Orange Soda Secrets

At Marco's pool party, I felt like everyone was watching me. Which, okay, I was the new girl wearing this bright orange bikini that screamed "look at me" when all I wanted was to blend in. I clutched my papaya smoothie like a shield.

"You good?" asked Jasmine, Marco's cousin who'd somehow become my best friend in two weeks.

I nodded, but my eyes kept darting around. Someone was definitely spying on me. Every time I turned my back, I felt eyes on my neck. When I looked up from my phone, someone quickly looked away.

Was it Tyler? He'd been weirdly nice in chem lab lately. Or was I just being paranoid because I finally told my parents I'm bi last week and now everything feels different, like everyone can somehow tell?

"You're doing that thing," Jasmine said, grabbing my arm. "Where you overthink everything."

"Someone's watching me," I whispered.

Jasmine laughed. "Welcome to high school. Everyone's always watching."

But no, this felt different. I kept catching this kid—freshman maybe?—staring at me from behind the fake palm tree near the snack table. He had these intense eyes, like he was analyzing me.

Finally I'd had enough. I marched over there, ready to confront whatever this was.

"Are you spying on me?" I demanded, hands on hips.

The kid jumped, almost dropping his phone. "What? No! I'm—"

"I've seen you staring all afternoon. Just say whatever you're gonna say."

His face turned bright red. "I wasn't staring at you. I was staring at... your orange soda."

"What?"

"Your orange soda," he repeated, gesturing to the can beside me. "It's this limited edition flavor they only sell in Japan and my uncle runs this import store and I've been trying to find it for months and I was trying to work up the courage to ask where you got it."

I stared at him. Then at my orange soda. Then back at him.

"You came to a party to hunt Japanese soda?"

"It's really good soda," he said defensively.

And that's when I started laughing. Like, couldn't stop laughing. This whole time I thought someone was watching me, judging me, seeing through me—and they were just obsessed with my orange soda.

"I'm Kai," I said once I could breathe again. "And this is from the Asian market on 4th. They have like, ten cases in the back."

The kid's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. But you have to come with me. I'm not buying soda for a stranger who stalked me all afternoon."

"Leo," he said. "And deal."

As we walked away from the pool, leaving the splashing water and laughter behind us, I realized something: nobody was watching me as closely as I was watching myself. And sometimes, the person you think is your spy is just a future friend who's really, really thirsty.