Papaya Secrets at the Padel Court

The padel court at the rec center was basically church for every popular kid at Northwood High. And me? I was definitely not in the congregation.

"You're doing it again," Jordan said from beside me on the bleachers. "That creepy staring thing."

"I'm not staring," I lied. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"Bro, you're literally spying on Leo from behind a Gatorade bottle."

I put down the bottle. Jordan was my oldest friend, which meant they got to call me out on my stuff. But they didn't understand. Leo wasn't just the cute sophomore who dominated at padel every Saturday. He was the guy who'd hummed Vampire Weekend lyrics during chem lab last week when he thought no was listening. Vampire Weekend. In 2026. That was *unhinged* behavior, and I needed to know more.

The problem? Leo traveled with a crowd that made approaching him feel like social suicide.

"You should just talk to him," Jordan said, scrolling through TikTok. "Or I could do it for you. I have zero shame."

"Absolutely not."

"Why are you like this?"

"Because last time I tried talking to a crush, I choked on my own spit and accidentally spit-launched a fry at their face."

Jordan didn't even look up. "That was legendary though."

Leo's match ended. His crew dispersed toward the smoothie bar, and without thinking, I stood up.

"What are you doing?"

"Going for it."

Jordan gasped. "The fry incident didn't kill you. It made you stronger."

My heart hammered as I approached the smoothie counter. Leo was there, ordering something pink and orange.

"Papaya and mango," the smoothie guy said, sliding over a cup. "Nice choice."

Papaya. Okay. That was... weirdly specific and kind of adorable? Who even liked papaya?

"Hey," I said, before my brain could register what a bad idea this was. "That's actually my favorite."

Leo blinked. "Seriously? Most people think papaya tastes like soap."

"Those people are wrong."

He grinned. And yeah, okay, Jordan was right about one thing — I should've done this sooner. "I'm Leo."

"Mia," I said, and then, because I apparently couldn't help myself: "I saw you playing padel earlier. You're really good."

"You play?"

"I mean, I *try* to play. My backhand is tragic."

"I could teach you sometime," Leo said, and it sounded genuine. "Saturday mornings?"

Jordan watched from the bleachers, looking like they'd just witnessed a miracle. And maybe they had. Because somehow, by being the most awkward version of myself, I'd gotten exactly what I wanted.

"Saturday sounds perfect," I said.

And as Leo walked away with his papaya smoothie, I realized something: Jordan was right about something else too. The fry incident hadn't killed me. It had just been practicing for moments like this — where instead of spitting food at my crush, I accidentally landed a date.

Progress, I guess.