What My Dog Saw

My phone buzzed. Party at Jake's. Friday 8PM.

I stared at my palm—seriously sweating. Jake, the guy whose smile literally made my brain do that reboot thing where you forget basic words. The same Jake I'd been crushing on since seventh grade when he let me borrow his pen and I wrote with it for weeks like a total weirdo.

"Buster, we got work to do," I told my golden retriever, who was currently vibrating at the sound of the treat bag opening. "I need to be... more. Extra."

That's how I found myself aggressively eating spinach at dinner because apparently it makes your skin glow? According to TikTok, anyway. My mom squinted at me.

"Since when do you eat leaves voluntarily?"

"Since I'm entering my wellness era," I said, chugging some vitamin D gummies like they were gonna fix my entire personality. "Manifesting. Vibrating higher."

"Okay then," she said slowly. "Your green teeth are really vibing."

MY TEETH. I spent twenty minutes with my phone camera, frantically picking spinach from my smile. Buster watched, judging silently.

Friday arrived. I spent forty-five minutes on my hair. I practiced casual cool in the mirror. I was ready.

Jake's house was exactly what you'd expect—loud music, red cups, people pretending to be chill. I spotted him across the room and my palms immediately betrayed me. So much for cool.

Then Buster—who had somehow ESCAPED OUR BACKYARD—burst through the front door like he owned the place. My actual dog. At my crush's party.

"Buster!" I yelled, diving to grab him. My phone flew out of my pocket. Skidded across the floor. Stopped directly at Jake's feet.

Jake picked it up. Unlocked it somehow (I'm an idiot, no password). Saw my Notes app open to: "Conversation Starters That Make Me Sound Interesting But Not Trying Too Hard."

He read it. Looked up at me. Grinned.

"Number seven says 'ask about his dog.'" He held up my phone. "I have a golden retriever named Max. He also escapes constantly."

I could feel my entire face burning. But then Jake sat down next to me. Buster curled up between us like a furry, chaotic wingman.

"So," Jake said, "about that spinach..."

"Don't ask."

"Your dog's cool though."

"Better than his owner."

"Nah," he said, and his smile did that thing to my brain again. "I kinda like her. Even if she has green teeth."

Buster chose that moment to steal someone's pizza. We both cracked up. My palms stopped sweating.

Sometimes your most embarrassing moments become your favorite stories. And sometimes your dog saves your social life by being the biggest disaster at the party. Teenage logic makes zero sense, but I wasn't complaining.