Spinach Smile

My summer lasted exactly three seconds. That's how long it took for me to realize that the Brighton Country Club padel courts were basically a runway for kids whose parents paid more for their sneakers than my mom made in a month.

'I'm so gonna wipe the floor with you,' Jake said, grinning with that perfect kind of confidence that comes from never having to worry about anything. His iPhone 15 Pro Max sat gleaming on the bench like it belonged there, while my cracked 12 was buried deep in my backpack where no one could judge it.

I adjusted my grip on the padel racket, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. My cousin Sarah had given me a thirty-second tutorial in the parking lot. Something about a glass wall and hitting the ball after it bounces. Or doesn't bounce. Honestly, I'd stopped listening.

'Your serve, new girl.' Jake's friends were watching. Probably recording. My face was already heating up.

I'd managed to survive two whole weeks at this snobby summer camp without completely embarrassing myself. That was about to end. The ball came at me fast. I swung the racket like I was fighting off a swarm of bees.

CLUNK.

The ball hit the glass wall, ricocheted sideways, and somehow, miraculously, landed in bounds. Jake's jaw actually dropped.

'Okay, lucky shot,' he said, but his smile was different now. Less condescending.

We played for twenty minutes. I was terrible at it. My arms were jelly, I tripped over my own feet at least twice, and I'm pretty sure I invented new ways to miss the ball entirely. But I kept making these weird, accidental shots that somehow worked. Jake stopped smirking and started actually trying.

Afterwards, we sat on the bench, both sweaty and out of breath. Sarah appeared with sandwiches from the clubhouse, her version of peace offering.

'You okay?' Jake asked, handing me a water bottle. 'You play like you're fighting for your life.'

I laughed, then immediately regretted it. Because that's when I saw it—his reflection in his iPhone screen, still sitting on the bench between us. Massive, obvious, bright green spinach stuck in my front teeth. From lunch. Three hours ago.

I'd been playing padel, smiling like an idiot, flirting with the cute popular boy, while looking like I'd been eating a salad mid-sentence.

I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to find whoever invented spinach and personally sue them.

Jake was quiet for a second. Then he picked up his phone and angled it so I could see myself.

'You've got a little...' He gestured at his own teeth, grinning. 'Since lunch, I think.'

I covered my mouth, horrified. 'Why didn't you say anything?'

'I was waiting to see if you'd notice.' He shrugged. 'Also, it was kind of hilarious watching you dominate at padel while looking like that. Honestly? Respect the confidence.'

I groaned, but I was laughing too. Because what else could I do?

'Next time,' Jake said, standing up and offering me a hand, 'I'll tell you sooner. If you promise to teach me that backhand swing thing you did. The one that shouldn't have worked but totally did.'

I took his hand, spinach and all. Some summer. Not at all what I expected, but maybe that was the point.