That night, the town held its annual Moonlight Float. Inflatables of every shape and size bobbed on the dark water, strung with battery-operated lanterns. Selene clung to a lopsided watermelon float—a chipped, inflatable relic Maya had dubbed “The WettMelon.”
“WettMelons.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice a low current.
“It’s legendary ,” Maya corrected, grinning. “Think of the lore.” WettMelons
He smiled. A real one. Then, he did something unexpected. He pushed off his blue ring, let it drift away, and grabbed the edge of her chipped watermelon.
“You did it!” Maya yanked her into a hug. “You absolute maniac.”
“There’s always space,” Selene said, surprising herself. “You just have to be willing to look like a drowning duck for a minute.” That night, the town held its annual Moonlight Float
“Can I join the WettMelons crew?” he asked.
Kids used her float as a launching pad. Old Mr. Henderson, who never spoke to anyone, drifted past on a flamingo and tipped his captain’s hat at her. And then, he appeared.
“You’re the WettMelons girl,” he said. Not a question. “It’s legendary ,” Maya corrected, grinning
Selene’s face burned hotter than the bonfire. “That… yes. That was me.”
She was the only one not in the water.
“WETTMELONS!” she yelled again, this time with gusto.
Leo Castellano. He’d just moved to town, all sharp elbows and quiet eyes. He was floating on a simple blue ring, a book balanced on his chest, trying to read by the lantern light.
A few heads turned. A cluster of middle schoolers pointed. The lifeguard, a guy with sunglasses so cool they looked illegal, cracked a smile. It was horrifying. It was liberating.