That Summer Everything Changed

The first time I saw him at the padel court, my stomach did that stupid flippy thing it does when I'm nervous. Which was ridiculous, because I was terrible at padel. Like, genuinely embarrassing. I kept missing the ball by three feet while my dad's friend's son Jamie—who'd just moved back from London and was now staying with his grandparents for the summer—moved like he'd been born with a racquet in his hand.

"You're gripping it too tight," Jamie said, sliding over to my side of the court. His accent made everything sound more sophisticated somehow. "Like you're scared of it."

"I'm not scared," I lied. "I'm just... strategically cautious."

He laughed, and I felt my face heat up. Not the cute blush from movies, but the blotchy I-sunburned-easily kind that definitely wasn't helped by the fact that I was wearing my sister's orange bikini because all my suits were "in the wash" (they weren't; I'd just outgrown them).

The pool party that Friday was basically everything I dreaded: loud music, people I'd gone to middle school with acting like they invented being cool, and me hovering near the snack table like a socially awkward ghost. Until Jamie appeared with two orange sodas.

"Thought you might want backup," he said, leaning against the pool fence. Water dripped from his hair. "This whole scene seems like a lot."

"Understatement of the century," I muttered, but I felt myself relaxing. Something about him made it okay to not be okay.

We ended up talking for hours while everyone else was in the pool. About how much it sucked when your parents got divorced (his did too), about how we both hated that question "what are your plans after high school" like we were supposed to have it figured out at sixteen. About how padel was actually kind of terrible but we were doing it because our dads thought it would be "good for us."

"You know," Jamie said as the party wound down and the pool lights reflected weird orange patterns on the water, "I was going to ask if you wanted to hit the padel court tomorrow. But honestly? I'd rather just sit here and keep talking."

My heart did that flippy thing again. But this time, I didn't try to ignore it.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."

That summer didn't fix everything. My parents were still divorced, I was still awkward at parties, and I never got good at padel. But somehow, sitting by that pool with an orange soda and someone who actually got it? That was enough.