The Papaya Incident

The invitation to Jordan's pool party had been sitting in my Messages app for three days. Jordan, who sat two rows behind me in AP Bio and somehow made everything look effortless. Jordan, whose Instagram stories were basically a documentary of how much cooler my life could be.

"You're going, right?" Maya asked, sliding into the cafeteria booth. "Everyone's gonna be there. It's, like, the social event of the season."

I shrugged, trying to look chill. "Maybe. I've got... stuff."

Maya rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "You always have stuff. Live a little, Bear."

Yeah, Bear. My childhood nickname that had followed me like a stubborn ghost since I was six and refused to take off my bear-themed rain boots, even in July. Maya was the only one who still used it. She was also the only friend who'd stuck around since elementary school, even after I'd accidentally dyed my hair orange in seventh grade trying to look like that guy from Stranger Things.

"I'm not going as Bear," I said. "I'm going as me. Regular, normal me who doesn't have stupid nicknames."

"Regular, normal you who's been staring at Jordan's Instagram for twenty minutes straight?"

I glared at her. "It's called gathering intel."

The party was exactly the kind of chaos that made my skin itch. Girls in bikinis that cost more than my entire wardrobe, guys doing cannonballs off the diving board, and somewhere, a Bluetooth speaker blasting music that vibrated in my chest. I hovered near the snack table, clutching a plastic cup like it was a life preserver.

Then I saw him. Jordan. In the pool. Wet hair pushed back, laughing at something some girl in a floral bikini had said. My stomach did that weird fluttery thing that definitely wasn't nerves.

"Hey, you came!"

I jumped, almost spilling my drink. Jordan was standing right there. Out of the pool. Up close. With water droplets on his chest that I was absolutely not staring at.

"Yeah, um, I came," I said, and immediately wanted to die. "To the party. I came to the party. Not... other things."

Kill me now.

Jordan laughed. Not in a mean way. In a way that made his nose crinkle a little. "I see. Well, I'm glad you're here. Want some fruit? My mom went all out with this tropical theme."

He pointed at a bowl filled with pineapple, mango, and something bright orange and speckled.

"What's that?" I asked, gesturing to the orange thing.

"Papaya," he said, picking up a piece. "Ever tried it?"

"No. Is it good?"

"It's... interesting." He popped it into his mouth. "Kind of like if a mango and a melon had a baby, but also a little weird. Here, try."

He held out a piece. In that moment, with chlorine smell in the air and music thumping and his eyes waiting for my answer, I realized something important. I could stay the girl who stood by the snack table all night, or I could be the girl who tried the papaya.

I took it. "Okay. But if it's gross, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

I bit into it. It was sweet and musky and nothing like I expected. But Jordan was watching me, really seeing me, and that made everything taste better.

"Well?" he asked.

"Actually? Not bad," I said, and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like I was pretending. "I might need another piece to be sure, though."

Jordan's smile was worth the social anxiety. "I think that can be arranged."

Maya found me an hour later, floating in the pool with Jordan and his friends, teaching them how to do the worst cannonballs possible.

"Look at you," she mouthed from the edge of the pool. "Living your best life."

I flipped her off, but I was grinning. Some nights really did change everything.