Electric Serve

The country club's social pyramid tilted precariously every summer, and Maya usually landed somewhere near the bottom—right next to the salad bar. This year would be different. This year, she'd joined the padel team.

Coach Blanco droned on about footwork while Maya's stomach performed backflips. She'd eaten questionable spinach quesadillas from a sketchy food truck because her little sister had made them. Never again.

"Maya, you're up!"

She stepped onto the court, racket slippery from sweating through her grip. Across the net stood Liam—actual lightning in human form, his smile devastating enough to trend on TikTok. He was pyramid royalty: captain of everything, probably owned monogrammed everything.

"You got this," Liam said, and Maya's brain short-circuited.

She served. The ball ricocheted off the glass wall at impossible angles, her body moving on instinct she didn't know she possessed. Game point. Maya's return sailed perfectly into the corner, unreachable.

The team exploded. Liam high-fived her, his touch sending electric currents straight to her heart. "Where've you been hiding?"

Then her stomach betrayed her. The spinach situation escalated rapidly.

Maya bolted for the clubhouse bathroom, humiliation burning hotter than the sun. She stayed in there until her phone buzzed—an unknown number.

hey it's liam from padel. you okay? coach said you got sick

Maya stared at the screen, water pricking her eyes. He'd noticed. The guy at the top of the pyramid had noticed she disappeared.

fine lol. bad food truck decisions

his typing bubble appeared immediately: same happened to me last year. there's a reason nobody eats from that truck anymore lol

Maya washed her face, heart lighter somehow. Maybe pyramids were meant to be climbed, but some people—rare, lightning-people—would throw down a rope if you stumbled. She stepped back into the sunshine, ready for whatever came next.