Poolside Pyramids

The pool was dead. I mean literally empty—just me, Marco, and that one lifeguard who definitely wasn't getting paid enough to watch three awkward sophomores NOT swim.

"Bro, just jump in already," Marco said, scrolling through his phone like it held the secrets to the universe. "You've been staring at the water for twenty minutes."

"It's not about the water," I muttered, even though it totally was. My therapist said exposure therapy. My mom said stop being weird. Marco said just cannonball already and get it over with.

But here's the thing about pools in July—everyone's there. The popular kids, the crushes, the people who definitely don't need to see me in swim trunks. So I'd been strategically avoiding this moment since June.

Then HE walked in.

Jordan fucking Rivera. Basketball captain, owner of the hair that actually looked good when wet, and the reason I'd been practicing my cool-guy nod in the mirror for weeks. He was wearing these bright orange trunks that somehow looked incredibly normal and incredibly good at the same time.

"What's up, Marco?" Jordan nodded, then his eyes flicked to me. "Hey, you're in my English class, right?"

My brain short-circuited. "Yeah. I mean—yeah. English. That class. With the books."

Marco snorted. I'd murder him later.

"Cool." Jordan dropped his towel on a chair and started stacking the foam pool floats into this precarious pyramid thing. "Wanna play? We're doing human pool volleyball but with rules I'm making up."

"Rules you're making up?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Exactly. Last time, Charlie tried to build this strategy pyramid of who should cover what zone and we lost horribly. So today, no pyramids. Just chaos."

"I'm in," I said, because apparently my mouth worked faster than my anxiety.

And somehow, someway, I spent the next hour playing whatever chaotic game Jordan had invented, getting splashed, accidentally dunking Marco (revenge), and laughing so hard my sides hurt. Jordan's orange trunks flashed through the water as he made impossible saves. I wasn't the awkward kid who couldn't swim—I was just some guy playing pool volleyball with the cool kids.

When Jordan handed me a juice box afterward and said "same time tomorrow?" I realized something wild: sometimes you just gotta jump in the pool. Even if you're not ready. Especially then.