Lightning in the Deep End

Mia felt like a zombie. Not the cool, Netflix kind with dramatic story arcs and romance subplots. More like the background extra kind—shuffling through high school on autopilot, eyes glazed over from three hours of AP Bio homework and way too many iced coffees.

"You okay?" Jordan asked, floating on his back in the pool. The water reflected string lights—purple and gold, like someone had spilled a galaxy across the surface.

Mia sat on the edge, legs dangling in the water. "Fine. Just tired."

Lie. She wasn't tired. She was *exhausted* by the performance of it all—the right outfit, the right laugh, the right everything. This was Lily's end-of-school pool party, the social event of the season, and Mia had spent two weeks stressing about it. Now that she was here, she mostly wanted to go home and rewatch The Walking Dead for the fourth time.

Thunder rumbled. Another summer storm rolling in off the lake.

"We should probably get out," someone yelled.

Then lightning—*crack*—so close the hair on Mia's arms stood up. The backyard plunged into darkness. Someone screamed. Everyone scrambled out of the pool, grabbing towels, phones illuminating the chaos.

Everyone except Jordan.

He treaded water in the middle of the pool, grinning like an idiot. "The storm's already here! Might as well enjoy it!"

Mia's heart hammered. Not from fear—from something else. Jordan's shirt was on the deck. He looked ridiculous. He looked *free*.

"Get out of there!" Lily's older brother shouted from the back door.

"Make me!" Jordan splashed water toward the house.

Another lightning flash, and Mia saw it—the moment Jordan stopped performing. The moment he stopped trying to be cool, stopped trying to impress anyone. Just a boy in a pool during a storm, fully alive.

She jumped in.

The water shocked her senses awake. She swam to Jordan, laughing so hard she swallowed chlorinated water. He extended a hand, pulled her close.

"We're gonna die," he said, grinning.

"Yeah," she said. "But at least we won't be zombies."

They swam until Lily's brother threatened to call their parents. By then, the storm had passed. But Mia hadn't felt this awake in months.

Later, wrapped in towels on the porch, Jordan's hand brushed hers. Static electricity—or something else.

"Same time next storm?" he asked.

Mia smiled, feeling something real and terrifying and wonderful blooming in her chest. "Try me."