Goldfish at the Net

I'm standing at the padel court, my racquet practically vibrating in my hand like my phone when it's blowing up. The new guy — what's his name, again? I've already forgotten, total goldfish brain — is serving to me. I'm supposed to be crushing this, crushing HIM honestly, since everyone's been acting like he's the second coming of Federi or whatever.

"You got this, Maya!" Chloe yells from the sidelines, completely failing to whisper to Jordan. "Don't let the transfer student roast you."

I catch the guy's eyes. He's cute, not gonna lie — messy dark curls, this easy half-smile that makes my stomach do something unnecessary and annoying. He winks. Actually winks. Who does that?

The ball comes at me. I swing, connect perfectly —

And miss everything. The ball bounces off my own shin. A solid 0/10 moment.

"Nice form," someone calls, and the whole group loses it. My face burns hotter than the asphalt.

After practice, I'm at the locker room sink when someone slides in next to me. Transfer Boy.

"You were out there," he says, splashing water on his face. He's not even being mean, which somehow makes it worse.

"I was drowning," I mutter. "Metaphorically. In front of everyone. Again."

He laughs, actually laughs, and I hate that it's kind of nice. "Nah. You just looked like you were swimming laps in your head. Overthinking the whole thing."

I meet his eyes in the mirror. "Is that your approach? Just don't think?"

"Works for goldfish," he shrugs. "Zero stress, maximum vibes."

I snort before I can stop myself.

"I'm Leo, by the way. Since you definitely didn't catch it the first three times."

"Maya. And I caught it. I just... have a lot on my mind."

"Padel's not that deep," he says, grabbing his bag. "But hey — you want to get some actual practice in? Without, like, everyone watching and making it weird?"

My heart does this little skip thing. "You're asking me out?"

"I'm asking if you want to stop swinging at air," he says, heading for the door. "Tomorrow. 4 PM. Don't overthink it."

I watch him go. And for the first time all week, my brain actually shuts up. Zero stress. Maximum vibes. Huh. Maybe the goldfish approach isn't so terrible after all.