Papaya Lessons at the Pool

The pool party at Jasmine's was supposed to be chill—just swimming, vibing, maybe flirting with Tyler if I could stop overthinking everything. But then someone suggested padel.

"You've never played?" Sasha asked, eyebrows raised in that way that made me feel like I'd missed a memo everyone else got.

"Is it like tennis?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"It's WAY better," Tyler said, and my stomach did that thing it always did when he looked at me. "Come on, I'll teach you."

The padel court was this enclosed space with glass walls, and within five minutes I was sweating through my bikini cover-up, missing every ball, feeling like the world's biggest poser. Sasha was killing it, naturally, her ponytail swinging as she smashed shots past Tyler.

"You're gripping it too tight," Tyler said, coming behind me to adjust my hand on the racket. His chest pressed against my back for half a second and I forgot how to breathe.

Then his mom appeared with fruit platters. "Anyone want papaya?"

"What's that look like?" someone whispered, and there it was—this alien-looking orange fruit with black seeds that everyone was pretending wasn't weird.

"I love papaya," I blurted out. A complete lie. I'd never even seen papaya before.

But Tyler handed me a slice and suddenly I was committed. I took a bite. It tasted like... musky perfume? My face did something uncontrollable.

Tyler laughed. Not mean laughter. Real laughter. "Your face right now."

"It's an acquired taste," his mom said, winking at me.

And then we were all laughing, Sasha dropping her perfect athlete persona to try papaya for the first time, Tyler making fun of everyone's reactions, me realizing nobody actually liked papaya, we were all just pretending because that's what you do at fourteen—you pretend to know things, pretend to be cool, pretend papaya isn't weird.

Later, swimming under the moonlight while Tyler's playlist bumped from the speakers, I understood something about growing up: nobody knows what they're doing. We're all just trying new things, making faces at papaya, hoping someone laughs with us instead of at us.

"Next time," Tyler said, splashing water at me, "I'm teaching you real padel strategy."

"You mean there's strategy?" I splashed back.

"So much strategy." He grinned. "But you gotta promise not to make that papaya face when I explain it."

"Deal."