The Friday Night Alibi

My palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating. I wiped them on my jeans for the third time, grateful the basement was dark enough that nobody could see me practically hyperventilating over a dumb house party.

"You okay?" Maya whispered, bumping my shoulder with hers. "You look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm good," I lied. "Just vibing."

Total lie. I'd spent three weeks psyching myself up for tonight. Three. Weeks. And now I was standing in the corner of Jessica's basement, pretending to be fascinated by their massive aquarium while everyone else was busy being normal teenagers.

The cat—a fluffy orange demon named Mango that had wandered in from somewhere—jumped onto the entertainment center and started knocking stuff over. Someone screamed. Maya laughed so hard she spilled her drink on my shoes.

"That's it," I said. "I'm auditing this party."

"No way." Maya grabbed my arm. "Tyler just walked in. This is your chance."

Tyler. The guy I'd been lowkey spying on from across the cafeteria since September. The guy whose Spotify playlist I'd somehow found and memorized like a weirdo. The guy who was currently walking toward the aquarium.

I froze. My heart started doing that thing where it forgets how to heart properly.

"Hey," Tyler said, stopping next to me. "That goldfish has been in the same corner for like twenty minutes. You think it's depressed?"

I looked at the fish. It was definitely just floating there, looking mildly traumatized by the bass vibrating through its tank.

"Maybe it's just introverted," I said.

Tyler laughed.

And then—because the universe apparently loved to make my life a living comedy—a flash of lightning struck outside, followed instantly by thunder that literally shook the floorboards. The power cut out.

Complete darkness.

Someone screamed. Someone else started laughing. And in that chaos, I felt something brush against my hand. Fingers. Warm, slightly nervous fingers.

Tyler's voice, low and close to my ear: "Guess we're both stuck in the dark, huh?"

My palm was pressed against his. And I wasn't sweating anymore.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "Guess so."

The lights flickered back on forty seconds later. Tyler was still standing there. Still holding my hand. Still smiling like maybe, just maybe, he'd been wanting to do this for three weeks too.

"Cool party," he said.

"The coolest," I said.

Mango the cat chose that exact moment to knock over the entire bowl of punch.

Okay, maybe it really was the coolest party ever.