Poolside Paranoia

I was three margaritas deep at Jessica's end-of-summer pool party when my phone buzzed. notification from Instagram: @anonymous_catfish started following you.

"Who's that?" Maya asked, peering over my shoulder. She was my best friend since seventh grade, the one who knew I still slept with my childhood stuffed penguin.

"No idea," I lied. But my heart was racing.

Because here's the thing—I'd been catching feelings for Tyler all summer. You know, the guy who sat behind me in AP Chem and smelled like vanilla and good grades. And I'd been doing what any normal teenager would do: totally, innocently, casually spying on his social media. Checking his story immediately. Zooming in on his posts. You know, research.

And now someone was spying on me.

The pool water shimmered like liquid diamonds under the fairy lights. People were cannonballing, screaming, laughing, while I sat on the edge with my legs submerged, anxiety rising like bile.

"You okay?" Maya asked. "You look like you're gonna hurl."

"I'm good," I said, but then someone's phone fell in the pool. Splash. Everyone froze. Tyler dove in after it, his shirt clinging to his torso like a second skin when he emerged, water dripping from his hair.

That's when I saw it. On the phone screen before it died: a DM draft. To me. From Tyler's account.

The account that had been following me.

I practically died. Tyler had been spying on me? Checking my posts? Maybe even liking me back?

"Everything okay?" Tyler asked, walking over with the rescued phone. His friend was laughing at something, elbowing him.

"Yeah," I squeaked. "Just... you know."

"Cool," he said, and our fingers brushed as he handed me a water bottle. "See you at school, Leah."

He walked away, and I realized I'd been holding my breath.

Maya grinned. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Oh my god, Leah," she said. "He's been totally flirting with you all summer. Everyone knows."

I looked at the water bottle in my hand. Condensation slick on the plastic, cool against my palm. Sometimes paranoia is just your brain trying to protect you from getting your hopes up. And sometimes, just sometimes, the person you've been spying on from afar has been watching you right back.

"Maybe," I said, finally breathing again. "Maybe."