Green Between My Teeth

I leaned against the fence watching Jake crush another serve at the padel court, the ball ricocheting off the glass walls like he was playing to a stadium crowd instead of just me and Brittany. My dad kept telling me I needed to try new things, "expand my horizons," but honestly? I'd rather be playing baseball. At least there, nobody expected me to wear pastels.

"You're staring again," Brittany said, not looking up from her phone. "At the cable dangling from the ceiling. It's not that interesting."

"I'm not staring. I'm observing." I gestured vaguely at the row of people along the club's patio. "It's called social reconnaissance."

"It's called being creepy." She finally glanced up, following my line of sight. "Oh. Her."

Maya was twenty feet away, laughing at something her friends said. She had this way of tilting her head when she found something actually funny, not just polite-laugh funny. I'd been noticing stuff like that for weeks, which was exactly why I was currently hiding behind a padel court instead of, like, talking to her like a normal person.

"You should just go over there," Brittany said, like it was that simple. "What's the worst that happens?"

"I say something stupid, she laughs at me, and I spend the rest of high school remembering that one time I tried to step out of my lane." I adjusted my collar. "Also, I might have spinach in my teeth."

"You checked five minutes ago. You're fine."

"It could be strategic spinach. Waiting to deploy."

"You are genuinely unhinged." Brittany stood up. "You know what? I'm done watching you overthink everything. I'm getting ice cream." She paused. "You coming?"

"In a bit."

She walked off, leaving me alone with my cowardice and Jake's increasingly aggressive serves.

Then Maya looked over.

Our eyes caught, and my brain short-circuited. I could've looked away. I could've pretended to be intensely fascinated by the padel court's architecture. Instead I froze, which was honestly impressive given how badly I wanted to disappear.

She said something to her friends and started walking over.

My heart decided this was its moment to try parkour or something.

"Hey," she said, stopping at the fence. "You're in my history class, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Smooth. "I sit near the window."

"Right." She smiled, and I noticed she had this tiny gap between her front teeth. It was kind of perfect. "I'm Maya."

"Leo."

"Nice to officially meet you, Leo." She nodded toward the court. "You play?"

"Padel? No, I just stand here looking judgmental. It's my specialty." Why did I say that? "I mean, Jake is teaching me. Sort of. I keep trying to hit it like a baseball and it keeps not working."

She laughed. Actually laughed, not polite-laughed. "I feel that. Everything I try ends up being a disaster. Last week I tried to make Pinterest cookies and nearly set off the fire alarm."

"At least you're ambitious."

"Ambitious and terrible." She leaned against the fence, and we were closer than I'd realized, her arm almost touching mine. "So, baseball. You play?"

"Yeah. Third base, mostly."

"That's cool." She sounded like she meant it. "I like watching baseball. It's relaxing."

"It's definitely not relaxing when you're the one striking out with bases loaded."

"That sounds like a story."

"It's not. It's just trauma."

She laughed again, and this time she didn't look away. The club was getting louder, more people arriving for the afternoon, but it felt like we were in this little bubble where none of that mattered.

"So," she said, after a second, "I was going to get ice cream with some people, but they're being boring and want to study for finals. Which, like, it's April. We have time." She tilted her head. "You want to come instead?"

"Now?"

"Unless you have important standing-right-here business."

"I mean, Jake might need moral support."

"Jake will be fine. Jake is currently playing like he's training for the Olympics." She pushed off the fence. "So? Ice cream?"

"Yeah." I pushed off the fence too. "Yeah, absolutely."

We started walking toward the club's ice cream bar, and I was trying to play it cool but internally I was screaming.

"Hey, Leo?" she said, after a moment.

"Yeah?"

She gestured to her own teeth. "You had a little—" She pointed. "Green stuff. From lunch, probably."

I stopped walking. "You're kidding."

"Nope. It was pretty noticeable, actually." She was grinning. "I figured you'd want to know."

"And you waited until I agreed to get ice cream with you to tell me?"

"I didn't want to ruin the moment." She shrugged. "Also, it was kind of adorable."

"Adorable."

"The way you were trying to act smooth while having spinach in your teeth? Very endearing."

I couldn't help it—I started laughing. "I hate you a little."

"You'll get over it. We're getting ice cream."

"Yeah." I shook my head, still smiling. "Yeah, we are."

And I know, I know—it sounds like nothing. But walking toward that ice cream bar, not caring that I'd just spent twenty minutes talking to the girl I'd been weirdly obsessed with for weeks while having spinach in my teeth? It felt like something.

Sometimes the bull doesn't need to charge. Sometimes he just needs to stand there and let someone point out the spinach between his teeth.

It's not about being perfect. It's about being brave enough to be seen.