Bull's Eye

Maya gripped the padel racket until her knuckles turned white. The court smelled like rubber and teenage anxiety.

"You got this," Leo said, bumping her shoulder with his. "Just hit the ball. Don't overthink it."

Easy for him to say. Leo was the kind of friend who'd lend you his homework and then roast you for getting a B-. He'd been playing padel since freshman year. Maya had picked it up approximately three days ago, all because she'd overheard Sarah talking about how she liked guys who weren't totally uncoordinated.

Sarah. The reason Maya was currently humiliating herself in a denim skirt and Converse.

The ball whizzed past her ear.

"Forehand," Leo called out. "Not a baseball pitch, Mays."

"I literally cannot," she muttered, sweat trickling down her back. This was fine. This was normal. Everyone started somewhere, even if somewhere was practically negative skill level.

Then Sarah walked by with her squad, and Maya's brain short-circuited.

The next serve came in hard. Maya didn't think. She didn't breathe. She just swung—

—connected with nothing but air, spun around like a breakdown, and faceplanted onto the court.

Silence. Then laughter. Not mean laughter, but the kind that made you want to teleport into another dimension entirely.

Maya pushed herself up, knees skinned, dignity in shreds. A shadow fell over her.

Sarah stood there, holding out a hand. "You almost took my head off with that backhand."

Maya's face burned. "That was me falling. Gracefully."

"Hey, you're taking the bull by the horns," Sarah said, pulling her up. "Literally nobody tries padel their first week. That's brave." She lowered her voice. "Wanna play mixed doubles Saturday? Leo and me versus you and... actually, you need a partner who doesn't suck."

Maya's heart did something illegal against the laws of physics.

"I'll work on it," she managed.

"Good." Sarah's smile did things to Maya's equilibrium. "Because you've got form. You're just... enthusiastic."

Leo texted her later: *bro took a L but came out with a W* followed by three crying-laughing emojis.

Maya stared at her ceiling, knees stinging, heart racing. Sometimes the bull didn't gore you. Sometimes it just winked and asked for mixed doubles.

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.