Fox in the Pool House

The country club pool hummed with that awkward mid-June energy—half the kids trying way too hard to look chill, the other half actually failing at it. I'd been avoiding Madison since the incident at my birthday party (she'd literally FaceTimed my crush while I was in the bathroom), so obviously she picked today to slide into the lane next to me during swimming laps.

"Yo, you ignoring me?" Madison called, doing that casual backstroke thing that was definitely not casual.

"Just focused on my laps," I lied, flipping at the wall like my life depended on it.

"Whatever. You coming to padel later?" She used her annoyingly perfect game voice. "Tyler's gonna be there."

That got me. Tyler Evans, who'd smiled at me in biology twice and therefore owned my entire emotional state for three weeks straight.

"Maybe," I said, trying to sound unbothered. "If I finish my laps."

"Yeah you won't," she said, already swimming away. "You're totally gonna chase after him like a bull in a china shop again."

"I was NOT a bull in a china shop!" I yelled after her. "That was ONE time at the spring formal!"

Later, I found her by the padel courts, already laughing at something Tyler said. My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to stomach. I smoothed my hair, checked my reflection in the glass fence—okay, looking decent—and walked up all casual-like I hadn't been practicing in my mirror for forty minutes.

"There she is," Madison announced, grinning. "The human swimming machine."

Tyler smiled. "Hey."

Just hey. Two letters. And I was already planning our wedding.

"Want to play?" he asked. "We need a fourth."

I said yes obviously, but here's the thing about padel: it involves hand-eye coordination, which immediately abandons you when a cute boy is watching. I missed every ball. It was embarrassing.

"You're like a fox," Tyler said afterward, handing me a water bottle. "All quick and slippery."

I thought he was calling me sly in a good way until Madison cracked up.

"He means you keep DODGING the ball like you're scared or something."

Tyler turned bright red. "I meant—you know—agile!"

"Sure, Tyler. Whatever you say."

But he kept walking next to me when we headed back to the pool house. And then he asked if I wanted to get ice cream after. And maybe—just maybe—being awkwardly terrible at sports wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Sometimes the bull in the china shop gets the guy anyway.