Water Under the Bridge

The hat was my armor. A black snapback pulled low enough that I could watch Jordan without actually, you know, WATCHING him. That would be weird. That would be admitting that I'd been memorizing the way his hair curled under his Padres cap since seventh grade.

"You gonna play or what?" Maya asked, already on the padel court with her racquet raised. She'd been my best friend since we were six and she'd pushed me off the swings. We'd come a long way from playground drama to country club courts.

"I'm coming," I muttered, adjusting my hat like it was the only thing holding me together.

Jordan was already there, stretching his arms over his head, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal—okay, so I was watching. Whatever. It wasn't like I was the only one. Half the girls at our school had been thirsting over him since he grew six inches over the summer and joined the varsity tennis team.

But now he was HERE. At our padel match. Because apparently his mom was friends with Maya's mom and somehow this had become a "group hang."

The game was a disaster. I tripped over my own feet twice. My racquet slipped out of my hands and went flying into the mesh fence. Maya kept giving me these looks that said I was being extra, but I couldn't help it. Every time Jordan's eyes met mine, my brain short-circuited.

Then came the water bottle incident.

I'd just scored—by accident, but still—and in my moment of triumph, I grabbed what I thought was my water and chugged it. Only it wasn't my water. It was Jordan's. And he'd been drinking from it.

The realization hit me mid-sip. I froze, water in my mouth, eyes wide.

Jordan laughed. Not mean laughing. Real laughing. "Indirect kiss? Nice."

My face burned. I wanted to disappear. I wanted my hat to swallow me whole. Instead, I swallowed the water like a champion and somehow managed to choke out, "Your backwash, not mine."

Maya was cackling. Jordan was grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all day.

"You're funny," he said, and the way he said it—it wasn't like he was laughing AT me. It was like he was actually seeing me.

After the game, we ended up sitting on the edge of the fountain, our feet in the cold water. Maya had wandered off to find snacks, leaving me alone with Jordan and my increasingly loud thoughts.

He took off his hat and ran a hand through his messy hair. "You know, I've been trying to talk to you all week."

"You have?"

"Yeah. But you always wear that hat and never look up." He bumped my shoulder with his. "So I figured you weren't interested."

I stared at him. "I've been obsessed with you since seventh grade."

"Oh." He blinked. "Oh. Well. That changes things."

I took off my hat. Let my hair down. Let myself be seen. The water from the fountain splashed against our legs, cold and real and grounding.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess it does."

Jordan smiled. And this time, I didn't look away.