Poolside Protocol

I called it poolside surveillance. Really, I was just watching Caleb from behind my sunglasses while pretending to scroll TikTok.

Caleb's baseball cap sat backwards on his head, the faded navy fabric practically his trademark at Northwood High. I'd spent half of sophomore year memorizing how he'd adjust that hat during games—tug the brim between innings, flip it around after a strikeout. I had it bad.

Then came Taylor's pool party, the social event of July. I spent forty-five minutes outfit-stressing over my bikini while my little brother offered unhelpful commentary about how I looked "trying too hard."

Rude, but not wrong.

When I arrived, the cool kids clustered around the deep end like some exclusive species. I positioned myself poolside, hat pulled low (borrowed from my brother's closet, whatever), nursing a lukewarm Sprite.

That's when Jenna plopped down beside me, smelling like coconut sunscreen and chaos.

"You're practically a spy," she whispered, grinning. "I've been watching you watch Caleb for twenty minutes."

I almost choked on my drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please." She grabbed my hand, turned my palm upward like she was about to read my future. "You're not slick, Maya. But also? He's looking over here. Like, a lot."

My palms sweat. "He's not. He's with Chloe."

"And yet." Jenna's eyes danced. "Wanna know what your palm says?"

"Not really—"

"It says you should go talk to him instead of conducting surveillance from the lawn chairs." She squeezed my hand. "Baseball season's over, Maya. But the game's still going."

I watched Caleb adjust his hat—same motion, same guy. My stomach did that awful flutter thing.

"What if he's not looking at me?"

"What if he is?" Jenna stood up, pulling me with her. "Come on. I'll wingman. We'll make it look accidental."

"Accidentally on purpose?"

"Exactly. Your brother's hat, my terrible aim with a beach ball, and Caleb's terrible coordination." She winked. "Trust me, I've orchestrated worse."

So I went. And when Caleb laughed at something I said—actually laughed, hat falling off completely, revealing hair I'd somehow never seen without the navy fabric—I caught Jenna's thumbs-up from across the pool.

Surveillance complete. Mission accomplished.

And maybe, just maybe, I'd finally put down the binoculars.