When Bear Learned to Float

Marcus had earned the nickname **bear** sophomore year—partly the height, partly the way he hibernated in his hoodie during lunch, mostly because he once literally growled at a freshman who messed with his sister. Not exactly intimidating, more like... genetically large and defensively furry.

"Dude, you coming to padel today?" Jake slid onto the cafeteria bench, backpack thumping. "Chloe's gonna be there."

Marcus groaned into his trail mix. "I don't know how to play. I'll embarrass myself."

"It's basically tennis but shorter, you'll be fine." Jake's grin was calculated. "Also, Chloe asked if you were coming."

So Marcus found himself at the rec center, holding a **padel** racquet like it might bite, while Chloe—who'd moved here from Barcelona last month and somehow already ran the social hierarchy—demonstrated a serve.

"Your grip's too tight, bear," she said, and Marcus almost choked on his own tongue. She'd called him that. But not mean. Not like the guys in gym class who'd pantomimed roaring whenever he took off his shirt. Different.

The game wasn't terrible. Marcus's height helped at the net. He even aced a couple shots. But then—

"Team celebration," Jake announced afterward. "My cousin's dock. Sunset. You in?"

Chloe's eyes found his. "Come, bear. You're basically part of the squad now."

But here's the thing Marcus hadn't mentioned: he couldn't **swimming**. Like, at all. Lessons at eight, trauma at ten, near-drowning at twelve. He'd avoided pools, lakes, parties involving water for three years.

The dock was beautiful. Twilight turning everything purple and gold. Everyone jumping in, laughing, sleek and confident. Marcus sat on the edge, feet dangling above deep water.

Chloe surfaced beside him, slicking back wet hair. "You coming?"

Marcus's throat closed. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

He exhaled shakily. "Can't swim. It's embarrassing, okay? I'm this huge guy and I'm afraid of—"

"Hey." Chloe's hand found his forearm, warm against his skin. "Nobody's judging. My cousin taught last summer—so many people don't know. It's not weird."

She didn't laugh. Didn't make it a thing. Just sat with him on the dock while the others splashed, talking about Barcelona and how padel was everywhere there and how she'd been the new kid three times already.

"Next week," she said finally. "My cousin's giving lessons. You could come?"

Marcus looked at his reflection in the water—still the same bear-sized guy who'd spent two years hiding. But something felt lighter.

"Yeah," he said, and for the first time in forever, he didn't want to pull his hoodie up. "Yeah, I think I will."