Pool Party Chronicles

The orange swimsuit had seemed fire in the store, but now? Total disaster. Maya clutched her towel like a lifeline, hyper-aware of how the neon fabric made her stick out like a beacon among the sea of navy blues and basic blacks at Tyler's pool party.

"You good, dog?" Marcus asked, plopping down beside her. He'd been calling her that since third grade, some weird slang he'd picked up from his older brother.

"Just not feeling it today," Maya mumbled, watching groups of friends cascade into the pool like synchronized dolphins. Why was socializing so exhausting?

Then she saw him — Liam, the fox from her English class, leaning against the patio doors with that effortless vibe that made everyone want to be near him. Her stomach did that nervous flip thing.

Just then, Tyler's massive Newfoundland — essentially a small bear — bounded through the crowd, tail clearing a swath through the social hierarchy like a fuzzy wrecking ball. The dog-zeroed in on Maya's exposed legs, and she scrambled backward, straight into a solid chest.

"Whoa," Liam laughed, steadying her. "You okay?"

Time froze. Her hair was frizzy from humidity, her stupid orange swimsuit was screaming for attention, and she'd literally just been tackled by a dog. But Liam's smile was genuine, not that fake polite one people used.

"Yeah," Maya said, surprising herself. "Just surviving the bear attack."

"Captain's a beast," he said, nodding at the Newfoundland, who was now panting happily beside them. "Hey, you wanna get out of here? I saw a fox behind the earlier, near the woods. Way more interesting than this party."

For the first time all day, Maya's anxiety slipped. Maybe the orange swimsuit wasn't so bad after all.