Midnight Dog Paddle

I felt like a zombie walking through sophomore year, honestly. Just going through the motions—AP Chem, lunch where I sat three seats away from the cool kids, cross country practice where I definitely wasn't a runner but my mom said I needed "structure." The usual high school grind, right?

Then there was Buster. This massive, chaotic golden retriever mix who belonged to Mrs. Henderson across the street. She'd travel every other weekend to visit her grandkids, leaving me on dog-walking duty for twenty bucks a pop. Buster was basically a giant fluffball with zero impulse control, but he was also the only thing that made me actually laugh during those weeks when everything felt pointless.

So imagine my surprise when I'm walking Buster at 11 PM because I'd procrastinated all day (classic me), and this dude Ethan—actual varsity swim team Ethan, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since September—comes sprinting past us in the dark.

"Yo!" he yelled, already like fifty feet ahead. "Wanna crash the Henderson pool party? Their gate is unlocked."

My brain literally short-circuited. This wasn't happening. Cute popular boy was inviting ME to break into a pool? But Buster clearly had other plans because he suddenly yanked the leash and bolted toward Ethan like they were best friends or something.

"Buster, NO—" I hissed, already running after him.

Ethan was cracking up. "Dude, your dog is legendary." He was already pulling his shirt off, and okay, I was absolutely not prepared for how defined his swimmer's abs actually were in person. "Come on, live a little. Nobody's gonna know."

That's how I found myself fully clothed in the Henderson's pool at midnight, dog paddling (literally, because Buster kept jumping in and trying to "rescue" me) while Ethan swam actual laps around us like the athletic specimen he was. The water felt amazing—cool and freeing in a way nothing had all year.

"You're not half bad for a cross country reject," Ethan said later when we were sitting on the pool deck, shoes off, feet dangling in the water while Buster shook himself dry all over both of us.

"I literally failed gym swimming last year," I admitted, suddenly feeling weirdly okay with being uncool.

Ethan bumped my shoulder with his. "Same. Coach only kept me on the team because I can do a mean butterfly." He paused. "Hey, you wanna walk Buster together tomorrow? Like, actually together?"

And maybe it was the zombie exhaustion finally fading, or the way Buster chose that exact moment to lick Ethan's entire face, but for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was sleepwalking through my own life.