Zombie Pool Party Protocol

I looked like a zombie after pulling an all-nighter finishing AP History notes, but that didn't stop me from accepting Jordan's invitation to his pool party. My mom dropped me off, and I practically dragged myself through the gate, my eyeliner smudged, hair in what my bestie calls "post-apocalyptic chic."

The backyard was already buzzing — seniors with perfect tanned skin, music thumping from waterproof speakers, the pool gleaming like something from a Tumblr aesthetic blog. I immediately felt out of place, like I'd crashed the wrong universe. Jordan spotted me and waved, and I felt that weird flutter in my chest that happens every time.

"Hey! You made it!" He grinned, water droplets sliding down his collarbone. "This is Buster." He gestured to the golden retriever paddling beside him. The dog swam over to me like I was his new best friend, completely ignoring my social anxiety.

"He likes you," Jordan said, and something about his smile made my brain short-circuit.

I spent the next hour strategically positioning myself near the snack table, occasionally pretending to check my phone while secretly watching Jordan from across the pool. I felt like such a spy, gathering intel on his laugh and the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was nervous. Pathetic? Maybe. But at sixteen, pathetic is practically a personality trait.

Then the sky darkened. Someone shouted about lightning, and suddenly everyone was scrambling out of the water. Thunder cracked like the sky was splitting open, rain pouring down in sheets. We all squeezed under the patio cover, shoulders pressed together, damp and shivering and laughing about how epic and terrible it was.

Jordan ended up next to me, our knees almost touching. Buster shook water all over both of us, and we laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. In that chaos of storm and dog and way too many people in too little space, something shifted. Jordan leaned in close.

"I was hoping you'd come today," he murmured, and the world narrowed down to just this moment, just us, the rain still pounding down on everything else.

I looked at him, really looked, and realized he'd been watching me too. I wasn't the only spy here. The zombie brain fog lifted, replaced by something brighter and terrifying and absolutely perfect.

"Me too," I said, and for the first time all day, I didn't feel out of place at all.