Electric at Miller's

The invitation came like lightning—fast, unexpected, and totally terrifying me out.

"Pool party at my place, Friday," Tyler had said, flashing that smile that made my brain do this weird static thing. "You should come."

Now I'm standing at the edge of Miller's backyard, surrounded by half the sophomore class, while chlorine-scented water laps against the pool tiles. Everyone's already swimming, laughing, being the kind of effortlessly cool that I've been trying to fake since seventh grade.

"Maya! You coming in or what?" Sarah yells from the hot tub. She's got this perfect dry hair situation happening, like she's immune to humidity or something.

I clutch my towel tighter. The thing is, I'm terrible at swimming. Like, rubber-ducky-arm-floaties terrible. And here I am, at the first party of the summer, trying to impress the guy I've been lowkey crushing on since we got assigned as lab partners in February.

Tyler materializes beside me, dripping pool water everywhere. He's wearing swim trunks with actual pineapples on them, which shouldn't work but somehow totally does.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Just. Taking it all in."

"The water's actually not that bad once you get in. Promise."

Before I can respond, the sky does this dramatic grumble thing. The kind that means we're about to get absolutely wrecked by weather. Everyone looks up simultaneously.

Then comes the lightning—a jagged crack across the sky like someone took a highlighter to the clouds. And suddenly the whole pool scene feels different. Charged.

"Everyone out!" Mr. Miller yells from the deck. "Storm's coming in hot."

Chaos. People scrambling for towels, phones, shoes. I'm standing there feeling like I dodged a bullet (swimming in front of Tyler? No thanks) when Tyler grabs my hand.

"Come on," he says, pulling me toward the covered patio. "We can wait it out over here."

We huddle under the umbrella while rain starts sheeting down, turning the backyard into this wild, sparkling mess. The pool water ripples with every raindrop, creating these tiny waves that catch the light from the patio lanterns.

"So," Tyler says, bumping my shoulder with his. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over next weekend. There's this lightning thing—"

"Thing?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool despite the literal heart situation happening in my chest.

"Yeah, my friend's band is playing at Electric Friday. It's this downtown thing. I figured, since you survived your first pool party without actually swimming..."

I laugh. "Rude. But accurate."

Another lightning flash, closer this time. The air between us feels different now—charged, like the space right before thunder cracks. And suddenly it doesn't matter that I can't swim, or that my hair is definitely going to frizz, or that I'm wearing the world's most unflattering bathing suit.

"I'd love to," I say.

Tyler grins. And somewhere in the background, rain hitting the pool water sounds like applause.