Orange Lightning

I walked into third period feeling like a literal zombie. Finals week had turned my brain into mush, and I was surviving on vitamin gummies and pure spite. My hair was a mess, my eyes were baggy, and I'm pretty sure I was wearing two different socks.

"You look dead, Mia," said Jordan, sliding into the desk beside me. Jordan, with their perfect orange hoodie and their perfect eyeliner and their perfect everything.

"Thanks, Jordan," I muttered, rummaging through my backpack for emergency vitamins. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"I'm just saying. Maybe skip the horror movie marathon next time?" They grinned, and my stomach did that stupid thing it always did around them.

The storm outside had been brewing all morning, clouds thick and dark. When lightning flashed across the sky, the whole classroom went silent for a second. Rain started hammering against the windows like it was trying to break in.

Mr. Henderson kept droning about chemistry formulas, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy watching Jordan absentmindedly peel an orange during the lecture. The citrus smell cut through the stale classroom air, fresh and bright and impossible to ignore.

"Want some?" Jordan whispered, holding out a segment.

My heart was doing somersaults. "Sure."

Their fingers brushed mine when I took it, and lightning flashed again outside—closer this time. The thunder was so loud the whole class jumped. Jordan laughed, and the sound was better than any thunder I'd ever heard.

"You know," Jordan said, popping an orange segment into their mouth, "you're not actually a zombie. Zombies don't have cute dimples."

I almost choked on my orange. "Did you just call my dimples cute?"

"Maybe," Jordan said, all casual, like they hadn't just made my entire life. "Eat your vitamin gummies, zombie girl. You've got a chemistry test to survive."

Outside, the storm raged on. But inside, everything felt weirdly bright and electric, like lightning trapped in a jar. I wasn't a zombie anymore. I was just a girl with a crush on someone who noticed my dimples, someone who shared their orange with me during third period chemistry.

Sometimes the smallest moments hit you like lightning—fast, unexpected, and impossible to ignore.