Sweaty Palms on Court

Maya's palms were literally sweating through her grip on the padel racquet. This was so embarrassing—why had she let Chloe talk her into this? Everyone else on the court looked like they'd been born holding a racquet, while Maya was over here struggling to remember which hand went on top.

"You got this!" Chloe yelled from across the net, giving her a thumbs-up. Chloe, her best friend since seventh grade, who'd dragged her to this "beginner-friendly" social that was decidedly beginner-unfriendly. Maya's padel shorts kept riding up, her ponytail was already falling apart, and she was pretty sure she was about to faceplant in front of everyone.

The ball came sailing toward her, and she swung with way too much force. It hit the edge of her racquet and flew directly into—

The tall guy with the perfect hair caught it smoothly, one-handed. Smooth. Maya felt her face burning hotter than the Florida sun overhead. There were actual palm trees swaying beyond the court like they were laughing at her.

"Nice form," the guy called out. Was he being sarcastic? Maya couldn't tell. She hated not knowing if someone was roasting her or actually being nice. It was her biggest ick.

"My cable's at home," she blurted out randomly. What? Why did she say that? Her brain was officially broken from social exhaustion. "Like, my phone charging cable. I forgot it. That's why I'm—never mind."

The guy laughed, but not in a mean way. "I got an extra in my bag. You're not gonna die out here, rookie."

And somehow, that broke the ice. By the end of the session, Maya was still terrible at padel, but she'd exchanged numbers with Jake (who, yes, had perfect hair), learned that Chloe was secretly competitive in the most chaotic way possible, and discovered that maybe embarrassing herself in public wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Her palms still sweat every time Jake texts her now. But in a good way.