Lightning in My Palms

Maya's palms were sweating so much she thought she might literally electrocute someone if she touched them. Which would be a problem, because across the gym, Jason—the boy she'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade—was standing by the punch bowl looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

The Winter Thunderer dance was themed around—you guessed it—thunder and lightning. The decorating committee had gone overboard with cardboard clouds hanging from the ceiling and strobe lights that flashed every thirty seconds, making everyone look like they were moving in stop-motion. Or like zombies from those terrible movies her brother watched.

Speaking of zombies, that's exactly how Maya felt. She'd spent the entire week studying for finals, surviving on three hours of sleep and approximately 47 energy drinks. Her reflection in the gym mirrors showed dark circles under her eyes and a dress that she loved but suddenly felt way too extra.

"You got this," said Tasha, her best friend, giving her a gentle shove. "Go talk to him before he leaves. He's already heading for the door."

Maya's heart started running a marathon against her ribs. Jason was indeed moving toward the exit, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. She'd heard from Brianna that his parents were going through a divorce, which explained the whole brooding thing he had going on lately.

The bull in the china shop. That's how she felt as she made her way across the gym, dodging dancing couples and the occasional chaperone. Every step felt like she was about to knock something over or say something incredibly awkward.

But then Jason looked up and their eyes met, and something weird happened. The strobe light flashed, and for a second it was just the two of them in a room full of people. No lightning, no zombies, no awkward teenage social dynamics. Just Jason with his crooked smile and messy hair, and Maya with her sweaty palms and racing heart.

"Hey," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I was hoping you'd show up."

She laughed, surprised. "Really? Because I was literally hiding in the bathroom for twenty minutes working up the courage to come out here."

"Same," he grinned, and just like that, the marathon in her chest slowed to a jog. "Wanna get out of here? I think there's a meteor shower tonight."

Maya glanced at her friend Tasha, who was already giving her two thumbs up from across the room. "Absolutely," she said. And as they slipped out the gym doors together, she thought maybe sometimes the most terrifying moments—the ones that make you feel like you're about to get struck by lightning—turn out to be exactly the ones you were waiting for all along.