Poolside Lightning Strike

The chlorine stung my eyes, but honestly? Anything was better than sitting alone on the edge while everyone else pretended to be mermaids. I'd been dreading Julia's pool party all week, mostly because Tyler would be there, and my brain still hadn't recovered from making direct eye contact with him in homeroom last Tuesday.

I dove into the deep end, letting the water swallow my awkwardness. When I surfaced, gasping, Julia's brother Marcus was holding a baseball over his head like he'd just won the World Series.

"Water baseball!" he announced, because apparently normal baseball wasn't chaotic enough. Teams formed instantly—popular kids versus everyone else, because high school never really ended, it just traded hallways for chlorine.

Tyler ended up on my team. His hair was plastered to his forehead in that effortless way that made me hate my own existence a little. Every time he grinned, my stomach did something genuinely concerning.

Then the sky darkened. Someone shouted about a thunderstorm rolling in, and suddenly we were all scrambling to grab towels and phones. I made it to the covered patio just as the first drop hit.

And then—LIGHTNING. This massive, jagged crack that illuminated everything. Tyler was right beside me, his orange swim trunks practically glowing in the flash, and for three seconds, the world turned into this electric photograph.

"That was sick," he said, shaking water from his hair. "Almost as cool as when I almost hit a home run earlier."

I laughed, because it was either that or pass out. "You almost hit a home run in water baseball? Impressive."

He shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? I'm talented."

We spent the next hour watching the storm from the patio, supposedly躲避 the rain but really just sitting shoulder-to-shoulder while he complained about his baseball coach and I tried to remember how words worked.

The storm passed as quickly as it had arrived. Julia's mom ordered pizza. Tyler high-fived me before heading to the food table, and I stood there, wet and shivering in my orange towel, feeling like I'd just survived something way more dangerous than a thunderstorm.

First crush, they call it. But honestly? Lightning strikes felt more predictable.