Lightning Strikes at Jensen's

I was trapped at the world's most awkward house party, clutching my **iphone** like a lifeline while Jenna launched into her third explanation of how the "wellness revolution" worked. She was sketching this **pyramid** structure on a napkin, her eyes bright with that scary intensity people got when they'd drunk too much Kool-Aid.

"At the base, you start with just four friends, right? And then when they recruit four people each—"

The metaphorical **bear** in the room, Jenna's dad, lumbered past with a tray of fruit kabobs. He'd been giving me the side-eye all night. Probably because I'd declined his "energy **vitamin** packets" three times. "Stay hydrated, kids," he rumbled, practically shoving a weird green drink at me.

Outside, **lightning** cracked across the sky, so bright it turned everything grainy for a second. The storm had been brewing for hours—weather-wise and otherwise.

"I'm gonna head out," I announced, suddenly unable to spend one more minute pretending this was normal.

Marcus, who'd been sitting beside me looking increasingly uncomfortable, grabbed his hoodie. "Same."

We bolted into the rain, dodging puddles and laughing hysterically at our own cowardice. We ended up at a 24-hour diner, drinking lukewarm coffee and making fun of ourselves for almost buying into the whole thing.

"Bro," Marcus said between sips, "we were literally five minutes away from becoming wellness entrepreneurs."

I laughed so hard coffee came out my nose. Sometimes the best moments happen when you call it quits on something that feels wrong.

The storm raged above, and for the first time all night, everything felt completely real.