Spinach in the Lightning

Maya's hair was a disaster after the pool party, so she yanked her dad's old bucket **hat** down low. Like, covering-her-entire-forehead low. Because naturally, the one time Jake actually noticed her, she looked like a drowned rat.

"You good?" Jake asked. He was standing way too close, and Maya's brain short-circuited like **lightning** had struck her frontal lobe.

"Totally. Just... loving this atmospheric **water** dripping from my nose." She gestured at her face. Smooth. Really smooth.

Jake laughed, and her stomach did that thing where it forgot how to organ. "You looked like a **zombie** coming out of that pool. Like, The Walking Dead extra level of dead."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean—" He stepped closer. "It was cute."

The air between them crackled. Was this happening? Was this ACTUALLY happening? This wasn't how her life worked. Things like this didn't happen to girls who still got nervous ordering pizza.

Then his eyes widened slightly.

"What?"

"You, uh..." He pointed at his own teeth. "You've got something..."

Maya's stomach dropped. She'd eaten that stupid spinach dip earlier. The fancy kind her mom made, trying to be Pinterest-perfect for Jake's family. And now it was decorating her teeth like green moss.

She wiped frantically. "Gone?"

Jake was trying not to laugh. "Most of it."

"MOST of it?"

"You missed a spot." He reached out, wiped it away with his thumb. Their faces were inches apart. The storm outside cracked thunder.

"There," he said softly. "Perfect."

And then he kissed her.

Spinach breath and all.