Poolside Protocol

My mission: survive Jordan's pool party without anyone noticing the monstrosity on my head. The beanie in July? Desperation. Mom buzzed my hair too short, and now I looked like a human potato.

I'd been conducting surveillance from the lounge chair for twenty minutes, phone angled like a pro. Classic spy technique—pretend to scroll TikTok while actually watching Chelsea laugh at something Tyler said. My best friend since third grade, now standing three feet away in a bikini that made my stomach do actual gymnastics.

"Yo, Marcus!"

Damn. Detected.

Tyler, Jordan, and Chelsea splashed over, grinning like they'd just cracked the nuclear codes. "You're just gonna sit there looking like a suburban dad at a barbecue?"

"I'm good," I lied. "Someone's gotta hold down the fort. Keep an eye on the perimeter."

"The perimeter?" Chelsea teased, droplets clinging to her arms. "It's a backyard, not a NATO base."

Before I could deploy a tactical retreat, Tyler's hands were on my shoulders.

"Wait—"

*Water exploded everywhere.*

The hat floated away like a tragic little boat. My disastrous haircut glistened under the sun for all to see. I surfaced, gasping, wiping water from my eyes like my life depended on it.

Silence. Then Tyler doubled over. "Bro, you look like a bear. An actual, confused bear."

Chelsea didn't laugh. She just looked at me, really looked at me, and slid into the water beside me. Her hand brushed mine underwater. "I think it looks cute, actually."

The world tilted sideways.

"Yeah?" I said, sounding like an idiot.

"Yeah." She squeezed my hand beneath the surface, invisible to everyone else. "Besides, you can bear the haircut for, like, two weeks before it grows out."

Tyler groaned. "Did you just—"

"What? It's a solid pun."

I didn't care that I looked like a confused woodland creature. Chelsea was holding my hand, her palm warm against mine, and suddenly the mission parameters had completely changed. Sometimes the best cover gets blown, and it turns out that was the whole point.