Orange Slice at the Padel Club

Maya's palms were sweating on her iPhone grip as she lurked one last time on Leo's Instagram story. Not creepy spying, she told herself. Just research.

The padel club hummed with after-school energy. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, she watched Leo dominate the court, his orange headband bright against the blue padding. He moved like he owned everything—probably including Jessica's attention, judging by how she giggled at courtside.

Maya's water bottle sat condensing on the bench, its neon orange electrolyte powder still swirling undissolved. She'd been planning to join Leo's casual padel group for weeks, but somehow always found an excuse. Too tired. Too much homework. Too herself.

"You're Maya, right?"

She jumped, nearly knocking over her orange water. Leo stood there, dripping sweat, orange headband slipping. "You're in my history class. You always sit by the window."

Heat crept up her neck. He'd noticed? "Yeah, that's me."

"We need a fourth for mixed doubles. You play?" He gestured at his own padel racket.

Her mouth went dry. "I—uh—"

"No pressure. But Jessica's gotta leave, and I've seen you watching. Figured you might be interested."

He'd noticed her watching. Not just in class—here. The spy thing went both ways.

Maya abandoned her iPhone on the bench, electrolyte water splashing her wrist as she grabbed the spare racket he offered.

"I play," she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "Not amazing, but I play."

Leo's grin widened. "Perfect. Let's see what you got."

That afternoon, Maya missed half her serves and laughed so hard her stomach hurt. She didn't check her iPhone once. And when Leo texted her that evening—different from Instagram, just a normal text asking if she wanted to play again tomorrow—she stared at the orange emoji he'd added, feeling something bright and unfamiliar blooming in her chest.

Sometimes the best moments happened when you put down the phone and picked up something real.