Lightning in the Deep End

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool party, clutching his towel like a lifeline. The DJ was blasting something bass-heavy that vibrated through his chest, and everyone looked so effortless—so unbothered. He wasn't even supposed to be here. Jenna had invited him three days ago, and he'd spent two days panic-swimming laps at the community pool, trying to get his arms to look less noodle-like. Spoiler: they still looked like noodles.

Then he saw her. Jenna. In this pink bikini that matched the neon cups stacked by the snack table, laughing with her friends like she didn't have a care in the world. Marcus felt it—that weird static electricity thing people talked about in books. But books never mentioned how your palms would get all sweaty or how you'd suddenly forget how to form sentences.

"Hey! Marcus!" Jenna waved him over. "You coming in or what?"

"Uh, yeah, just... gotta do a quick swim warm-up. You know how it is."

He'd never been swimming in his life.

Marcus dropped his towel and practically bolted toward the pool like his life depended on it. But he didn't account for Buster—Jenna's massive chocolate lab, who apparently decided THIS was the perfect moment to chase a tennis ball directly into Marcus's path.

CRASH.

Marcus went down hard. Legs everywhere. Arms flailing. The air left his lungs in the most uncool wheeze imaginable.

For three seconds, nobody moved. Then Jenna was laughing—but like, actually laughing, doubling over, holding her stomach. Marcus wanted to melt through the concrete.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Are you okay? That was literally the most dramatic fall I've ever seen."

"I'm fine," Marcus muttered, face burning. "Just... channeling my inner bull in a china shop."

"Classic." She extended a hand. "Come on. I'll teach you how to not drown."

Her fingers were warm and slightly callused from tennis practice, and as she pulled him up, Marcus thought maybe—just maybe—lightning didn't always strike twice. Sometimes it just struck once, and that was enough.