Sweaty Palms & Padel Courts

My palms were literally sweating as I walked toward the padel courts. Mom said joining the summer league would be "good for me," but what she actually meant was: "You're seventeen and your only friends are your cat and your phone."

My iPhone buzzed in my pocket — probably the group chat blowing up without me. Whatever. I was doing this. I was going to be a person who played sports and had friends and didn't spend Friday nights doom-scrolling until I felt like a literal zombie from exhaustion.

"Hey, you Jake?" A girl in a faded oversized hoodie waved from Court 3. Mia. She'd posted on the community Discord about needing a fourth player for doubles.

"Yeah, hey," I managed, trying to look casual instead of like I was about to throw up.

Her two friends were already there — Carlos, who had that effortless athletic vibe, and Zara, who was stretching against the palm tree that shaded the far side of the court. Both looked like they belonged here. I felt like my cat, Mochi, whenever the vacuum cleaner turned on — frozen, judgmental, wishing to be elsewhere.

"So," Mia said, tossing me a racquet, "you play?"

"Uh, my dad showed me some basics?"

"Cool, cool. We're just hitting around today. No pressure."

Famous last words.

The next hour was somehow amazing and mortifying simultaneously. I missed so many shots I lost count. But Carlos kept shouting "NICE!" every time I connected with the ball, and Zara gave me fist bumps like we'd been teammates forever. And Mia — Mia kept grinning at me like I was actually amusing instead of embarrassing.

"You're a zombie," she observed during a water break, laughing as I practically collapsed on the bench.

" Finals week," I groaned. "I've had, like, four hours of sleep total. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're definitely not fine," she said, but in a nice way? "Same, though. I've been running on caffeine and existential dread since Tuesday."

My iPhone dinged from my bag. Someone had posted about a party tonight. Suddenly the group chat didn't feel so urgent.

"Hey," Mia said, "we're getting boba after this if you wanna come? Zara's driving."

My palms were sweaty again, but not from nerves this time.

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "Yeah, I'd love that."

Mochi would have to wait. I was busy becoming a person who did things.