Spinach and the Storm

The pool party of the year. That's what Maya's Instagram story called it. And there I was, standing at the edge of the diving board, about to embarrass myself in front of everyone.

"You got this, Leo!" shouted Tyler, who was already in the water, splashing around like an oversized golden retriever.

I checked my reflection in the sliding glass door. Good. My hair was actually behaving for once. My braces were barely visible. But then I smiled wider and—oh no. A massive piece of spinach was wedged between my front teeth.

The spinach salad at lunch. The classic mistake.

I'd been crushing on Maya since seventh period English started three weeks ago. She'd smiled at me yesterday when I made that joke about Shakespeare being the original influencer. She'd actually laughed. And now, with spinach practically glowing in my teeth like a green beacon of social suicide, I was supposed to make a cool entrance?

Suddenly, the sky opened up.

A crack of lightning split the sky—close enough that the boom followed immediately. Someone screamed. Everyone started scrambling out of the pool.

"Go! Go! Go!" someone yelled.

I wasn't running toward the house like everyone else. I was running toward the bathroom, desperate to get the spinach situation handled before—

"Leo! Hey!"

Maya. She was standing there, soaked from the sudden downpour, water dripping from her hair onto her shoulders. She looked somehow even prettier than usual, and my heart was doing this weird stutter thing that had nothing to do with the storm.

"You coming inside?" she asked. Then she smiled, waiting for my response like I was supposed to form actual words.

"Yeah," I managed, praying she wouldn't notice the spinach situation in the dim lighting. "Just... gotta grab my towel."

"Cool." She paused. "Hey, you have a little—" She gestured at her own teeth.

My soul left my body.

"Oh my god," I whispered.

"It's fine," she said, giggling. "Happens to everyone. Yesterday I walked around with chocolate on my face for like two hours before someone told me."

The lightning flashed again, illuminating her amused expression. And somehow, despite the spinach, despite running through a thunderstorm, despite my social life currently imploding, I found myself laughing too.

"Maybe we can both work on being more observant," I suggested.

"Deal." She grinned. "Now come on, before we get struck by actual lightning."

I followed her inside, spinach and all, thinking that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't a complete disaster after all.