Storm Court

Maya's thumbs were basically married to her iPhone screen, scrolling through highlight reels of the Regional Padel Championships while her phone dinged with notifications from the group chat that was simultaneously hyping and roasting everyone.

"You're literally vibrating," Chloe said, smacking Maya's arm. "It's just a tournament. Not the Olympics."

"Easy for you to say," Maya muttered, though she pocketed the phone. "You're not the one whose mom started a whole vitamin regimen because 'competitive sports cause oxidative stress.'" She mimicked air quotes, making Chloe snort.

The lightning flashed across the indoor court's skylights—a weird, electrical purple that made everything feel hyper-real. Maya's opponent, some sophomore from Riverside with way too much confidence, was doing this pre-game ritual that involved bouncing her padel racket against her sneakers like she was channeling main character energy.

"Game point," the ref called, and Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like she'd swallowed a swarm of butterflies. The group chat was definitely blowing up right now. Her phone was probably burning a hole in her pocket.

The serve came like lightning itself—fast, unpredictable. Maya returned it on instinct, racket meeting ball with that perfect thwack that felt better than anything, better than likes, better than streaks, better than whatever someone was posting about her performance right now.

Point by point, the game blurred into motion—sweat dripping, muscles burning, the crowd's noise fading until it was just the rhythm of hit, run, hit. The vitamin gummies her mom packed were long forgotten.

When the final point landed inside the line, Maya didn't reach for her phone first. She didn't check the notifications. She high-fived Chloe, who was practically bouncing, and then—completely impulsively—she started recording herself doing the world's most awkward victory dance, directly messaging it to the group chat.

"You're embarrassing yourself," Chloe laughed.

"Yeah," Maya said, grinning so hard her face hurt. "But at least I'm actually here."

Outside, actual lightning cracked the sky open, and somewhere in her bag, her iPhone lit up with probably a million notifications. But Maya just grabbed her water bottle and headed to the net, ready to do it all again.