Flash Point

Kai's thumb hovered over the send button, her iPhone screen illuminating the dark bathroom stall. The message to Jordan—perfectly crafted after thirty minutes of overthinking—waited like a held breath. Outside, the homecoming thumped against the walls, bass vibrating through the floor tiles.

She'd spent three hours on her hair earlier, spiraling it into those effortless waves that TikTok made look easy but somehow required actual sorcery. Now stray frizz rebelled at her temples, mirroring the chaos in her chest. Her friends had already posted twenty aesthetic mirror selfies, #hoco blowing up their feeds, while Kai was stuck in here having a full-blown crisis.

"You good in there?" Maya called through the door. "Jordan literally asked about you twice."

Kai's stomach did that terrifying flip thing. "Coming!"

Lightning cracked the sky outside—actual cinematic timing—and the bathroom fluorescents flickered. In that split second of darkness, her screen glitched. The message sent.

Panic seized her throat. She hadn't meant to—her finger slipped, the universe was messing with her, this was actual psychological warfare. But then: three dots appeared.

Jordan was typing.

Maya yanked the door open to find Kai grinning like an absolute maniac, phone clutched to her chest. "You're not going to believe this," she said, hair frizzy and perfect, heart suddenly lighter than air. "But I think I'm about to have the best night of my life."