Chlorine & Cable

The pool at the rec center smelled like chlorine and teenage awkwardness — which was basically my natural habitat that summer. I'd landed the lifeguard gig mostly because my cousin was the assistant manager, and I spent half my shifts scanning the water for 'drowning victims' while actually checking my phone for texts from Jake.

'Hey, Maya!' Jake called from the snack bar, his wet towel slung over one shoulder. 'Wanna hang later? My parents got cable upgraded.' He said it like he was announcing we'd won the lottery.

Cable. The holy grail of suburban entertainment. My house still had basic channels and a WiFi connection that cut out every time someone sneezed. 'Sure,' I said, trying to sound chill instead of absolutely thrilled at the prospect of uninterrupted Netflix.

But then there was The Incident with the papaya.

My abuela had sent me to work with Tupperware containers of sliced papaya, insisting it would 'give me energy.' She didn't understand that being seen eating exotic fruit wasn't exactly peak coolness. I'd hidden it in the breakroom fridge until Jake caught me.

'What's that?' He'd asked, wrinkling his nose at the orange slices.

'Papaya,' I'd mumbled, feeling my face heat up. 'It's... actually good?' It came out as a question.

'Try it,' I said, maybe too confidently.

He took a bite and immediately gagged. 'That tastes like —'

'Shut up,' I laughed, shoving his shoulder. But he was grinning, and for some reason, we were both cracking up in the breakroom while kids screamed about splashing each other outside.

Later that night, we sat on his couch watching some reality show through a legitimate cable connection while splitting the rest of the papaya (he claimed it was 'growing on him'). The TV glowed blue against his face as he turned to me and said, 'You know, you're the only person who'd make me eat fruit that tastes like soap.' And then he kissed me.

The papaya was gross, the pool smelled like chemicals, and cable TV turned out to be exactly as overrated as everyone said. But somehow, that summer became the one I'd measure everything else against.