Crush Courts & Goldfish Memory

I was basically a zombie after pulling that all-nighter for Mr. Henderson's chem test. My bestie Maya dragged me to the padel courts anyway, claiming 'fresh air hits different when you're dying inside.'

That's when I saw him. Riley. The new kid with the effortless curls and the serve that could shatter your soul. He was playing against my brother, actually looking like he knew what he was doing. I tried to act normal, clutching my racket like it was a lifeline, but Maya caught me staring.

'Stop thirsting and focus,' she whispered. 'You've got the attention span of a goldfish today.'

'I'm malfunctioning,' I protested. 'That's different.'

Riley's golden retriever, Buster—a chaotic fluffball who definitely ran the household—bounded over and deposited a slobbery tennis ball at my feet. Riley jogged over, all apologetic smiles and 'sorry, he has zero boundaries.'

'S'cool,' I managed, while internally screaming.

'You play?' he asked, nodding at my racket.

'Terribly,' I said. 'But Maya makes me.'

'Wanna hit a few?'

So there I was, dead on my feet, playing padel with the cute new kid while his dog terrorized the court and Maya filmed everything 'for the vine.' And when Riley laughed at my terrible backhand, something shifted. The exhaustion melted into this golden moment where everything felt simultaneously terrifying and perfect.

'Memory like a goldfish,' Maya posted later with a video of me missing the ball entirely.

But I remembered every single second. Especially when Riley asked for my number, casual as anything, like it wasn't about to make my entire year.