Chlorine and Confessions

The salad was a mistake. I knew it the second I caught Maya's reflection in the sliding glass door—laughing, tossing her hair, looking effortless while I stood there like a giant awkward walking wrapper of insecurity. I excused myself to the bathroom, where I spent five minutes aggressively picking **spinach** from my braces with a paperclip I'd found on the counter.

When I finally emerged, everyone had migrated to the **pool**. Maya was perched on the edge in that sundress—yellow with tiny palm fronds—her legs dangling in the water. Jake sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Jake, who'd somehow gotten even more cute since eighth grade, while I'd apparently evolved into someone who couldn't even eat salad properly.

"Cannonball!" someone shouted, and suddenly Jake was flying through the air, surfacing right in front of Maya, shaking water from his hair like some adorable labrador. She laughed, and something in my chest did that thing—that **lightning** crack of something I didn't want to name.

I grabbed a soda from the cooler. Maya slid over beside me, dripping pool water everywhere.

"You good?" she asked. "You've been weird all night."

"Fine," I said. "Just... you know."

"No, I don't know." She turned to face me fully, and her **palm** found my forearm, warm and slightly chlorinated. "Talk to me, loser."

And somehow—maybe it was the humidity, or the way Jake was currently being egged on to do something stupid involving the diving board, or just Maya being Maya—I found myself saying it.

"I think I like Jake."

The words hung there. Maya blinked once. Then she smiled—not the polite one, but the real one, crinkling her eyes.

"Finally," she said. "I've been waiting for you to say that since September. Also, Jake thinks you're cute too."

"Wait—WHAT?"

"He keeps asking me if you're coming to things," she said. "It's actually kind of pathetic. In a good way."

Behind us, Jake emerged from the pool, water streaming down his face. He spotted us and waved.

Maya leaned in. "So? You gonna talk to him, or should I push you in?"

I looked at Jake. At Maya. At the impossible, terrifying possibility of everything changing, finally, in the best way.

"Don't push me," I said, stepping forward. "I got this."