Sunburned at the Deep End

The chlorine stung my eyes as I floated at the country club pool, trying to look like I belonged. I felt like a zombie—three hours of sleep post-breakup will do that to you. Mia had texted "we need to talk" at midnight, and I'd spent the rest of the night overthinking every emoji she'd ever sent me.

"Yo, Marcus! You gonna hover there all day or actually play?" Josh called from the padel court. His new girlfriend, Skylar, laughed at something I definitely wasn't funny enough to say.

I waved him off, sinking lower until the water covered my chin. My seven-year-old sister's goldfish had died yesterday, and honestly? Bubbles had a better love life than me. At least Bubbles got to swim in peace without watching his ex make out with someone on Instagram stories.

"You're brooding again," Kayla said, dropping onto the lounge chair beside me. She's my cousin, which means she's obligated to care, but also obligated to roast me. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world. Or at least the weight of your terrible taste in girls."

"Shut up." I paddled to the edge and hauled myself out, dripping everywhere. "I'm not brooding. I'm processing."

"Processing? Is that what we call staring at Mia's Snapchat score for three hours straight?" She held up her phone. "Speaking of—she's here."

My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to stomach. Mia was walking toward the pool with her friends, wearing that swimsuit I'd bought her for her birthday. I felt like I was facing a bear in the woods—frozen, terrified, probably about to get eaten alive.

"Be cool," Kayla whispered. "Or don't. You do you, disaster boy."

Mia saw me. Our eyes locked across the pool. For three seconds, I swear the world stopped. The splashing, the music, Josh's annoying laugh—everything faded except her looking at me like I mattered.

Then she kept walking.

"Oof," Kayla winced. "That was rough."

"Yeah." I grabbed my towel. "You know what? Let's go."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Let's get food. Let's go rescue another goldfish. Let's just... not be here." I forced a laugh. "I'm done drowning in drama. Literally."

She grinned. "There he is. The Marcus I know. The one who absolutely cannot handle emotions."

"Yeah, well." I slung my towel over my shoulder. "Emotions are for people with more than three hours of sleep." As we walked away from the pool, I actually smiled. Whatever. There's always next summer. And next time? No padel. Definitely no padel.