Tangerine Dreams and Sweaty Palms

Maya stood outside the chain-link fence, her palms sweating against the plastic bag holding her change of clothes. Inside, the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing drifted from the Reynolds' backyard. First pool party of sophomore year. No big deal. Except her hair. The tangerine orange disaster that cost three hours and two boxes of dye she'd bought with her allowance, praying her mom wouldn't notice until it was too late.

"You coming in?" Zoe appeared beside her, phone in hand, already scrolling through what was probably the fifth story of the night. "Chloe's being extra catty tonight, by the way. Someone said she saw Tyler with that junior from debate club."

"Figures." Maya adjusted her sunglasses. "My hair looks ridiculous, doesn't it?"

"It's bold, May. Like, actually bold-bold, not your usual 'I changed my eyeliner' bold." Zoe paused. "Tyler's going to love it."

"Tyler doesn't know I exist."

"He commented on your insta last week."

"On a picture of my cat. That's not flirting, that's being a normal human being who likes animals."

They pushed through the gate. The pool area was chaos—floats everywhere, Bluetooth speakers bumping something that definitely wasn't school-appropriate, the scent of coconut sunscreen and chlorine. And there he was. Tyler, standing by the diving board, laughing at something Jason said, water dripping from his hair. Maya's stomach did that thing it always did.

Chloe materialized behind them, feline smirk in place. "Oh my god, did you actually—"

"Dye it myself?" Maya lifted her chin. "Yeah."

"It's... different." Chloe's tone made different sound like a death sentence.

"I think it's sick," said a voice. Tyler. He was actually looking at her, not through her. "Like, actually cool. My cousin did hers pink last summer and my aunt literally cried."

"Your aunt cried over pink hair?"

"She's very traditional." He grinned. "You swimming? The water's actually not freezing for once."

Maya looked at the pool, at Chloe's narrowed eyes, at Zoe giving her tiny thumbs-up. She dropped her bag by a lounge chair and kicked off her sandals. The orange hair could wait. The sweating palms could wait. Sometimes you just had to jump in.