Papaya & Poolside Chaos

The papaya smoothie was supposed to be my peace offering. Instead, it ended up all over Jake Miller's white vans.

"My bad," I said, already wanting to teleport into another dimension.

Jake—junior class president, running back, somehow still managing to be nice—just laughed. "No worries, Maya. I needed a new look anyway."

His golden retriever, Buster, chose that exact moment to shake his water-soaked fur directly onto both of us. Great. Now we were both sticky and wet.

The pool party had been Maya's idea—my best friend, not me. I wasn't exactly pool-party material, what with my anxiety and total lack of swimwear that didn't make me want to crawl into a hole. But here I was, standing in someone's backyard in a too-expensive bikini I'd bought on impulse, holding an empty smoothie cup while papaya dripped onto the concrete.

"So," Jake said, wiping fruit from his shirt. "You wanna help me clean up inside?"

My heart did that annoying fluttery thing. "Sure."

We ended up in the kitchen, surrounded by half-empty solo cups and chips everywhere. Jake handed me a paper towel.

"Sorry about your shoes," I said for the twentieth time.

"Honestly?" He leaned against the counter, and for the first time, I noticed how his green eyes had those little gold flecks. "This is better than out there with everyone pretending to have it together."

Outside, someone screamed—probably about the goldfish that had escaped its bowl and was now flopping helplessly on the patio.

"That's my fish," Jake said, totally deadpan.

"Wait, what?"

"His name is Gerald. He's my emotional support goldfish. My therapist said I needed a low-maintenance pet."

I burst out laughing. Suddenly the papaya incident seemed less catastrophic.

"Let's go save Gerald," I said.

We spent the next ten minutes frantically searching for a fish that had somehow flopped his way into a potted plant. Jake's hand brushed mine as we both reached for the same leaf, and for once, my anxiety didn't kick in. The water from the pool clung to his eyelashes. The papaya smell was actually kind of nice.

We found Gerald fin-deep in soil, somehow still alive.

"Well," Jake said, cradling the fish bowl like a newborn. "This has been the weirdest party ever."

"Yeah," I said, and maybe it was the summer heat or maybe I was just finally feeling brave, but I added, "but kind of in a good way?"

Jake smiled. And for once, I didn't overthink it. Just let myself exist in this weird, perfect moment with papaya smoothies, escaped fish, wet dogs, and a boy who made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I didn't have to pretend anymore.