Swipe Right on Thunder

The notification lit up my iPhone screen at 2:47 AM. Heart pounding, I tapped it open. No way. Sophia actually replied. After three weeks of leaving me on read, she'd finally sent a meme. Just a meme, but still.

"You're actually gonna make me play padel with your dad's friends?" I texted back at breakfast, shoving a neon orange vitamin gummy into my mouth. My phone buzzed instantly.

"It's cute! They need a fourth player and Tyler's coming." Tyler. The guy whose hair somehow looked perfect even in chemistry class when he fell asleep during lectures.

Saturday arrived with humidity thick enough to chew. The padel court baked in the sun, and I showed up wearing shorts that had definitely shrunk in the wash (that was my story and I was sticking to it). Tyler was already there, stretching, all lean muscles and effortless cool.

"Hey," he said, and then I died. Okay, not really. But internally? Absolutely deceased.

We played. I tripped. A lot. Tyler laughed—but like, in a nice way? I think? Somewhere between game point and disaster, actual storm clouds rolled in. The sky turned that ominous purple-gray that means run for cover, except we didn't.

"One more point," Tyler called, grinning as he served.

Then lightning cracked across the sky—so close it made the hair on my arms stand up. Thunder shook the ground. And in that split second of chaos, Tyler reached out and pulled me toward the court's covered bench.

"You okay?" he asked, face inches from mine.

"Y-yeah," I managed, heart hammering harder than the storm. "Just. Wow."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Wow."

The rain poured down around us in sheets, but under that little roof, time stretched weird and wonderful. My iPhone buzzed somewhere in my bag—probably Sophia wanting details—but honestly? She could wait.

"Next time," Tyler said, watching the storm, "maybe we skip the game and just get lightning together?"

I smiled so wide my face hurt. "Definitely."

Best. Failed. Sports. Ever.