Summer of Sweaty Palms

My palms were literally dripping as I stood on the padel court, clutching the racquet like it was about to save my life. This was it – the make-or-break moment of my entire summer social existence.

"You ready, newbie?" Jake called from across the net, flashing that annoyingly perfect grin that made every girl at the country club practically swoon. Behind him, the palm trees swayed in the breeze like they were mocking me.

I'd somehow been invited to the exclusive Sunday afternoon padel session with the popular crew. Me. The guy whose idea of athletic achievement was walking to the refrigerator without stopping for snacks. But when Roxy - Ro-freaking-xy, whose Instagram stories literally defined my existence - mentioned they needed a fourth, I'd somehow found myself saying "sure, I love padel" despite never having played in my life.

Now here I was, about to humiliate myself in front of the most important people in my social hierarchy.

The game started. I swung at the ball and missed completely. The ball bounced twice and died a lonely death near my feet.

"Nice swing, grandpa," someone joked. The group erupted in laughter.

But then Roxy stepped up beside me. "Hey, you're gripping it too tight. Relax your hands."

She reached over and adjusted my fingers on the racquet handle. Her skin was soft, mine was still embarrassingly sweaty.

"Try again," she said.

I hit the ball back. It actually went over the net.

"There you go!" Roxy smiled, and I swear my heart did this little flutter thing that definitely wasn't from the heat.

Afterward, we ended up at the pool party, everyone swimming and splashing around. I sat on the edge, dipping my feet in, still processing that I'd somehow survived.

Roxy slid onto the ledge next to me. "So I heard you're the tech wizard who fixed the clubhouse cable when it went out last week."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, just some loose connection. No big deal."

"My dad's been trying to fix that cable for weeks," she laughed. "You're like, secretly a genius."

"Hardly," I said. "Just spent way too much time messing with cables and circuits instead of having a life."

"Well," she bumped my shoulder with hers, "maybe you can teach me padel, and I can teach you how to swim properly. Because I saw you out there today, and no offense? You need help."

I laughed. A real laugh, not the nervous one I'd been doing all day.

"Deal," I said.

My palms were still sweaty. I was still terrible at padel. But somehow, none of that mattered anymore.