When Lightning Found Me
The pool party was everything I hated: too many bodies, too much skin, everyone pretending to be someone they weren't. I stood by the fence in my oversized hoodie, clutching my phone like it could save me from drowning in social awkwardness.
That's when I saw the cat — this scrawny orange thing with half an ear and attitude for days, watching us like we were the entertainment. It sat on the garage roof, tail twitching, judgment in those yellow eyes.
"Yo Marcus, come in the water!" Jake called. He was shirtless, confident, the kind of guy who made everything look effortless. I'd been crushing on him for six months and had barely said three complete sentences.
"I'm good," I muttered, even though I wasn't good. I was terrified. Of what? The water, the judgment, the way my stomach did backflips whenever Jake looked my way.
The sky turned that weird purple-green that means trouble. Summer storms in the suburbs hit fast and hard. Someone screamed as the first drops fell — fat warm splatters that turned the concrete dark.
Then lightning tore the sky open.
It was close. Too close. The boom shook my teeth. And through the flash, I saw it — the orange cat slipping on the wet roof, claws scrabbling against shingles, sliding toward the edge above the deep end of the pool.
I moved before I could think about it.
No time to be awkward. No time to overthink. I scrambled up the lattice, wood digging into my palms, heart hammering against my ribs. The cat dangled from the gutter, back legs kicking at empty air, silent and terrified.
"I got you," I whispered, wrapping my fingers around its scruff just as another lightning strike turned the world white.
We fell together.
The pool water swallowed us — cold shock and blue silence and chlorine in my nose. Then we broke surface, gasping, me clutching this wet, furious orange bundle to my chest like my life depended on it.
Everyone was staring.
Jake waded through the water toward me, eyes wide. "That was... actually pretty badass."
The cat shook itself off and I started laughing. Couldn't stop. Lightning flashed again and Jake's grin lit up and for the first time all night, I wasn't pretending.
"Yeah," I said. "I guess it was."