Poolside Sphinx

The pool party at Sarah's house was supposed to be epic, but I spent the first hour sitting on a lawn chair, clutching my phone like a lifeline. My mom's golden retriever, Buster, would've been better at socializing than me.

"You're not gonna swim?" Sarah called out, doing a cannonball that splashed half the partygoers. My crush, Maya—aka the Sphinx of sophomore year because she was gorgeous, mysterious, and barely spoke to anyone—sat on the pool edge, her legs dangling in the water.

"Maybe later," I lied. Truth was, I hadn't brought a swimsuit. Because who shows up to a pool party without swim gear? Someone who overthinks everything, that's who.

I stared at Sarah's fish tank near the patio door. The goldfish inside, Swim Shady, kept circling the same plastic castle. At least he had a routine. Meanwhile, I was out here having a whole existential crisis about whether jumping in a pool would make me look uncool.

Then the Sphinx spoke.

"Your cousin's dog," Maya said, looking at me with those piercing dark eyes that made my brain turn to static. "Buster, right? He's the one who ate my homework last year when I was over at your aunt's house."

Wait, she remembered that? From like, eight months ago?

"Yeah, that's him," I managed, my voice cracking. Smooth. "He's got good taste."

She laughed. Not a fake Instagram laugh, but a real one. I felt myself grinning like an idiot. Maybe the night wasn't a total flop.

"You should swim," Maya said, standing up. Water dripped down her legs. "It's better out here than sitting with the goldfish."

She held out her hand.

I took it, jumped in fully clothed, and didn't even care about my phone in my pocket. Some nights you just have to take the plunge.