Pool Shark

Chloe's stomach did backflips as she stood at the edge of the **pool**, her oversized t-shirt clinging to her like a security blanket. The End of Summer Bash. Of course Jordan would throw something this extra. His backyard looked like an Instagram trap meets TikTok thirst trap.

"You coming in or what?" Maya called, already doing laps like she'd been born with gills.

Chloe hesitated. The new **hair** on her arms, darker than usual after that failed DIY bleach attempt, seemed to glow under the string lights. She'd spent forty minutes this morning trying to decide whether to shave, ultimately rage-quitting and throwing the razor across the bathroom.

Whatever. She was here to make memories, not hide in the bathroom stall all night.

She stripped off her cover-up, ignoring the way her heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to break out of prison. The water felt amazing — cool and inviting, washing away the sticky heat of her anxiety.

That's when she saw him. Alex, Jordan's older brother, fresh from college, sitting on the pool edge with his **bear** of a frame — broad shoulders, a jawline that could cut glass, laugh lines that suggested he knew things she couldn't even imagine. He was everything she wasn't: confident, smooth, completely at ease in his own skin.

"Nice cannonball," he said, and she realized she'd just executed what was probably the most ungraceful entry in pool party history.

Her face burned hotter than the sun still blazing at 7 PM.

"Thanks," she squeaked. Smooth, Chloe. Real smooth.

"I'm just messing with you." His smile was annoyingly perfect. "You're actually a solid **swimming** — way better than Jordan, and he's on the varsity team."

Wait.

"Hold up, Jordan's on varsity? Since when?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Since his dad donated enough to build the new aquatic center, my guy. That's **bull** and everyone knows it. Jordan's more like a panicked bathtub flopper than an actual swimmer."

Chloe snorted before she could stop herself. Alex shrugged, unbothered.

"What? I call it like I see it. My brother's a whole mood, but he knows I got his back regardless."

They talked for twenty minutes while everyone else played chicken fight tournaments and posted stories. About music, about college, about how weird it was being back in your hometown after experiencing actual freedom.

When her mom honked from the driveway, Chloe didn't want to leave.

"Hey," Alex called as she grabbed her towel. "Same time next summer? I'll be back from my internship."

"Maybe," she said, casual as anything.

But inside, something shifted. Her hair, her arms, her awkward cannonball — none of it mattered like she thought it did. The real flex wasn't being perfect. It was being perfectly okay with being perfectly imperfect.

She walked to her mom's car feeling lighter, already planning her revenge: next year, she'd actually learn to dive properly.

And maybe — just maybe — she'd finally wear that two-piece she'd been hiding in her drawer since freshman year.