Lifeguard Orange

The neon orange hat sat on my head like a beacon of social suicide. First day as a lifeguard, and I was already regretting everything. The hat wasn't just orange—it was ORANGE, the kind of fluorescent that could be spotted from space.

"You look like a traffic cone," Jordan said, sliding up beside me at the pool's edge. Jordan, with their perfectly messy hair and effortless cool, the person I'd been crushing on since middle school.

"It's the uniform," I mumbled, adjusting the monstrosity.

The morning swim team had just finished—a pack of zombie-like teenagers shuffling toward the locker rooms, eyes glazed, movements sluggish. I watched them, feeling strangely jealous of their exhaustion. At least they had a reason for looking dead inside.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—phantom vibration. Dead. I'd forgotten my charging cable at home, which meant no Instagram, no Spotify, no way to distract myself from the fact that Jordan was literally three feet away from me and I was wearing a hat that could signal aircraft.

"Wanna sit in the stand?" Jordan asked. "Unless you're too cool for the lifeguard throne."

"Too awkward, you mean," I said before I could stop myself.

Jordan laughed. It sounded genuine. "The pool's basically empty until the daycare group shows at noon. We can just chill."

So we climbed up, knees touching, watching the water ripple in the indoor light. I talked about my nerves, about how I felt like a fraud, like everyone would figure out I wasn't actually confident enough to save lives. Jordan listened, really listened, and then told me about failing their driver's test three times because they couldn't parallel park to save their life.

We talked until the daycare group arrived—chaos in floaties—and throughout my shift, Jordan kept coming back to check on me. Not because I needed saving, but just because.

Later, my phone finally died for real. But somehow, I didn't care. The orange hat was still ridiculous. The zombie swimmers would return tomorrow. I'd still forget my charging cable probably.

But for the first time, I didn't feel like the awkward new kid. I felt like someone Jordan actually wanted to talk to. And that? That was better than perfect Instagram aesthetic any day.