Serve and Volley

The new brain-boosting **vitamin** supplements sat on my bathroom counter like little orange promises. My mom swore they'd help me focus during finals, but honestly? I was just trying to be the kind of person who took supplements. The kind of person who had their life together.

Definitely not the kind of person who'd accidentally become a social media **spy**.

It started when Jordan showed up to school wearing that oversized **padel** jersey—the one from the pro finals we'd watched at Marco's house last month. I'd spent three hours scrolling through their tagged posts that night, trying to figure out if they were single, if they actually played, or if the jersey was just ironic.

Pathetic? Maybe. But also very normal behavior for someone whose brain had short-circuited the moment Jordan had caught them staring during third period.

"You coming to the courts after school?" Jordan asked, sliding into the seat next to me in chem. Their backpack brushed my desk—accidentally? On purpose? The air between us felt charged, like **lightning** about to strike.

"I don't play," I said, way too fast.

"I could teach you." Jordan's grin was lazy and confident. "Unless you're scared I'll crush you."

"Not scared." I shoved my notebook into my bag. "Just allergic to losing in front of an audience."

"So we'll play when no one's watching. Tomorrow morning? Six AM?"

The words tumbled out before I could overthink them. "I'll be there."

That night, I stared at my ceiling, my heart doing something weird and fluttery. The vitamins could wait. Finals could wait. I had a padel date at dawn with someone who made me forget how to form complete sentences, and honestly? That was exactly the kind of chaos I needed.