Dead Tired at the Pool Party

I was operating on pure caffeine and vibes, basically a **zombie** after pulling an all-nighter to finish my AP Euro project. Maya's pool party was supposed to be chill—just the squad, some snacks, maybe a casual dip. But when your bestie decides to invite the entire varsity swim team AND some randoms from her summer job? Yeah, "chill" left the chat hours ago.

The humidity was thick enough to chew. I stood by the deep end, watching people cannonball into the **swimming** pool while barely treading water socially. Tyler was there, of course—looking annoyingly hot with his dumb swoopy hair and that confidence that makes my brain short-circuit. I'd been crushing on him since seventh grade, and wouldn't you know it, he decided this was the perfect time to finally acknowledge my existence.

"Hey, you gonna jump in or what?" He smirked, splashing water at me.

I opened my mouth to say something witty, something smooth, something that wouldn't make me want to evaporate on the spot. But then—because the universe apparently thrives on my suffering—Mr. Henderson's prize **bull** somehow escaped from the adjacent farm property and came charging through the back fence.

I wish I was making this up.

Chaos erupted. People scrambled out of the pool, grabbing towels and dignity in equal measure. The bull—having a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day—stared at us with absolute judgment in those giant bovine eyes. Someone screamed. Tyler may or may not have fallen backwards trying to climb out.

"Is that... a cow?" I asked, because sometimes your brain just shuts down when life gets too weird.

"That's a **bull**, and we need to leave," Tyler said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house.

We ended up huddled on the back porch, watching from a safe distance while animal control eventually arrived. My hair was frizzy, my makeup was gone, and I was pretty sure I'd never be chill again.

But Tyler didn't let go of my hand.

"So," he said, "maybe we should just hang out inside? Like, away from whatever that was?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Yeah. I'm good with that."

Sometimes the worst moments make the best stories. And sometimes you need a escaped farm animal to finally get the guy to hold your hand. Whatever. I'll take it.