Bad Hair, Good Summer

My hair was a disaster—frizz haloing around my head like I'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Which, technically, I had. The straightening incident of 2025 that taught me: fried hair builds character.

"You look fine," Maya said, not looking up from her iPhone where she was deep-scrolling through someone's beach party pics. "Besides, everyone's gonna be watching Jake anyway."

Jake. The reason we were even going to the padel courts at the country club where the cool kids hung out. My crush of three months, who still thought my name was "Sarah... something."

The club was buzzing—summer peak, bodies everywhere, volleyball nets strung up like spiderwebs between perfect tanned people. I tugged at my cable-knit sweater, suddenly realizing it was ninety degrees and I was literally melting.

Then I saw him. Jake, standing near the padel court with his perfect floppy hair and that smile that made my stomach do things I didn't want to analyze.

"Hey!" he waved, walking over. "You gonna watch the tournament?"

Words. I needed them. "Yeah, totally. Love padel. It's like... tennis but shorter?"

Maya fake-coughed. Jake laughed though. Actually laughed.

"You're funny," he said. "Wanna hit some balls around afterwards? My partner bailed."

Something rustled in the nearby woods. Everyone froze.

"Was that a bear?" some girl squealed.

"Probably just a dog," someone said, but suddenly the casual summer vibe shifted. People were grabbing their stuff, iPhones clutched like lifelines.

Then it lumbered out—a massive black bear, ambling across the path like it owned the place. Everyone scattered. I grabbed Maya's hand and we bolted toward the main building, my hair flying everywhere, straightener-frizz and all.

We ended up squeezed into a storage closet with Jake and three other people, breathless and laughing hysterically.

"Your hair," Jake said, genuinely grinning now. "It's kinda perfect."

"It's a disaster," I said.

"Nah," he said. "It's got... character. Fried straightener survivor energy."

Later, as the bear wandered off toward the dumpsters and security finally showed up, Jake asked for my number. Actual, real number, not just "Sarah... something."

"It's Sam," I said.

"I know," he said. "I was messing with you."

Maya high-fived me. My hair was still a mess. But this summer? It was gonna be legendary.