Poolside Reconnaissance Mission

Marcus felt like a straight-up zombie. Three consecutive nights of binge-watching The Walking Dead on cable will do that to you. He stood by the edge of the pool, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline, watching Tyler—or as Maya called him, "baseball godTyler"—hold court with the popular crew. The guy's curveball was legendary, but apparently so was his ability to make everyone laugh at his terrible jokes.

"You good, bro?" Jenna asked, flopping onto the lounge chair beside him. Jenna was his plus-one to the party, which was honestly clutch because otherwise he'd be that awkward kid standing alone by the snack table. Again.

"I'm on a mission," Marcus whispered, suddenly feeling ridiculous. "Operation: Don't Be Obvious While Staring at Maya."

Jenna nearly spat out her drink. "Bro, you're not being a spy right now. You're being creepy."

"I'm observing from a distance! There's a difference."

"There's literally not."

She wasn't wrong. Marcus had been crushing on Maya since seventh grade, when she'd defended him from that bully who made fun of his Justice League backpack. Now they were juniors, and somehow he'd managed to have entire conversations with her without passing out, but actually making a move? That was terrifying.

Across the pool, Maya laughed at something Tyler said. Of course she did. Everyone laughed at Tyler's jokes.

"You know what's wild?" Jenna said, sunglasses pushed up on her head. "You're over there acting like this is some covert operation, meanwhile Maya's been asking about you all week."

Marcus's brain short-circuited. "What?"

"What?" Jenna's eyes went wide. "I wasn't supposed to—"

"WHAT?" Marcus came alive for the first time all day.

"She asked if you were coming! She was like, 'Is Marcus coming to the party?' and I was like, 'I think so' and she was like, 'Oh, cool, because I wanted to talk to him about—' "

"ABOUT WHAT?"

"I don't know! I didn't ask! But she definitely wanted to talk to you!"

Marcus looked across the pool again. Maya wasn't looking at Tyler. She was looking at him. Then she did that thing—she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and looked away, trying to act like she hadn't been staring.

That was it. That was THE thing. The universal signal.

"Oh my god," Marcus breathed. "I'm an idiot."

"A zombie idiot," Jenna corrected.

Marcus stood up, his heart doing that thing where it beats so hard you can feel it in your ears. He'd been watching from the sidelines for way too long—literally and metaphorically. Baseball metaphors weren't really his thing, but if life was a game, he'd been sitting on the bench waiting for a coach that was never gonna call his name.

Time to pinch-hit himself.

He walked across the pool deck, every step feeling ridiculous and brave and terrifying all at once. Maya watched him approach, and when their eyes met, she smiled—like, actually smiled, not the polite smile she gave teachers when they asked about homework.

"Hey," Marcus said, and his voice didn't even crack.

"Hey!" Maya's face lit up. "I was hoping you'd come over here. Tyler's been talking about baseball for twenty minutes straight and I swear I'm gonna lose it."

Marcus laughed. "Saved by the bell? Or, like, saved by the non-baseball conversation?"

"Exactly." She stepped closer. "So, cable TV show recommendations? I need something new to binge."

Marcus's zombie brain finally rebooted. "I have Opinions. With a capital O."

"Perfect." She nudged his shoulder. "Tell me everything."

And just like that, Marcus went from zombie spy guy to just Marcus—talking to Maya about TV shows like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jenna caught his eye from across the pool and gave him a thumbs-up.

Mission accomplished.