile that definitely meant something.

Here's where it went sideways. The Green Machine required fresh **spinach**, and we'd run out of the pre-washed stuff. I had to use the emergency bag from the back—the stuff that definitely needed washing. But Chase was watching. Sometimes dignity matters more than food safety, you know?

I dumped the spinach in. Added **water** from the tap because we were out of filtered. Hit blend.

The machine made this sound like a dying robot. Smoke may have been involved.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Chase asked.

"It's part of the process," I said, with a confidence I absolutely did not feel.

And then—because the universe was personally testing me—their store **cat**, a calico named Queso who apparently had full rein of the place, jumped onto the counter and stuck her face directly into my cup.

"Queso, no!" I yelled, but too late. She'd already sampled my creation.

Chase was laughing. Not mean laughing. The genuine kind that crinkles his eyes.

"That's definitely a health code violation."

"Only if I serve it to you," I said, staring at the spinach-water-cat abomination.

"So don't," he said, pulling out his phone. "Let's just get boba instead. My treat. For the entertainment."

We walked out of GreenSip together, leaving the smoothie of shame behind. I didn't get the job. I did get Chase's number. And honestly? That felt like a win.

Sometimes the worst moments become the best stories. That's what being sixteen is all about—figuring out how to laugh at yourself when everything goes wrong, and hoping someone cute laughs with you.