Poolside Philosophy

The chlorine stung my eyes as I floated in my friend Maya's backyard pool, water rippling around me like liquid anxiety. Senior year was two weeks away and my brain was already spiraling.

"You're overthinking it," Maya said, dangling her legs in the water. "College apps aren't life or death."

Easy for her to say. Her palm cradled a vape pen like it was accessories week at Fashion Week. Meanwhile, I couldn't decide between Psychology and Communications without having a full-blown existential crisis.

My phone buzzed on the patio table. Another notification from the family group chat.

"Your mom again?" Maya asked.

"Yeah. She's obsessed with my health now. Just sent me an article about how vitamin D deficiency causes depression. Like THAT'S why I'm stressed about literally everything."

Maya snorted. "Your mom's a whole mood."

Then I saw him — Caleb, the fox. That's what everyone called him anyway. Not because he looked particularly sly or anything, but because that one time at sophomore homecoming, he'd shown up in a tailored orange suit that somehow looked incredible on him. He'd been working as a lifeguard at the community pool all summer, and the sun had turned his skin this impossible golden brown.

He walked past Maya's fence, shirtless, holding a surfboard.

I silently gasped. "Is that—"

"Yeah. He's been going to the beach every morning before his shift," Maya said, not even looking up from her phone. "Why? You gonna finally talk to him instead of just having your entire personality revolve around his Instagram stories?"

"Shut up."

" seriously though, we're seniors, Rina. This is prime time. No more watching from the sidelines."

I paddled to the pool's edge and hauled myself out. Water dripped down my legs as I stood there, suddenly hyper-aware of my swimsuit situation.

"Okay, fine. But if he rejects me, you're paying for my emotional damage bubble tea for a month."

"Deal. Now go get your fox."