Thunder and Tequila

Maya leaned against the pool fence, clutching her red Solo cup like it was a lifeline. The seniors' end-of-year party raged behind her—music thumping, people she'd known forever suddenly transformed into strangers in crop tops and snapbacks. She'd barely touched the **water** someone had sloshed into her cup, some questionable punch that smelled like regret and artificial fruit.

Then she saw him.

Riley, who'd sat behind her in AP Bio since freshman year. Riley, who usually wore hoodies two sizes too big and kept his head down. Tonight though? Total **fox**. He'd traded the hoodies for a fitted black tee that actually showed off shoulders, and holy crap, when had he gotten hot?

Maya's brain short-circuited. Riley waved, actually smiled, and started walking toward her. Her heart did that **lightning** strike thing—rapid fire, nowhere safe to hide.

'Hey Maya,' he said, close enough that she could smell his cologne. Something woodsy and not terrible. 'You okay out here? You looked like you were plotting an escape.'

She laughed, nerves fraying. 'Honestly? Just trying to **bear** another hour of people pretending we're not all terrified for college.'

Riley's eyebrows shot up. 'Wait, you're scared too? I thought you had everything figured out. GPA, perfect applications, the whole deal.'

'Fake it till you make it, right?' Maya gestured at her untouched cup. 'This is my third pretend drink of the night.'

Riley's grin was genuine. 'Same. Mine's actually just Gatorade. Want to get out of here? There's a taco truck down the street.'

Maya looked at this suddenly-unfamiliar Riley, then at the party where nothing was real except the fear everyone was hiding.

'Absolutely.'