The Bear by the Backyard Pool

The social pyramid at Ridgeview High was real, and I was definitely in the basement level—right next to the kids who brought trapper keepers to tenth grade.

"You're going, right?" Chloe asked, already halfway through her makeup routine. "Ethan's gonna be there."

Ethan. The guy who'd sat behind me in bio since September and whose handwriting looked like actual calligraphy. The guy I'd been lowkey crushing on since that time he let me copy his homework when I was having a literal mental breakdown over mitosis.

"His parents have that cat," I stalled. "The mean one. Remember?"

"Just bear it for a few hours, Maya. It's one pool party." She passed me my swimsuit. "You're not gonna spend another Friday watching Netflix while your cat judges you from across the room."

Valid.

Ethan's house was already popping when we arrived. The pyramid of red solo cups on the patio table looked like something from a teen movie—totally illegal, obviously, but that was the point. I grabbed a water instead, because getting grounded right before finals would be a whole mood.

I found Ethan by the pool, looking unfairly good in swim trunks that matched his eyes. Someone had started a chicken fight in the water, and the noise level was approaching concert decibels.

"Hey," he said, smiling like he was actually happy to see me. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I almost didn't. Your cat still hates me, by the way."

He laughed, and it was this warm sound that made something flutter in my chest. "Yeah, Lucifer hates everyone. That's his whole vibe."

"Solid name choice."

We talked for twenty minutes about everything and nothing—his weird obsession with ancient Egypt, my disastrous attempt at making matcha cookies last weekend, why the school cafeteria persisted in serving "pizza" that tasted like cardboard and sadness. The social pyramid didn't exist in this little bubble by the pool edge.

"You should come swimming," he said suddenly. "Everyone's doing it."

I froze. The whole reason I'd been strategically not-quite-swimming was that I hadn't exactly mastered the art of looking graceful while doing it. Swimming was my villain origin story, basically.

"I'm good," I said. "Someone needs to hold down the land territory."

"Come on." He stood up, water dripping from his hair like he was in a music video. "I won't let you drown. Promise."

And okay, maybe it was the sun, or the fact that he'd just called me funny twice, or that his eyes were doing something to my brain that should probably be studied by scientists. But I said yes.

"Fine. But if I embarrass myself, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

I jumped in wearing what I hoped was a brave face, and somehow it was fine. We played an intense game of water volleyball where I missed literally every ball but laughed so hard my stomach hurt. The pyramid of social status dissolved into something else—something easier.

Later, as the sun started setting and everyone got out for pizza, Ethan sat beside me on a lounge chair.

"You're different than I thought," he said.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Definitely good." He paused. "Same time next week? My house again?"

The cat appeared on the patio railing, watching us like she knew something I didn't. Lucifer or not, I was pretty sure this was the start of something.

"I'll be there," I said. "Even if I have to bear the cat again."