Sweaty Palms & Second Sets

I was literally running on three hours of sleep and zero confidence when I walked onto the padel court. Coach Miller had signed me up for the intra-school tournament without asking — classic adult move. The worst part? Tyler was watching from the bleachers, looking like a walking thirst trap in his varsity jacket.

"You got this, Maya!" someone yelled. I definitely did not got this.

My palms were sweating through my grip on the racquet. Gross. This is what happens when your nervous system decides to betray you in front of half the sophomore class.

The whistle blew. I was running toward the ball like my life depended on it, racquet swinging, heart practically beating out of my chest. And then — miracle of miracles — I actually hit it. The ball smacked against the glass wall, my opponent missed, and the entire court went wild.

"She literally ate that up!" someone screamed.

I looked over at Tyler. He was actually clapping. Not fake polite clapping either.

Between sets, I grabbed my phone. Six texts from Mom: "Did you get the tutor application finished? We talked about this. Your grades need to be college-ready."

Right. Because apparently my entire existence needed to be college-ready at fifteen.

"Your palm is acting up again," Coach Miller said, nodding at my hand. I'd been twisting it all morning — a nervous tic I'd had since elementary school.

"Yeah, it happens when I'm stressed," I muttered, shoving both hands in my pockets.

"Stressed about winning?" He grinned. "Or stressed about him watching you?"

My face burned. "I hate you."

"You're welcome."

Second set, something clicked. I stopped overthinking every shot, stopped worrying about Tyler watching, stopped mentally running through Mom's checklist of everything I should be doing instead of playing. I just played. Sweat dripping, palms still slippery, racquet slipping but catching, I served the final point.

Game. Set. Match.

Tyler met me at the bench, water bottle extended. "You were running circles around them out there."

"Thanks," I said, trying to look chill while internally screaming.

"Hey," he said, "you free Saturday? There's this new padel place that opened..."

I grinned, palms sweaty again but not caring. "Bet."