Orange Soda, First Regrets

The heat wave hit LA like everyone's worst breakup — sudden, sweaty, and impossible to ignore. I was seventeen, freshly dumped, and hiding out at my aunt's country club where the air conditioning worked and nobody knew my embarrassing history with Marcus What's-His-Name.

Then I saw him across the pool.

He was playing padel with some friends, shirt damp against his back, laughing like he didn't have a care in the world. I froze mid-sip of my orange soda, suddenly way too aware of my own existence.

"You're staring," my cousin Jenna said, appearing beside me like a psychic. "Again."

"I am not staring."

"You've been staring at water boy for three days, Maya. Either talk to him or I'm telling him you sketch pictures of him in your notebook."

I died. I literally died inside. I HAD drawn him. Once. Okay, twice.

"His name is Liam," I mumbled. "And I can't just talk to him. Look at him. He's got that whole effortless cool guy thing going on. Meanwhile, I had to bear the humiliation of wearing water wings until I was ten."

Jenna rolled her eyes so hard I worried they'd get stuck. "You're being dramatic. Also, that water wings story is getting old."

She shoved me toward his group. I stumbled, caught myself, and nearly knocked over a pristine white potted palm. Liam turned. Our eyes met. My brain stopped working.

"Hey," he said, grinning. "You're Jenna's cousin, right?"

"Yes. I mean. Yeah. I'm Maya."

"Cool. I'm Liam. Want to join? We're playing mixed doubles."

I played the worst padel in history. My serves went everywhere except the court. I tripped. I sweated in places I didn't know could sweat. But every time I messed up, Liam just laughed and said, "No worries, I got you next time."

Afterward, we sat by the pool as the sky turned orange and pink. He offered me a fresh soda from the cooler. His fingers brushed mine.

"You know," he said, "I'm actually terrible at this too. I just pretend I know what I'm doing."

I looked at him. Really looked at him. The cool facade had a tiny crack in it.

"Really?"

"Totally. Last week? I served the ball into the pool. Three times in a row."

We laughed. Real laughs. And for the first time all summer, I didn't feel like the girl who got dumped. I felt like someone who might be okay after all.