Lightning In The Bull Pen

Maya pressed herself against the chain-link fence, heart hammering like she'd just stolen something. Which technically, she hadn't. Unless you counted creeping around the abandoned baseball field at 11 PM on a Tuesday as some sort of spiritual theft.

"You're being a total weirdo about this," Lena had texted earlier. "Just ask him if he likes you like a normal human being."

But Maya wasn't normal about it. She was in full-blown spy mode, orchestrating what she hoped would be a movie-perfect meet-cute with Kai, the cute junior who always sat by the window in AP English.

Her plan: conveniently show up at the field when he supposedly practiced his swings every night. Perfect. Flawless. Not weird at all.

Except now she was crouched behind the dugout like a fugitive while thunder grumbled overhead, and Kai was nowhere in sight. The old cable she'd tripped over earlier—the one running from the parking lot all the way to the concession stand—glowed faintly in the gloom.

Then she heard it.

A snort. Heavy breathing. Something massive moving near home plate.

Maya froze. There were no livestock in the suburbs. This was Ohio, not Texas. But as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the field in stark white, she saw it: a freaking bull. A literal bull, standing at home plate like it owned the place.

"What," Maya whispered to herself, "is happening."

The bull turned. Its eyes reflected the distant streetlights. Then it charged.

Maya scrambled backward, tripping over the stupid cable again, and crash-landed right at someone's feet.

"Maya?"

She looked up. Kai stood there holding a baseball bat, looking gorgeous and confused and utterly wrong for a monster-fighting scenario.

"Why is there a bull?" she asked, breathless.

"It's my uncle's," Kai said, like this explained everything. "It escaped. Again. I was supposed to catch it before it—"

The bull snorted and lowered its head.

"Run," Maya suggested.

They sprinted toward the parking lot, sneakers pounding against pavement, while lightning cracked the sky open. The bull gave chase for exactly three seconds before apparently deciding this was too much effort and wandering off to nose at the concession stand.

They collapsed against Kai's car, chests heaving, absolutely soaked from the sudden downpour.

"So," Kai said, grinning. "You come here often?"

Maya started laughing. She couldn't help it. "That was the worst pickup line I've ever heard."

"I thought it was perfect timing." He paused. "But seriously, what were you doing here?"

She could lie. Could say she'd just been passing through. But the way he looked at her—like he was actually curious, actually seeing her—made honesty feel easier than breathing.

"Spying on you," she admitted. "Lena said I should just ask you to homecoming, but I'm apparently incapable of being normal."

Kai's smile widened. "Well. Weirdly enough, I was actually hoping you'd show up."

Maya's stomach did this little flip. "Really?"

"Really." He looked back at the field, where the bull was now calmly chewing on something near the dugout. "Although next time, maybe we could avoid the farm animals?"

"Deal," she said, and the rain didn't matter at all.