Pool Nights
Maya's lifeguard chair felt like a throne made of judgment. Sixteen years old and basically responsible for everyone's survival at the community pool, yet she couldn't even figure out how to talk to Jordan without her voice cracking.
The **water** glimmered like someone had spilled diamonds across the surface—her least favorite part of the job, honestly. People thought guarding pools was just sitting there getting tan, but Maya spent three hours every day hyper-aware of every splash, every diver who stayed under too long, every kid who couldn't swim.
Her phone buzzed in the chair's cubby. Fraying **cable** barely holding a charge, the plastic exposing copper wires like some electrical roadkill. She'd been meaning to replace it for weeks, but that would require walking into the store with the weird cashier who always asked what she was doing with her life.
"Whatever," she muttered, flicking a loose strand of hair from her sunscreen-sticky neck.
Lately, she'd felt like someone was watching her. Not in a creepy way—well, hopefully not. But every time she scrolled through her Finsta posts, the same anonymous account would appear in her story views. A **spy** in her digital kingdom. Her friends said it was probably just someone from school who was too shy to follow her main account, but Maya's brain supplied way worse options.
"Maya!"
She jumped, nearly knocking her whistle onto the concrete. Jordan. Standing at the edge of the pool, wet hair dripping, holding something.
"You dropped this yesterday."
It was her hair tie. The sparkly blue one she'd been freaking out about losing because it was the only one that actually stayed in during her shift.
"I was gonna leave it at the front desk," Jordan said, suddenly super interested in the pool drain, "but I figured you'd want it back."
"Thanks," Maya managed, and her voice didn't even crack. Small victories.
"So, um, I see your posts," Jordan added casually. Too casually. "The pool ones are funny."
Maya's brain short-circuited. Wait.
"You're the one who always watches my stories?"
"I mean, I don't ALWAYS—" Jordan's face turned the color of a bad sunburn. "Your photography is actually kind of amazing? The way you capture light on the water and stuff?"
Maya felt something warm and uncurling in her chest that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun.
"I could show you how to take better ones," she found herself saying. "If you want."
Jordan's smile was genuine and terrified all at once. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Later, as Jordan walked away, Maya's buzzed again. Her phone screen lit up with a new follower request—from Jordan. The username: jordan_doesnt_spy_ipromise.
Maya laughed out loud, and for the first time all summer, the lifeguard chair didn't feel like a throne at all. It felt like exactly where she was supposed to be.