Palm Springs Lightning
Maya's palms were sweating. Literally. She wiped them on her shorts again, clutching the padel racquet like her life depended on it.
"You ready for this?" Liam asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet across the court. He looked stupidly fresh for someone who'd been running around in ninety-degree heat for three hours.
"So ready," Maya lied. Her brain felt like zombie mode—three finals today, zero sleep, and somehow she'd let Emma talk her into this padel tournament because "it's for college applications, it shows leadership."
Right. Because hitting a ball with a racquet was definitely going to fix her GPA.
The social pyramid at Hamilton High was brutal enough without adding "sports incompetence" to her list of flaws. Emma was at the top—student council president, varsity captain, dating Tyler. Maya was somewhere in the middle, floating between friend groups, never quite fitting in anywhere.
Lightning cracked across the sky.
"Game point!" someone yelled.
Maya's heart did that thing where it felt like it might actually stop beating. Because across the court, looking directly at her, was Tyler. Emma's Tyler. Who was currently supposed to be at his SAT prep class.
He winked.
The ball came flying at her. Maya swung without thinking, connecting perfectly. The ball smashed into the back corner, impossible to return.
"WHAT!" Emma screamed from the sidelines, but she wasn't looking at Maya. She was looking at her phone.
Thunder rattled the court lights as everyone's phones buzzed simultaneously. A screenshot from the Hamilton High Confessions Instagram: a pyramid of texts between Tyler and half the girls in their grade, including a DM to Maya last night that she'd left on read.
Emma's face crumpled. The social pyramid collapsed in real time.
Maya looked at Tyler, then at Emma, then back at her sweat-slicked palms gripping the racquet. For the first time in forever, she didn't feel like a zombie. She felt electric.
"Game point," she repeated, and this time, she meant something completely different.