Zombies Can't Slide Into Third

Maya's iPhone died at the worst possible moment — right when Lucas actually looked up at the bleachers and caught her eye. She'd been watching him all baseball season from behind her phone screen, liking his Instagram stories from his games, but this was the first time she'd actually come to one.

Now here she was, phone dead, charging cable left at home like an idiot, palms sweating so much she had to wipe them on her jeans. She felt like a zombie — three days of finals would do that to you — but somehow Lucas was still glowing in the outfield, looking effortless in his uniform.

"You came!" His voice sounded better in person than through her phone speaker.

"Yeah, I..." Maya's brain short-circuited. She wanted to sound chill, wanted to be the kind of girl who could casually show up to a boy's baseball game and not overthink everything. Instead she just stood there, probably looking exactly like what she was: a sleep-deprived freshman who'd spent way too much energy deciding whether to wear her hair up or down.

"You were amazing," she finally managed. "That slide into third was..."

"Epic?" he grinned, and her stomach did that annoying fluttery thing.

"Totally epic."

Lucas laughed, and suddenly the zombie feeling faded. Maybe first conversations weren't supposed to be perfect. Maybe she didn't have to be anyone other than the girl with the dead iPhone and sweaty palms who'd finally worked up the courage to show up.

"Same time next week?" he asked, already backing away toward his team.

"Definitely." Maya smiled, realizing she'd need to remember her charging cable next time — and that being herself was actually enough.