Lightning in Our Veins

The thunderstorm was supposed to hit at practice, but Coach Anderson made us run anyway. Because what's cross country without a little rain, right?

I was already dreading today's timed mile. My best friend Chloe had been weirdly distant since I accidentally DM'd her crush instead of her last week, and now I had to run for glory while literally dodging raindrops. Classic.

"You ready to get absolutely smoked?" Marcus called, stretching his calves like he owned the track. Marcus, who'd been running varsity since freshman year. Marcus, who had calves that belonged in a Nike commercial.

"In your dreams, faster-then-you," I shot back. Weak. So weak. But my brain was still buffering from the social suicide of last week.

The sky turned that creepy purple-gray color, the kind that makes your hair stand up. Coach blew his whistle, and we took off. My legs felt like lead, my lungs burning, everything terrible and amazing all at once. I used to hate running – the monotony, the exhaustion, the why-am-I-doing-this mental spiral. But lately, it was the only thing that made the noise in my head shut up.

Then it happened. A flash of **lightning** cracked across the sky, close enough that I could taste the ozone.

"Everyone inside! NOW!" Coach screamed.

We scrambled toward the school, half the team slipping in the mud. I found myself jammed into the gym entrance with Marcus, both of us breathless and soaked. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, and I noticed something taped to his water bottle – a neon orange label: "Vitamin D Supplement."

"Wait," I blurted before I could stop myself. "You take vitamins? Mr. I'm-So-Natural?"

Marcus looked up, rain dripping from his eyelashes, and actually laughed. "My mom thinks I don't get enough sun because I'm always either at practice or in my room gaming. She's not exactly wrong." He paused. "Also, might be lowkey vitamin deficient because I might be... kind of vegan now?"

My jaw dropped. "YOU? The guy who literally posted 'protein is life' last week?"

"It's a journey, okay?" He wiped his face with his shirt. "Don't make it weird."

"Too late, it's already weird. Vegan Marcus is iconic."

"Shut up, no one knows yet. I'm like... trial-running it. Pun intended." He smiled, actually smiled, and something shifted. Marcus wasn't just the fast guy anymore. He was a person, with a mom who worried about his vitamin intake and a secret he was testing out.

"Your secret's safe with me," I said. "For a price."

"Oh hell no. What do you want?"

"Running tips. Real ones. And you have to explain why you were staring at Chloe yesterday."

Marcus's face went full tomato. "I WASN'T – I mean, maybe I was? She's smart, okay? Unlike literally everyone else at this school who thinks TikTok trends are personality traits."

I stared at him. "Wait. You like Chloe?"

"Maybe? I don't know! She's in my bio class and she actually understands the mitosis stuff and her notes are color-coded and – " He cut himself off. "I'm saying too much."

"Oh my GOD. This is COMPLETELY unhinged." I was dying. "The guy who could have literally anyone has a crush on my best friend, and I'm over here thinking she's mad at me for that DM fail when she probably didn't even care because –"

"Because what?" Marcus asked, genuine confusion on his face.

"Because maybe she was too busy noticing YOU noticing HER."

We looked at each other as the thunder rattled the gym windows. Everything suddenly clicked – why Chloe had been distant, why she'd been checking her phone constantly, why she'd been "studying for bio" way more than usual.

"We need to fix this," Marcus said, determination in his eyes. "Tonight. Group chat?"

"You're about to slide into a group chat with the girl you like? Bold strategy, faster-then-you. Let's do it."

The storm raged outside, but inside, something was definitely starting. Maybe running wasn't just about the speed. Maybe it was about who you found yourself breathless beside.

And maybe, just maybe, some accidents – lightning strikes, bad timing, failed attempts – were exactly what you needed.