Lightning at the Pool

The party was lame. Like, capital L Lame. I was fully convinced Jordan invited me out of pity, which somehow made it worse than if he hadn't invited me at all.

I'm lounging by the pool in my one-piece because lol no way am I wearing a bikini in front of Jordan Miller and his varsity baseball friends, when Jordan appears. Wet shirt, hair dripping, looking like he knows exactly how hot he is. Which is irritating.

"Hey," he says. "You good? You've been sitting there for like an hour."

"I'm chill," I say, because I am absolutely not chill. "Just soaking in the vibes."

He laughs. "The vibes are mid at best." He sits on the edge of the pool, feet in the water. "I have practice at six, anyway. Coach is making us run extra because we lost Friday."

Baseball talk. Cool. Very cool.

The sky chooses that moment to crack open. Lightning flashes, followed immediately by thunder that shakes the ground.

"Everyone inside!" Jordan's mom yells.

Everyone scrambles. I grab my towel and start running for the house, but then I realize Jordan isn't moving. He's staring at his phone, shoulders slumped.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"My dad's not coming. Says he's stuck in traffic."

The rain is POURING now. We're getting soaked.

"You could wait inside?" I suggest.

"Nah, I'll just walk. It's like, two miles."

"In this?"

"It's fine."

And then. Because apparently I have zero survival instincts or zero filter. I say, "I'll go with you."

He looks at me. Really looks at me. For the first time all night.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," I say, and I'm surprised to find it's true.

So we walk. Two miles in a thunderstorm, me in flip-flops and him in cleats, getting absolutely drenched. We talk about everything — baseball and why he actually hates it sometimes, and how I wish I could paint but my mom says it's not practical, and how we both feel like we're constantly disappointing everyone.

The lightning keeps flashing, illuminating his face in these weird strobe-light moments, and I'm thinking this is the most real conversation I've had in months.

When we finally get to his house, soaking wet and shivering, he turns to me on the porch.

"That was..." He pauses. "Actually kind of awesome."

"Yeah," I say, grinning like an idiot. "It kinda was."

He doesn't kiss me. Just says, "See you Monday," and goes inside.

But as I'm running back home through the storm, I realize something: I wasn't the pity invite. I was just the only one paying enough attention to notice he needed someone to walk through the lightning with.

And honestly? That's way better anyway.