Bull Sessions & Backhand Volleys

The bull session started like they always did—sprawled on Marco's basement couch, chip bags open, phones buzzing with notifications nobody actually checked.

"So are you going to talk to her or what?" Tyler asked, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth.

I shrugged. "I mean, yeah. But like... when?"

"Dude, you're overthinking it," Marco said. "It's Maya. She's in our padel league. You literally see her twice a week."

Padel. The word made my stomach do that thing where it forgets how to organ. I'd started playing at the beginning of sophomore year because my older brother said it would help me "stop being weird at parties." Spoiler: it did not help. But I'd gotten decent at the sport, and somehow that had made me visible to people like Maya, who moved across the court like she was gliding, hair streaming behind her like she was starring in a music video she hadn't filmed yet.

"You should invite her to the tournament next weekend," Tyler suggested. "Casual. Low stakes."

"My dog has better game than you," Marco laughed.

Buster WAS significantly more charming than me. He was a rescue with one ear that flopped and one that stood straight up, and he had this talent for looking exactly like whatever emotion you needed him to feel. Sad? Buster understood. Happy? Buster was vibing. He was currently sprawled across my feet, snoring softly.

The truth was, I didn't know how to be the person who just talked to Maya Chen without making it weird. In my head, I rehearsed conversations that spiraled into overthinking—What if she thought I was trying too hard? What if she didn't actually like me and was just being nice because we were on the same club team? What if everything I thought was happening between us was just bull?

"You're doing it again," Marco said. "The thing where you disappear into your head."

"I'm not—" I started.

"You literally are." Tyler sat up. "Look, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna go to the courts, we're gonna play some padel, and you're gonna text Maya. Simple."

Buster lifted his head, thumped his tail once, and went back to sleep.

"Fine," I said. "But if she says no, I'm never listening to either of you again."

"Deal," they said in unison.

My phone was in my hand before I could overthink it. Maya: Hey! You playing in the tournament this weekend? Want to team up?

The three dots appeared immediately. Then: OMG yes!! I was hoping you'd ask 💚

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"See?" Marco grinned. "No bull about it—she's been waiting for you to make a move."

Buster chose that exact moment to wake up, stretch dramatically, and pad over to lick my hand like he'd personally engineered this whole thing.

"Good boy," I told him. And for the first time in forever, I believed it.