Green Smoothie Truth or Dare

The spinach was stuck in my teeth. Again.

I'd been chewing on the same green leaf for three minutes while Maya droned on about her backhand slice at padel practice. My iPhone buzzed in my pocket — probably Leo posting another story from the beach party I wasn't invited to. Classic.

"And then coach said my form was literally perfect," Maya said, flipping her ponytail. "You should come to the club tomorrow. Bring your racket."

"Yeah, maybe," I lied. The truth was, I'd sold my padel racket on eBay last month. To buy photography equipment. But how do you tell your oldest friend that you're secretly taking food photos for an anonymous Instagram account instead of training for the tournament she's been obsessing over since seventh grade?

Thunder cracked overhead. We both jumped.

"We should go," Maya said, grabbing her smoothie cup. "My mom will freak if I'm not home before the storm hits."

We started running toward her house, rain already spotting the sidewalk. My phone slipped from my sweaty grip and clattered onto the pavement.

"NO!" I scrambled to grab it. Screen intact, but my heart was pounding.

Maya stopped running. "You okay? You look like you're gonna puke."

That's when it happened. Lightning flashed, illuminating everything in this stark, weird white light. And for some reason, I just couldn't keep pretending anymore.

"I quit padel," I blurted. "I hate it. I've been taking photos for this food account and that's where my racket money went and I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I thought you'd think I was ditching you—"

Maya stared at me. Rain was streaming down both our faces now.

"Wait," she said. "You're @greenscene? I literally follow you. Your spinach smoothie shots gave me the idea for this place." She held up her half-empty cup.

I stood there, frozen. "You... follow me?"

"Duh. Your aesthetic is insane." She grinned. "But also, you're an idiot for thinking I'd care about stupid padel more than you doing something you actually love."

Another flash of lightning, closer this time. We both started running again, but this time laughing.

"So," Maya called over the sound of rain and thunder, "since we're being honest — I only joined padel because Tyler from math said he'd be there."

"Tyler moved away last year, Maya."

"I KNOW! I'm literally the worst kept-at secrets tonight!"

We collapsed on her porch, soaked and breathless and somehow lighter than I'd felt in months. My phone buzzed again in my pocket — Leo again. But I didn't even care.

"Tomorrow," Maya said, wiping rain from her forehead, "you're taking photos of my post-padel smoothie. And you're teaching me your lighting setup. Deal?"

"Deal."

The spinach in my teeth didn't matter anymore. The storm wasn't scary. And somehow, everything had changed in exactly the right way.