Lightning at the Padel Court

The day everything changed started with me literally running late for my shift at the club — again. Sixteen years old and still couldn't get my life together enough to show up on time for a lifeguard gig that literally anyone could do.

That's when I saw him.

He was on the padel court, shirtless, swinging that racquet like he owned the place. Jake Mercer. The same Jake Mercer who sat two rows behind me in AP Bio and never once acknowledged my existence. But here he was, sweating and grunting and being completely distracting while I was supposed to be watching the swimming pool.

"Hey!" he called, jogging over. "You're Mia, right? From Mr. Harrison's class?"

I died. I literally died and came back to life. "Yeah. Hi."

"Wanna hit after your shift? I'm teaching my little sister and she needs someone her age to play against."

His little sister was fifteen. Same as me. But somehow this felt like the universe finally throwing me a bone.

But then the sky turned that scary purple-gray color, and the PA system crackled. Thunderstorm warning. Everyone out of the pool, now.

"My mom's picking me up," Jake said. "But we're hanging this weekend, right?"

"Absolutely," I said, trying to play it cool even though my internal monologue was screaming.

Then his phone died. No cable, no service, nothing. Storm of the century rolling in, and Jake Mercer was about to become Jake Who? because I hadn't gotten his number.

"Just find me at school," he yelled over the thunder, ducking into his mom's car.

Lightning struck somewhere across the lake, bright and electric and perfect, and in that flash I saw everything clearly: sometimes the universe doesn't throw you bones. Sometimes it throws you lightning storms and power outages and guys who forget to give you their digits.

But that was okay. Because on Monday, I'd find Jake Mercer in AP Bio. And this time, he'd know exactly who I was.