The Spinach Smoothie Protocol

I never thought I'd be that person — lurking on someone's Instagram stories like a total spy — but here I was, third-period pre-calc be damned, watching Mateo's life unfold without me in it. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of me refreshing his profile between classes, overthinking every single post.

My phone buzzed. Mom: "Walk the dog before your shift."

Right. Buster, our elderly golden retriever who'd witnessed everything — my first heartbreak, the purple-hair-green-hair disaster, every failed baking experiment. The dog who knew me better than I knew myself.

We strolled through the neighborhood, Buster sniffing every single tree like they contained state secrets. My phone pinged again — Mateo, at some café with that girl from his stories. I felt like I was thirteen again, overanalyzing everything.

Work meant the smoothie shop, where I spent four hours a day blending things that had no business together. "Spinach, mango, almond milk," a girl ordered, already on her phone.

"Coming right up." I dumped the spinach into the blender, thinking about how my life had become a constant cycle of watching Mateo live his best life while I made minimum wage mixing health drinks.

The bell chimed. I didn't look up until someone cleared their throat.

"Spinach smoothie? Really?"

Mateo. Standing there like he hadn't been ghosting me for weeks.

"It's called having a job," I said, voice cracking. "Unlike some people."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, about that—"

"You don't have to explain. You found new people. Cool."

"She's my tutor," he said. "I'm failing chem. I didn't want you to know. It's embarrassing."

I stared at him. The blender hummed. Buster would've been disappointed — me, making assumptions again.

"You're an idiot," I said, already grinning. "That's why you've been weird? Chemistry?"

"Yes, and now you know, and you're never going to let me live it down." He stepped closer. "Can I get that smoothie or what?"

"Only if you let me help you study," I said. "And if you never disappear on me again."

"Deal." He shrugged. "But you're still my friend either way."

I handed him the cup. "Yeah, well. You're stuck with me now."