Puddle Panic

The pool party of the year. At least, that's what Maya's insta story said. I stood by the snack table, fully clothed while everyone else splashed in the water like they'd been doing it their whole lives. Which, honestly, they probably had.

"You coming in or what?" Maya called from the deep end. She made it look effortless, gliding through the water like some kind of dolphin-human hybrid.

"Yeah, just, uh, warming up," I lied. I wasn't warming up anything except my social anxiety, which was already at peak performance levels.

The real problem wasn't the swimming. I could swim. The problem was the SHIRT. Taking it off meant revealing the truth: I was not, and had never been, a pool person. My idea of water sports was showering quickly.

And then there was Jordan. Jordan, who was currently doing actual laps while looking effortless and unfairly attractive. Jordan, who I'd been secretly crushing on since Bio class. Jordan, who would definitely notice if I did something embarrassing like slip or flail or choke on pool water.

"Bro, you good?" Jordan asked, suddenly right beside me at the snack table. Dripping wet. Of course.

"Totally," I squeaked. "Just, you know, enjoying the chips."

The backyard gate creaked. Mrs. Henderson's elderly golden retriever, Barnaby, trotted in like he owned the place. And then, with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, made a beeline for the pool.

"Barnaby, NO!" someone screamed.

Too late. The dog launched himself into the deep end with absolute commitment, creating a splash of epic proportions. Directly onto Maya's head. Directly onto Jordan.

Chaos erupted. People were scrambling, laughing, trying to grab the very enthusiastic dog who was now paddling around like he'd discovered his true calling.

And in that moment of pure pandemonium, while everyone was distracted by the canine invasion, I just... slipped into the water. No fanfare, no announcement. Just me and the water, finally.

Jordan grabbed my hand to help pull Barnaby toward the stairs. "Nice entry," they said, grinning.

"Thanks," I said, and I actually smiled. "Working on my splash game."

"You and me both," Jordan said.

We stood there, waist-deep in chlorinated water, wringing out a very wet, very happy dog, and I thought maybe pool parties weren't so terrible after all.