Papaya Sabotage

The pool party was supposed to be legendary. Maya's older brother was hosting, which meant zero parental supervision and plenty of opportunities to impress everyone. The only problem? I couldn't actually swim.

Not even a little.

So there I was, posted up by the snack table like I was genuinely interested in the fruit arrangement instead of clutching a papaya wedge like it was a lifeline. The papaya was weirdly slimy against my fingers, but at least it gave me something to do with my hands besides nervously checking my phone every three seconds.

"You gonna eat that, or just stare at it?"

I jumped, almost dropping my precious papaya shield. It was Alex, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since freshman year. He was dripping wet from swimming, his hair plastered to his forehead in a way that should've looked ridiculous but somehow didn't.

"I'm thinking about it," I said, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who was literally moments away from panic-mode. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." He leaned against the table, way too close. "Just noticed you've been acting like a spy all night. Watching everyone from behind the fruit platter like you're gathering intelligence."

My face burned. "I'm not—"

"It's cool." He grinned, all crooked teeth and confidence. "I do the same thing at parties. Overthink everything, wonder if people are judging me, convinced everyone's having more fun than I am."

I blinked. That was exactly what I was doing.

"You too?"

"Dude, constantly." He picked up a papaya wedge. "Social anxiety is so freshman year, but somehow it never really goes away. You just get better at hiding it."

We stood there for a minute, both of us holding our papaya pieces like we'd discovered a secret weapon against awkwardness. Around us, people were laughing and splashing in the pool, and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like I was missing out.

"Hey," Alex said finally. "Wanna go sit by the pool? Just hang out. You don't have to swim or anything."

"Yeah," I said, and for the first time, I actually meant it. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The papaya went back on the platter. My secret was still safe—no swimming for me today—but suddenly, that didn't feel like such a disaster after all.