The Three-Second Rule

Maya's basement was where we went when we didn't want to be found. That night, it was just me, her, and a dying **goldfish** doing lazy circles in a bowl on the carpet. The fish was named Beefy, because Maya won him at a carnival two years ago and irony was her love language.

"He's got, like, three days max," Maya said, sprawled across her beanbag chair. "Want him? You can have him."

I laughed. "Pass."

"What's wrong with you tonight anyway?" She flipped onto her stomach. "You've been acting weird since Tyler's party."

Everything since Tyler's party was a blur I was trying to forget. I'd kissed Tyler's cousin. I'd meant to kiss Tyler. Then I'd panic-fled and left both of them standing there while I power-walked home in heels I couldn't walk in.

"Nothing," I said. "Everything. I don't know."

"That's helpful, thanks."

The TV fuzzed out—static drowning whatever reality show we'd been half-watching. Maya groaned and grabbed the remote, jabbing buttons. The **cable** company had been on and off all week, and now it was fully gone. She chucked the remote at the couch.

"Great. Now we have to actually talk."

I sat up. "Maya, can I tell you something and you promise not to make it weird?"

"Depends. Is it about Tyler?"

"Yes."

"Then no promises."

But she listened while I spilled everything—the accidental kiss, the mortifying escape, the fact that Tyler had texted me three times since and I hadn't replied to a single one. By the end, my face was hot and I couldn't look at her.

"Okay," she said finally. "So what's the actual problem?"

"What?"

"Like, do you like Tyler? Do you like the cousin? Both? Neither?"

"I—I think I like Tyler. But now it's ruined."

"Dude." She rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Tyler's been obsessed with you since September. An accidental kiss with his cousin isn't gonna change that. Literally just text him back."

"It's not that easy."

"It is that easy." She held up her **palm**. "Three seconds. That's all you need. Open the chat, type 'hey', hit send. Three seconds. I'll time you."

"You're not helping."

"I'm literally helping. Do it."

I stared at my phone. My heart was doing something weird and fluttery. Three seconds. That was nothing. That was less than a breath.

I opened the chat. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

"Three," Maya counted.

I typed: h-e-y.

"Two."

My finger shook over send.

"One."

I pressed it.

The message delivered. Then—immediately—three dots appeared.

"See?" Maya grinned. "Not dead."

Tyler's reply came through: i thought u were mad at me

My phone buzzed again: u wanna come over?? my parents arent home

I looked at Maya. She was already grabbing her keys.

"Go," she said. "I'll take care of Beefy."

"You hate fish."

"He's growing on me. Now go before you overthink it and ruin everything."

I grabbed my shoes and didn't look back. Some nights, three seconds is all it takes to change everything.