Orange Hair Running Scared

The lightning cracked across the sky like something out of a movie, but my life was definitely not cinema-worthy. Unless you count the part where I'd dyed my hair bright orange two days before freshman year orientation because I read somewhere that orange represents creativity and individuality.

Now I was running through the rain like an idiot, my ridiculous orange hair plastered to my forehead, ducking behind the gym building to avoid being seen by—well, everyone.

"Spying on Jordan again?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Maya materialized from the shadows, hood pulled up against the storm. She was the only person who knew about my not-so-secret crush on Jordan, the effortlessly cool junior who somehow made wearing the same vintage band tee every day look intentional instead of sad.

"I'm not spying," I hissed. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"You're literally hiding behind a dumpster to watch them eat lunch." Maya raised an eyebrow. "That's spying. That's weird behavior, Kai."

Another lightning flash illuminated the quad. Jordan was leaving the cafeteria alone, umbrella forgotten, walking straight into the downpour. Something about their posture looked wrong—slumped, defeated. Not the Jordan I'd been watching from afar for weeks.

Without thinking, I sprinted across the rain-slicked pavement, orange hair streaming behind me like a comet's tail.

"Jordan!" I called out. "You forgot your—"

They turned, and I realized they'd been crying. Jordan. The person I'd put on this pedestal.

"Thanks," they said softly, taking my umbrella I'd somehow grabbed on my way over. "Your hair... it's really cool."

"Yeah, well," I managed, my heart doing something embarrassing. "Figured I should stop trying to be invisible."

Jordan smiled, and it was the most genuine thing I'd ever seen. "Wanna walk to class together?"

And just like that, I wasn't running anymore. I wasn't spying from the edges of everyone else's life. I was right there in the middle of it—orange hair and all.