Three Feet From Glory

The problem with liking someone is that your brain suddenly forgets how to be a normal human being.

I stood three feet from Maya at Jensen's pool party, clutching a red plastic cup like it was a life raft. She was laughing at something Tyler said, tilting her head back, her wet hair slicking dark against her neck in the most perfect way possible. I'd been waiting for my moment to talk to her all week.

"Hey Liam, you gonna swim or just stan from the edge all day?" Jensen called, splashing water my way. I fake-laughed, because that's what you do when someone calls you out for being a coward.

My stomach did this nervous little flip, like it always did around Maya. I reached for the veggie tray on the patio table—anything to look busy. Popped some spinach in my mouth because my mom says I need more iron or whatever. Chewing nervously, watching Maya wipe water from her eyes, sunlight catching on her orange bikini strap.

Okay, this was it. I was gonna do it. I was gonna swim over there and actually speak to her like a functional person.

I took a breath and walked toward the pool, catching Maya's eye. She smiled. She actually smiled at me.

Then Jensen's dog Rufus came barreling out of nowhere, jumping up to greet me, and I stumbled back, my foot catching on the lounge chair behind me. I went down hard, arm flailing, and somehow managed to knock the entire veggie tray onto the pool deck. Spinach went everywhere.

The whole pool went quiet.

Maya was still looking at me. I could feel my face burning hotter than anything.

Then she started laughing. Not mean laughing—she was doubled over, genuinely cracking up, and suddenly everyone else was too.

"Oh my god," she said, swimming over to the edge. "I was literally just thinking about how I wanted to talk to you but I was too nervous."

"You? Nervous? To talk to me?" I asked, sitting up.

"You're literally the cute guy from English," she said, shrugging like it was obvious. Then she extended her hand, palm up, from the water. "Help me out? I'm done swimming anyway."

I took her hand. It was soft and cool from the pool.

"Also," she whispered, leaning in, "you have a little—" she pointed to her front teeth.

Spinach. Of course.

But for some reason, as I wiped it away, laughing, I didn't even care. Some days you fall. Some days you get the girl. Sometimes you do both in the same five minutes.