Flash Point

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping onto her denim shorts. Which was gross, but also completely justified given that Tyler—the Tyler who sat behind her in third period and had that perfect effortless hair—was standing five feet away at Jackson's party.

"You good?" her best friend Chloe whispered, elbowing her. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Maya lied, clutching her iPhone like it was a lifeline. She'd spent forty-five minutes on her outfit earlier. Her hair was behaving for once. She'd even practiced her casual laugh in the mirror. But now that she was actually here, every smooth line she'd rehearsed had evaporated.

Outside, lightning cracked across the sky, followed instantly by thunder that shook the house's windows. The party-goers near the glass doors flinched.

"Sweet," some guy said. "Storm's gonna be insane."

Maya's phone buzzed in her hand. Her heart did this stupid flutter thing until she realized it was just her younger brother.

BULL: Mom says if you're not home by 11 you're grounded

Maya rolled her eyes. His contact name was BULL because he was constantly bullshitting everyone, and also because last year he'd convinced half his 7th grade class that their family used to own a pet bull named Bessie. (They hadn't.)

"So," Tyler said, suddenly right there. "You're Maya, right?"

Her palms went sweaty again. "Yeah. Hi."

"I like your jacket," he said.

She froze. Was he being sarcastic? She'd agonized over this denim jacket from Urban Outfitters, but now she wasn't sure if it was cool or try-hard.

"Thanks," she managed, which was fine, not great, but acceptable.

Then her phone buzzed again. BULL: I'm not kidding mom's legit pissed

n

She instinctively turned it toward her to read—why did she DO that?—and in the same instant, lightning struck something crazy close. The power died. Pitch black.

"Whoa!" someone yelled.

"My phone!" someone else shrieked.

And then, because the universe hated her personally, her flashlight turned on, aimed directly at Tyler's face. He blinked, stunned.

Everyone laughed. Not mean laughter, but the kind that happens when something's just genuinely funny.

"Sorry," Maya whispered, fumbling to turn it off. Her face was so hot she could feel it radiating.

"It's cool," Tyler said, and then—"You know, you're the only person here who's not pretending to be someone they're not."

"What?"

"Everyone's doing their whole aesthetic thing," he said, as the lights flickered back on. "You're just... you're just vibing. It's chill."

Maya looked down at her stupid phone, at her sweaty palms, at her definitely-overthought jacket.

"I'm panicking, though," she admitted. "Like, a lot."

Tyler smiled. It was a real smile, not a performative one.

"Same," he said. "Wanna go stand on the porch and watch the storm?"

"Yes," Maya said immediately.

Her phone buzzed one last time. BULL: I covered for you btw you owe me

She smiled, pocketed the phone, and followed Tyler outside. The storm was just getting started.