Strike Out in the Rain

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could barely grip her iPhone. This was pathetic—she was sixteen, not twelve, but here she was, sitting in the bleachers pretending to care about baseball just because Connor had texted her "come thru if u want 🤙" and she'd spent forty-five minutes on her hair.

The score was tied, bottom of the ninth, and Connor was up to bat. He looked good leaning over home plate, his jersey untucked just enough. Maya zoomed in with her camera, ready to capture the moment he sent one flying into the outfield.

Instead, the sky opened up.

It started with a rumble, then lightning split the sky—this brilliant, jagged crack that made everyone scream. The umpire blew the whistle so hard Maya felt it in her chest. "GAME CALLED! EVERYONE CLEAR THE FIELD NOW!"

Suddenly it was chaos. Parents grabbing kids, players sprinting for cover, and Maya stuck in the middle of the bleachers as rain came down in sheets. She grabbed her phone and scrambled down the metal steps, slipping on wet aluminum.

She nearly face-planted but someone caught her arm.

"Yo, you good?"

Connor. Standing there dripping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, holding a cooler over his head like a ridiculously small umbrella. Water was streaming down his nose and he was laughing, actually laughing, and Maya's brain short-circuited.

"My phone," she said dumbly. "I can't—"

"Come on."

They ran together toward the concession stand, which was basically just a tin roof on poles, but it was something. By the time they ducked underneath, they were both soaked. Maya's favorite shirt was ruined. Her hair was a disaster. This was officially the worst moment of her life.

"Sorry about your phone," Connor said, nodding at where she was clutching it against her chest. "Is it—"

"Waterproof," she said, then immediately wanted to die. Who says that?

But Connor grinned. "Smart. I learned that the hard way freshman year." He gestured vaguely. "Lost mine to a Gatorade cooler incident. Tragic stuff."

She laughed. She couldn't help it.

"So," he said, leaning back against the concession stand wall, "you come to a lot of games?"

Maya's heart did something genuinely concerning. "First one."

"Yeah?" He looked at her, really looked at her. "Well, hopefully not the last."

The rain kept pouring, lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, and Maya's palms were sweating again. But for once, she didn't care. Sometimes the best moments happen when everything else is falling apart.