Zom-Be-My-Valentine

My iphone buzzed with a text from Jordan: "look outside."

There he was. A zombie.

Or at least, that's what he looked like trudging across my front lawn in the pouring rain, facepaint streaking, those ripped clothes clinging to his soaked frame. I couldn't help it—I cracked up.

Jordan glared at me through the window. His hair was plastered to his forehead, that fake blood dripping down his neck like black tears. Three hours of makeup, gone. All because his older sister forgot to pick him up from the community center's haunted house practice.

I opened the door. "You look like something that crawled out of a grave."

"Ha ha," Jordan said, shivering. "Can I come in?"

Mom was at her book club, and Dad was still stuck at work. Perfect.

But then—then Jordan's eyes went wide. He stared at my teeth.

"You, uh... you've got some..." He gestured at his own mouth.

I froze. Spinach. From dinner. Of course.

I sprinted to the bathroom, my face burning hotter than the summer sun. When I came back out, Jordan was sprawled on the couch, still damp, still undead, still smiling that crooked smile that made my stomach flip.

"So," he said, "you want to watch zombie movies and make fun of how fake they are?"

I sat down next to him, careful not to get too close. But I wanted to.

The TV flickered as Jordan played with his phone, flicking through Netflix. Then it happened—our fingers brushed against each other. Electric.

"You know," he said, not looking at me, "today in first period, when Ms. Patterson asked what animal we related to, I said a bear."

"A bear?"

"Yeah. Because they hibernate. They disappear all winter and come back different." Jordan turned to me then, his eyes serious despite the zombie makeup. "I think I'm ready to stop hibernating."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Me too," I whispered.

Jordan took my hand. His palm was warm against mine, and the rumble of thunder outside didn't matter anymore. All I could think about was his hand, his smile, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

"You know," I said, "swimming through all the awkward stuff to get to moments like this... it's almost worth it."

Jordan laughed. "Did you just quote my Instagram bio from eighth grade?"

"Maybe," I said. "But I was being ironic."

"Sure you were."

The rain kept falling outside, but inside, everything had changed.