Static in My Bones

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip my Solo cup. Typical Friday night at Tyler's house, and I was pressed against the wall like furniture while everyone else became versions of themselves I didn't recognize.

"You're not gonna talk to her?" Marcus shouted over the bass that was practically rattling my teeth. "Dude, that's such bull. You've been obsessing over Maya for like three months."

I shrugged, trying to look chill instead of like I was vibrating with anxiety. Outside, lightning cracked across the sky — the storm they'd been predicting all week was finally rolling in. The flash illuminated Maya across the room, laughing at something Tyler said. Her whole face lit up like she'd swallowed a star.

I'd written her approximately seven hundred notes in my head. None of them made it to paper.

Then I saw it: a cat, this calico with one ear that folded weirdly, crouched under the snack table, tail twitching. It looked like it wanted to be anywhere but here. Mood.

"Yo, is that even your cat?" Marcus asked, gesturing.

"No clue, probably belongs to the neighbors."

The cat bolted when someone knocked over a bag of chips, scrambling toward the back door. I followed, because suddenly being inside felt impossible. Outside on the porch, the air was thick and electric. The cat sat on the railing, watching me like it knew exactly how pathetic I was.

"You're judging me right now, aren't you?" I muttered.

The cat licked its paw, unimpressed.

Then Maya came out, and my heart did this embarrassing flail thing. She leaned against the railing next to me, not saying anything. Just breathing. The storm was rolling in closer, purple lightning spiderwebbing across the clouds.

"My ex is in there," she said finally. "Being all, 'Maya, we can still be friends.' Like, stop. That is such bull."

"Yeah," I managed, because my brain had short-circuited. "People say a lot of bull."

She laughed, and it sounded like rain on a roof. "You're funny. I like your vibe."

"My vibe is terrified."

"Same though." She held out her hand, palm up. "High five for being socially awkward at parties?"

Our palms slapped together, and something sparked — not like the lightning, but softer. Warm. Like this could be the start of something real.

The cat yawned, like our moment was cute but boring, and jumped down to chase a moth into the storm-dark yard.

"Want to get out of here?" Maya asked. "There's this diner that's open all night."

"Yeah," I said, and finally my palms stopped sweating. "Yeah, I really do."