Goldfish in the Lightning

The vitamin gummy sat on my tongue, that artificial orange flavor I'd grown to hate but swallowed anyway because Mom swore it would help me "grow strong." Whatever that meant when you're five-foot-two and your crush towers over you by a full foot.

We were at the rec center, Jake and me, supposedly practicing padel before the tournament next week. But mostly we were just standing there, his racquet resting against his shoulder while he watched storm clouds gather over the parking lot.

"You ever feel like a goldfish?" he asked suddenly, not looking at me. "Just swimming in circles, same route every day, everyone watching you through the glass?"

My heart did that thing it always did when he actually talked to me — like lightning striking somewhere deep in my chest, electric and terrifying.

"Yeah," I managed, though I'd never thought about it. "But at least goldfish don't have to worry about embarrassing themselves in front of everyone they care about."

He laughed, that actual laugh I'd been trying to pull out of him since seventh grade. "You think too much, you know that?"

First fat raindrop hit the padel court. Then another. Within seconds, the sky opened up, and we were running through downpour toward the covered area, both of us soaked and laughing like idiots.

"This is a disaster," I said, shivering.

"Nah," Jake said, shaking water from his hair like a dog. "Sometimes you gotta bear through the storm to get to the good part."

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I swear the air between us felt charged, like the lightning that was sheeting across the sky behind him.

"Your goldfish metaphor," I said, suddenly bold. "Maybe the fish isn't swimming in circles. Maybe it's just waiting for someone to finally notice it's not just a decoration."

Jake's expression shifted, something softening behind his usual practiced cool. "Yeah. Maybe someone finally did."

The vitamin gummy was long forgotten. Sometimes growing strong had nothing to do with nutrients and everything to do with moments like this — rain-soaked and freezing, but somehow, completely alive.