zombie Eyes and Snapback Lies

My hair was a disaster — frizz exploding like I'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket, and I was ten minutes late to Jordan's party. Naturally, I'd thrown on my beat-up snapback to hide the mess, because nothing says 'I've got my life together' like a hat that's seen better days.

The party was already zombie central when I arrived. People standing around, phones glowing in their faces, scrolling through Instagram like the undead. I grabbed a soda and leaned against the wall, doing my best impression of someone who was totally fine with being alone at a party.

Then Jordan emerged from the kitchen, wearing this beanie that somehow looked perfect on him, because the universe is unfair that way. He caught my eye across the room and smiled, and I felt that bear-of-a-burden crush in my chest — the one I'd been carrying since seventh grade when he'd helped me pick up my dropped books in the hallway and said my name like it meant something.

'Hey!' He wove through the zombie sea toward me. 'I was hoping you'd make it.'

My brain short-circuited. 'Yeah, just... you know. Fashionably late.'

He laughed, and it was this sound that made my stomach do weird gymnastics. 'Cool hat.'

'Thanks.' I self-consciously touched the brim. 'It's seen better days.'

'Still looks good on you.'

And just like that, the zombies faded. The party noise softened. Jordan was looking at me like I was the only person in the room, and suddenly I was running on pure adrenaline and hope. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't need to hide under hats anymore. Maybe the real disaster wasn't my hair — it was believing I had to be someone else to be worth seeing.

'So,' I said, finding a courage I didn't know I had. 'Want to get out of here? This zombie apocalypse is getting old.'

Jordan grinned. 'I thought you'd never ask.'