Electric Current

The bonfire crackled between us, sending sparks toward the sky like reverse lightning. I stood there, palm sweating against my phone, debating whether to finally text Kai back. My friends were in their usual circle, doing that palm reading thing Bella learned from TikTok, predicting who'd date who by summer's end.

"That's such bull," Maya laughed, shaking her head. "You can't tell someone's future from their hand lines."

"Whatever, skeptic," Bella shot back. "Your life line's short. Live dangerously."

I wasn't thinking about life lines or palm readings. I was thinking about how Kai sat by the water, sketching in that beat-up notebook he carried everywhere like it was his only connection to reality. The ocean behind him gleamed under the moon, waves rolling in like breath.

"Go talk to him already," Chloe whispered, bumping my shoulder. "You've been stalking him from across this beach for three weeks. It's getting weird."

"I'm not stalking," I protested weakly. "I'm... observing from a respectful distance."

"That's literally stalking, sweetie."

Lightning flashed across the horizon – real lightning this time, actual storm clouds rolling in. Everyone started packing up, but Kai stayed put, still drawing, totally oblivious. Or maybe he just didn't care.

I walked over before I could overthink it, before my brain could invent seventeen reasons why this was a terrible idea.

"Storm's coming," I said, and immediately wanted to die. That was it? That was my opener?

Kai looked up, and his eyes were that impossible gray-green color, like water reflecting a stormy sky. He smiled, just a little.

"Yeah. I like it better when it rains. Fewer people."

We sat there as the first drops fell, watching the ocean turn dark, watching lightning split the sky in jagged veins. He showed me his sketches – weird, beautiful creatures that didn't exist. I told him about my failed attempts at painting, how my art teacher said I had 'vision but no patience.'

"That's a compliment," he said.

"Felt like a burn at the time."

"Your turn," he said suddenly, taking my hand. He traced the lines on my palm like Bella had done earlier, but differently. Not like fortune telling. Like he was memorizing something.

"What do you see?" I asked, my voice doing that embarrassing crackle thing.

"Someone who overthinks everything," he said. "Someone who's scared they'll make the wrong move, so they don't move at all."

The rain was pouring now, drenching us completely, my hair plastered to my face, both of us shivering but not moving.

"Are you always this blunt?" I asked.

"Only when it matters."

He leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just pressed his forehead to mine, and somehow that was better.

"Next time," he said, "don't spend three weeks observing from a respectful distance. Just say hi."

"How did you—"

"I observe too," he grinned. "From a respectful distance."

We ran back to our cars through the downpour, lightning turning the world bright and sudden, like someone flipping a light switch on and off, on and off. My palm wasn't sweating anymore. My phone buzzed – a message from an unknown number: *Next time's tomorrow?*