Bull's-Eye Summer

The first time I saw him, he was sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, wearing a backwards baseball cap and watching something on his phone. I was there for swimming practice — again. Fifth lap in, goggles fogged up, I accidentally swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated water and came up sputtering.

"Your technique's completely wrong," a voice called from poolside.

I blinked water from my eyes. The guy with the baseball cap was now standing at the edge, looking down at me with this annoyingly confident grin.

"Excuse me?"

"You're fighting the water," he said. "Here, let me show you."

Before I could protest, he'd jumped in, fully clothed.

That's how I met Marcus. That's also how I learned that Marcus, who apparently owned the entire facility because his uncle was the community center director, was going to be the bane of my existence all summer.

"You're too stiff," he told me during our third "accidental" encounter at the pool. "Relax your arms. Feel the water."

"I'm relaxed," I lied through gritted teeth.

Marcus snorted. "You swim like you're afraid something's gonna grab you from below."

"Maybe I am."

"Jaws came out in 1975, Maya. You're good."

I couldn't help it — I laughed.

By July, we'd developed this weird routine. I'd pretend to hate his presence while secretly timing my practices to coincide with his visits. He'd pretend to just be hanging out while giving me actual coaching tips. We never talked about why we were both spending our entire summer at the community pool instead of doing literally anything else.

Then came the day everything changed.

"My cousin's having a party next weekend," Marcus said out of nowhere, sitting at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. "You should come."

I froze. "To a party?"

"Yeah. You know, music, food, people being awkward in groups. The usual."

"I don't do parties," I said immediately. "I'm not exactly... party people."

Marcus looked at me for a long moment. "You're not exactly shy either. I've seen you argue with the lifeguard about pool temperature."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

Something about his tone made my chest feel weird. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marcus shrugged, looking away. "Nothing. Just... you deserve to be around people who see you. All of you."

The air between us felt suddenly charged with something I didn't have a name for.

"I'll think about it," I said finally.

The party was at his cousin's house, which turned out to be this massive suburban place with a basement full of arcade games and a karaoke machine nobody was brave enough to use. I spent the first twenty minutes hovering near the snack table, feeling like I'd made a terrible mistake.

Then Marcus appeared beside me. "You came."

"Briefly. I'm planning my escape."

He laughed. "Come with me."

He led me upstairs to a home theater room with the biggest TV I'd ever seen.

"We have cable," he said, like this was a normal thing to say. "But nobody ever comes up here. It's my hiding spot."

"You have a hiding spot at parties?"

"Don't you?"

I nodded slowly. "The pool."

"Exactly."

We spent the next hour watching weird documentaries and making fun of them. It was easy. Too easy. The kind of easy that felt dangerous.

"Can I tell you something?" Marcus said suddenly, during a commercial break.

"Sure."

"I didn't just start coming to the pool this summer. I've been going there for years."

I turned to look at him. "What?"

"But you started showing up this year, and you were always there alone, always looking like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. And I kept thinking... I should talk to her. But I didn't know how."

My heart was doing something weird in my chest. "So you just... decided to critique my swimming technique?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

I couldn't argue with that.

"Why me?" I asked softly.

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "Because you looked like you needed someone to see you. And I know what that feels like."

The air between us felt thick with everything we weren't saying.

"You know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "my dad says I'm stubborn. Like a bull."

Marcus smiled. "I think that's my favorite thing about you."

He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. His palm was warm against mine, and I knew — just knew — that this summer, which I'd thought would be the worst of my life, was actually the beginning of something that would change everything.

"Hey Marcus?"

"Yeah?"

"Teach me that backstroke again tomorrow?"

He squeezed my hand. "It's a date."

Outside, the summer night stretched ahead of us, full of possibilities. And for the first time in forever, I was ready to dive in.