Lightning on the Court

Maya's hands wouldn't stop shaking. She'd been playing **padel** since freshman year, but somehow this match felt different. Maybe because Jake was watching from the bench, maybe because the regional finals were on the line, maybe because her Instagram story from last night—which she thought was just being funny—had somehow blown up into something weirdly personal.

"You good?" mouthed her best friend Chloe from across the **padel** court. Maya nodded, lying through her teeth. Her heart was already **running** a marathon without her permission.

The sky turned that weird purple-gray color that meant summer storm incoming. Perfect. Just perfect.

Her opponent served. Maya returned, the ball hitting the back wall with a satisfying thwack. They volleyed back and forth, the glass walls of the **padel** court amplifying every squeak of sneakers, every breath. Maya was **running** on pure adrenaline now, diving for balls she normally wouldn't even attempt. Something about Jake's stupid perfect hair made her play like her life depended on it.

Then it happened—**lightning** struck somewhere close enough that the whole court shook. The metal fencing crackled. Everyone froze.

"Game suspended!" the ref yelled.

They scattered toward the covered area. Maya ended up squished next to Jake under the small overhang. Of course. Of *course* this was happening.

"You were killing it out there," Jake said. His voice sounded different than it did over text. Realer.

"Thanks," Maya managed. Her brain was **running** through approximately 47 different responses, but apparently she'd forgotten how to speak.

A stray **cat** darted out from behind the equipment shed, orange tabby with one ear missing. It sat in the open, staring at them like *what are you humans doing*

"That's **Cheetah**," Jake said. "Shows up every tournament. Good luck charm."

**Lightning** flashed again, closer this time. The ozone smell hit Maya's nose, mixing with the rain starting to sheet down. In that flash, she saw Jake looking at her. Not at the court, not at his phone, at *her*.

"Your story last night," he said, quiet. "About how you get scared before matches. I get that too."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it feels like it's **running** up into her throat. "You saw it?"

"I always see your stories." He smiled. A *real* smile, not his TikTok smile. "Always."

The **cat** yawned, unconcerned with teenage romance, and trotted off toward the parking lot.

"When the storm passes," Jake said, "you're gonna win this thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He paused. "After though? You wanna get food? My treat. Victory celebration or whatever."

Maya grinned. "I'm holding you to that, Thompson."

The **lightning** flashed again, but this time Maya didn't jump. Some things were worth standing through the storm for.