Sweaty Palms

My palms were literally dripping as I adjusted my visor for the third time. Welcome to the Oakridge Country Club, where sixteen-year-old me had landed a summer job as a "recreation assistant" — fancy talk for helping rich kids not drown themselves.

"You good, newbie?" Maya asked, swinging her padel racket like she'd been born with it in her hand. She was twenty, worked the membership desk, and had somehow made the staff uniform look like high fashion.

"Totally good," I lied. "Just... acclimating."

The problem wasn't the job. The problem was *him*.

James, the head lifeguard, existed in a category of human that my geometry class friend Chloe called " criminally hot." He had that messy-dark-hair situation that looked effortless but probably took actual effort. Also, he was nineteen. Also, he'd spoken to me exactly twice.

"You're up," Maya said, pointing at the pool. "Beginner swimming lessons. Good luck, don't let them make you feel ancient."

The group of twelve-year-olds stared at me like I was some exotic specimen. A girl in a pink two-piece crossed her arms.

"How old are you?" she demanded.

"Sixteen," I said, which somehow felt both too young and too old simultaneously.

"So practically thirty," another kid whispered, and they all giggled.

I got them swimming — or at least not dying dramatically — until James walked by. My brain short-circuited. I forgot what I was saying mid-sentence about proper stroke technique. The kids noticed everything, because preteens are basically tiny evil geniuses.

"You're blushing," Pink Two-Piece announced. "At James? Everyone has a crush on James. Even my mom."

"I am not blushing," I blushed harder. "It's the sun."

Later, behind the padel courts, Maya found me practicing my serve against the backboard. I was terrible.

"Wanna play actual padel?" she asked. "Or would you rather keep attacking that wall like it personally offended you?"

"I suck at sports."

"So? I suck at math. We all have our tragedies." She tossed me a racket. "C'mon. First one to eleven wins has to get everyone iced coffees from the club cafe. You're paying."

I actually won a point. Then two. Then I stopped overthinking everything and just — played. Maya whooped when I finally beat her, and we collapsed on the bench laughing, dripping sweat, my hair escaping my visor completely.

"You're alright, newbie," she said, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Also, James thinks you're cool."

"What?"

"What, you think I didn't notice? I notice everything. It's literally my job." She stood up. "Tomorrow, talk to him about something other than pool safety procedures. Maybe ask how long he's been lifeguarding. Or literally anything else. You got this."

I did. The next day, I walked up to James, my palms sweating but my hands steady.

"Hey," I said. "You have any plans for the weekend?"

He grinned. "Now I do."

Sometimes, you just have to jump in the deep end. Even when you're terrified. Especially then.