Padel Court Apocalypse

The fluorescent lights buzzed above the padel court like angry hornets. Maya adjusted her grip on the racket, palms sweating through the overgrip tape. This was it—regional finals, and somehow her nerdy self had made it this far.

"You're gonna crush it, Maya," Liam said from the other side of the net. His smile did weird things to her stomach that had nothing to do with pre-match jitters. Not that he'd notice. Liam was the kind of guy who dated cheerleaders, not girls who spent weekends rewatching The Walking Dead and memorizing zombie apocalypse survival strategies.

"Yeah, right," Maya muttered. "I'm about to get absolutely destroyed out there."

"Dog!" someone screamed.

A golden retriever bolted onto the court, tennis ball clamped in its jaws like it had just discovered the Holy Grail. The referee blew his whistle, but the dog was too fast—it slid across the padel surface like a canine hockey puck, slamming into Maya's legs and dropping the slobbery ball right at her feet.

Everyone froze. Then burst out laughing.

Maya looked up, and there was Liam, practically doubled over, and for the first time all semester, he was looking at her. Actually seeing her.

"That's Buster," Liam called, stepping onto the court to grab the dog's collar. "He's a total escape artist. Sorry about that."

Their hands brushed when he handed her the racket. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the court in stark white.

"Maybe it's a sign," Maya said before she could stop herself. "Like, universe saying I should just embrace the chaos and play anyway."

Liam's grin softened. "Or maybe it's saying you should come to my place Friday. We're having a zombie movie marathon, and my sister keeps bailing because she 'doesn't do horror.'"

The referee blew his whistle. Match point.

Maya stepped to the line, racket ready. Her phone buzzed in her bag—probably her mom asking about dinner, probably the world continuing outside this moment. But here, under fluorescent lights, with a dog named Buster and lightning flickering through the windows and a golden-haired boy waiting for her answer, Maya swung.

The ball sailed perfect and true.

"I'll be there," she called back. "Assuming I survive this match."

Liam winked. "You're playing like a zombie already, Maya. Might as well join the club."