Summer Storm Protocol

Maya's golden retriever, Buster, had decided that right now—during the most important party of sophomore year—was the perfect time to steal the papaya from the appetizer table. Not just any papaya, but the centerpiece fruit bowl arrangement that Tyler's mom had spent all afternoon perfecting.

"Buster, NO!" Maya whisper-shouted, but the dog was already bolting through the crowd of students in their orange-hued party lights, tropical prize clamped proudly in his jaws like it was some legendary artifact.

Tyler laughed. That devastating, genuine laugh that made Maya's stomach do that annoying flutter thing it always did around him. "Dude, your dog has expensive taste."

The whole backyard went quiet for a beat. Then someone—probably Jordan, because Jordan would—catcalled: "PAPAYA THIEF!" and suddenly it was the funniest thing that had ever happened at a house party ever. Maya felt herself flushing, but not in the bad way. In the weirdly warm way.

She'd spent all week strategically low-key obsessing over this party. What to wear (sleeveless top or too much? she'd gone with too much). What to say (practice conversations in the mirror, definitely not weird). How to exist near Tyler without making it obvious that she'd been accidentally-not-accidentally memorizing his schedule since September.

Then lightning cracked across the sky—a stark white spiderweb of electricity that made everyone look up simultaneously. Rain started coming down. Not polite summer rain, but one of those dramatic torrential downpours that only happen in movies or when the universe wants to force a moment.

"Inside! Everyone inside!" Tyler's voice carried over the thunder, and suddenly it was chaos—people grabbing plates, drinks, each other. Maya ended up squished on the sectional next to Tyler, both of them damp and laughing at the absolute disaster of everything.

"So," Tyler said, and his knee kept touching hers and she was trying so hard to play it cool, "Buster really committed to that bit."

"He's a method actor," Maya managed, and Tyler's grin was everything.

"You're coming to the lake tomorrow, right?"

She almost played it coy. Almost did the thing where you pretend you haven't been waiting to be asked. But the storm outside was loud and Tyler's hand was warm on her knee and she was done with all the games.

"Wouldn't miss it," she said, and Buster chose that exact moment to wander in, papaya-free but proudly carrying someone's lost sandal.

Sometimes the universe sends you signs. Sometimes your dog steals exotic fruit in front of your crush and a storm forces you onto the same couch. Either way, you pay attention.