Pool Party Apocalypse

The Instagram invite said "pool party of the year" but my brain said "social disaster waiting to happen." Still, here I was, standing at the edge of Jake's massive pool while everyone else looked like they'd been born in swimsuits. I felt like a zombie—three hours of sleep will do that to you, plus the emotional exhaustion of overthinking every text I'd sent Jake for the past week.

Chloe floated by on an inflatable flamingo, iPhone clutched in one hand above the water like she was protecting state secrets. "You coming in or what?"

"In a minute," I lied, clutching my own phone like a lifeline. The screen showed Jake's last message: *everyone's asking about u.* Just that. Nothing else. What did that even mean?

Tyler cannonballed into the deep end, sending a wave of chlorinated water over my feet. "That's bull!" someone yelled. Tyler had deliberately soaked Maya, who'd been meticulously fixing her waterproof mascara for twenty minutes.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the stupid vitamin D gummy my mom had forced on me that morning. "You look pale," she'd said. "Take this, it'll help." Right. What would actually help is not feeling like I'm constantly failing at being a normal teenager.

Jake emerged from the water, droplets running down his chest like he was in some slow-motion music video. He grinned at me. "Finally decided to join the land of the living?"

My stomach did that annoying flip thing. "Decided to make an appearance."

He moved closer, water dripping from his hair. "Good. I was hoping you'd come."

And just like that, the zombie feeling lifted. The vitamin gummy got crushed in my palm. The iPhone stayed in my pocket. Tyler kept being an absolute bull in the china shop of social situations. But for the first time all night, I actually felt like I was at the party instead of just watching it happen to everyone else.

"So," Jake said, "you getting in, or what?"

I took a breath and jumped. The water was cold, shocking, perfect. Some things are worth the risk.