Thunder in My Palms

The party at Maya's house was basically a social minefield, and my palms were sweating like I'd just finished a 5K. Not that anyone noticed—everyone was too busy being chill and pretending they belonged here.

I'd been crushing on Leo since September, when he'd sat behind me in AP Bio and drawn a tiny fox in the margins of my notes. Orange hair, mischievous grin, actual chaos energy. Hence the nickname: Fox. Tonight he was by the pool, looking stupidly good in that flannel that was totally unnecessary for California weather.

"You gonna talk to him or just vibe from the distance?" Kayla whispered, appearing beside me with a red solo cup like she'd materialized from the void.

"I'm strategizing," I lied. "Also, my hair is doing that thing."

"Your hair is fine, you drama queen." She gave me that look. "The lightning bolt earrings were a choice, but I respect the commitment."

I touched them self-consciously. They were supposed to be edgy. Now I just felt like I was trying too hard.

Then the sky literally opened up.

One minute it was regular party vibes, the next minute lightning was cracking the sky open like the universe was done with my overthinking. Rain came down in sheets—full-on torrential, everyone screaming and running toward the covered patio.

I somehow got separated from Kayla, shoved toward the pool house by the chaos. And there was Fox, already there, shaking rain from his hair like some kind of romance novel protagonist.

"Wild weather, right?" he said, and I could hear my own heartbeat over the thunder.

"Yeah," I managed. "Pretty... electric."

I wanted to die. Actually die.

But then Fox laughed—not mean, actually amused. His hand brushed mine, and my palm was somehow sweating worse than before. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you something."

The lightning flashed again, illuminating everything in this wild, frozen moment.

"Those fox drawings in your notes," he said. "Did you ever figure out they were for you?"