Lightning Strikes and Poolside Lies

I never should've lied about knowing how to swim. But when Dylan asked me to his pool party, panic made me say yes before my brain could process the life-or-death reality of spending six hours in a bikini surrounded by people who'd judge my every flaw.

"You coming in or what?" Maya called from the deep end, doing some effortless backstroke thing. I fake-checked my phone like I was waiting for an important text.

"Yeah, just gotta... wait for my sunscreen to set."

Brilliant. The oldest excuse in the book, and she'd see right through it in approximately three seconds.

That's when the sky opened up like someone had punched a hole in a cloud. Lightning flashed across the horizon—this purple-electric crack that made everyone scream and scramble for the patio. Rain came down in sheets, turning the pool into this churning, grey chaos. And suddenly? Being dry wasn't embarrassing anymore. It was basic survival.

"Great party," Dylan said, dropping into the Adir chair beside me. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and holy crap he smelled like rain and chlorine and every perfect thing. "Nature's way of saving us from awkward pool games, right?"

My stomach did this literal somersault. "Totally. Though my dog would've loved this weather."

"You have a dog?" He perked up. "What kind?"

"A German Shepherd mix named Storm. ironic, right? She's terrified of thunder but loves rain." The words just tumbled out, and then—mortifying—my phone alarm went off. My grandpa's ringtone: SpongeBob doing his dolphin laugh.

Dylan didn't even crack a smile. "That's actually kinda iconic. Storm sounds sick. Does she swim?"

"She hates swimming," I admitted, then froze. I'd just said the S-word out loud. To Dylan. While sitting poolside in my cover-up that had zero water on it.

But he didn't laugh. "My golden retriever won't go past his paws either. It's honestly respectable, knowing your boundaries."

Lightning flashed again—closer this time—and he jumped, which made me jump, and suddenly we were both laughing at our synchronized flinch. The party moved inside, but Dylan stayed on the covered patio, swapping pet stories and admissions about things we pretended to be good at but weren't.

Later, when the storm cleared and everyone cannonballed back into the pool, I finally took off my cover-up. Waded in waist-deep. Didn't swim, but Dylan high-fived me like I'd won Olympic gold.

"Baby steps," he said, and somehow, that felt like enough.