Summer Storm Strikeout

The humidity in Maui was no joke. I'd been working at Koa's Fruit Stand for exactly three days, and my palm was already perpetually sticky from slicing papaya for tourists who couldn't pronounce 'mahalo.' The worst part? The cute guy from my history class, Chase, had just walked up with his baseball team.

"Yo Maya, you work here?" He asked, looking stupidly good in his jersey.

My brain short-circuited. "Yeah. I mean, yes. I mean— aloha?"

Internal screaming. I literally just said aloha to someone I've known since seventh grade.

Chase's teammate Kyle snickered. "Nice papaya, Maya. You slice it with your eyes closed?"

Before I could roast him back, the sky ripped open. Lightning cracked across the valley like someone had taken a photo of the ocean with full flash. Thunder shook the fruit stand so hard that three papayas rolled off the display.

"Everyone inside!" Koa yelled from the back.

We all scrambled into the tiny storage shed. It was cramped. It was awkward. I was pressed against a shelf while Chase's baseball cleats dug into my converse.

"So," Chase said, leaning way too close. "You coming to the game Friday? We're playing against Maui High and their pitcher throws straight heat."

"Maybe," I managed, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing. "If I'm not trapped in a shed with my entire history class."

He laughed. Actually laughed. "Worth it for the papaya views."

Was he flirting? Was the humidity making me hallucinate? Was this whole situation a fever dream?

Then Kyle from the back yelled, "Chase, stop flirting with the fruit girl! You're being super cringe right now!"

Everyone cracked up. Chase turned bright red. I wanted to dissolve into the cardboard boxes of imported mangoes.

"Shut up," Chase muttered, but he was grinning. He looked at me, really looked at me, and something in my stomach did a full rotation. "But seriously, you should come. I'll save you a seat."

The storm passed as fast as it arrived. We tumbled out into the steamy afternoon, everything glistening. Chase grabbed a papaya, tossed a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter, and winked.

"See you Friday, Maya."

I watched them walk away, baseball gear clanking, and realized my palm was still sticky from fruit juice but somehow everything felt different. Okay, maybe a lot different. And maybe I was actually going to that game.