Goldfish in My Palm

The pool party at Jasmine's house was supposed to be legendary, but I was seriously regretting showing up. Everyone was either canonballing into the water or flirting by the deep end, and I was just clinging to my plastic bag with a carnival goldfish like a total loser.

"Is that... is that an actual goldfish?" said this guy Marcus, who I'd had a crush on since basically forever. He was shirtless, dripping wet, and way too close for my anxiety levels to handle.

"His name is Bubbles," I squeaked, instantly wanting to die. "I won him at the carnival and my mom said I can't keep him."

Marcus laughed, but like, actually laughed, not the mean laugh he does with his friends. "That's kinda iconic though. You're just carrying him around like a little emotional support fish?"

"Something like that," I mumbled, staring at the orange fish swimming in tiny circles.

Then lightning cracked across the sky—actual purple-blue lightning that made everyone at the pool scream and scatter toward the house. The lifeguard started blowing the whistle, shouting something about thunder and safety, but Marcus just stood there, rain starting to fall.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the covered patio. "Your fish is gonna need shelter from this storm."

We sat on the porch steps watching the rain pound the pool surface, making these wild chaotic ripples. Marcus's hand was still touching mine, and my heart was doing this thing where it felt like goldfish were swimming in my stomach instead of organs.

"So," he said, looking at me instead of the storm. "You and Bubbles want to hang out tomorrow? My cousin has an actual fish tank we could... I don't know, do fish stuff with?"

I couldn't help it—I laughed. "Fish stuff?"

"Shut up, I'm trying here," Marcus said, grinning. And then he opened his palm, and I swear I saw lightning reflected in his eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "Tomorrow sounds... actually perfect."