The Sphinx of Summer

Maya's cousin had dragged her to this end-of-summer pool party, and now Maya was stuck in the shallow end, floating in her oversized t-shirt like a awkward buoy. The swimming pool stretched before her like a social minefield — popular kids doing cannonballs, couples making eyes at each other, and somewhere, Papaya Thompson was probably being cool.

"You gonna stay in that corner all night?"

Maya jumped. Jake, the sphinx of sophomore year, had materialized beside her. He got the nickname because he was impossibly hard to read — mysterious, quiet, always watching everything but saying nothing. Riddle wrapped in an enigma, blah blah blah. Mostly Maya just thought he was kind.

"I'm not hiding," she lied. "I'm... strategically positioning myself."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "For what? The zombie apocalypse?"

"Maybe." She shrugged, then noticed something floating in the water near his hand. "Is that... papaya?"

"My sister's trying to be fancy with the snacks." He fished out the tropical fruit slice. "Wanna try? Bet you've never had papaya in a swimming pool before."

"That's the weirdest bet I've ever heard."

"But you're considering it."

Maya looked at him — really looked. The way droplets clung to his eyelashes. The tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. How he'd noticed her hiding in the corner but hadn't walked away.

"Okay," she said, taking the papaya. "But if this is gross, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

The fruit was sweet, strange, unexpectedly perfect. Like this moment. Like how Jake's hand brushed hers when he passed it to her, electricity under water.

"So," he said, "about that zombie apocalypse strategy..."

Maya laughed. For the first time all night, she wasn't the awkward girl in the corner. She was just Maya, eating tropical fruit with a sphinx who might not be so mysterious after all.

"Step one," she said, "we secure the snacks."