Palm Sweaty, Heart Ready

Maya's palms were literally sweating through her denim shorts. Great. Just great.

"You coming in or what?" Justin called from the pool, hair dripping wet, looking annoyingly perfect in navy swim trunks.

"Uh, maybe later," Maya mumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets. Like anyone needed to know she was freaking out.

Truth was, she'd been crushing on Justin since seventh grade, and now here they were at sophomore year, at Jessica's end-of-summer pool party, and she was still fully clothed while everyone else was swimming like actual fish. Her brain kept going: you're not ready, you look weird in swimsuits, everyone's watching.

Suddenly something wet nudged her leg.

"Buster! No!" Jessiça's little brother yelled.

But Buster—an absolutely chaotic golden retriever puppy—was already shaking water all over Maya's favorite white Converse.

Maya jumped back, and her phone went flying into the grass.

Justin was out of the pool in like two seconds, grabbing the phone before Buster could decide it was a chew toy. He dried it on his shirt and—Maya almost died—he actually noticed her hands.

"Your palms are shaking," he said. "Are you cold?"

"Nerves," she blurted, then wanted to vanish. "I mean—I don't know. This is kinda awkward, right?"

Justin smiled. Actually smiled, not the fake kind. "Dude, I've been nervous around you since you sat next to me in algebra freshman year. I thought you hated me."

"Wait, WHAT?" Maya's brain short-circuited.

"Yeah. You always looked so..." He made a gesture like "intimidating perfection." "So I stopped changing in front of everyone because I thought you'd laugh."

Buster chose that moment to body-slam Justin into the pool.

Everyone laughed. Maya laughed. And for the first time all afternoon, her palms stopped sweating. She kicked off her sneakers.

"Race you to the other side," she said.

Justin's eyes went wide. "You're actually getting in?"

"Watch me."

She jumped in, clothes and all. Sometimes the perfect moment isn't perfect at all. Sometimes you just need a wet dog and absolute chaos to realize nobody's thinking about you as much as you're thinking about yourself.