Three-Second Memory

My palms were sweating so bad I could practically water plants with them. Standing behind the goldfish toss booth at the county fair, watching Rio—literally the cutest girl in sophomore class—walk toward me with her friends, I felt like I might throw up.

"Hey Levi," she said, all casual like she didn't just make my entire week. "Wanna hang later?"

I was so stunned I almost knocked over the fishbowl. These poor goldfish, swimming in tiny circles, probably had better game than me. At least they didn't overthink everything.

But then Kaleb showed up. Kaleb, whose chest probably had its own gravitational pull. Kaleb, the actual bull rider who'd placed at regionals last weekend. He threw his arm around Rio's shoulders like he owned the space between them.

"Yo, Levi," he said, all friendly-chill while simultaneously marking his territory. "You working all night?"

I wanted to say something smooth. Something that showed I wasn't just the goldfish booth guy. Instead I mumbled something about my shift ending at nine while my brain ran through approximately four hundred better responses I could've made.

Later, during my break, I found myself near the palm reader's tent. Some girls from school were giggling over their fortunes. I thought about how everyone kept telling me to just go for it with Rio, how I needed to "take the bull by the horns" or whatever, but I'd been paralyzed by the same three questions since June: What if she said no? What if it got weird? What if I ruined everything?

Then I remembered something my biology teacher said about goldfish—that whole three-second memory thing was actually a myth. They remembered way longer than people thought. These fish in their tiny bowls weren't just swimming in circles. They were living, experiencing, probably plotting their escape when no one was watching.

I took a breath. My palms weren't sweating anymore.

The worst thing that could happen was Rio saying no. That wasn't the end of anything. It was just—information. Something to work with.

I found Rio near the rides, away from Kaleb for once.

"Hey," I said. "You wanna get out of here? Go to Denny's or something?"

She looked at me for this one tiny endless second—longer than any goldfish memory, real or myth.

Then she smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

My palms were definitely sweating again. But somehow, I didn't care anymore.