Sweaty Palms & Padel Courts

Maya's palms were sweating through her grip on the padel racket, which was honestly embarrassing considering she was just standing there watching Lucas warm up. The new kid had transferred to Crestwood High three weeks ago and already had half the sophomore class acting like total spies, tracking his every move through the school's not-so-secret Instagram stalking network. "You're gonna miss if you keep staring," her best friend Jiya whispered, elbowing Maya's side. "I'm not staring," Maya lied, but the betraying heat creeping up her neck said otherwise. Her mom had shoved a handful of vitamins at her that morning, claiming they'd help with stress during finals week, but clearly they weren't working on the social anxiety front. Lucas sent a padel ball sailing over the net, landing right where Maya had been zoning out. "Sorry!" he called out, jogging over. His uniform shirt was slightly too big, sleeves bunching at the elbows, and Maya felt her palms get even sweatier. "My bad," she managed. "No worries." He grinned, and wow, the Instagram spy network had underestimated his smile. "You any good?" "Depends who you ask." Jiya snorted. "Maya's being modest. She carried our gym team last year." Lucas raised an eyebrow, genuinely interested. "For real?" Maya felt something warm and fluttery that had nothing to do with the un-air-conditioned courts. The cafeteria's resident relationship expert, Chloe, breezed past them in that infuriatingly confident way she had, tossing her hair like she was in a shampoo commercial. "That's bull, and you know it," Chloe announced, somehow picking up their conversation mid-stream. "Maya got lucky twice. That's not carrying, that's statistical anomaly." Jiya opened her mouth to defend her, but Maya was already laughing, something about the absolute audacity making it impossible to take offense. Lucas was laughing too, and the sound was better than her carefully curated playlist. "Okay, fair," Maya said. "But I'm still down to destroy you in a match." Lucas's eyes lit up. "You're on." As they walked toward the court, Maya's phone buzzed — a reminder to take her evening vitamins. Some part of her wanted to roll her eyes at her mom's hovering, but another part, the part that noticed how the late afternoon light caught the gold in Lucas's hair when he turned to smile at her, thought maybe she should send her mom a thank-you text for the vitamins, the nagging, the constant reminders to take care of herself. Maybe all of it had led her right here, sweaty palms and all, to exactly where she was supposed to be.