Sweaty Palms & Second Serves

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. She stood at the edge of the padel court, gripping her racquet like it was a lifeline, while Ethan laughed at something Chloe said—again. Third time this week.

"You gonna stand there all day or actually play?" called Tyler, bouncing on his heels. Tyler, who had naturally perfect hair and zero anxiety ever.

"I'm... strategizing," Maya lied. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Probably her group chat blowing up about how Chase finally asked Jessica to homecoming, leaving Maya as the only one in the squad who was spectacularly single.

Ethan's baseball cap was backwards—because apparently that made him look cooler, which was unfair because it definitely worked. He'd abandoned the padel game halfway through to sit with Chloe on the bench, their knees practically touching. Maya tried to hate Chloe, she really did. But Chloe was nice. The worst kind of nice.

"Your serve," said Tyler, actually looking concerned now. "Maya? You good?"

She wasn't good. She was seventeen, her crush was publicly falling for someone else, and she was about to serve a padel ball directly into the fence. Again.

The ball connected with her racquet. It sailed. Not into the fence. Not into Chloe's face (she'd briefly, viciously hoped). It landed perfectly in the corner of the court, bouncing twice before anyone could react.

"Holy shit," said Tyler.

"Did you see that?" Ethan actually looked away from Chloe. "Maya, that was actually fire."

"Beginner's luck," she muttered, but something shifted in her chest. Like maybe she didn't have to be the awkward friend forever. Maybe she could be Maya: the girl who could serve, who could make Ethan look away from Chloe for three seconds, who could stop reading everyone's palms like they were maps to her own inadequacy and start actually playing the game.

"Again," she said, bouncing the ball. Her palms were still sweating. But her hands weren't shaking anymore.