Fox Fire by the Orange Pool

Maya took a breath. Why did she agree to this? She could be home, doomscrolling in air-conditioning. Instead, here she stood in a bikini she'd bought three sizes too small, clutching a lukewarm orange soda that was going to explode if she squeezed it any tighter.

The pool party was basically a social hierarchy on display, complete with underwater seating charts. The shallow end? That was for the chaos demons and the sophomores who'd probably never been to a party before. The deep end? That's where the seniors and juniors chilled, effortlessly cool as they did absolutely nothing.

She knew she looked like a lost freshman. That's because she was a lost freshman. Awkward, much?

Then she saw him by the diving board.

He just radiated kind energy. Also, he was in a Metallica t-shirt while everyone else was basically swimsuit-model ready. If you're going to be the weirdo at the party, at least coordinate with the other weirdo, right?

She waded into the shallow end, the cool water hitting her like reality. Someone cannonballed nearby, drenching her freshly straightened hair. Fabulous. This was fine.

She made her way to the deep end, doing that awkward I'm-totally-comfortable doggy-paddle-shim hybrid that nobody's ever actually pulled off. He noticed her approaching. His eyes widened, just a bit, like he was surprised anyone was talking to him.

"I'm Lucas," he said. He had that quiet voice that made you lean in.

"I'm Maya," she said back. "Nice to meet you."

They drifted to the pool's edge as the party raged on. Lucas shared that he was only here because his mom forced him to socialize. He'd rather be painting miniatures in his basement. She told him she'd been practicing her conversation starters in front of her mirror for two weeks.

"You're doing great," he said, and he meant it.

Jamie spotted them. The legendary upperclassmen everyone whispered about. They sauntered over, all effortless swag and terrifying confidence.

"Nice shirt," Jamie said to Lucas.

Lucas looked like he was going to pass out. "Thanks."

"No, seriously. Metallica goes hard." They fist-bumped. Maya's jaw dropped. The social hierarchy was crumbling.

The sun began setting behind the trees, painting everything in brilliant orange light. The pool reflected gold and copper, making everything feel magical and strange and temporary.

She and Lucas eventually got out, dripping wet but somehow lighter than when they'd gone in.

"Same time next week?" Lucas asked.

"Definitely," she said. And for the first time in forever, she wasn't lying.

They'd survived the party. Together. And next time? Next time, they might actually enjoy it.