Poolside Protocol

Marcus's snapback was basically his identity at this point. Forward-facing, perfectly curved brim, not a hair out of place. It was his armor against freshman year at Northwood High.

"Dude, you're gonna spy on her again?" Ty rolled his eyes from the gaming chair.

"It's not spying, it's strategic observation," Marcus corrected, phone cupped in hand like a forbidden artifact. Maya's Instagram story showed three dots at the Carter's pool party. The same party he hadn't been invited to. Yet.

Three hours later, there he was. Chlorine hit him like a physical wall. The pool deck was chaos—sophomores cannonballing, someone blasting Drake too loud, couples doing that gross thing where they swim in synchronized circles.

Marcus kept his hat firmly in place. Swim cap? No. Hat at a pool party? Absolutely.

Then he saw her. Maya, laughing with that effortless energy that made his chest tight. She was swimming toward the deep end, and some senior he didn't know was following way too close. Marcus's feet moved before his brain caught up. No walking. RUNNING.

Pool deck + running + wet tiles = physics equation Marcus failed to solve.

He wiped out spectacularly. Hat flew off. His carefully guarded secret spilled everywhere—hair thinning in patches across his crown. Alopecia. The thing he'd been hiding since seventh grade.

The laughter started immediately. Not mean, just... loud. Maya's head snapped toward the commotion.

Marcus scrambled for his hat, cheeks burning hotter than the sun beating down on the concrete. A hand extended toward him. Maya's hand. Wet, chlorine-smelling, perfect.

"You okay?" she asked, not looking at his hair. Just his eyes.

"Yeah, just... gravity decided to hate me today."

"Gravity hates everyone," she said, pulling him up. "Nice hat, by the way. My brother has the same one."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, he's got alopecia too." She shrugged. "Rock the hat, Marcus. But maybe not while running around wet concrete. That's like, Level 10 beginner move."

He blinked. She knew his name.

"Strategic observation," she winked. "I saw you watching my story. Next time, just ask to come."

Marcus's hat was crooked. His knees were scraped. And he was pretty sure he'd never been happier in his entire life.