Cable Knotted Hearts

I never thought I'd be trapped in a padel court with my crush while literally sweat-dripping in ninety-degree heat.

The story starts with a lie — obviously. Jordan asked if anyone played padel, and somehow my mouth formed "Yeah, I'm basically pro" before my brain could process the social suicide I was committing. Now here I was, holding a padel racket like it was an alien artifact while Jordan moved across the court with the kind of effortless grace that made my stomach do actual backflips.

"You said you were good," Jordan called out, already smashing a serve that definitely wasn't beginner-friendly.

"I said "basically" pro," I yelled back, missing the ball entirely as it bounced off my knee. "There's a range."

Jordan laughed, and okay, that sound was worth the humiliation. "Right. So what's your actual sport?"

"Swimming," I admitted, chasing the ball. "But I'm more of a doggy-paddle situation, less Michael Phelps."

The second lie. I hadn't been swimming since eighth grade, when I'd almost drowned at a pool party and decided aquatic sports weren't for me.

"We should go swimming then," Jordan suggested, like it was nothing. "There's that old cable station pool — nobody uses it since it got decommissioned."

The cable station. My dad worked there. He had keys. This was either destiny or a sign from the universe that I needed to come clean before I died of embarrassment.

"Yeah," I heard myself say, because apparently I hadn't learned anything. "Definitely."

Fast forward to Friday night, and I was standing in front of the gate to the cable station pool with Jordan, a pair of bolt cutters I'd stolen from my dad's garage, and zero chill.

"So," Jordan said, rocking back on their heels. "You got this?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "Breaking and entering is basically my cardio."

The cable was thick, industrial-grade, and definitely not meant to be cut with bolt cutters from 2004. I sawed away while Jordan pretended not to watch me struggle.

"Almost got it," I lied, sweat dripping down my face.

"You know," Jordan said suddenly, "I've never actually played padel before today."

I dropped the bolt cutters. "What?"

Jordan shrugged, looking almost shy. "I just wanted to hang out with you. Thought you'd say no if I just asked to get coffee or whatever."

The cable snapped. The gate swung open. And suddenly I was standing there, bolt cutters in hand, realizing I'd spent two weeks stressing about a sport Jordan didn't even care about, while we both were just trying to figure out how to spend time together without making it weird.

"So," I said, gesturing toward the dark pool beyond the gate. "You still want to go swimming?"

Jordan smiled. "Only if you promise not to drown."

"No promises," I said. "But I'll try not to embarrass myself too bad."

"Good enough," Jordan said, and together we walked through the gate, into the night, both of us pretending we weren't terrified of what came next.