Lightning in the Eighth Inning

Marcus adjusted his snapback for the fiftieth time, trying to look casual. The hat was supposed to be his armor—his "I'm totally chill and not having a panic" statement. But the truth was, his hands were shaking, and it wasn't just from the adrenaline of the varsity baseball game.

She was three rows down. Chloe. The girl who'd sat behind him in bio since September, whose laugh sounded like actual music, who had no idea he existed.

Marcus's stupid plan had seemed brilliant at 2 AM: win her a goldfish from the carnival booth, present it like some romantic gesture. Smooth, right? Except now he was babysitting said goldfish in a plastic bag on the bleachers, looking like a weirdo with his fingers crossed that the bag wouldn't burst and send poor Bubbles swimming all over his gym shoes.

"You good, man?" Ty leaned over, whispering. "You look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm good," Marcus lied. The goldfish bag swished against his leg. A stray cat—the stadium's resident orange tabby—pawed at the bleachers below, eyeing his bag like it was gourmet dinner.

The game dragged on. Eighth inning. Marcus had cheered at all the wrong times, high-fived when everyone else went silent, and accidentally made eye contact with Chloe exactly twice.

Then lightning split the sky.

Not metaphorical lightning. Actual, purple-blue forks that cracked the sky open, and suddenly the umpire was shouting for everyone to take cover. Rain bucketed down.

Marcus grabbed his goldfish and bolted—straight into Chloe, who'd slipped on the wet metal.

She crashed into him, and somehow they ended up huddled under the concession stand awning, shoulders pressed together, breathless and soaked. Her makeup was running. His hat was crooked. The goldfish bag was miraculously still intact.

"Is that—" Chloe started, then cracked up. "Is that a fish?"

"His name is Bubbles," Marcus said, defeated. "I was going to give him to someone. Like, as a gift. Which is stupid. I'm stupid."

Chloe wiped rain from her eyes. She looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time all year.

"That's actually kind of amazing," she said, and her smile wasn't laughing at him. "Who's lucky enough to get Bubbles?"

Marcus's heart hammered harder than the thunder outside. He adjusted his hat, finally got it right.

"Well," he said, "I was hoping she might like baseball."