Thunder and the Switch

Marcus adjusted his fitted hat for the third time, brim backwards like he thought the cool kids wore it. His palms were sweating. This was it—Jessica's party. The one everyone would be talking about on Monday.

Inside, bass thumped against his chest. Someone handed him a red solo cup. He took it, trying to look casual, like he belonged. Then the sky cracked open.

Lightning flashed so bright the whole house flared white. Thunder shook the windows. Everyone screamed—then laughed, nervous energy turning into something else.

"Power's out!" someone yelled.

Darkness swallowed the room. Marcus heard movement, cursing, someone knocking over what sounded like a bowl of chips. His heart hammered against his ribs.

Then he saw her—Jessica—in the kitchen, phone flashlight cutting through the dark. She was wrestling with something behind the TV.

"Need help?" The words were out before he could overthink them.

She looked up, surprised. "Yeah, actually. The cable modem reset, and I can't reach the outlet."

Marcus dropped to his knees beside her. Their shoulders brushed. He tried to focus on the tangled cords instead of how close she was, how she smelled like vanilla and something citrus.

"Got it," he said, after way too long. His fingers fumbled the plug into the socket.

Router lights blinked to life. Soft blue illumination filled the kitchen. Jessica exhaled, turning to him.

"Thanks, Marcus."

She knew his name.

"No problem," he managed. "Sorry about your party."

She shrugged. "Honestly? Better this way." She gestured to the living room where people had arranged themselves in a circle on the floor, phone flashlights creating a weirdly intimate glow. Someone's little brother's teddy bear sat in the center like some kind of mascot.

"Power outages are kinda cool," she said. "They make everything feel... real."

Marcus adjusted his hat again, then stopped. He took it off entirely.

"Yeah," he said. "They really do."