Thunder in My Pocket

The baseball field smelled like cut grass and teenage desperation. I sat in the bleachers, my iPhone buzzing with texts from the group chat I was definitely ignoring.

'You coming to Tyler's party?' 'Everyone's gonna be there.' 'Don't be lame.'

Lame. The word stung more than I wanted to admit.

My phone was basically an extension of my hand at this point. FOMO was real, and so was the fact that I'd rather be literally anywhere else than a Friday night party where I'd stand around pretending to be someone I wasn't.

That's when I saw him.

Jordan was out on the field, alone at dusk, swinging a baseball bat like his life depended on it. Perfect form. Perfect everything. I'd been watching him from afar since freshman year, obviously.

'You gonna stare all night or actually say something?' he called out, not even turning around.

My face burned. I'd been caught.

'I, um...' I stammered, fumbling with my phone like an idiot.

Jordan turned, grinning. 'You're Maya, right? From AP English?'

I nodded, suddenly grateful for the dim lighting hiding my probably-very-obvious crush.

'Wanna hit some?' He tossed me a bat. 'I promise not to judge your terrible form.'

'I don't—'

'Everyone knows everything in this school,' he cut me off. 'Including that you're secretly really good at drawing. I saw your sketch in the art display last week.'

Lightning cracked across the sky, followed immediately by thunder that shook the metal bleachers.

'Storm's coming,' Jordan said. 'We should probably head to the dugout.'

We sat in the cramped space as rain started pounding the metal roof. This was the kind of moment that felt like something out of a movie—the cute guy, the storm, the forced proximity.

'Why didn't you tell anyone about the art thing?' he asked, scrolling through his iPhone.

I shrugged. 'It's not really... me?'

Jordan looked up, really looked at me. 'What does that even mean?'

'I don't know.' I picked at a loose thread on my jeans. 'It's just, my friends are all about sports and parties and being...' I gestured vaguely. 'Like that. And I'm not.'

'And that's bad?'

'It's just... easier to be what they expect.'

Jordan nodded slowly. 'I get that. But also? That baseball field out there? I hate it.'

'What? But you're amazing at it.'

'Exactly. Everyone expects me to be this baseball star, go to college on a scholarship, whatever. But I'd rather be taking pictures.' He held up his phone. 'Photography club meets same time as practice. I've been sneaking to photography instead of pitching practice for months.'

Another flash of lightning illuminated everything between us, and for the first time, I felt seen.

'Maybe we stop being who we're supposed to be,' I said quietly.

'Yeah,' Jordan said, grinning. 'Maybe we start being who we actually are.'

My iPhone buzzed again. 'Party's starting where are you??'

I turned it off without reading the rest.

'So,' Jordan said. 'You gonna show me your sketchbook or what?'