Orange Crush at the Net

Maya's legs felt like jelly as she stepped onto the padel court. The neon orange ball in her hand seemed to mock her—too bright, too confident, like everything else in this infuriating sport.

"You've got this, May!" Liam called from the other side, his grin making her stomach do that annoying flip thing it always did when he looked at her like that. Like she wasn't totally about to embarrass herself.

She'd only agreed to join the padel club because Liam mentioned it during lunch last week. Now here she was, wearing her sister's old orange sweatshirt (the only athletic clothing she owned) and holding a racquet like it might bite her.

The first serve wasn't terrible. The second went into the net. The third somehow cleared the fence entirely.

"Nice arm!" someone yelled from the sidelines, and Maya felt her face match her sweatshirt.

Then her pocket buzzed. And kept buzzing. The charging cable she'd shoved in there that morning had apparently pressed against her phone in just the wrong way, calling her mom repeatedly. She could see her mom's name lighting up her screen through the thin fabric—twelve missed calls in three minutes. Everyone was staring now.

Maya's cheeks burned hotter. She fumbled with her pocket, trying to silence it, but her fingers were sweaty and the cable was tangled around everything and—

Liam was there, suddenly, laughing without being mean about it. He helped her untangle the mess, his hands brushing hers for just a second too long.

"My mom does this all the time," he whispered. "Once accidentally called my ex during a tournament mid-point."

She looked up, and his eyes were kind. Not laughing at her, but with her.

"Want me to serve for you?" he asked, nodding at the orange ball that had rolled to their feet. "Until you get your phone situation sorted?"

Maya surprised herself by smiling. "Yeah. That'd be... actually amazing."

She watched him hit the ball over the net, smooth and easy, and thought maybe she didn't have to be good at everything. Maybe some things—padel, phones, crushes—were allowed to be messy. As long as you had someone who'd help you untangle the cables.