Lightning in the Palm

Maya's palms were sweating. Literally sweating. Which was ironic considering she was about to get her palm read at Spring Fest, surrounded by half the junior class who would absolutely witness her humiliation.

"You're up, Maya," called Jace, that annoyingly hot senior who'd somehow become friends with her older brother. He was working the fortune teller booth as punishment for staging that hallway flash mob last month.

"This is so dumb," she muttered, sliding into the foldout chair.

Jace donned a velvet turban with zero shame. "The sphinx demands your palm, young seeker."

"The sphinx can wait until I graduate," Maya said, but she extended her hand anyway.

His expression shifted. For real this time. "Whoa."

"What?" Her stomach did that thing it did whenever something was about to go wrong in a very public way.

"You've got a lightning bolt," he said quietly, tracing a line on her palm. "Means big changes coming. Like, within days."

"Okay, very believable. Did you learn this from YouTube or your horoscope app?"

"Both," Jace grinned. "Also, you're gonna fall in love. Soon."

Maya snatched her hand back. "That is SO not in the job description, Jace."

"The sphinx demands truth!" But he was laughing, and she was laughing, and outside the booth she could hear her friends yelling her name because the photo booth was finally open and they had documentation to create for the 'gram.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. New Instagram notification: _misterius_coolguy_ started following you.

Jace. The actual Jace.

"You coming?" he asked, already taking off the turban.

The sphinx had spoken, apparently. And maybe, just maybe, the lightning in her palm wasn't such a bad omen after all.

"Yeah," Maya said. "Yeah, I'm coming."