Thunder Palm Prophecy

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping — gross, but whatever. She wiped them on her ripped jeans and took a breath.

"Okay, who's next for the psychic readings?" Becca called out from her spot on the basement floor, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights and half-empty sodas. Because apparently when you're sixteen, hosting a 'mystical party' means your mom's basement becomes a cosmic portal.

Maya had been basically spy-crawling on Jordan from across the room all night. Jordan, with their effortless vibe and lightning-quick smile that made Maya's brain do that thing where it just stopped working. Social media stalking was one thing — low-key obsessively watching Jordan laugh at someone else's jokes in real time? That was new levels of pathetic.

"Maya! You're up!" Becca grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the circle. "Jordan's doing the readings. They're, like, surprisingly good at this."

Jordan. Of course. The universe had a twisted sense of humor.

Maya sat cross-legged across from Jordan, heart doing gymnastics. "So, uh, what do I do?"

Jordan smirked — that little half-smile that should be illegal. "Give me your palm."

She hesitated. Her hands were still sweaty. This was fine. Everything was fine.

Jordan took her hand, and Maya felt something like actual lightning shoot up her arm. Not scary lightning. The good kind. The rom-com kind.

"Hmm," Jordan studied her palm like it contained the secrets to passing pre-calc. "You're running from something. Or toward something. Can't tell yet."

Maya's breath caught. "What makes you say that?"

"Your life line, duh. Also the fact that you've been looking at me all night but pretending not to?" Jordan looked up, eyes dancing. "Not exactly subtle, spy."

Heat flooded her face. "I wasn't —"

"It's cool," Jordan said, voice dropping. "I was doing the same thing."

Outside, actual thunder cracked so loud it made them both jump. Someone yelped. The basement lights flickered.

"See?" Jordan squeezed her hand. "The cosmos is validating me." Their grin softened. "Your palm says you're scared of wanting something. But it also says you're about to go for it anyway."

"Yeah?" Maya whispered, not daring to hope.

"Yeah." Jordan stood up, tugging her up with him. "Wanna get out of here? Maybe continue this reading somewhere less... crowded?"

Maya's palms had never been drier. "Absolutely."

They were halfway up the stairs when Maya's phone buzzed. Becca: the fake psychic act WORKED. you're welcome. also jordan's been obsessed with u for weeks. the palm thing was just an excuse to hold ur hand.

Maya laughed so hard she nearly tripped. Sometimes the universe wasn't just messing with you. Sometimes it was throwing you an assist.