Papaya Summer

The pool deck at Maya's house was basically a social battlefield, and I was losing. Hard. Everyone looked so effortless in their swimsuits, while I stood by the snack table clutching a paper plate like it was a lifeline.

"Try this, it's literally fire," said Maya, shoving a slice of papaya at me. Her older brother had brought it back from some Whole Foods run, acting all sophisticated.

I stared at the orange flesh. It looked like something alien, all slippery and weird. But Jason was watching, and suddenly this piece of tropical fruit became my entire personality. I took a bite.

"Whoa," I said, trying to look chill. "It's... interesting."

Maya laughed. "You hate it. Your face is giving 'I'm being poisoned.'"

"No! It's just— different." I was spiraling. Jason was gonna think I was basic, couldn't handle ~exotic fruits~, whatever.

Then the dog arrived. Buster, this ancient golden retriever who moved like he was questioning every life choice. He'd been drinking from the pool (gross) and now he stood there dripping water everywhere, staring at my papaya like it was his soulmate.

"Buster, no," I said, but it was too late. His tongue snatched the fruit right off my plate. The dog proceeded to chew with this absolutely demonic expression, orange juice dripping down his chin.

Jason started cracking up. "Bro just rated your papaya zero stars."

I died. But like, in a good way? Because suddenly Jason was sitting next to me, and we were watching this dog make the most horrific face ever, and my failed attempt at being sophisticated had just become the funniest thing that happened all day.

"Wanna go for ice cream?" Jason asked. "Like, actual good stuff. Not whatever that was."

"Absolutely," I said, abandoning my papaya-less plate. "But we're taking the long way. I need to wash off this vibe first."

We jumped in the pool, clothes and all. The water washed away the awkward, and suddenly summer wasn't so scary after all. Sometimes you gotta let a dog ruin your moment to find the real one.