Wettmelons -

Selene’s palms were slick with sunscreen and nerves. She stood at the edge of the public pool, staring at the warped reflection of her sixteen-year-old self in the shimmering water. Around her, the soundtrack of summer played on: the shriek of a toddler, the thwack of a volleyball, the low, thrumming bass of a lifeguard’s whistle.

“Welcome aboard,” she said, and splashed him. WettMelons

“No problem,” Selene squeaked.

The word was a dare, a hiss from behind her. Maya, her best friend, nudged her shoulder. Maya was already submerged up to her chin, her dark hair fanning out like a silk fan. “Don’t you chicken out now, Sel. You lost the bet.” Selene’s palms were slick with sunscreen and nerves

He drifted into her.

“WETTMELONS!” she yelled again, this time with gusto. “Welcome aboard,” she said, and splashed him