Gummy Bears and Backhands

Maya's older brother left them on the kitchen counter—those neon-orange vitamin gummies shaped like cartoon bears. She'd been sneaking them for weeks, convinced they'd transform her into someone who didn't panic when cute guys spoke to her. So far, they'd only succeeded in making her tongue turn slightly orange.

"You coming to the courts?" Liam asked, leaning against her doorframe. His friend Jake—the one with the stupid perfect smile and hair that defied gravity—was somewhere downstairs.

"Yeah," Maya lied. "Just gotta finish... something."

She'd never played padel in her life. How hard could it be? It was like tennis but with walls, right?

The neighborhood courts were packed. Jake was already there, stretching in that annoyingly athletic way people did when they actually exercised regularly. His golden retriever, Buster, zoomed around the enclosed space like a furry tornado, chasing a worn tennis ball.

"Hey!" Jake waved her over. "Buster found your dog under the bench."

Her heart stopped. Then dropped. Then did a little flip. Her elderly pug, Pickles, was NOT supposed to be here.

Pickles waddled out from beneath the metal bench, snorting like a disgruntled pig. Buster immediately plopped down and began licking Pickles's face with overwhelming enthusiasm. Pickles tolerated it with the dignity of a creature who'd seen too much.

"Pickles escaped again," Maya said, face burning. "My bad."

"No worries, dude. Buster loves making new friends." Jake's grin was genuinely nice. Not in a mean way. "Wanna play? We can rotate. Liam's getting snacks anyway."

The vitamin gummies suddenly felt like lead in her pocket. "I've never—"

"I'll teach you. It's easy." He tossed her a racquet. "First lesson: don't overthink it. Just hit the thing."

An hour later, Maya was sweaty, her ponytail was falling apart, and she'd missed approximately 87% of the balls. But Pickles and Buster were curled up together under the bench, somehow both asleep. And Jake kept laughing at her terrible serves in a way that felt... nice?

"You're actually getting better," he said as Liam finally returned with chips. "Next time, I'll teach you the bandeja."

"Next time?" Maya echoed.

"Yeah. Unless you're allergic to fun or something."

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket—a reminder about the vitamins she'd secretly added to her calendar. She grinned, wiped sweat from her forehead, and tossed the ball back.

"Nah. I'm good. Same time next week?"

"You're on."

As they walked home, Pickles waddling beside them like she'd personally arranged the whole thing, Maya touched her pocket. The gummies were still there. But maybe, just maybe, she didn't need them to become brave after all.