Goldfish Confessions

The plastic bag warmed against my palm as I stood outside Tyler's house, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did around him. Inside, a goldfish — probably named something basic like Goldie or Swim Shady — swam in lazy circles, completely unaware it was about to become my social currency.

"You can come in, you know," Tyler said, appearing in the doorway with that easy grin that made my knees forget they were bones. "The sphinx moth from Bio isn't going to present itself."

Right. The biology project. The one I'd been stress-obsessing over for two weeks while simultaneously having an entire crush-induced meltdown every time Tyler breathed in my direction.

We'd bonded over that stupid sphinx moth assignment back in September — him fascinated by its camouflage capabilities, me lowkey losing my mind because he'd chosen the seat next to mine. Now we were partners for the final presentation, and I was fully spiraling.

"My grandma won it at the carnival," I blurted, thrusting the fish bag toward him like it was radioactive. "For your little sister. Since you mentioned she wanted one."

Smooth. Absolutely zero percent smooth.

Tyler's eyebrows went up. "You went to the carnival?"

"Every Friday this month," I said, then immediately wanted to die. "Not in a creepy way! My cousin works the ticket booth. I just... happen to be there. A lot."

Outside, thunder rumbled, and the first flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the awkward parade that was my life.

"That's actually kinda sick," Tyler said, taking the bag. "Hey, do you want to run through the presentation one more time? My parents are doing date night and Harper's at a sleepover."

We spent two hours going over sphinx moth facts while the storm raged outside. At some point, Goldie (yes, really) got transferred to a proper bowl, and Tyler ordered pizza, and I forgot to be nervous for the first time in months.

"You know," he said as we sat on the floor eating cold pepperoni, "you're way cooler than you think you are."

The second flash of lightning caught his smile, and for once, my brain didn't overthink it into oblivion.

"Yeah well," I said, "you're not so terrible yourself."

Goldie swam a tiny lap around her bowl, and I didn't even panic about what it all meant. Not yet, anyway. Some things could wait until Monday.