Chlorine and Conspiracies

The **pool** water glittered like liquid sapphire, but Maya's stomach was doing backflips worse than any dive off the high board. She clutched her phone like a lifeline, watching Jordan's Instagram story for the fifteenth time. He was here. At Taylor's annual end-of-summer bash. And she was hiding behind the snack table like a total coward.

"You're being weird," said Zara, appearing beside her with zero warning. Maya nearly jumped out of her skin. "Also, you're **spying** on him through a bag of Doritos. It's not a good look."

"I am NOT spying," Maya protested, though her flushed face told a different story. "I'm... conducting visual research. There's a difference."

"Whatever you say, Sherlock." Zara rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Just go talk to him already. Or don't. But stop lurking like you're in a stalker movie."

Easy for Zara to say. She wasn't the one whose mom had insisted she take her new **vitamin** D supplements right before the party because "you never get enough sunshine, sweetie." Now Maya's backpack smelled like health food, and she was pretty sure the bottle was making weird crinkling noises every time she moved.

Jordan laughed at something across the pool. The sound hit Maya like sunshine.

"Okay, that's it," Zara said. "I'm doing a social intervention. You're going over there, and I'm blocking you until you do."

"You literally cannot—"

"Watch me."

Before Maya could protest, Zara gave her a solid shove toward the deep end. Not a hard one, but enough momentum that accidentally tripping over her own sandals became tragically inevitable. The **vitamin** bottle flew from her backpack like a tiny, orange plastic grenade, bouncing twice on the concrete before landing dramatically at Jordan's feet.

The entire pool area went silent.

Jordan picked up the bottle. His eyebrows shot up. "Vitamin D? Dude, are you secretly sixty years old?"

Everyone waited. Someone snorted.

Maya's face burned so hot she felt like she might spontaneously combust. Then she saw it—the corner of Jordan's mouth twitching. He wasn't making fun of her. He was trying not to laugh.

"Actually," she said, lifting her chin, "my mom says I never go outside enough because I'm too busy being a social media recluse. She's not wrong."

Jordan full-on laughed. "Respect. My mom tries to sneak vegetables into my smoothies. It's a whole thing."

The tension dissolved like sugar in water. Someone tossed Maya a beach ball. The conversation moved on. And later, when Jordan asked if she wanted to play pool volleyball, Maya didn't even have to fake her smile.

Some moments were cringe. But sometimes, the worst moments became the best ones. Just like that.