Poolside Curveballs

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching a solo cup like it contained the antidote to social death. Around him, the Jefferson High baseball team splash-fought each other with the coordinated chaos of people who'd been best friends since kindergarten. Tyler—the pitcher, the crush, the reason Marcus was even here—surfaced from the water, shaking droplets from hair that caught the July sun like gold.

"Yo, Marcus! You gonna stand there all day or what?" Tyler called, grinning that effortless grin that made Marcus's stomach do things he refused to acknowledge in public.

"I'm good," Marcus managed, which was absolutely not true. He was wearing swim trunks his mom had picked out, and he'd forgotten his phone inside like an idiot. Now he was trapped at the party of the year with nothing to do but watch Tyler be perfect.

Until Maya appeared at his elbow with a tray of fruit skewers. "Try the papaya," she said, winking. "Trust."

Marcus hesitated. Papaya? Who served papaya at a pool party? But Maya was on varsity volleyball and had already deemed him cool enough to sit with at lunch, so he grabbed a skewer and took a bite.

And immediately spat it back into his cup.

"That's—interesting," he choked out while Maya practically cackled.

"Tyler hates it too," she lowered her voice. "Last summer, he ate like half of one at his aunt's house and pretended to love it because he didn't want to be rude. He's allergic to awkward confrontation. It's his whole thing."

Marcus processed this. Tyler Jefferson, star pitcher and consecutive winner of Best Hair, was allergic to awkward confrontation? The same Tyler who currently dominated the pool like he owned every molecule of water in it?

"Here he comes," Maya whispered, vanishing toward the snack table with suspicious speed.

Tyler pulled himself from the pool, water streaming down his chest, and Marcus's brain short-circuited for approximately three seconds. "What's up?" Tyler asked, reaching for a fruit skewer.

"Don't—" Marcus started, but it was too late.

Tyler bit into the papaya. His eyes went wide. He swallowed with visible effort. "Wow," he said weakly. "That's... really something."

And Marcus knew. He absolutely knew.

"You hate it," Marcus said, not even asking.

Tyler's shoulders dropped. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maya told me about your aunt's house," Marcus admitted. "Also, you just made a face like you ate a lemon."

Tyler stared at him for one heart-stopping moment, then burst out laughing. "Dude. Thank GOD. I've been pretending to like exotic fruit for two years because I didn't want to be that guy who only eats pizza rolls."

"Pizza rolls are valid," Marcus said solemnly. "Pizza rolls are always valid."

"You know what?" Tyler's grin was different now—realer. "You're cool. Let's get you in the pool before Maya makes you try the durian."