Lightning in the Deep End

My hair looked like a zombie had attacked it. Greenish-bronze splotches from a DIY dye job gone wrong, frizzy from humidity, basically a disaster. And of course, today was the day of the Hendersons' legendary pool party. The one party that could make or break your entire summer social status.

I'd been spying on Jordan's Instagram stories for weeks, trying to figure out if he'd actually show up. Stalking his close friends list, analyzing his post times like I was some kind of FBI analyst. Pathetic? Maybe. Desperate? Definitely.

"You look fine," Chloe said, handing me a Solo cup. "You look... mysterious."

"I look like a diseased mermaid," I said, trying to arrange my hair to cover the worst patches.

The pool was already chaos—cannonball contests, chicken fights, that one guy doing his best to drown in the shallow end while everyone laughed. I spotted Jordan immediately. Of course he looked perfect, doing laps like he'd been raised by dolphins or something.

Thunder rumbled. Nobody noticed.

I made my way to the snack table, trying to look casual and not like someone who'd spent three hours researching which swimsuit Jordan might find most attractive based on his liked posts.

"Zoë?"

I turned. Jordan. Wet hair. Droplets on his shoulders. Actual dream situation.

"Your hair," he said. "Did you..."

"Die it myself," I said, ready to die of embarrassment. "It's supposed to be seafoam green."

He laughed, and I felt that weird lightning feeling—not from the storm that was definitely rolling in, but the other kind. The kind that makes your hands go numb and your stomach do backflips.

"I like it," he said. "It's brave. I would never.

A crack of thunder shook the whole backyard. Someone screamed. Actual lightning forked across the sky, purple and deadly.

"Everyone out of the pool!" Mr. Henderson's voice boomed.

We scrambled for cover under the patio awning. Shoulder to shoulder with Jordan in the chaos, my weird green hair mixing with his perfect brown in the downpour, I realized something. All that spying, all that overthinking, and the moment actually happened, I was too busy freaking out to even enjoy it.

But then his arm brushed mine and he didn't move away.

"Hey," he said, as rain sheeted down around us. "Want to help me finish these snacks before they get soaked?"

The zombie hair. The social media stalking. The anxiety. None of it mattered. Lightning strikes, I guess. Sometimes you just have to be ready when it does.