Lightning in My Palms

Marcus's palms were sweating so much he might slip right off his phone. Three weeks of meticulously planned texts, and he still hadn't hit send. The county fair roasted around him—cotton candy sticky air, distant screams from the tilt-a-whirl, and somewhere nearby, his idiot friends egging each other on near the mechanical bull.

"You gonna DM her or what?" Jamal asked, flopping onto the bench next to him. His golden retriever, Buster, flopped down too, immediately demanding ear scratches.

Marcus groaned. "I don't know, man. What if she thinks it's weird? We've had, like, two actual conversations."

"That's bull and you know it." Jamal bumped his shoulder. "She laughed at your joke in chem lab last week. I saw it."

"She laughs at everything. She's nice like that."

"Nice doesn't laugh at that specific joke about the periodic table. That was straight up flirty." Buster whined, nosing Marcus's hand. "See? Even the dog knows you're overthinking."

Marcus's thumb hovered over Jasmine's profile. The message was already typed: *hey, you going to the bonfire tonight?*

Suddenly, the sky tore open. Lightning cracked across the fairgrounds, followed immediately by thunder that vibrated through the bench. The crowd screamed—part terror, part delight. Rain began dumping, turning the dirt paths to mud within seconds.

They scrambled toward the pavilion, Marcus clutching his phone like a lifeline. And there she was—Jasmine, squeezed under the shelter with everyone else, hair plastering to her face, laughing as she shook water off her arms.

Their eyes met.

Something shifted inside Marcus—hot and electric, like the lightning that just split the sky. His palms weren't sweating anymore. They were steady.

He didn't think. He just walked over.

"Hey," he said, voice somehow calm. "You going to the bonfire tonight?"

Jasmine blinked up at him through rain-spattered eyelashes. Then she smiled. "Yeah. You?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Thunder rumbled overhead. His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably Jamal wondering where he'd disappeared to. But Marcus couldn't look away from her smile, bright enough to outshine any storm.

"Good," she said. "Save me a s'more?"

"Done."

Walking back to Jamal, drenched but grinning like an idiot, Marcus finally hit send on the backup text: *see you there.* His palms were dry. The world felt electric. And somewhere in the chaos, he'd found his courage between the lightning strikes.