What The Palm Reader Knew

The humid air hung thick between us, palm fronds swaying above the balcony where Maya and I sat, knees barely touching. My palms were sweating—again. Classic.

"No, for real, your life line is super short," Maya said, tracing a finger across my hand, her touch sending electricity up my arm that definitely wasn't just the humidity. "But like, in a cool way."

I laughed, trying to sound chill even though my heart was doing cartwheels. "Nice. Thanks for the vote of confidence, future fortune teller."

She'd been obsessed with palm reading since she discovered that TikTok witch account last month. I'd let her read my palm approximately 47 times since then. Not because I was obsessed with her or anything. Definitely not.

School ended tomorrow. Then she'd be gone—New York, art school, three thousand miles away from our California bubble where the only thing separating us was the cable connection that lagged whenever we tried to game together after midnight.

"I'm going to miss this," Maya whispered, still holding my hand, her thumb grazing my wrist in a way that made breathing difficult.

"Yeah," I managed. "Me too."

Bear this, I told myself. Just tell her.

"You know," she said, looking up with those eyes that made me forget every word I'd ever memorized, "we never really defined—"

"WHAT IF—" I practically shouted, then coughed. "What if you read my palm again? Like, for real this time?"

She laughed, that sound that had become my favorite noise. "You're obsessed. Fine."

She took my hand again, tracing the lines. "Okay, so... this line means you're going to do something brave soon. And this one—" she tapped my heart line, "this one's complicated. Like, you already know what you want, you're just scared to say it."

I froze.

"Am I right?" Her voice dropped lower, and suddenly the balcony felt tiny, the space between us charged with something we'd been dancing around for months.

I looked at her—really looked at her. The way she was watching me, waiting. The way her thumb was still pressing against my palm.

"Yeah," I said, my voice barely audible. "You're right."

Maya smiled, something shifting in her expression. "Good. Because I've been waiting for you to catch up."

Then she leaned in, and the palm reading could wait.