Dog Walker Confidential

The golden retriever tugged at its leash, practically dragging me down Maple Street. Mrs. Henderson's dog, Buster, knew exactly where he wanted to go.

"Bro, chill," I muttered, but Buster kept pulling toward the park where *she* was.

Maya.

My ex-best friend who'd been ghosting me since school started. The one who'd left me on read for three weeks while posting stories with her new squad.

I'm not proud of it, okay? But sometimes you need to be your own private investigator. So here I was, walking a client's dog past the park like some casual observer, when really I was scouting like a total creep. A spy operation, if you will.

Buster froze. His tail went nuclear.

There she was. Sitting on a bench with Ethan—that juniors basketball player who'd made varsity as a sophomore. The one who'd called me "bro" in gym class like it was some inside joke.

They were laughing.

Something inside me twisted. Not jealousy. Well, maybe a little. Mostly it was this hollow feeling of being replaced. Like I was some outdated app everyone had stopped updating.

Then I saw it—the way Maya looked around, nervous, like she was checking if anyone was watching. How she leaned in close to Ethan but kept pulling back.

Wait.

Ethan reached for her hand, and she flinched. Not in a cute way. In a scared way.

"Yo," someone said behind me.

I jumped. It was Leo from my English class.

"You good? You look like you're about to throw hands."

"Nah, just... thinking." I gestured vaguely toward the bench. "You see that?"

Leo followed my gaze. His expression shifted. "Yeah. Ethan's been running his mouth about Maya. Saying she's playing hard to get but he'll break her eventually. Real toxic vibes."

The hollowness inside me sharpened into something else.

I looked at Buster, who was now happily greeting a stranger like the world wasn't falling apart. Dogs, man. They just got it.

"Thanks," I said to Leo. Then I did something unexpected.

I walked over there.

Maya saw me coming and her eyes went wide. Ethan smirked like he'd already won.

"Hey," I said, casual as anything. "Buster needs to get home. Mrs. Henderson's waiting. But hey, you left your hoodie in my locker last week. Been meaning to give it back."

The code we'd used since seventh grade when one of us needed an out.

Maya's shoulders dropped. "Oh! Right. Thanks."

She stood up so fast it was almost funny. Ethan's face fell. The bull was confused.

"Catch you later," I said, like it was nothing.

As we walked away, Maya fell into step beside me. Not too close, but close enough.

"I owe you one," she whispered.

"Nah," I said, as Buster finally decided to cooperate. "Just looking out for a friend."

She didn't correct me.

Sometimes the best spy missions aren't about gathering intel. They're about knowing when to stop watching and start showing up.