Thunderstruck at Midnight

The pool deck was empty when Maya slipped outside, clutching her phone like a lifeline. Behind her, the graduation party raged — bass thumping, people she'd known forever laughing like they weren't all about to scatter to different colleges. Her phone was at 4%. Dead phone, dead social life.

"You look like you're plotting murder," someone said.

Maya jumped. There on the lounge chair was Leo, formerly known as That Guy From Bio, currently holding a white charging cable like it was Excalibur. His hair was actual chaos, and he was wearing those stupid checkered Vans everyone seemed to have.

"My phone died," Maya said, because apparently her brain had also died.

"Plug it in." Leo gestured to the outdoor outlet with the cable. "Your savior has arrived."

She sat. He moved over. Their knees brushed and suddenly Maya's heart was doing that thing where it forgot how to heart.

"So," Leo said, staring at the pool where the underwater lights made the water look like liquid galaxies. "Big day coming."

"Yeah." Maya watched her screen light up: 12%. "Everyone's acting like we're not all terrified."

"Friend," Leo said, turning to look at her, and the word hit different than when anyone else said it. "We're all lowkey freaking out. Jake cried in the bathroom earlier."

"No way. Jake's, like, got everything figured out."

"Nobody has anything figured out. That's the bit they don't tell you." Leo held out his hand, palm up. "Case in point: I have no idea what I'm doing."

Maya looked at his hand, then at him. Something crackled between them that had nothing to do with the humidity.

"Literally same," she said.

Then lightning split the sky — this wild, electric spiderweb of white that turned everything to negative for one perfect second. Thunder rolled through the deck boards.

"Classic," Leo said, grinning. "The universe loves a dramatic moment."

"Is this the part where we have a profound realization?" Maya asked, feeling lighter somehow.

"Nah." Leo's thumb brushed hers when he finally pulled his hand back. "This is the part where we admit we have no clue what happens next, but maybe that's okay."

Maya's phone buzzed. 47 new notifications. She didn't look.

"Yeah," she said, watching the storm clouds paint the sky darker, deeper. "Maybe that's okay."