Pool Party Panic

The air smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, but my stomach was twisting itself into knots. I stood at the edge of Maya's pool, toes curling against the concrete while everyone else splashed like they'd been doing this since birth. Swimming had never exactly been my thing—mostly because changing into a swimsuit in front of people felt like a psychological experiment I hadn't signed up for.

"You coming in or what?" Maya called from the deep end, floating on her back like some confident otter.

I clutched my iPhone like a lifeline, suddenly fascinated by a notification that was literally just my mom asking if I'd eaten the papaya she'd packed for my lunch. The fruit sat untouched in my bag, mushy and embarrassing, much like my social skills.

"Yeah, just," I started, but then Jordan surfaced beside Maya, water droplets sliding down his stupid perfect face. He was the kind of guy who made standing there look like an Olympic sport. My brain short-circuited.

"That's some bull," someone said behind me. I turned to see Riley, who'd been vaping behind the garden shed until about thirty seconds ago. She nodded toward Jordan. "Him thinking nobody noticed him checking you out earlier."

My face burned. "You're literally making that up."

"Am I?" Riley's grin was fox-sharp, all teeth and mischief. "He's been watching you all day like you're the last slice of pizza at a party. It's kind of cute, in a pathetic way."

Before I could process that, my phone slipped from my sweaty grip and hit the concrete with a concerning crack. We both froze.

"That's definitely not good," Riley said helpfully.

I scrambled to pick it up—screen still intact, thank god—but when I straightened up, Jordan was standing there, dripping wet and way too close. His hair stuck up in ridiculous spikes.

"Everything good?" he asked, actually looking at me like I was a person and not just Maya's awkward friend who wouldn't get in the pool.

"Yeah," I managed, my voice weirdly steady. "Just dropped my phone. Classic me."

He smiled, and something in my chest did this embarrassingly hopeful flip thing. "Wanna play chicken fight? Maya needs a partner."

I looked at the pool, then at Riley, who was already nodding like she'd orchestrated this entire moment (she probably had). Then I looked at Jordan, who was still waiting, still smiling, and I thought maybe papaya wasn't the only thing worth trying.

"Yeah," I said, stepping toward the water. "Let's do this."