The Bet We Never Should've Made

I wasn't supposed to be at Jordan's party. I wasn't supposed to be anywhere, honestly, considering I'd spent the last three weeks basically ghosting everyone after what happened with Chloe. But Mia dragged me there, said I needed to "stop being weird and live your life, bestie."

So there I was, standing at the edge of Jordan's above-ground pool, clutching a red Solo cup of something that was definitely mostly soda, watching Mia laugh with people I'd known since middle school but felt like strangers to now. The pool lights turned the water an eerie electric blue, and I could hear someone's playlist thumping from inside the house.

"You gonna stand there all night looking like you're plotting everyone's murder?" Jordan appeared beside me, grinning that way that always made my stomach do this stupid little flip thing. "Or are you actually gonna jump in? Everyone else has."

"Hard pass," I said, trying to sound chill instead of like I was freaking out. "I'm good here."

"Your loss." They shrugged. "Hey, did you hear about the fantasy football pool? Someone actually bet on the Chiefs to win the Super Bowl. Actual clown energy."

I snorted before I could stop myself. "Wow, bold strategy." And then, because my brain had apparently taken the night off, I added, "Okay, but what if we made our own pool? Like, for the dumbest things people say at parties? We could keep a running tally."

Jordan's eyes lit up. "I'm in. But we're running out of time before someone says something truly unhinged." They checked their phone. "You've got competition, though. Lucas and Sam already have a whole spreadsheet going."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Bro, I wish I was kidding. They've got categories. Most dramatic relationship announcement, worst pickup line, most suspicious bathroom trip..." Jordan laughed, and I felt something in my chest loosen that had been tight for weeks. "Anyway, you joining? Or are you gonna keep pretending you're too cool for everything?"

I looked at the pool, at Mia gesturing for me to come over, at Jordan waiting for my answer like it actually mattered. And I realized I'd been running from the wrong things—mistakes I'd made, conversations I needed to have, friendships I'd let fade. Not the people who still wanted me around, even after I'd messed everything up.

"Yeah," I said, finally setting my cup down on a patio table. "I'm in. But fair warning—I'm absolutely winning this pool."

"Bold words from someone who's been antisocial for a month," Jordan shot back, already typing into their phone. "You're on. But first, you're jumping in that pool. Everyone does it. It's basically an entry fee."

"You first, then." And before Jordan could respond, I shoved them—gently, I thought—into the water.

They surfaced, sopping wet and grinning. "Oh, you are SO done for."

I jumped in after them.

Maybe it was the shock of cold water, or the way Jordan laughed like they meant it, or Mia cheering from the edge of the pool, but something shifted. I could feel it. The things I'd been carrying around didn't feel so heavy anymore. And maybe—just maybe—I didn't have to figure everything out alone.