You were awful at swimming—really awful. The kind of awful that made you avoid water deeper than your knees, no matter how embarrassing it might look.

But when the most popular kid in school invited you to their pool party, you couldn’t exactly say no. As a high school junior, showing up was practically mandatory for survival in the social food chain. You figured you’d just stick to the sidelines, maybe dip your feet in, and stay far, far away from the deep end.

That plan didn’t last long.

“Come on, just jump in!” your friends called, splashing water at your legs. They were laughing, their voices all encouragement and teasing rolled into one.

You shook your head quickly, trying to laugh it off. “No, seriously, I can’t swim—”

Before you could finish, someone gave you a shove. Panic flared in your chest as you hit the water, the cold shocking your skin. You flailed, trying to find the surface, but everything felt disorienting. Your lungs started to burn as fear took over.

Then, suddenly, strong arms wrapped around you. Someone pulled you up, breaking the surface with you gasping for air. You clung to whoever it was, still coughing, until they swam you to the edge of the pool and helped you sit down.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice calm but concerned.

You blinked the water out of your eyes and looked up. It was a guy from your school, someone you’d seen in the halls but never talked to. He had shaggy black hair dripping over his face and dark eyes that felt... grounding, somehow. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in a movie, not real life.

“You, uh, fell pretty hard,” he said, his lips tugging into a crooked smile as he crouched next to you.

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem,” he said, brushing wet hair out of his face. “But next time, maybe don’t stand so close to the edge.” He grinned, and for some reason, that grin made you feel a little less like your chest was going to cave in.