Spinach and Lightning Strikes

I stared at the neon green smoothie my mom had thrust into my hands before first period. "It's packed with vitamin B and iron, sweetie! You need energy for the volleyball tournament!"

Great. Just what I needed - to be the girl who smelled like a salad gym while trying to impress Jordan, the cute junior who'd finally noticed me after two years of invisible existence.

"Yo, what's that sludge?" Jordan asked, sliding into the seat beside me in homeroom. His eyes were the color of the ocean, and he was looking at me. Actually looking. At me.

"Spinach smoothie," I muttered, wishing the floor would crack open and swallow me whole. "My mom's health kick."

He laughed, and it sounded like warm honey. "Bet it tastes like literal grass."

"Worse. Tastes like regret and chlorophyll."

Jordan grinned, and I felt it in my chest - this weird fluttery feeling, like actual lightning was striking my ribcage. "Bold of you to suffer through it. I respect the dedication."

DEDICATION? If only he knew. I'd actually secretly started liking the stupid smoothies. Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone. Ever.

The volleyball tournament that afternoon was chaos. Our team was down by three points, my palms were sweating, and I could feel my teammates' frustration radiating like heat waves. Then Jordan yelled from the bleachers, "Show 'em that lightning-quick reflex stuff, Maya!"

Something snapped. I served, and the ball cracked across the net like a whip. Point. Again. Point. Again. POINT. We won. And Jordan was waiting by the gym doors after, leaning against the wall like he owned it.

"That was insane," he said, blocking my exit with easy confidence. "You were literally on fire out there."

"Adrenaline, I guess."

"Or maybe the spinach magic," he teased, stepping closer. "So, tomorrow morning... same smoothie time?"

My heart did this embarrassing skippy thing. "You... want to join me for health sludge?"

"Nah." His eyes locked on mine, intense and searching. "Want to join you. Period."

The moment stretched between us, charged and electric. Then his phone buzzed, breaking the spell. "Yo, I gotta run. But I'll be at your locker tomorrow. 7:30 sharp. Don't be late, vitamin queen."

I watched him walk away, my stomach doing backflips. Maybe Mom's gross smoothies weren't so terrible after all. Sometimes the most ridiculous things turn out to be exactly what you need.