Saltwater Summer

Maya gripped her iPhone so hard her palm went white, the case slick with sunscreen and nervous sweat. The screen illuminated her frantic expression—3% battery, three unread texts from Kai asking if she was actually coming to the bonfire tonight.

"You're overthinking it again," said Zoe, adjusting her bikini top as they trudged through sand dunes toward the flickering orange glow down the beach. "He's literally just a guy who thinks your memes are funny. Calm down."

Easy for Zoe to say. Zoe had kissed three people this summer already. Maya's grand romantic history consisted of almost holding hands with Tyler in seventh grade before he moved to Ohio.

The bonfire crackled and popped against the inky sky, throwing wild shadows across everyone's faces. Maya spotted Kai immediately—he was standing near the water's edge, laughing at something, that stupid perfect smile visible even from twenty feet away. Her stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be an organ.

She started toward him, rehearsing casual greetings in her head. Hey! What's up? No, too desperate. Yo, what's good? Too forced. She was so focused on not looking like a total disaster that she didn't see the rogue wave until it was too late.

Cold water surged up the shore, swallowing her sneakers. Maya yelped and stumbled backward, but her iPhone—her brand new iPhone she'd saved up for for eight months—slipped from her fingers and landed with a tiny splash in three inches of seawater.

Time stopped. The universe narrowed to one horrifying fact: her phone, her entire social life, her connection to Kai, was currently submerged in saltwater.

"No no no NO—" She dropped to her knees, frantically pawing through the wet sand until her fingers closed around the sleek rectangle. It was dead. Completely, utterly dead.

Tears pricked her eyes because honestly, why was she like this? Why did everything have to be so awkward?

"Whoa, you okay?"

Maya looked up. Kai was standing there, sand between his toes, concern knitting his eyebrows together. He knelt beside her, not noticing (or choosing to ignore) that she was currently the world's biggest loser.

"My phone," she choked out. "I just... I just ruined my entire life in three seconds of clumsiness."

Kai's eyes dropped to the device in her wet, sandy hands, then back to her face. And then he did something unexpected—he laughed. Not mean laughing, but this warm, genuine sound that made the back of Maya's neck feel hot.

"Last week I dropped my AirPods in a porta-potty at Coachella," he said. "I feel your pain. That's practically a tragedy."

He held out his hand to help her up. His palm was warm and slightly calloused from guitar, she'd learn later, when they'd sit together for two hours by the dying fire while he explained his embarrassingly long music origin story.

"Come on," Kai said, pulling her to her feet. "I'll introduce you to everyone as the girl who survived a sneak attack from the ocean. You'll be legendary."

Maya's phone was still dead. Her sneakers were squishy disasters. But as Kai led her toward the fire, their fingers still brushing, she thought maybe—just maybe—this summer wasn't a total loss after all.