Lightning Strikes the Chlorine

Maya's curls had turned into a frizzy halo after her third lap of the pool. She yanked at her swim cap, but the damage was done—her natural hair was doing its own thing, as usual.

"Your hair is literally goals, Maya," said Kai from the lane next to hers, water dripping from his dreadlocks. "Stop touching it like it's a bomb."

Easy for him to say. Kai looked like a swimming deity, while Maya felt like a potato attempting to breaststroke. She'd been secretly watching him for weeks—okay, fine, spying—from behind her goggles during practice. She knew his pre-race ritual (three bicep flexes, two deep breaths), his favorite snack (papaya chunks from the cafeteria), and the way his smile crinkled his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

Not that she was obsessed. She just appreciated details.

Coach blew the whistle. "Last set, everyone! Lightning's been spotted five miles out, so we're wrapping up early."

The pool erupted in chaos. Everyone scrambled for their bags as distant thunder rumbled. Maya reached for her towel, but her fingers found something else instead—a small container of cubed papaya, nudged against her bag.

A sticky note on top: For the hair goddess. —Kai

Maya's stomach did that swooping thing, like dropping from the high dive. Kai had noticed her noticing him. The papaya was his thing—his signature fuel before every meet. And he'd called her a hair goddess.

She spun around, and there he was, already at the pool entrance, grinning like he knew exactly what he'd done. Like he'd been spying on her spying on him.

"Eat it before the storm hits," he called, already walking away. "And Maya?"

She held the papaya container like it was gold. "Yeah?"

"You're faster than you think."

Lightning cracked across the sky as she took a bite of the sweet, orange fruit. Her curls were still frizzy. She was still exhausted from practice. But somehow, none of that mattered anymore.