Lightning Strikes the Lunch Table

The spinach leaf was practically screaming at me from the front tooth. I'd been chatting with Lucas for five minutes—FIVE MINUTES—while a literal salad garnish decorated my smile like I was some kind of vegetable Christmas tree.

I'd been basically low-key spying on Lucas since September, memorizing his schedule like a creep, and now that we were finally having an actual conversation, I had to go and channel my inner spinach farmer. Classic me. River, queen of awkward encounters, defender of social suicide, guardian of everything cringe.

"Your phone," Lucas said, pointing.

"What?"

"You got a notification. It's flashing." Lightning cracked outside—the storm we'd been hearing about all morning finally showed up. The cafeteria lights flickered.

I unlocked my phone. It was a text from Mia: dude check ur teeth lol.

I wanted to die. Right there. Just evaporate into nothingness. Become one with the linoleum.

"You got something..." Lucas gestured at his own teeth, looking uncomfortable but trying to be nice about it. Because that's who Lucas was. The kind of person who told you about the spinach in your teeth instead of letting you walk around like a fool all day. That's why I'd been crushing on him for months.

I scraped the offending green off my tooth with my nail. "Thanks. You're a solid friend, Lucas."

The word "friend" hit the air like I'd just assigned us to the buddy system for life. Subtle, River. Smooth. Why don't you just tattoo "I like you" on your forehead while you're at it?

He smiled—and okay, that smile really was worth all the social awkwardness. "No problem. So, about that Spanish project..."

We spent the rest of lunch working through conjugation drills, and I didn't even mind that my orange soda was warm and flat. Sometimes the universe throws you a bone—or spinach leaf, as it were—and you just gotta roll with it. Lightning storm, spinach teeth, accidental friend-zoning yourself. Whatever. At least he knew my name now.

Progress, I guess.