Storm Court Serves

The orange padel ball bounced off the back wall, mocking me. Again.

"You're overthinking it, Maya," Jake said, flipping his racket like he owned the place. Which, technically, his dad kind of did. Royal Padel Club. Memberships cost more than my entire wardrobe.

I adjusted my grip, sweat making everything slippery. This was supposed to be casual Friday hits, not "Maya Has An Existential Crisis While Attempting Sports." But here we were.

"Just hit it like you mean it," Jake added, which was literally the most unhelpful advice ever.

Outside, the sky turned that weird greenish-gray that means trouble. The first lightning flash lit up the entire club like a strobe light at a middle school dance—awkward and overwhelming.

"We should probably go inside," I said, already backing toward the clubhouse.

"One more serve," Jake insisted. "You almost had that last one."

I didn't almost have anything. I was terrible at padel, terrible at sports in general, and currently terrible at being a normal human being who could just hang out with Jake without spiraling into a full-blown anxiety episode.

Then the sky opened up.

Rain started sheeting down, lightning cracking so close I could feel it in my teeth. The club's emergency lights flickered on—everything bathed in this eerie orange glow from the emergency exit signs.

Jake laughed, grabbing my arm. "Come on!"

We sprinted for the covered area between courts, both of us soaked in seconds. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and I'm sure I looked like a drowned raccoon, but somehow none of that mattered. We stood there, shoulder to shoulder, watching the storm turn the world into this chaotic, beautiful mess.

"You know," Jake said, catching his breath, "you actually don't suck at padel. You just need to stop thinking so hard."

"Easy for you to say. You're good at everything."

"Not everything." He looked at me, really looked at me. "I've been trying to get you to come here for weeks. I was terrified you'd say no."

Wait. WHAT.

"Me? terrified?" I couldn't help it—I laughed. "You? The guy who literally served at county finals last month?"

"That's different. That's just a game." He shrugged, all casual-like my heart wasn't currently doing gymnastics. "This is... I don't know. This matters more."

Another lightning flash illuminated everything, and for a second, the whole world was just orange light and rain and this moment that felt exactly like the beginning of something. Something scary and amazing and completely, wonderfully uncertain.

"Same time next Friday?" he asked.

I smiled. "You're on. But I'm still going to suck."

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "But you'll be you sucking. That's kind of the point."