Palm Sweats & Pool Parties

Maya stood at the edge of the pool party like a total noob, clutching her phone with sweaty palms. The invite had said "casual hang" but everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a TikTok trend—flawless, confident, annoyingly coordinated.

"Hey, you coming in or what?"

It was Tyler. Tyler with the smile that made her brain do that thing where it forgot how to words. Maya opened her mouth but her throat went dry.

Then her cat, who was NOT supposed to be at this party because she'd specifically left him at home, came sauntering around the corner like he owned the place. Mr. Whiskers—she knew, terrible name, she was seven when she named him—made a beeline for Tyler's exposed feet and just went full affection mode, rubbing against his ankles like some furry wingman.

"Is that your cat?" Tyler laughed, crouching down. Mr. Whiskers immediately flopped onto his back, demanding belly rubs like the social butterfly he definitely wasn't at home.

"I swear he followed me," Maya managed. "He's basically a stalker."

"He's chill though." Tyler scratched the cat's ears. "You should get in the pool. It's actually not that deep, I promise."

Maya glanced at the water, where a bright orange pool noodle floated like a beacon of hope. Someone had left it there, forgotten and lonely. She could grab it, pretend it was her reason for existing at this party, and maybe—just maybe—stop feeling like the world's biggest awkward human.

"Okay," she said. "But only if I can claim the orange noodle."

Tyler's grin got wider. "Deal. I call dibs on racing you to the other side."

Maybe this party wouldn't be so bad after all. Mr. Whiskers seemed to think so—he was already passed out on Tyler's towel like he'd earned it.