When Lightning Strikes the Palm

Summer between junior and senior year. The kind of humid night where your tank top sticks to your back like a second skin. Cassie dragged me to this beach bonfire party because apparently I needed to "get out there" and "live a little." Whatever that means when your anxiety is screaming at 200% volume.

That's when I saw him—Lucas from AP Bio, leaning against a **palm** tree like he owned the entire coastline. The dim blue **lightning** bolt pendant on his necklace caught the firelight, drawing my eye to his collarbone. That's when Jenna decided it was the perfect moment for her infamous papaya challenge.

"Bro, you've seriously never had papaya?" Jenna yelled, already way too hype on whatever someone had spiked in the cooler. "This is basically criminal."

She shoved a slice of **papaya** in my face right as Lucas walked by. I tried to be cool about it, take a casual bite, but the texture was all wrong—like melon but weirder, somehow mushy and firm at the same time. My stomach did a backflip. I choked. Cassie had to perform the Heimlich while Lucas stood there looking concerned and I looked like a complete disaster.

Later, I found Lucas sitting by the water, away from the noise. The storm was rolling in, actual **lightning** flickering across the horizon.

"That papaya incident was literally the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me," I admitted, sitting in the sand beside him.

He laughed, quiet and genuine. "Dude, last year I threw up after eating expired sushi at homecoming and tried to play it off as 'food poisoning from the venue.' So yeah, you're good."

We talked for two hours while the storm moved closer. He opened up about how he's secretly stressing about college applications and how his parents expect him to be a doctor but he wants to study marine biology. I told him how I feel like I'm just constantly **bear**-ing the weight of everyone's expectations, pretending to have my life figured out when I'm lowkey panicking about everything.

"You don't have to **bear** it alone, though," he said, and the way his hand brushed against my **palm** sent electricity through me that had nothing to do with the storm.

The rain started falling just as our fingers actually intertwined. We didn't move. The bonfire sizzled out. Someone yelled for everyone to pile into someone's garage. We stayed there, getting soaked, and it felt like the beginning of something real.

Not exactly the night I expected when Cassie dragged me out of the house. But definitely the one I needed.