Vitamin Water & Sweaty Palms

Maya's palms were practically tropical rainforests at this point. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, leaving dark damp spots that were definitely not a vibe.

"You good?" Tyler asked, leaning against his beat-up Honda Civic. The orange sunset reflected off his hood, making everything look like some filtered Instagram post.

"Yeah, just... nervous?" Maya cringed at how her voice went up at the end, turning it into a question. Why did she always do that?

Tyler grinned. "Don't be. Everyone's gonna be there."

Everyone. As in, the entire junior class, or at least it felt that way. This was the first real party of the school year, and Maya had been waiting for it since, like, forever. But now that she was actually standing in Tyler's driveway, her stomach was doing actual gymnastics.

She'd spent the morning chugging vitamin water because her friend Jasmine swore it helped with anxiety. Spoiler: it didn't. Now she was just hydrated and terrified.

"Your palms are shaking," Tyler pointed out, not meanly. He reached out and turned her hand over, examining it like it was some fascinating specimen.

Maya snatched it back. "I know, okay? It's a thing."

"A thing?" He raised an eyebrow. "Like, a medical thing? Should I be concerned?"

"No, it's a nervous thing!" She could feel her face heating up. This was it. This was the moment where he realized she was a weirdo with sweaty palms who carried emergency vitamin supplements in her bag and maybe they should just forget the party and—

"Maya." Tyler's voice dropped to something softer. "You're overthinking it. I can literally see the gears grinding."

She blinked. He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne (something citrusy, maybe?). The palm of his hand brushed against hers, not even flinching at the dampness.

"My palms get sweaty too," he admitted. "Before games? Before tests? Before asking if you wanted to come to this party?" A sheepish grin. "It's universal."

Maya felt something in her chest unkangle. "Really?"

"Cross my heart." He held up his hand, palm facing her. "See? Not so dry myself."

His hand was slightly damp too. Something about that made everything infinitely better.

"Come on," he said, opening the passenger door. "Party starts in twenty and we're already fashionably late."

Maya slid into the car, her shorts still damp but her heart doing something different now—something lighter, something that felt a lot like hope. She grabbed her phone and texted Jasmine a single thumbs-up emoji.

The vitamin water hadn't fixed her nerves. But Tyler? He might actually be the cure.