The Fox at the Net

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her racquet. The padel court at the rec center was packed—Friday night, obviously—and she'd let Chloe talk her into this doubles match against the seniors from North High. Great. Just what she needed: public humiliation in front of everyone.

"You got this!" Chloe whispered, though her iPhone kept buzzing in her bag. Probably Jackson. Again. The situationship that wasn't a situation-ship, except it totally was.

Across the net, Riley stretched his arms overhead, all confident and annoyingly athletic. His fox-like grin had been distracting Maya since biology last year. Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. Especially not Chloe, who'd make it weird.

"Service game, your serve," the ref called.

Maya tossed the ball up. Her arms felt like jelly. She missed entirely—ball hit the fence. Someone's cat, who'd been napping on a nearby bench, shot her a look of pure judgment. Even the animals here were cooler than her.

"Smooth," Riley called out. But he was smiling. Actually smiling, not being mean about it.

Her second serve clipped the net tape and dribbled over. A lucky let cord. Everyone groaned except Riley, who gave her this tiny nod of respect. And suddenly Maya wasn't thinking about sweaty palms or who was watching or Jackson's

texts to Chloe. She was just playing. Actually playing.

They lost the match, obviously. North High seniors didn't mess around. But as they walked off the court, Riley fell into step beside her.

"You've got form," he said. "My club runs a beginner tournament next weekend. You should come."

Maya almost tripped. "You run a club?"

"Fox Padel Academy," he said, gesturing to his hoodie. "My dad's place. We're not all terrible, I swear."

He handed her his phone to put in her number. His lock screen was just a picture of his cat wearing sunglasses.

"You're weird," she said, grinning.

"Takes one to know one," he shot back.

Later that night, Maya lay in bed replaying the conversation. The match score didn't matter. The almost-disaster serves didn't matter. Something had shifted. And for the first time in forever, she wasn't overthinking every little thing.

Well. Almost every little thing.