Lightning in a Snapback

My dumb trucker hat was practically swallowing my head. I'd spent twenty minutes in front of the bathroom mirror trying to find the perfect tilt — not trying too hard, not trying too little. The sweet spot of effortless cool that apparently everyone else at Jackson's party had mastered naturally.

"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, bumping my shoulder. He'd been my dog since kindergarten, the one person who knew exactly how hard I was overthinking everything.

"Yeah. Just psyching myself up." I adjusted the hat one more time. Inside, the bass from Jackson's speakers was already making the floorboards vibrate.

The living wall was packed. Half our junior class seemed to be squeezed into someone's finished basement, phones glowing like fireflies in the dim lighting. I spotted her immediately. Riley. The fox-red hair, the laugh that made something weird happen in my chest every single time. She was by the makeshift dance floor, wearing a crop top I'd definitely never have the confidence to pull off.

I tried to make my way over without looking like I was making my way over. Classic rookie move. Someone jostled me, and my elbow knocked into a solo cup pyramid. Red everywhere.

"My bad, my bad." I scrambled to clean it up before anyone noticed.

Someone laughed. Not mean — just amused. I looked up and Riley was watching me, eyes crinkled.

"Nice reflexes,." she said.

I froze. My brain short-circuited. Say something cool. Say something smooth.

"I, uh, yeah. Gravity and stuff." I wanted to die.

But she just smiled. "I'm Riley."

"I know." I winced. "I mean, I'm Leo. We have English together."

"I know." She tilted her head. "I like the hat, by the way."

My hand went to it instinctively. "This old thing?"

"It's working for you."

We talked for, like, twenty minutes. Not even — it flew. She liked weird indie bands I'd never heard of. She had opinions about which pizza places were mid. She was smart and funny and somehow actually interested in what I had to say.

Outside on the patio, away from the noise, she pulled her phone out. "Snapchat?"

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating everything in this sudden flash-white. For a second, her face was all I could see. She was looking at me like she actually saw me — not the guy in the hat trying too hard, but just... me.

"Yeah," I said. "Definitely."

Later that night, Marcus gave me this look as we walked home. "So..."

"So."

"The hat stayed on the whole time."

I touched the brim. "Yeah."

"Must be doing something right then."

Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't have to overthink the angle. Maybe the right person would think you looked good regardless.

My phone buzzed. Riley.

Lightning, indeed.