Dog Days & Digital Spies

Maya's brother Leo called her a social media stalker, but she preferred the term digital anthropologist. At fifteen, she'd mastered the art of the anonymous profile, watching the popular kids' stories like a hawk. It wasn't creepy—it was research.

"You're basically a spy," Leo said, chewing on an orange slice while scrolling through his phone. "But like, a low-budget one. CIA would never recruit you."

"Shut up." Maya snatched his orange. "I'm observing social dynamics. It's educational."

Her vitamin C deficiency was real, at least. Her mom had started leaving those gummy ones on her nightstand, which Maya ignored because they tasted like defeat.

Then Jake noticed her.

Jake, who skateboarded with effortless cool and had that messy dark hair that looked good even after third period gym. Jake, whose stories she watched every morning while eating toast. Jake, who somehow ended up in her AP Bio study group.

They were supposed to meet at the community pool for tutoring—his idea, because he had swim practice afterward. Maya arrived twenty minutes early, anxiety doing laps in her stomach.

"Hey." Jake materialized behind her, shirt already off, revealing a swimmer's lean build. "You're early."

"So are you."

"Coach kicked me out." He shrugged, grinning. "Said I was overthinking my turns. Can you relate?"

They sat by the pool, textbooks open between them. The air smelled like chlorine and sunscreen. For an hour, they talked about mitochondria and cell membranes until Jake closed his book.

"So," he said, looking at her sideways. "I've seen your finsta."

Maya's heart stopped. "What?"

"Your private account? The one where you post those fire photo edits?" He splashed water at her. "Your edits are sick, Maya. You should post them on your main."

She stared at him. He'd been watching her back the whole time.

"I thought you'd think it's cringe," she admitted.

Jake laughed. "Dude, no. That's literally what I was trying to ask—will you help me with my photography portfolio? I need someone who actually gets editing."

Her family dog, Buster, chose that moment to escape the backyard and burst through the pool gate, barking like he'd just won the lottery.

"Buster!" Maya's dad appeared at the gate, red-faced. "Sorry! He's been plotting an escape for weeks."

Jake was laughing so hard he had to sit down. "Your dog's a spy too, huh?"

"Apparently." Maya smiled, actually smiled, feeling something warm and unfamiliar bloom in her chest. "I'll help you with your portfolio."

"Bet." Jake fist-bumped her. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Bet."