Drowning in Shallow Water

The humidity had already declared war on my curls by the time we got to Jake's party. My hair was doing that thing where it poofed out like I'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket, and Sierra wouldn't stop laughing about it.

"You look like a confused poodle," she said, adjusting her perfectly straightened blonde strands. Classic Sierra behavior—she'd been acting catty ever since she found out I had a crush on Jake and she didn't.

I tugged at my cover-up, suddenly hyper-aware of how not-quite-beach-body-ready I felt. Everyone was already swimming in Jake's pool, shrieking and splashing like they were in a commercial for something I couldn't afford.

"You coming in?" Jake called from the water. His hair was wet and messy and he looked stupidly good.

"Maybe later!" I called back, lying through my teeth. Later meaning never. Later meaning when hell froze over. Later meaning I'd rather bear through three hours of standing awkwardly at the edge of the pool in my cover-up than let anyone see me in a swimsuit.

The problem wasn't even that I couldn't swim. The problem was that I COULD swim, and the last time I had, my hair had frizzed into a halo of regret and someone had commented that I "looked like a cat that got caught in a rainstorm." Which, rude, but also I'd never fully recovered.

But then Sierra "accidentally" splashed water all over my cover-up.

"Oops," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Guess you might as well swim now."

I stared at her. I stared at the water. I thought about how tired I was of letting my hair and my insecurities call the shots. I thought about how Jake was still watching me, waiting.

"You know what?" I said, peeling off my cover-up. "You're right."

I cannonballed into the deep end.

Water everywhere. Chlorine in my nose. When I came up, gasping and laughing, my hair was plastered to my head in the most unflattering way possible. Jake swam over.

"There she is," he said, grinning. "Took you long enough." And then he wrapped me in a bear hug that smelled like chlorine and sunscreen and possibility, and I realized no one was looking at my hair anymore. They were just glad I'd finally jumped in.