Poolside reconnaissance

The invitation said pool party, but Maya's brain heard social suicide. She stood by the orange inflatable flamingo, clutching her phone like it might actually save her from having to talk to anyone.

"You're literally vibrating," whispered Jordan, her neighbor since forever and the only reason she'd even come. "Just spy a little and relax."

Spy. Right. That's what they called it when you were too socially anxious to actually participate. Maya adjusted her glasses—contacts had been on her to-do list since sixth grade—and surveyed the scene from her strategic spot near the snack table.

Jackson was by the pool, doing that thing where he pretended not to notice everyone noticing him. He'd dyed his hair that weird orange-ish color last week, and somehow it actually worked. Maya's stomach did that annoying flip thing it always did when he was within a twenty-foot radius.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jordan smirked, following her gaze.

"Shut up."

"Bear witness to your truth, Maya. You're gonna talk to him eventually."

Jordan loved using phrases wrong on purpose. It was their thing. But the bear comment made Maya think of Jackson's ridiculous bear tattoo—some deep meaning about family or whatever he'd mumbled about in chemistry when their lab partner was absent.

Maya had spent the entire semester being his silent lab partner, secretly observing the way he chewed on his pencil when he was stuck (always), how he hummed 2000s pop songs under his breath (badly), and how he never made fun of her for being weirdly intense about getting every decimal point exactly right.

"I'm gonna do it," she said, suddenly.

"Do what?"

"The spy thing. But like, actually talk to him."

Jackson was now reaching for a bag of chips—orange cheese puffs, obviously. This was it. The window of opportunity was literally open, and the orange bag was calling her name.

Maya walked over, her heart beating somewhere in her throat. "Nice dye job. Very... intentional."

Jackson looked up, cheese puff halfway to his mouth, and grinned. "Maya, right? Chemistry? You saved my GPA with that titration lab."

"I remember," she said, feeling something shift inside her—maybe confidence, maybe just relief that he actually knew her name. "Your technique was absolute trash."

"Fair." He laughed. "Wanna help me not fail the final? I'll trade you for... not failing. And maybe genuine appreciation."

"Deal. But no more bear tattoo stories unless they're actually interesting."

Jackson's eyes went wide. "You remembered that?"

"I pay attention," she said, and for the first time all night, Maya didn't feel like she was spying on her own life from the sidelines.