Bear Goes Padel

I never thought I'd be the type to panic over a sport, but here I was, hyperventilating in the parking lot while everyone else walked onto the court like they owned it. My friends called me Bear because I could sleep through anything, but apparently padel at 8 AM was where I drew the line.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably another Insta story from Kyle showing off his new padel racket. The FOMO was real, but honestly? My cat Mochi had better coordination than me, and she spent 23 hours a day sleeping on my pillow.

"Yo Bear, you coming or what?" Jake yelled from the court. He'd been playing padel since freshman year and treated it like a religion.

I grabbed my bag and trudged over, my iPhone clutched in my hand like a security blanket. Why had I agreed to this? Oh right, because Sophie was playing, and I'd apparently decided that humiliating myself in front of my crush was peak romance strategy.

The game started, and I immediately tripped over my own feet. The ball whizzed past my ear at approximately the speed of light. Sophie laughed—not mean laughing, but nice laughing, which somehow made it worse.

Afterward, everyone clustered around the smoothie bar talking about "goals" and "aesthetics" while I tried to disappear into the background. That's when I saw it: a papaya smoothie with my name on it. Literally. Someone had written "BEAR" in sharpie on the cup.

"Thought you might need something after that dive," Sophie said, sliding it toward me.

I took a sip and—okay, not gonna lie, it was actually good. Like, weirdly good for something that looked like radioactive sludge.

"Thanks," I managed, while my brain short-circuited. "Next time, I'll only fall once."

She smiled. "Deal."

Maybe padel wasn't so terrible after all. Or maybe I just really liked papaya smoothies. Either way, Bear was coming back next week.