Poolside Surveillance

The orange soda in my hand was already sweating, mirroring my palms perfectly. Three days into summer break and I was already failing at the whole "chill teen" thing.

"You look like you're conducting a stakeout," said Marcus, dropping onto the lounge chair beside me. "Who are you spying on?"

"I'm not spying," I lied, eyes darting involuntarily toward the deep end where Maya lounged with her friends. She was wearing this yellow bikini and laughing at something someone said, her hair wet and slicked back from the pool. "Just observing the social dynamics of our peer group. For science."

Marcus snorted. "You're so weird, man. Just go talk to her."

Easy for him to say. Marcus was the kind of guy who accidentally had girls fall for him. I was the kind of guy who accidentally spilled orange soda on himself and said awkward things about science.

The pool's surface shimmered with that perfect late-afternoon golden-hour light, the kind that makes everyone look cinematic and beautiful and painfully aware of how not-cinematic they actually are. Maya's friend pointed toward me and Maya looked over, and I did what any rational person would do: I pretended to be extremely interested in the pattern of the palm fronds above my head.

"She's looking at you," Marcus said unnecessarily.

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, she's—"

"Marcus, if you don't stop talking I'm going to strategically drown myself in that pool."

"Dramatic."

"It's called artistic expression."

But then she was walking over, and my heart was doing that stupid fluttery thing that hearts do when they're betraying you, and I realized I was still holding the orange soda can like it was some kind of emotional support beverage.

"Hey," Maya said, dripping pool water onto the concrete around my chair. "You gonna sit there all day or actually come swimming?"

And there it was: the invitation. The moment. The fork in the road between being the guy who watched from the sidelines and the guy who jumped in.

"I was just," I started, then stopped. What was I doing? Spying? Observing? Being pathetic? "I was just working up the courage to ask if there's room for one more."

Maya grinned. "There's always room. Just don't splash me."

"No promises," I said, and actually stood up, and actually walked toward the pool, and the whole time Marcus was shaking his head behind me like the smug mentor character in every teen movie ever.

But whatever. I was too busy jumping into the deep end to care.