No Safety Cable

Chloe adjusted her goggles for the third time, trying to look casual at the community pool where half the sophomore class seemed to be congregating. The humidity stuck her neon tank top to her back like a second skin. Behind her, Maya whispered rapid-fire updates about who was dating whom, but Chloe's eyes kept drifting to Liam—the boy she'd been crushing on since spring—who was currently doing cannonballs off the diving board.

"You're literally vibrating," Maya said, shoving a water bottle into her hand. "Chill. He's just swimming. It's not rocket science."

Easy for Maya to say. She radiated confidence like she'd mainlined a confidence vitamin that morning. Meanwhile, Chloe felt like she was operating without a safety cable, one wrong move from free-falling into maximum awkwardness.

Liam emerged from the water, shaking droplets from his hair like some adorably messy golden retriever. He spotted them and waved. Both girls waved back like synchronized idiots.

"Hey," he said, dripping pool water onto the concrete as he approached. "That flip you did earlier? Actually sick."

Chloe's brain short-circuited. "Wait—you SAW that?"

"Yeah." He grinned, and she noticed how his nose crinkled. "I was watching. You've got form."

Maya elbowed her so hard it left a bruise. "Told you," she mouthed.

Later, when everyone migrated to the snack bar, Liam sat beside her. Close enough that she could see the freckles splashed across his nose. He held out his palm—actual sunshine emoji—and she high-fived him before her brain could overthink it.

"Next time," he said, "teach me that flip?"

"Maybe," she managed, feeling something warm and golden blooming in her chest. "If you're lucky."

She took a sip of water, letting the cool liquid ground her. Sometimes the scariest moments—the ones that felt like jumping without a net—were the ones worth taking.