Poolside Surveillance

Marcus had mastered the art of looking busy while actually doing nothing. Leaning against the chain-link fence near the community pool, he pretended to check his phone—again—as if his entire social life depended on refreshing Instagram every thirty seconds.

The truth? He was totally spying.

Not in a creepy way (he hoped). Just... observing. Chelsea had been coming to the pool every afternoon since summer break started, and Marcus had memorized her schedule the way normal people memorized song lyrics. Monday through Thursday, 3 PM sharp. Perfect dive entries, effortless laps, hair that somehow looked amazing even when wet.

He was working up his nerve to actually say hey when the first drop hit.

Literally—a water droplet the size of a golf ball splashed onto his phone screen. Then came the rumble, low and distant like a giant clearing their throat. The lifeguard's whistle pierced the air three sharp times. Everyone out. Lightning protocol.

Chelsea grabbed her towel and made a beeline for the covered gazebo where Marcus was already pretending to be (for legitimate reasons this time). She slid in next to him, shaking water from her hair like some kind of majestic dog, and Marcus's brain short-circuited.

"Hey," she said. "You're here every day too."

Marcus froze. She'd noticed. She'd definitely noticed.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, sometimes. Not like, every—"

"Chill, I'm not judging." She grinned, and it was worse than any lightning strike. "I've seen you watching. Don't worry, your spying skills are garbage."

Heat crawled up Marcus's neck. "I wasn't—"

"You were totally checking me out during laps last Tuesday. It's fine." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "I'm Chelsea."

"Marcus."

"Nice to finally meet you, Marcus." Outside, the sky lit up purple-white, rain drumming against the gazebo roof like it was trying to send a message. "So. You always hang out during lightning storms waiting to talk to girls, or is today special?"

Marcus laughed despite himself. "Usually I just watch from the fence. You know. From a distance."

"Well, the distance thing? Clearly not working." Chelsea shifted closer. "Maybe try the direct approach next time."

Lightning flashed again, illuminating her perfect smirk, and Marcus thought maybe—just maybe—his pathetic spy routine had actually paid off.