The Night I Didn't Drown

I showed up to Tyler's pool party wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt because 1) I didn't own swim trunks that fit since seventh grade, and 2) I was hoping I could bail early. But nope. Before I could say 'actually I forgot my towel,' someone shoved me toward the deep end.

That's when I saw her. Maya. The fox who sat behind me in history class, currently looking like a literal goddess in a red bikini while I was hyperventilating about public swimming. Tyler's pool was basically a zombie apocalypse—screaming freshmen doing cannonballs, that one kid who always smelled like chlorine breath floating weirdly in the corner, and me, suddenly treading water like my life depended on it.

"You good?" Maya appeared beside me, and my brain stopped working. I was definitely not good. I was awkwardly splashing, probably looking like I was swimming through invisible molasses.

"Totally," I lied, going under for exactly one second too long.

She laughed. "You're spying on the snacks table, aren't you? I saw you staring at those party pizzas."

I wanted to die. But she was smiling, so maybe not completely dead.

Then Tyler, the resident bull of our grade, did a belly flop off the diving board that created a wave so massive it nearly drowned both of us. We surfaced at the same time, gasping and laughing, and suddenly I wasn't the awkward kid in cargo shorts anymore. I was just a person, swimming with a girl who maybe didn't think I was a total loser.

"Pizza after this?" she asked, and my seventeen years of social anxiety washed away with the pool water.

"Only if you don't judge my eating speed," I said back.

"Deal, fox." She winked.

And just like that, I went from zombie-fied wallflower to someone with actual plans. The pool party didn't end with me going home early to overthink everything. It ended with a shared pepperoni slice and Maya's number in my phone. Sometimes, you don't drown. You learn to swim.