Poolside Confessions

The chlorine hung heavy in the August heat when Maya's golden retriever, Buster, decided tonight was the night to crash Sarah Jenkins' pool party. Classic.

"Buster, no!" Maya hissed, gripping his leather collar so hard her knuckles went white. But Buster was already moonwalking across the concrete, tail wagging like he owned the place.

Sarah materialized from the dive with water streaming down her perfect face. "Um, excuse me? This is a NO DOGS event."

Maya's palms went sweatier than they already were. She'd spent forty-five minutes fake-tanning and psyching herself up to talk to Tyler, who was currently cannonballing into the deep end with his crew. Now this.

"I'm so sorry, he literally never does this—" Maya started, already turning to drag Buster back to her house across the street.

"Wait." Sarah flipped her wet hair. "Actually, he's kind of adorable. What's his name?"

"Buster."

Sarah's whole face changed. "No way. I literally have a Golden named Charlie!" She dropped her voice. "This party is so low-key boring anyway. Tyler's been ignoring everyone for his phone." She rolled her eyes. "Wanna come in? The pool's heated."

Maya froze. This was NOT in the simulation. Sarah Jenkins, queen of sophomore year, inviting HER to crash the party she'd been watching from her bedroom window all summer?

"Buster loves swimming," Maya found herself saying.

Five minutes later, she was ankle-deep in the shimmering blue water, watching her dog paddle alongside the actual popular kids. Tyler surfaced from a dive, shook his wet hair like a surfer, and locked eyes with her.

"Your dog is a total legend," he said, grinning.

Maya's heart did something concerning in her chest. "Yeah, he's pretty much the reason I'm here."

"Glad he is," Tyler said, and Maya's palms stopped sweating for the first time all night.

Some nights, she learned, your dog is just your wingman.