Unplugged at the Pool Party

The coaxial cable lay severed on my bedroom floor, a casualty of my frantic attempt to reroute it behind my desk. Perfect. Now I'd miss the group chat coordinating Jake's pool party. The one where Chloe—Chloe with the smile that made my chest feel weird—would definitely be there.

"You're actually going?" My sister's gray cat, Pancake, gave me a look from the windowsill that said I was embarrassing myself.

"Shut up, Pancake," I muttered, grabbing my towel. If I didn't have WiFi, at least I could have chlorine.

The party was already chaotic when I arrived. Jake's backyard smelled like coconut sunscreen and teenage desperation. Palm trees towered over the fence, their fronds swaying like they knew something I didn't. Kids were swimming everywhere, laughing, flirting, existing like it was easy.

I hovered near the snack table, my phone dead weight in my pocket. No cable meant no scrolling, no fake texting to look busy. Just me, alone, at a party.

Then Chloe was there, dripping wet and impossibly bright.

"You're not swimming?" she asked, and her hand brushed mine—her palm soft against my clammy one.

"Uh, I—"

"Come on." She pulled me toward the pool, and suddenly I was in the water, chlorine stinging my eyes, her laugh echoing. And for the first time all summer, I wasn't thinking about how I looked or what to say. I was just swimming, treading water beside someone who made me forget to be awkward.

Later, we sat on the deck watching the sunset through the palm trees. My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably my mom calling to say the cable guy was coming tomorrow.

I ignored it.

"You know," Chloe said, "it's way more fun when you're actually here. Not somewhere else in your head."

She took my hand, palm against palm, and something shifted inside me—like finally surfacing after holding my breath underwater.

"Yeah," I said. "It really is."

Pancake would definitely judge me for being this cheesy, but for once, I didn't care.