Signal Loss

Maya's first day as a cable installation assistant wasn't exactly how she'd pictured spending her summer before junior year. But her mom needed help with rent, and Bradley Cable Services was hiring.

"Hold this," her supervisor Marcus said, handing her a coaxial cable that smelled like dust and old dreams. They were in some gated community where the lawns looked Photoshopped.

That's when she saw him across the street: Ethan, from her AP History class, wearing absurdly short shorts and holding a padel racquet. He waved. She pretended she didn't see him.

"The new pool's just opened," Marcus said, nodding toward a massive blue rectangle in the distance. "Kids these days, always swimming somewhere."

Maya's phone buzzed. Unknown number. "Hey, it's Ethan. Saw you from the padel court. Want to come over after your shift? My parents have this weird papaya smoothie recipe."

She stared at the message. Ethan, whose family owned like half the town, was inviting HER—cable company employee Maya—over for smoothies?

"Sure," she typed back, then immediately regretted it.

Three hours later, she stood in his kitchen, grease still under her fingernails from the cable installation. His mom offered her a glass of something orange and suspicious.

"It's papaya," Ethan said, watching her face. "Never tried it?"

She hadn't. Her family's grocery budget didn't extend to exotic fruits that cost seven dollars a pound.

The first sip hit her tongue—sweet, musky, completely unfamiliar. Ethan watched her reaction, genuinely curious, like she was some interesting species he'd never encountered.

"So," he said, "you're working with cables now? That's actually kinda cool. Like, you're literally connecting people."

Maya laughed. "I'm literally sweating through polyester in rich people's backyards while you're playing padel tennis or whatever."

"Padel," he corrected. "And it's harder than it looks. You should try."

"I don't think the country club allows cable company employees on the courts."

"Who cares?" Ethan grabbed an extra racquet from the corner. "Come on. I promise not to tell anyone you secretly like papaya smoothies."

And maybe it was the weird fruit coursing through her veins, or the way he looked at her like she was actually worth knowing, but Maya found herself thinking that maybe this summer wouldn't be so terrible after all.

"Fine," she said. "But if I beat you, you're paying for the papayas next time."

Ethan grinned. "Deal."