Running the Padel Courts

The orange glow of sunset hit the padel court just as Jax's serve sailed way past the line. Again.

"Bro, you're literally dogwater today," I laughed, wiping sweat from my forehead with the brim of my backwards cap.

Jax flipped me off but grinned, grabbing his water bottle. "Shut up. At least I'm not the one who ate it trying to save that last volley."

Fair point. My knee still throbbed where I'd wiped out on the court—graceful as a newborn deer.

We'd been friends since seventh grade, back when Jax wore that ridiculous fedora and I thought I could pull off skinny jeans. Now juniors, we'd supposedly evolved, though standing here in our matching orange tournament shirts from eighth grade PE suggested otherwise.

"You think Maya's actually coming?" Jax asked, suddenly interested in his shoes.

I shrugged like it didn't matter. It definitely mattered. "She said she might swing by. Not a big deal."

"You've been running to practice an hour early all week. Don't play."

The padel ball bounced between us as I adjusted my hat—a nervous habit I'd developed recently. This was the thing about best friends: they saw right through your BS.

"What if I blow it?" I admitted finally. "Like, what if we're hanging out and I say something stupid, and she realizes I'm actually awkward and—"

"You ARE awkward," Jax cut in. "She literally watched you trip over nothing in the cafeteria Tuesday. She knows."

"Thanks, man. Really boosting the confidence."

He lobbed the ball my way, smirking. "That's what I'm here for. But seriously? She's still coming back, isn't she? That's gotta count for something."

Before I could respond, someone cleared their throat behind us.

Maya stood there, orange headphones around her neck, holding a genuinely concerned expression. "You guys okay? It looks like someone died out here."

Jax didn't even pretend to care about the game anymore. "Perfect timing. Evan was just having an existential crisis about talking to you. I'm gonna go grab a Gatorade. Peace out."

"YOU'RE THE WORST," I shouted at his retreating back.

Maya laughed, and the sound was better than any winning shot. "So... existential crisis?"

I adjusted my hat again. "Maybe. Can we start over? Without the audience this time?"

"Running away from your problems again, Evans?" she teased, but she was smiling.

"Nah," I said, finally smiling back. "Just running toward something better."

The orange sky deepened as she sat on the bench beside me, and Jax—somewhere nearby—was definitely smirking. But for once, I didn't mind being the punchline.