Smash Point

My hair looked terrible. I'd spent forty-five minutes trying to get it perfect—spiking it up like all the guys at school—but it just kept flopping to one side like a dying palm tree.

"You look fine, mijo," my mom called from downstairs. "Lily won't care what your hair looks like."

That was exactly the problem. Lily Gonzalez, with her perfect everything and the fact that she'd actually agreed to go to the Fall Festival with me. ME. The guy whose cat had just knocked his water bottle onto his freshly styled hair.

"Spike!" I yelled at my cat, who was currently batting at the dripping wet mess on my forehead. "Not cool, bro."

Spike purred like he'd just accomplished something amazing.

The festival was in full swing when I arrived, my hair finally sort of cooperating. Found Lily near the food trucks, wearing this flowery dress that made my stomach do backflips. She waved when she saw me, and I swear my heart forgot how to beat.

"Hey!" She smiled, and I noticed she was holding a padel racket—like the tennis version they played at the country club. "Wanna play? They set up courts."

I'd never played padel in my life. I'd barely held a racket.

"Uh, sure?" I said, because apparently my mouth had decided to throw my brain under the bus. "I'm, like, totally experienced."

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn't call my bluff. We walked to the courts, and I immediately spotted him—Tyler Evans, wearing his varsity jacket like it was a crown. The guy who'd made fun of my hair freshman year. The guy who called everyone "bro" unironically.

"Sup, Santiago," Tyler said, hitting the ball way too hard. "Ready to get wrecked?"

I died inside. Lily had to hear this.

But then she stepped up, returned Tyler's serve with this insane smash that hit the corner perfectly. The ball ricocheted back so fast he couldn't react.

"Actually," Lily said, all casual, like she hadn't just ended him, "Me and Marcos are gonna play doubles. You can watch."

Tyler's jaw dropped. I stood there frozen until she handed me a racket.

"You can handle it," she whispered. "Just don't overthink everything."

We played. I missed. A lot. But Lily covered for me, and somewhere around the fifth game, I stopped caring about how ridiculous I probably looked. I just started having fun. My hair was definitely a mess by then, but Lily kept laughing at my terrible jokes instead of my terrible serves.

"You're getting better," she said afterward, as we sat on the grass watching the sunset. "For someone who claimed to be 'totally experienced.'"

I felt my face heat up. "Okay, you caught me. I literally had no idea what I was doing."

"I know." She grinned. "That's why it was fun."

Spike was waiting on my bed when I got home, immediately demanding attention. I scratched behind his ears, still replaying the day in my head. My mom popped her head in, smiling.

"Good time?"

"Yeah," I said, flopping onto my bed. "Pretty solid."

My hair was a mess. I'd embarrassed myself multiple times. Tyler Evans still existed. But somehow, impossibly, I'd won.