The Sphinx at the Back Table

Maya's palms were sweating – literally dripping – which was disgusting and unfair. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, staring across the cafeteria at Tyrell, who sat with his friends like some kind of beautiful, unapproachable **sphinx**. He'd barely spoken two words to her all semester, yet here she was, about to make a complete fool of herself.

"You're overthinking this," whispered Chloe, shoving a **vitamin** water across the table. "Just ask him. He's literally just a guy. A guy who happens to have perfect hair and a voice that sounds like melted chocolate, but still."

Easy for Chloe to say. Her life was a well-curated aesthetic, while Maya's was a **cable** management nightmare – tangled, messy, and prone to sudden disconnections.

The truth was, Maya wasn't even sure why she needed to talk to Tyrell specifically. It's not like they had some deep connection. He'd just happened to be at her table when she'd done that impression of their AP English teacher, and he'd laughed – actually laughed – and suddenly she'd been thinking about him constantly, analyzing every interaction like they were clues in a murder mystery.

Three lunch periods she'd spent constructing elaborate scenarios where she'd casually approach his table. Now, she was running out of time.

The spring fling was two weeks away.

"I'm gonna do it," Maya said, standing up before her brain could intercept her body's stupid decisions.

"Wait, really? Now?"

"Now. Before I lose my nerve."

Her heart hammered as she wove through tables. This was it. She was going to ask Tyrell to the dance. She was going to be brave and bold and all those things inspirational posters promised she could be.

She reached his table. Five pairs of eyes locked onto her. The **sphinx** himself looked up, mid-bite of an apple, and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey," Maya said. "Can I –"

"Your shoelace is untied," he said, swallowing. "You're gonna trip."

Maya looked down. Her shoelace was indeed untied, a chaotic loops-and-bows situation threatening imminent disaster.

"Oh. Thanks."

"No problem." He went back to his apple.

Maya retreated, face burning. She'd been building up this moment for three weeks, and he'd saved her from tripping. That was it. That was their interaction. Her palms stopped sweating, mostly because she was too confused to be nervous anymore.

Back at their table, Chloe was shaking with silent laughter. "Well, that was anti-climactic."

"Yeah," Maya said, tying her shoe. "Yeah, it was."

But as she sat there, watching Tyrell laugh at something his friend said, Maya realized the terrifying, exhilarating truth: she wasn't disappointed. The buildup had been so much scarier than the reality. The **sphinx** was just a guy who noticed untied shoelaces. And somehow, that was better than any dramatic confession she could have scripted.

"Next time," Maya said, opening her **vitamin** water, "I'm going to lead with something cooler than 'hey.'"

"There's gonna be a next time?"

"Oh, absolutely. The boy has perfect hair, Chloe. Perfect hair doesn't get a pass that easily."