The Sphinx of Third Period

I was basically a zombie—thanks, AP History test at 7 AM—and somehow my best friend Maya had already determined that Tyler Henderson had looked at me three times in the cafeteria. "Girl, you're not seeing it," she insisted, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force. "He's orbiting. It's a thing."

I wasn't buying it. Tyler was the sphinx of junior year: beautiful, completely unreadable, and honestly kind of terrifying. Every time someone tried to talk to him, he'd give these monosyllabic answers that left you feeling like you'd failed some test you didn't know you were taking.

"I spy with my little eye," Maya continued, ignoring my eye roll, "someone who's going to regret not sliding into his DMs before someone else does."

"Stop speaking," I muttered, half-joking. "Also, 'sliding into DMs'? Who even says that anymore?"

"Someone who didn't get four hours of sleep and is now operating on pure chaos energy, that's who."

The bell rang. Third period. English. With Tyler.

My heart did this embarrassing little flutter thing that I refused to acknowledge. I'd been quietly crushing on him since September, watching from the sidelines like the world's most awkward detective, cataloging his hoodie colors (gray, mostly) and the way he actually laughed sometimes at his own phone when he thought no one was looking.

We were doing group presentations. Naturally, I got paired with Tyler.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the desk beside mine.

"Hey."

"So, I was thinking..." He rubbed the back of his neck, actually nervous? "Maybe we could work on this at my place? My mom makes really good brownies."

I froze. This was it. The sphinx had finally spoken, and he was inviting me over. For brownies. Which definitely meant something, right?

"Sure," I managed, sounding casual and totally not like someone who might pass out from excitement. "That works."

"Cool." He smiled—a real one, crinkling by his eyes. "I've been wanting to hang out anyway. Maya said you're cool."

Wait. MAYA?

I glanced across the room where my traitor friend was giving me two thumbs up from her desk, looking ridiculously pleased with herself.

That spy. She'd been playing matchmaking agent the whole time.

"Your friend's been hyping you up all semester," Tyler added, dropping his voice. "She told me you like—that band? The one with the album cover with the..." He gestured vaguely.

"Oh my god, she's a menace," I said, but I was smiling too.

"Yeah, but she's right. You are cool."

The zombie fatigue lifted. The sphinx had been solved. And somewhere across the room, a very smug friend was absolutely going to demand all the details later.