Palms, Paddles, and Everything in Between

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could practically fill a **pool** with them. Not that anyone would notice. Everyone was too busy obsessing over Jordan—the baseball god of Northwood High—who'd just shown up to the end-of-summer blowout with his stupid perfect hair and that smile that made everyone forget their own names.

"You're staring again," Priya whispered, bumping her shoulder. "Just go talk to him."

"I can't," Maya hissed. "What would I even say? 'Hey, I've watched you play **baseball** like, three times, and I memorized your batting average'? That's not cute. That's creepy."

Priya rolled her eyes. "You're overthinking. He's just a guy. A guy who happens to be really, really—"

"Don't say it."

"—really good at sports." Priya grinned. "Hey, you should play **padel** with us! We need a fourth for mixed doubles, and Jordan's playing."

Maya's stomach dropped. Padel. Because clearly the universe wanted to witness her athletic ineptitude in front of her crush. "I don't play padel. I don't play anything that involves hand-eye coordination and moving quickly."

"It's basically tennis in a box. How hard can it be?"

Two hours later, Maya found herself gripping a paddle so tightly her knuckles turned white, standing across the net from Jordan Martinez himself. He grinned at her, and something in her chest did a full gymnastics routine.

"Ready to get destroyed, Martinez?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. Where was this coming from?

Jordan laughed. "Feisty. I like it."

Here's the thing: Maya had never played padel in her life. But somehow, with the sun setting behind the court, with Jordan's competitive grin and Priya cheering from the sidelines, something clicked. She returned every shot. She dove for the impossible ones. She and Jordan were volleying back and forth, neither willing to give an inch, until finally—

She smashed the ball past him. Game point. She won.

Jordan stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Maya?"

Later that night, when they were all sitting around the pool, legs dangling in the water, Jordan sat next to her. Their hands brushed—just for a second, but Maya felt it everywhere.

"You never told me you were secretly a padel prodigy," he said.

"I'm not," she said. "I think I just really didn't want to lose in front of you."

"Well," Jordan said, his shoulder pressing against hers, "I'm glad you didn't."

Maya's palms weren't sweating anymore. Some things were worth the nerves.