Thunder in My Palm

Marcus stood in front of his mirror, smoothing his favorite thrifted hat for the tenth time. The house party was in two hours, and his stomach was doing that familiar flip-flop thing that happened whenever he stepped outside his comfort zone.

"You good, bro?" His best friend, Jasmine, lounged on his bed, scrolling through her phone without looking up. "You've been stress-fixing that hat since I got here. It's not gonna magically make you cooler."

Marcus sighed, finally placing the hat on his desk. "What if I say something weird? What if everyone thinks I'm trying too hard?"

Jasmine sat up, dead serious. "Marcus, you literally saved my ass in bio yesterday. You're fine. Besides, Jordan's gonna be there."

Jordan. The mention of his name sent lightning through Marcus's chest—not the scary kind, but the exciting, terrifying kind that made his palms go sweaty. He'd been crushing on Jordan since gym class last semester, when they'd both benched it during dodgeball like the coordinated athletes they definitely weren't.

"Your palms are literally shaking right now," Jasmine noticed, as always. "Wanna do that breathing thing?"

Marcus nodded. They'd figured it out together last year during her parents' divorce—four counts in, four out, until the panic receded like a tide.

"Whatever happens tonight, you're still my friend," she said softly. "Even if you somehow manage to bullcrap your way through a conversation with Jordan and he thinks you're the weirdest person alive."

Marcus laughed despite his nerves. "Thanks, Jas. That's genuinely the worst pep talk ever."

"I know!" She grinned. "Now let's go before you overthink it into oblivion."

The party was chaos in the best way—too-loud music, too many people, the smell of cheap soda and expensive perfume. Marcus spotted Jordan almost immediately, looking unfairly good in a black hoodie that probably cost more than Marcus's entire wardrobe.

His palms went sweaty again. But then Jasmine squeezed his shoulder, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Marcus took a breath, straightened his hat, and walked toward Jordan, toward whatever happened next. Maybe he'd say something dumb. Maybe it would be awkward. But he'd done scary things before, and he'd do them again.

Sometimes growing up meant doing things while terrified—and doing them anyway.