The Sphinx of Jefferson High

Maya clutched her iPhone like a lifeline, screen glowing with unanswered texts. Tonight was the Winter Formal — the kind of event that either made you or broke you, socially speaking. And she was currently breaking.

"You got this," she told herself, staring at her reflection. Her dress was perfect, hair flawless, but inside? Total disaster.

Buster, her ancient golden retriever, thumped his tail against her leg. He was the only creature who'd seen her cry over boys, failed tests, and that one time she accidentally uploaded a TikTok of herself singing into a hairbrush.

"At least someone thinks I'm awesome," Maya said, scratching behind his ears. "You're not going to ask why I'm eating lunch alone tomorrow, are you?"

Buster's response involved drooling on her shoe. Gross, but honest.

The problem was Marcus Chen — aka the Sphinx of Jefferson High. The senior sat at the back of AP Calc, brooding and mysterious, barely speaking to anyone. Yet somehow, every girl wanted to crack his code. Including, embarrassingly, Maya.

He was like a literal sphinx: beautiful, unreadable, and probably judgmental.

Her phone buzzed. *We're waiting for you,* her best friend texted. *Marcus is here.*

Maya's stomach did gymnastics. She'd practiced what to say: "Hey, nice party." Casual. Chill. Not weird.

But as she walked through the gym doors, decorated with paper snowflakes and budget disco balls, her phone slipped from sweaty fingers. It clattered across the floor, stopping directly at Marcus's feet.

Of course.

He bent down, picked it up, and their eyes locked. Up close, the sphinx wasn't brooding — he was nervous. Fidgeting. Human.

"Your background is really cool," he said, handing it back. "Is that your dog?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. "Uh, yeah. That's Buster. He's kind of a dork."

Marcus smiled — actually smiled — and suddenly he wasn't a sphinx anymore. Just a guy who maybe liked dogs.

"I have a golden too," he said. "His name is Waffle. Because he's shaped like a square."

Maya laughed. For the first time all night, her shoulders relaxed. "Waffle and Buster should hang. Maybe their owners could... I don't know, get coffee sometime?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," Marcus said. "I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you for weeks."

Later that night, Maya texted her best friend: *The Sphinx has been decoded. And he likes waffles.*

Buster thumped his tail in agreement as she crawled into bed, phone finally silent but heart full. Some riddles, it turned out, were worth solving.