Goldfish in the Deep End

The hat was stupid. A bucket hat with neon flames, totally not Maya's vibe, but Jocelyn had insisted she wear it to Tyler's pool party because "it's giving main character energy, bestie, trust." Maya adjusted the ridiculous flames, feeling like a poser. She couldn't even swim properly—not like these kids who'd been on swim team since kindergarten.

She ended up in the shallow end with a pack of middle schoolers, floating aimlessly like the lone goldfish in a neglected classroom tank. That's when she saw him: Tyler's older brother Cameron, home from college, looking effortless in his cutoff shirt and not-stupid hat. Maya had been lowkey spying on his Instagram stories for months, watching him live his cool life from afar. Now here he was, six feet of gorgeous chaos, and she was stuck pretending she belonged.

"Hey, nice hat," Cameron said, dropping into a crouch beside the pool. "Flames are sick."

Maya practically drowned on her own spit. "Oh, yeah, thanks. My friend made me wear it."

"Friends know best." He splashed water at her, and she splashed back before she could overthink it. They talked for twenty minutes about nothing—about how swimming in the ocean felt different than pools, about his goldfish that had lived seven years (record breaker), about how he'd once worn a fedora to homecoming and regretted everything.

"You should come to the bonnet next week," Cameron said, standing up. "Bring the hat."

Maya watched him walk away, heart hammering. The stupid neon flames hat. Jocelyn was right—sometimes you had to wear the ridiculous things to find the people who'd splash back. She ducked underwater, grinning like an idiot, finally swimming in the deep end.