Three Seconds of Lightning

Kai's goldfish had better social skills than him. At least Gary didn't overthink every party invitation or panic when Maya from AP Chem made eye contact across the cafeteria.

"You're coming to Jake's tonight, right?" Tyler bounced on his heels, vibrating with that chaotic energy that made teachers nervous but girls swoon. "Don't give me that bull about studying. Finals are next week, we need memories."

Kai sighed. He wasn't good at parties. He wasn't smooth like Tyler, who could charm anyone into anything without trying. He was more of a goldfish person—quiet, contained, mostly forgotten.

"Fine."

At the party, the air already smelled like cheap cologne and desperation. Kai grabbed a soda and pressed himself against the wall, expertly blending into the beige paint. Until Maya appeared.

She was in a crop top and confidence, laughing at something some guy on the basketball team said. That fox sharpness in her eyes—the kind that saw everything and pretended not to.

"Kai?" She appeared beside him, and his heart did something embarrassing. "You look like you're hiding from a predator."

"Just conserving energy," he managed.

She grinned. "Wanna sneak out?"

They ended up on the roof, shoulders touching as they watched lightning stitch across the sky—electric veins threading through dark clouds. The storm was miles away but made everything feel electric, dangerous, important.

"My ex said I have a goldfish memory," Maya said softly. "Like, I forget things that matter. But I remember how you helped me with that chem lab when everyone else was too busy being cool."

Kai stared at her. The wind whipped her hair across her face. She wasn't the untouchable goddess from school—she was just a girl who remembered something small.

"You remembered that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She looked at him, really looked. "You're not invisible, Kai. You're just quiet. There's a difference."

Lightning flashed again, closer this time. For three seconds, everything was bright and clear and honest.

"My fish died today," Kai said, surprising himself. "Feel stupid mourning a goldfish, but..."

Maya's hand found his in the dark. "Gary had good taste in people."

They sat there as the storm broke, rain falling like permission to stop pretending. Kai wasn't smooth or confident, but for the first time, he didn't want to be anyone else.