Poolside Mission Impossible

Chloe adjusted her sunglasses for the third time, trying to look casual while definitely not staring at Jake across the pool. This was basically a spy operation at this point. Operation Don't-Weird-Out-The-Cute-Lifeguard.

"You're being creepy," Maya whispered, dropping onto the lounge chair beside her. "Just talk to him already."

"I'm not being creepy," Chloe hissed. "I'm conducting surveillance. There's a difference."

Maya snorted. "You've been zombie-walking through this whole party, Chlo. You literally fell asleep during pizza earlier."

That was fair. Between summer school AP Euro and her mom's new work schedule, Chloe had been running on pure caffeine and determination for three weeks straight. She felt like a zombie, which was honestly perfect for this whole social anxiety thing.

The pool was packed—Jake's annual summer blowout, everyone who mattered (and plenty of people who didn't) floating around in hormonal chaos. Chloe had been swimming through the same internal debate all summer: Jake was cute, sure, but was he worth potentially embarrassing herself in front of half the sophomore class?

"He's looking over here," Maya nudged her.

Chloe's heart did that annoying fluttery thing. "No he's not."

"Yeah he is. He's literally watching you spy on him. It's meta."

Jake was indeed watching. And smiling. And oh god, he was walking over.

"Hey," he said, dripping pool water everywhere. "You haven't been in the water all day. Everything good?"

Chloe opened her mouth but her brain short-circuited.

"She's conducting important surveillance," Maya announced. "For her mission."

Jake laughed. It was a nice laugh. "Cool. Can I join the spy agency?"

Chloe finally found her voice. "Only if you can handle the intense training." Why did she say that? What training?

"I think I can handle it." Jake sat on the edge of her chair. "So, I was gonna go get food. There's actual zombies in the kitchen—my mom ordered way too much. Want to come?"

Running through her head: every possible way this could go wrong. But then she looked at Maya, who was already doing that encouraging eyebrow thing.

"Sure," Chloe said, standing up before she could overthink it. "Lead the way, spy."

Jake grinned. "Cool. Also, you should know—I've been trying to talk to you all day. You're not exactly subtle with the surveillance."

As they walked toward the house, Chloe realized something: being a zombie was exhausting, but sometimes you had to stop running from the scary stuff and just let yourself be seen.

Even if your best friend was absolutely going to make fun of you later.