Chlorine & Lightning

The pool deck smell—that mix of chlorine and cheap body spray—practically lived in my pores. I was doing laps at 6 AM again, my arms dragging through water like lead pipes, while my brother Kai insta-storied his protein shake and morning meditation like some wellness influencer.

"Did you take your **vitamin** D?" Mom had texted at 5:45 AM. Because obviously, that was the missing ingredient in my life. Not confidence. Not a clue what I was doing after graduation. Just vitamin D.

I touched the wall, gasping, and saw Chloe across the pool. She wasn't even supposed to be here—her school started two hours later. But there she was, sitting on the bleachers in that oversized hoodie she lived in, knees tucked to her chest, absolutely **swimming** in fabric but still managing to look like the only interesting thing in this suburban wasteland.

We'd made eye contact exactly twice this semester. Both times, I'd looked away so fast I practically gave myself whiplash.

But something about the predawn light—gray and flat and kind of pathetic—made me feel reckless. Or maybe it was just the sleep deprivation talking.

I climbed out of the pool, dripping everywhere, trying to look casual instead of like a drowned rat. "What are you doing here?"

Chloe jumped. Then she smirked. "Same thing as you. **Spying** on the swim team?"

My face burned. "I AM the swim team."

"Exactly." She nodded at the empty pool. "Real impressive turnout."

And then it hit me—**lightning** fast, the kind of realization that makes your stomach drop. She wasn't here by accident. She was here because I was here.

"My mom thinks vitamin D is gonna fix my entire personality," I heard myself say, because apparently this was my life now. Making conversation with Chloe Nguyen while standing in a puddle of my own making.

Chloe's laugh caught in her throat, then burst out, bright and surprised. "My dad literally bought me a light box. For seasonal depression. In Arizona."

We looked at each other, really looked, and the space between us felt like it was vibrating. Like something was about to happen.

"Wanna get breakfast?" I asked, my heart doing something genuinely concerning in my chest. "I'm pretty sure the diner has pancakes. Which are basically vitamins."

Chloe stood up, her hoodie sleeves covering her hands. "Only if you promise to stop swimming in that oversized team jacket. It's doing you no favors."

I looked down at my jacket—the same one every swimmer wore, the one that was two sizes too big. I hadn't even thought about it.

"Deal," I said.

And just like that, I wasn't spying from the sidelines anymore. I was in the pool.