Bare It All

Maya's palms were sweating so hard she feared they'd literally slide right off her wrists. Which would've been convenient, honestly—at least then she wouldn't have to grip the pool's chain-link fence like it was the only thing standing between her and total social annihilation.

"You coming in or what?" Tyler called from the water, droplets flying as he slicked his hair back. That stupid perfect hair that somehow looked better wet. Typical.

"Yeah! Just!" Maya's voice cracked. "Just warming up!"

Warming up. She'd been standing there for twenty minutes. The community pool swimming party was basically her personal circle of hell, and she'd volunteered for it. Because she was an idiot with a crush who thought, hey, maybe if I finally face my body image issues AND hang out with Tyler simultaneously, I'll somehow emerge victorious. Spoiler: she was not emerging victorious. She was barely emerging at all.

The word SWIMMING had been haunting her since gym class freshman year, when someone pointed out she wore a t-shirt over her one-piece. Three years later, here she was, still wearing that emotional t-shirt, just metaphorically.

"Yo, check this out." Maya's bestie Sam surfaced beside her, looking entirely too comfortable. "Tyler's got this—"

"Don't say it."

"—bear tattoo. On his shoulder. It's tiny. It's giving 'I'm deep and brooding' but it's literally just a cute bear."

Maya risked a glance. Sure enough, when Tyler lifted his arm from the water, there it was—a little black bear outline on his left shoulder. Something about it made her chest weirdly tight. Not because it was particularly cool or deep, but because it was imperfect. The bear's snout was slightly crooked, like whoever did it had been nervous.

Nervous. Tyler. Mr. Swim Team Captain.

"His ex did it," Sam continued, reading Maya's mind. "With a stick-and-poke kit from Etsy. It got infected and everything. He kept it anyway."

And suddenly Maya wasn't thinking about her stomach, or her thighs, or whether her swimsuit was outdated. She was thinking about a boy who kept a crooked bear on his shoulder because sometimes you don't fix things just because they're messy. Sometimes you keep them.

Her palm stopped sweating.

"Maya?" Tyler was treading water now, watching her. "You good?"

She looked at the bear. She looked at Sam. She looked at herself—really looked—standing there in her two-piece that wasn't cute enough, her body that wasn't smooth enough, her anxiety that wasn't manageable enough.

Then she jumped.

The shock of cold water stole her breath, her arms and legs flailing ridiculously as she surfaced, gasping. Everyone was looking.

"TEN POINTS FOR THE CANNONBALL," someone yelled.

Tyler laughed—a real laugh, shoulders shaking. "Your form was absolute trash, but I respect the commitment."

Maya wiped her face, grinning. Her palms were finally dry. "Watch it, Bear Boy. I'm about to lap you."