The Summer Spy Game

Maya's **palm**s were sweating so bad she had to wipe them on her denim shorts like three times. Which was objectively gross, but also—have you ever tried to hold a phone while your hands are basically slip-and-sliding? Not cute.

She was **running** late to Tyler's party, which was already a disaster because she'd spent forty minutes trying to decide whether to wear the beanie **hat** or look like she tried too hard. The hat won. Now she looked like she was trying too hard AND hiding a bad hair day. Classic Maya energy.

When she finally rolled up to Tyler's backyard, the music was already thumping that bass that makes your chest feel weird. People were scattered across the lawn in those perfect little clusters that make zero sense until you're inside one, and then suddenly you can't imagine being anywhere else.

Maya stood near the snack table, casually inspecting a bag of chips like she was a **fox** studying its prey—or, more accurately, like someone who had zero idea how to exist at parties.

Then she saw Liam. Of course she saw Liam. He was by the playlist speaker, doing that thing guys do where they pretend they're not looking around to see who's looking at them. Maya's brain immediately deployed **spy** mode: she observed him through the reflection in the patio door while pretending to be very interested in whether the salsa was mild or medium.

She'd been lowkey crushing on Liam since seventh grade, which was basically forever in teenage time, and she still hadn't figured out how to talk to him without her voice doing that weird squeaky thing.

Then Liam looked up. Their eyes met across the yard, and Maya realized she was still holding the salsa jar like it was a sacred artifact. He smiled—that actual, real smile, not the polite one he gave teachers.

"Hey!" he called. "You gonna open that or just guard it all night?"

Maya's brain went fully offline. Her body, however, decided this was its moment to shine. She walked over, somehow not tripping, and said, "Someone's gotta protect the salsa from the chaos."

"Chaos?" Liam laughed. "You mean when Sarah tries to do the Macaraena again?"

"Exactly. Dangerous times." Maya set the salsa down. "I'm Maya, by the way. Professional snack security."

"Liam. Professional accidental playlist ruiner." He gestured to the speaker. "Wanna help me pick something that won't make everyone want to die?"

Maya's palms were still sweating. Her hat was probably crooked. But she found herself grinning like an idiot as she stepped closer to the speaker.

"I have VERY strong opinions about what should not be played at parties."

"Thank GOD. I need an expert."

And just like that, Maya wasn't spying anymore. She was exactly where she wanted to be.