Papaya Pool Party

Maya felt like a total spy, lurking behind the concession stand at Fox's baseball practice. Three weeks of watching him from a distance, and she still hadn't managed to say one actual word to him. Pathetic.

"You gonna keep lurking or actually talk to him?" Jenna asked, sliding up beside her. Maya almost jumped out of her skin.

"Shut up, I'm not lurking. I'm... observing." Maya adjusted her oversized hoodie for the hundredth time. "And I can't talk to him. What would I even say? 'Hey Fox, nice swing, also I'm terrified of swimming and your pool party is literally my nightmare?'"

Jenna rolled her eyes so hard Maya worried they might get stuck. "It's a pool party, Maya. Not a swimming meet. Just stand in the shallow end with your papaya smoothie and look cute."

Maya snorted. "The papaya incident of seventh grade says otherwise. Do you know how long it took to live that down?"

"That was literally three years ago." Jenna grabbed her arm. "Come on. He's walking over."

Fox—actual name was Tyler, but everyone called him Fox because he was cunning and fast and honestly devastating—was heading straight toward them. Maya's stomach did approximately 47 backflips.

"Hey," he said, all casual like he hadn't just made Maya's entire week. "You guys coming to my party tomorrow?"

"Yeah!" Jenna said before Maya could panic-sprint away. "Maya was just saying how excited she is."

Fox looked at Maya, and she realized she was still wearing her hoodie in 80-degree weather. Cool. Very chill.

"Awesome." He grinned. "My grandma's making those papaya things everyone likes. See you there?"

Maya nodded, somehow finding her voice. "Yeah. See you."

As he walked away, Jenna screamed into her hands. "THE GRANDMA IS MAKING PAPAYA THINGS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?"

"That I need to learn how to swim in approximately twenty-four hours?"

"That you're literally going to a boy's house and his GRANDMA is making special food for guests." Jenna shook her head. "The swimming thing is fine. Just don't... you know."

"Don't papaya myself again?" Maya sighed. "Noted."

The next day, standing at Fox's pool party with her phone tucked safely in a Ziploc bag, Maya realized something about being fifteen: sometimes the scariest moments weren't the ones you planned for. She survived the pool (shallow end only, Jenna on either side like a protective barrier). She met Fox's grandma, who was indeed lovely and made amazing papaya bruschetta.

And when Fox himself ended up in the pool fully clothed after an attempted cannonball gone wrong, splashing water everywhere and laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, Maya realized maybe she wasn't the only one pretending to have it all figured out.

"Nice form," she called out, surprised at her own confidence.

"Thanks," he said, grinning and wiping papaya seeds from his shirt. "Totally intentional."

Somehow, she believed him.