Electric Palm Secrets

Maya's palms were sweating against her phone as she ducked behind the gymnasium dumpster. Again. This was the third time this week she'd basically turned herself into a total stalker, watching Jordan from across the parking lot like some kind of amateur spy in a crappy teen movie.

"You're being so extra right now," she whispered to herself, but her feet stayed planted.

Jordan was alone by the bleachers, phone glowing in their hands. Maya had been crushing on them since homecoming, when Jordan's DIY lightning bolt earrings had caught the stadium lights and basically stole her breath. Now she was lurking behind garbage containers like a total weirdo instead of just, you know, talking to them like a normal person.

The June humidity was suffocating. Maya wiped her hands on her denim shorts, leaving dark streaks. Her heart did that annoying thing where it felt like it might actually explode. She needed to just leave or actually approach them instead of this creepy spy routine she'd fallen into.

Then Jordan's head snapped up. Storm clouds were gathering overhead, purple and angry-looking. A drop of rain hit Maya's arm.

"Hey!" Jordan called out, spotting her. "Maya?"

Dead.

She was absolutely dead. This was it. The most embarrassing moment of her entire life.

But Jordan was waving her over, smiling. "You coming? The rain's about to start."

Her feet moved before her brain could process what was happening. She walked across the parking lot, each step feeling unreal. Jordan. Jordan was talking to her. Jordan had noticed her.

"I was just..." Maya stammered.

"Spying on me?" Jordan grinned, no malice in it. "I've seen you here all week. It's kind of cute, honestly."

Her face burned hotter than July asphalt. "I am so sorry, that's so weird—"

"Maya." Jordan stepped closer. Their hand brushed hers, and suddenly her palm wasn't just sweating—it was practically electric. Like lightning. "I've been waiting for you to actually talk to me instead of hiding behind dumpsters."

The first crack of thunder split the sky as Jordan's fingers intertwined with hers. The rain started pouring, drenching them both, and Maya was freaking out but also kind of living her best life.

"Is this happening?" she asked over the thunder.

"Only if you want it to," Jordan said, squeezing her hand.

Another lightning strike illuminated everything—the rain, Jordan's smile, their hands still tangled together. Maya stopped worrying about being cool or smooth or whatever else she'd been overthinking. She just squeezed back.

"Yeah," she said. "I want it to."