Poolside Lightning

Maya's palms were sweating—again.

Sixteen and still terrified of pools. The one thing everyone else at Ridgeview High seemed to treat like some birthright, like breathing or complaining about early release days.

"Don't be weird," Chloe whispered, adjusting her bikini top like she'd been practicing since birth. "Literally just get in. It's not that deep."

Maya wanted to correct her—it absolutely was that deep—but she just nodded. The graduation party at Jordan's house had it all: infinity pool overlooking the city, expensive floaties nobody actually used, and spinach dip that had been sitting out for two hours. Maya had spent the last hour holding the same red cup, pretending she wasn't hyperventilating.

Then came the lightning.

Not real lightning—although the sky had been threatening all afternoon, the kind of muggy heat that made everything feel possible and wrong at the same time. It was Jordan, dripping wet from a cannonball that actually looked impressive, zero hesitation. He moved like **lightning** across the deck, all confident energy and easy charm, grabbing a fresh drink from the cooler before he'd even fully straightened up.

Maya's stomach did this stupid flippy thing it had been doing since seventh period math when he'd returned her dropped calculator with that ridiculous grin.

"You gonna stand there all night or actually get in?" Jordan asked, suddenly right next to her.

He smelled like chlorine and expensive cologne. Up close, Maya noticed the **cable** stretching across the deck—the one everyone kept stumbling over, connected to the DJ setup that some junior's older brother had rigged up with way too much confidence.

"I don't really... swim," Maya managed, hating how small her voice sounded.

Jordan studied her like this was the most interesting thing anyone had said all night. "Since when?"

"Since always."

"Huh." He nodded slowly. "Wanna know something? I almost drowned when I was seven. My uncle threw me in. Said I'd figure it out. Took me three years to get back in a **pool**." He held up his hand, **palm** out. "Look—still shakes a little before I jump."

Maya looked. His hand was steady, but something in his eyes wasn't lying.

"What are you afraid of?" Jordan asked, and it wasn't mocking. It was genuine.

"The bottom," Maya said before she could overthink it. "Like, what's down there."

Jordan nodded like this made perfect sense. "Same. Still check every time."

A crash of thunder rattled the deck. Actual lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating everything in harsh, beautiful relief.

"Everyone out!" someone yelled, and people scrambled toward the house, screaming and laughing.

But Jordan didn't move. Neither did Maya.

"First storm of summer," he said. "Kind of perfect, right?"

"You're crazy," she said, but she was smiling.

"We should get inside." But he didn't move.

The rain started—big, warm drops that smelled like ozone and possibility.

"My mom makes this **spinach** stuff," Jordan said out of nowhere. "She calls it a salad. It's actually awful. Like, you try to be healthy and then immediately regret everything."

Maya laughed before she could stop herself. It felt real.

"I'm not gonna swim tonight," she said. "But maybe... I could dip my feet in?"

Jordan grinned, and it was exactly the kind of lightning that didn't need a storm.

"Deal."

The rain fell harder. The DJ's cable lay forgotten in the gathering puddles, the music long dead. And for the first time since seventh period, Maya wasn't thinking about what could go wrong. She was thinking about what might finally go right.