Poolside Lightning

The orange uniform felt like a prison sentence. My first summer job as a pool attendant at the country club, and I already wanted to disappear.

That's when I saw her. Chloe. The same Chloe who sat three rows behind me in AP Bio, the one I'd spent months pretending not to stare at during lectures. She was standing near the padel courts, laughing with her friends like she owned the place.

"Hey! You work here?" She waved, walking over. My heart did that embarrassing fluttery thing.

"Yeah. Just started." I tried to sound casual. Failed.

"You any good at padel? My partner bailed, and we need a fourth for doubles."

"I've literally never played."

"Perfect. You're in."

Next thing I knew, I was holding a padel racquet and standing across from her best friend's extremely attractive brother. The game was chaotic. I tripped. I swung at air. I somehow hit the ball backward into my own face.

But Chloe laughed. Not mean laughing. The good kind.

Then the weather turned. One minute it was perfect sunshine, the next—CRACK. Lightning split the sky directly overhead.

"Everyone out of the pool!" I shouted, remembering my training. But nobody moved.

"I said OUT!" My voice cracked mid-shout.

They scrambled. As the first drops hit, I felt someone grab my hand. Chloe, pulling me toward the clubhouse.

"You were kind of badass," she said as rain poured around us.

We spent the next hour sitting on the clubhouse floor, sharing stolen orange soda from the vending machine, watching the storm. She told me she was terrified of lightning. I told her I was terrified of basically everything.

"Running away from stuff is overrated," she said, leaning against my shoulder.

The storm passed. My orange uniform was still ridiculous. But maybe, just maybe, this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.