The Orange Hour

The fluorescent cafeteria lights buzzed like an angry hornet nest. I sat alone, peeling an orange, trying to look casual while simultaneously spying on Tyler across the room.

My iPhone buzzed in my pocket. Probably my mom asking if I'd fed the goldfish. Dad had bought him last week as some kind of "responsibility lesson" - a fat, orange fantail named Captain Finsticks who mostly just floated near the surface looking vaguely disappointed in me.

"You're being obvious," said Mia, sliding into the seat beside me. She nodded toward Tyler. "He's just texting someone."

"I'm not spying. I'm observing."

"You've been observing him since seventh grade. It's giving stalker vibes, not romantic vibes."

I tossed my orange peel into the trash. Outside, lightning split the sky - weird for October. The rain started hammering against the windows like it had somewhere better to be.

Tyler stood up.

"This is it," I whispered.

"He's probably just going to the bathroom."

But then he walked straight toward our table. My heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. Tyler Mitchell, the boy who'd sat behind me in math since September, whose eyes were the exact color of a stormy ocean, was approaching.

He stopped at our table.

"Hey," he said.

I smoothed my hair. "Hey."

"My friend thinks you're cute." He gestured toward a sophomore I didn't recognize. "Her name's Sarah. She's too nervous to ask, so she sent me as recon." He grinned. "I've been officially drafted as wingman. Do you want her number?"

I looked at my orange-stained fingers. Then at Tyler, who was clearly terrible at being a wingman. Then at Mia, who was trying not to laugh.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

As he walked away, I realized something. All that spying, all that overthinking - I'd been so busy imagining Tyler as my romantic lead that I'd missed what was actually happening. The world was full of possibilities I hadn't even noticed.

"Captain Finsticks would be proud," Mia said.

"Shut up."

Outside, another flash of lightning. But this time, I didn't jump.

That night, I texted Sarah. And fed the goldfish. And deleted twenty-seven photos of Tyler I'd saved "just in case." Some chapters end before you're ready for them to.

The real story was just beginning.