I stopped walking and turned to face him. “The world feels alive right before a storm. The air has this crackle to it, and it just makes you feel . . . feel . . . I don’t know, a little bit crazy. Like you can do anything because there aren’t any rules anymore. Something so much bigger than you looms, and it makes you feel humbled and a little terrified all at the same time,” I said, thinking back to one storm specifically. The one where the winds came hot and full and beat against my face and clothes and pulled at my hair until it was wild and matted. When the clouds had gathered purple and black, suffocating the blue sky. “And then there’s this moment, just before the lightning comes, when everything feels frightened. Even the atoms in the air. They buzz with this anticipation, and an unseen energy builds up and you can almost feel it rushing through you. And the lightning is so loud that you have to cover your ears. And then when the clouds finally burst open, it’s just the best feeling.” I smiled and then shrugged. “You probably think I’m weird now, right?”

“Yeah, I do. Totally weird . . . but also kind of cool.” That last part was a soft whisper. A small sound on the breeze, but I caught it, and before I knew what I was doing . . . before I’d even thought the words and given my lips permission to speak them, I heard them:

“I think you’re cool too.” Dot, dot, dot. Yes! This was a dot, dot, dot moment if ever there was one.

He smiled. “So not an uncultured, boring jock who knows nothing about art and cool Swedish music.”

I laughed. “I never said you were boring.”

He gave me another smile; this time it was slightly naughty. The smiled moved into his eyes. Azure blue this time. They glinted with the same magic that you feel just before the storm. “I still have to prove to you that I’m not boring.”

Our eyes locked and the lightning struck, deep inside my belly. But then he broke the moment.

“Hey, want something to eat?” He pointed at a food truck parked on one of the paths.

I shook my head. No way was I eating in front of him. “I’ve already eaten.” I lied. I was starving.

We walked away from the food truck, him with a giant hot dog in his hands, me with a Coke Zero. They had given me one of those biodegradable straws, the type made of cardboard. Look, I was all for saving the planet, really, but these straws got soggy between your lips and turned to mush. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Jake opened his mouth widely, tilted his head to the side for easy access and then shoved half the hot dog in. My stomach rumbled, quietly, thank goodness.