Dead Goldfish Summer

The pet store goldfish floated belly-up in its bowl, and honestly? Same. I'd been operating on zombie energy since finals week crushed my soul three days ago. Dead inside, just swimming (or not swimming) through the motions.

"You're staring at it again," Mia said, hip-checking me away from the fish tank. "It's been dead since Tuesday, Chloe. Move on."

"I'm having a moment," I protested, but she was already dragging me toward the snack table at Tyler's party. "This party is mid anyway."

"Only because you're in your feels about Jackson."

Jackson, who was currently across the room looking like a Greek god in a distressed hoodie. Jackson, who everyone called 'The Sphinx' because he was mysterious, hot, and apparently incapable of straightforward answers. Last week when I asked if he wanted to hang, he'd said something cryptic about 'destiny' and then ghosted me. Classic Sphinx behavior.

"I'm NOT in my feels," I lied. "I'm just observing. From a distance. Like a scientist."

Mira rolled her eyes so hard I worried they'd get stuck. "Girl, you down bad. Just talk to him. Or eat this papaya and vibe."

She shoved a chunk of fruit at me. "Tyler's mom is going through a weird health phase. Everything here is organic or depressing."

I took a bite. "Okay, actually, this slaps."

"RIGHT?" Mira practically shouted. "So anyway, stop being a zombie about Jackson and go live your best life. You're Chloe, you're lowkey iconic, and you're letting one boy treat you like a side character in your own movie. Nah. We're fixing this."

She dragged me across the room. Jackson looked up, and for once, The Sphinx actually seemed nervous. His cheeks turned pink.

"Hey," he said. "I, uh, heard you like papaya."

"What?"

"I... I asked around. About what you like. Because I wanted to ask you to the movies, but I got awkward and said weird stuff about destiny instead." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not good at this. I like you. That's the whole thing."

My dead goldfish mood instantly vanished. Sometimes the riddles aren't riddles. Sometimes a sphinx is just a boy who's bad at feelings.

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "I'd like that."