Three Seconds of Glory

The party was already in full swing when Maya arrived, fashionably late and internally panicking. Her palms were sweating — actual, literal sweat — as she clutched her red solo cup like a lifeline. She'd spent forty-five minutes on her hair earlier, creating these effortless-looking waves that were currently deflating in the humid air of someone's basement.

Across the room, Jake was laughing at something. Of course he was. Jake always laughed with his whole body, head thrown back, that perfect messy hair falling into his eyes. Maya had been lowkey obsessed with him since September, when they'd been assigned as lab partners and he'd somehow made dissecting a fetal pig actually kind of fun.

"You're staring again," whispered Chloe, appearing beside her with mock severity. "Your pining is showing."

"Am not," Maya lied, taking a desperate sip of whatever punch she'd grabbed. "I'm observing. Scientifically."

"Mhm. Sure." Chloe raised an eyebrow. "You know, he's actually looking over here. Like, a lot."

Maya's stomach did that terrible flippy thing. "No he's not. Don't play me."

"I swear on my goldfish's grave. Bubbles deserved better, by the way."

Before Maya could respond to the fish tragedy, Jake was crossing the room. Actually crossing the room. Her brain went into emergency override mode — abort, abort, what did she do with her hands, why was she still holding this cup, had she been sweating on it the whole time, that was so gross.

"Hey," he said, and wow, his voice was different up close. Lower. "I was hoping you'd show."

Maya's palm was literally slippery against the cup now. "Oh? I mean. Yeah. Here I am. Being here." Cool, Maya. So cool.

Jake smiled, and it wasn't his usual everyone-laugh smile. It was smaller, more nervous. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, and wait — was he blushing?

"So," he said. "I was wondering — are you doing anything tomorrow? Maybe coffee? Or... whatever teenagers do for fun that doesn't involve basements and questionable punch?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. This was it. The moment she'd been lowkey dreaming about for months. She opened her mouth to say something incredibly smooth and sophisticated —

"Yes," she squeaked. "I mean. Yeah. That would be. Yeah."

Jake's smile widened into something real and bright. "Cool. Cool." He pulled out his phone. "Let me get your number then, unless you prefer telepathy or carrier pigeon."

She was typing her number into his contacts with trembling fingers when Chloe mouthed something across the room. Maya squinted. It looked like: TOLD YOU.

Later, when Maya replayed the moment in her head approximately eight thousand times, she'd remember Jake's nervous smile, the way he'd kept glancing at her like he couldn't quite believe she was real, and the three seconds where her entire world shifted.

Her hair might have been deflating and her palm might have been sweaty, but somehow, impossibly, she'd gotten exactly what she wanted without even trying that hard.

Maybe, she thought as she floated home, life wasn't so scary after all.