The Pool Party Pyramid

Maya stood at the edge of the **pool**, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The end-of-summer party at Jake's house was exactly what she expected: too-loud music, too-bright strings of lights, and way too many people acting like they hadn't spent eight months complaining about school together.

"You made it!" Zoe appeared, somehow perfect even with wet hair and melting mascara. "Jake's in the house. He was asking about you."

Maya's stomach did that annoying flip thing. "Really?"

"Duh. But heads up—the seniors have that stupid **pyramid** going again." Zoe pointed toward the back patio, where a precarious structure of red solo cups rose three feet high, each cup containing a written dare. "Top cup is legendary. Bottom ones are... well, you'll see."

Before Maya could respond, Jake emerged from the sliding glass door, shirtless, with water dripping from his hair. Their eyes met across the deck, and for three seconds, everything went quiet and weird and perfect.

Then his phone buzzed. He checked it, grinned, and something shifted.

"Hey, Maya!" Jake called. "Wanna play?"

"What?" She stepped closer.

"Truth or **spy**." He held up his phone, displaying a screenshot from her private story—a screenshot only one person could've taken. "Someone sent me this. Said they've been watching your stories for months. Waiting for the right moment to... make their move."

Maya's face burned. She recognized the screenshot. It was from three weeks ago, posted at 2 AM when she'd had Feelings and posted way too many angstty songs. Only one person had viewed that story before she deleted it.

She looked at the pyramid of cups. At the top, written in Sharpie: WHO SENT THE SCREENSHOT.

This wasn't a game. This was the most elaborate, public, terrifying way someone had ever admitted to liking her.

Jake was still grinning, but now it seemed... nervous? His phone buzzed again. He didn't check it.

"So," he said, "do you wanna know who's been your personal **spy** all semester? Or should I tell you now and save you the suspense?"

Maya looked at the pyramid, at the party, at Jake—whose ears were turning pink.

"Actually," she said, pulling her phone from her pocket, "I think I already figured it out."

She tapped her screen. Her private story, which had been empty for months, suddenly had a new post: a screenshot of Jake's contact info, captioned: You had me at 'hey.'

The pyramid wobbled. Then fell.

Jake's smile was real this time. "About time."