Saltwater & Second Chances

Maya's palm was sweating — like, actually dripping — as she clutched the plastic solo cup. Jordan's annual beach rager was in full swing, the bass vibrating through the sand beneath her flip-flops. Two hours ago, her best friend since kindergarten had drunkenly announced to everyone that Maya was "literally in love" with Tyler, which was false, obviously, except now Tyler was across the bonfire giving her that look.

"You good?" Chloe appeared at her elbow, holding two cups. "You've been standing here staring at the water for twenty minutes."

"I'm bearing it," Maya deadpanned. "Get it? Because it's literally like a hundred degrees?"

Chloe rolled her eyes so hard it almost looked painful. "Your puns are actually tragic. Here." She pressed a cup into Maya's hand. "It's lemonade. I figured you shouldn't be operating heavy machinery. Or like, walking." She paused. "Also, I may have accidentally told Jordan that you think her bear tattoo is sick, so now she wants to be besties."

Maya groaned. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it IS sick! The shading is actually insane!" Chloe defended, then her expression softened. "Hey, for real though — Jordan got that tattoo last summer when she and Sam broke up. She said it represents 'the thing you have to face.'" She side-eyed Maya significantly. "Some people face their problems. Some people run away from parties and stand by the ocean pretending to text."

The accusation hit harder than Maya expected. Because Chloe wasn't wrong — Maya WAS running. From the awkwardness with Tyler, from Jordan's attention, from the fact that her supposed best friend had aired her supposedly secret feelings to everyone like it was casual gossip.

"I'm not running," Maya said, but her voice wavered.

"Then prove it." Chloe stepped back, grinning. "Jordan's doing group shots in five minutes. If you're not there, I'm telling everyone you still sleep with that teddy bear from seventh grade."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Maya looked at the dark water stretching endlessly toward the horizon, then back at the glow of the bonfire where people were laughing, living, being messy and human and real. She set down her cup.

"Fine," she said, already moving toward the light. "But if this goes sideways, you're taking the blame."