Fish Bowl Confessions

Maya's palms were sweating as she clutched her iphone against her chest like a shield. The party at Jake's house was already in full swing, and she'd spent the last twenty minutes pretending to be deeply fascinated by his family's aquarium.

"Nice goldfish," said a voice behind her. Maya spun around to see Jake himself, holding an orange soda. "That's actually a betta fish. His name is Fin Diesel."

Maya felt her face burn. So much for looking chill. "Right. Obviously. I was just... testing you."

Jake laughed, and something about his smile made her stomach do that annoying flip thing it always did when he was in her vicinity. The way his dark curls fell over his forehead, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled — it was all so unfairly attractive.

"You're Maya from chem lab, right? The one who somehow got an A on the midterm despite sleeping through half the lectures?"

"I wasn't sleeping," she protested. "I was... strategically recharging."

Suddenly, a golden retriever bounded into the room, tail wagging like a metronome on overdrive. The dog made a beeline for Jake's soda, which went flying in slow motion. Orange liquid splashed everywhere, including onto Maya's favorite white sneakers.

"Buster!" Jake groaned. "I am so sorry."

"It's fine," Maya lied, already planning how she'd explain the stained shoes to her mom. "At least I'll match the carpet now."

Then came the cat. A sleek gray shadow that appeared seemingly from nowhere, eyeing the chaos with typical feline judgment. The cat proceeded to lick orange soda off its paw, looking offended that such a catastrophe had interrupted its nap schedule.

Jake sighed. "Welcome to my life. The dog destroys everything, the cat judges everyone, and my goldfish is the only one who has his life together."

"Pretty sure Fin Diesel is having an existential crisis right now," Maya said.

"Probably." Jake pulled his phone from his pocket. "Hey, can I get your number? In case of future pet-related emergencies?"

Maya's heart did a full gymnastics routine. "Yeah. For emergency purposes. Obviously."

As she typed her number into his contacts, Maya thought that maybe disasters weren't always bad. Sometimes, a spilled orange soda and chaotic pets were exactly what you needed to break out of your shell and finally say something more than "nice weather" to the guy you'd been crushing on for months.

Sometimes, you just needed a little chaos to find your courage.