Spinach Smile & The Summer

Maya stood by the chain-link fence, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The Hernandez twins' annual blowout was already in full swing—music thumping from Bluetooth speakers, the unmistakable smell of chlorine and coconut sunscreen drifting through the air, and what sounded like half the sophomore class cannonballing into the pool.

She adjusted the bucket hat she'd practically superglued to her head since The Great Bangs Incident of Tuesday. Her mom had gone scissor-happy during a "quick trim," and now Maya looked like she'd been attacked by a lawnmower. The hat was her only defense.

"Yo, Maya! You coming in or what?" Carlos called from the deep end. Her stomach did that stupid flippy thing it always did when he talked to her. He was floating on his back, palm trees swaying behind him in the golden afternoon light like something out of a movie.

"Maybe later!" she called back, praying her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.

The real problem wasn't the hat disaster. It was that she'd gone full delusional and decided today was the day she'd finally talk to Carlos—like actually talk to him, not just exist in his general vicinity. She'd even practiced conversation starters in her bathroom mirror like a total psychopath.

Her best friend Riley materialized beside her, holding a paper plate piled with chips and dip. "You've been hovering by the fence for twenty minutes. You look like you're guarding against prison escape."

"I'm contemplating my life choices," Maya muttered.

"You're overthinking again." Riley shoved a spinach artichoke dip-loaded chip toward her face. "Here. Carbs cure anxiety."

Maya took the chip, and of course—that's when it happened. Carlos hauled himself out of the pool, water dripping everywhere, and started walking toward them. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and Maya's brain short-circuited.

"Hey," he said, smiling like he didn't just destroy her entire nervous system. "You gonna join us?"

"Yeah, um, definitely," Maya said, and then, because the universe hated her personally, "Just finishing my spinach."

She gestured vaguely with the chip and a glob of green dip splatted onto her chin.

Silence. The worst kind of silence.

Carlos's eyes flickered to her chin, then back to her face, and instead of laughing, he just... didn't. "You got a little—" He motioned to his own chin.

Maya wiped it off with the back of her hand, mortification burning through her entire body. She was about to fake a family emergency and sprint home when Carlos spoke again.

"Anyway, I was gonna ask—" He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking weirdly nervous too. "You wanna play cornhole? Jake and Sarah need partners."

The relief hit her so hard she almost laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd love that."

"Cool." He grinned. "But first—" He pointed to his own chin again. "You might wanna check a mirror."

Maya reached up to her chin. Still more spinach.

"Carlos, bro," Riley said, "you could've led with that."

"I thought she knew!"

Maya pulled her hat down lower over her face, but she was smiling. Sometimes the most embarrassing moments turned out to be the ones that broke the ice. And maybe—just maybe—the hat could come off tomorrow. But today? Today she'd take spinach in her teeth and a cornhole invitation as a win.