The Orange Crush

Maya tugged at her neon orange hoodie, already regretting the life choices that led to wearing something that screamed NOTICE ME at Jake's baseball game. She stood near the concession stand, clutching a plastic water bottle like it was a lifeline, while her friends Savannah and Chen hyped her up from the sidelines.

"You got this," Savannah said, checking her reflection in her phone. "Just go over there during the seventh inning stretch. Casual. Cool."

Maya's stomach did gymnastics. Jake, the starting pitcher with the smile that made girls forget their own names, was currently on the mound, dusting off his uniform. The score was tied 3-3, bottom of the sixth, and the entire school seemed to be packed into the bleachers. Including Tyler, who'd been relentless with his teasing since he found out about Maya's crush.

"Hey, crash test dummy," Tyler called out from behind her. "Nice traffic cone aesthetic."

Maya flipped him off without turning around. Her cat, Mittens, had better social skills, and Mittens hissed at the mailman every Tuesday.

The sky, previously a perfect blue, decided that was the moment to turn an ominous purple-gray. A distant rumble of thunder echoed across the field. Perfect. The universe was literally setting the mood for her humiliation.

"Go now," Chen whisper-shoved her. "Before the storm hits."

Maya took a breath and started toward the dugout, each step feeling like she was walking through molasses. She was fifteen feet away when the first raindrop splatted against her forehead. Then another. Then the sky opened up like someone had dumped a bucket—no, a whole swimming pool—over the stadium.

She froze as Jake turned, saw her standing there in her now-soaked orange hoodie, and—

CRACK.

Lightning split the sky, bright and blinding, closer than she'd ever seen it. The game was called. Everyone started running for cover, screaming and laughing and dashing through the sudden downpour. Jake, dripping wet, jogged right past her.

"Nice hoodie," he said with a grin, gesturing vaguely at her neon self. "You're, like, impossible to miss."

Then he disappeared into the dugout, and Maya stood there in the rain, water streaming down her face, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Sometimes the universe didn't give you the moment you wanted. It gave you something weirder. And honestly? She'd take it.