Thunder Struck

Maya pressed her face against the window, watching the **lightning** split the sky outside. Another Friday night, another party she wasn't invited to. At least the storm was a valid excuse to stay home.

Her cat, Luna, head-butted her ankle demanding dinner. Maya sighed and filled the bowl, then noticed the internet was dead. Again. The **cable** modem's lights were dark—probably the storm messing with the connection.

"Great," she muttered. "Now I can't even stalk their Instagram stories."

Her phone buzzed. Jordan: *hey u coming?*

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did. Jordan was the whole package—smart, funny, and somehow unaware that half the sophomore class had a crush on him. Including her. But Maya had never been good at the whole flirting thing. She overthought everything, ended up saying weird stuff, and then replayed it in her head for days.

The front door opened. Her older brother, Ryan, stumbled in dripping wet, clutching a plastic bag.

"Did you seriously walk to the gas station in this?" she asked.

"Needed **water**," he said, holding up a bottle of Powerade like it was holy water. "Also may have seen Jordan outside."

Maya's heart jumped. "What? Where?"

"Running toward your house. Actually, wait." Ryan squinted. "Pretty sure he was carrying something. Looked like... I dunno, flowers?"

Maya's brain short-circuited. Flowers? For her?

"You're **spy**ing on me now?" she asked, trying to sound chill but definitely failing.

"Just reporting facts, little sis." Ryan grinned. "Fact: you should probably answer the door before he realizes he came to the wrong house."

Maya froze. Jordan was here? NOW?

Then came the knock. Three sharp raps that echoed through her chest like thunder.

Luna meowed impatiently. Maya's palms were sweating. Outside, the storm raged on, but suddenly she wasn't watching from the window anymore.

She opened the door.