Poolside Operations

I'd been conducting covert ops all summer. Okay, fine — spying. From my bedroom window, I had a perfect view of the Martinez's pool, which meant front-row seats to every party, every breakup, every embarrassing cannonball fail.

The Baseball Situation (that's what I called it in my mental logbook) started mid-July. Their older cousin, Mateo, showed up with his glove and this attitude like he owned the driveway. He kept throwing a baseball up in the air, catching it with this effortless snap that made my stomach do weird things.

"Rizz," I whispered to myself.

My little sister, Liana, caught me peeking through the blinds.

"You're literally being a creep right now."

"It's reconnaissance," I said, adjusting my glasses. "Social research."

"Total loser behavior."

Whatever. She wouldn't understand.

Then came the invitation — delivered by Mateo himself, standing at our front door with the baseball tucked under his arm like it was no big deal.

"We're short a player for pool baseball tomorrow," he said, like pool baseball was a normal thing that existed. "You in?"

My brain short-circuited.

"Uh."

"If you're gonna say no, just say no. But we really need someone who can actually catch."

"I can catch," I said, way too fast.

He smirked. "Word? Then show up."

Pool baseball, it turned out, was exactly what it sounded like — baseball rules but played in the shallow end with a tennis ball.

I arrived overdressed, overthinking everything. But the second Mateo tossed me the ball and I made the catch without fumbling, something clicked.

"Bro, where'd you get that arm?" his friend Marcos yelled, splashing water everywhere.

"Self-taught," I said, which was mostly true.

I spent the afternoon diving for catches, getting dunked, laughing until my sides hurt. For the first time, I wasn't the girl watching from the window.

Later, when we were all lying on the deck chairs, breathless and exhausted, Mateo passed me a soda.

"You know," he said, "I saw you watching from your room that first week. Thought you were some neighborhood spy."

My face burned.

"I was being weird. Sorry."

He laughed. "Nah, it's chill. At least you didn't try to fight me like that other kid."

"Literally who does that?"

"You'd be surprised."

That night, I closed my blinds for the first time all summer.

No more spying.