Poolside Protocol
Maya's phone died at 2:47 PM—exactly twenty-three minutes before Jessica's pool party actually got interesting. She'd been hovering near the snack table, nursing a cup of fruit punch that tasted like disappointment, when the screen went black. No warning. Just dead.
"You good?" Ryan asked, sliding up beside her. He was somehow dry despite everyone else being in the pool.
"My charging cable's at home," Maya said, trying to sound casual instead of panicked. "Whatever. It's fine. I'm present. Living in the moment."
Ryan laughed. "You say that like it's a punishment."
"It IS, Ryan. Have you met teenagers? We literally don't know how to exist without our phones anymore." She gestured at the pool scene: people taking underwater photos, dancing to Bluetooth speakers, documenting every moment like their lives depended on it. "This whole thing is basically content farm."
"True." He picked up something from the fruit bowl. "But have you tried papaya?"
"What?"
"Papaya. It's actually legit." He held it out.
Maya stared at him. "Since when do you eat papaya at a pool party?"
"Since I stopped caring about looking cool." Ryan's grin was annoyingly genuine. "Try it."
She did. It was sweet and weird and nothing like she expected.
"Okay, not terrible," she admitted.
"See? Living in the moment, Maya." He kicked off his flip-flops. "Now get in the water. Your iPhone's not saving you from social interaction today."
"My social skills are fully functional, thank you very much."
"Then prove it."
The pool sparkled with that late-afternoon California gold, catching the light in ways no filter could replicate. People were laughing, splashing, existing without documenting every second. Maybe Ryan had a point. Maybe her dead phone was actually freedom.
Maya set down her cup, took off her cover-up, and jumped.
The water swallowed her whole—cool and shocking and absolutely real.
When she surfaced, Ryan was grinning. "See? Better than Instagram."
"Don't push it," she said, but she was smiling too. "But maybe you're not wrong."