Zombie Mode at Maya's Party

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip my iPhone without it sliding right out of my hand.

Outside on Maya's patio, I leaned against the stucco wall and watched the party through the sliding glass door. Everyone inside looked like they were having the time of their lives. Me? I was out here questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

"You good?" Leo's voice made me jump. He held out a cup. "It's orange soda. No alcohol, I promise."

"Yeah," I lied. "Just needed some air."

Inside, the bass was shaking the windows. I'd been standing in that corner for forty-five minutes, doing my best zombie impression—dead inside, just scrolling through social media to look busy while everyone else actually lived their lives.

"That's bull," Leo said. "You've been out here since we got here. Jordan keeps looking for you."

My heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. "He's literally not."

"Dude. He asked me where you were like ten minutes ago." Leo fake-punched my shoulder. "Go talk to him before I do it for you."

"What would I even say? 'Hey, remember that time you fell asleep during the chem final and drooled on your arm'? Great conversation starter."

Leo stared at me. "You're overthinking this. Just... don't be weird."

"I specialize in being weird. It's my brand."

A girl stumbled out the door—Maya's cousin, I think—wearing zombie makeup that was already smearing. "There you are!" she grabbed my arm. "Jordan's looking for you. Come inside!"

Before I could protest, she dragged me back into the chaos. The air smelled like cheap body spray and something sweet. My palms were still sweaty. I smoothed my shirt for the fiftieth time.

And there he was. Jordan. Leaning against the kitchen counter, looking unfairly good in that black hoodie he always wore.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

"Just... getting air," I managed. My brain was short-circuiting. Say something cool. Something interesting. Something that didn't make me sound completely incapable of normal human conversation.

"Cool," he said. "Want to hang out here? It's quieter."

"Yeah," I heard myself say. "That'd be... yeah."

We ended up talking for two hours. About everything—school, music, how weird high school was, how neither of us fit into the perfect molds everyone expected us to. He was funny and thoughtful and nothing like I'd built up in my head.

Around midnight, my phone buzzed. Mom: "Coming home soon?"

"I should go," I said, feeling weirdly disappointed.

"Hey," Jordan caught my wrist. "Same time next weekend? Maya's having another thing."

"Yeah," I smiled, my palms finally dry. "I'll be there."