The Padel Court Betrayal

Mia's phone buzzed with another notification from the private Instagram account she'd made just to track him. She felt like a total creep, basically a digital **spy** monitoring Tyler's every move, but her thumb hovered anyway. Six new stories. She'd only been watching for two weeks, but it felt longer.

"You're doing it again," said Zara, not looking up from her phone. They sat cross-legged on Mia's bed, surrounded by biology textbooks they were supposed to be studying.

"Doing what?"

"That thing where your eyes glaze over and you turn into an FBI agent." Zara snorted. "Just talk to him already. He plays **padel** at the rec center Fridays. Your dad has a membership."

Mia's stomach dropped. "I can't just show up. That's weird."

"What's weird is consuming **spinach** smoothies for three weeks because you read one article about him liking 'girls who take care of themselves.'" Zara side-eyed the half-empty green sludge on Mia's nightstand. "Newsflash: he probably just posted that for the aesthetic."

Mia groaned. The smoothie tasted like disappointment and raw earth. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life, and somehow Tyler didn't even know about it yet.

Friday found her at the rec center anyway, clutching a borrowed racquet like her life depended on it. The indoor courts hummed with squeaking shoes and shouted calls. Tyler was there, laughing at something his friend said, looking unfairly good in his athletic gear.

Her **cable** knit sweater—her favorite comfort piece—suddenly felt like the worst choice. Everyone else wore moisture-wicking everything. She was already sweating through the armpits.

"Hey!" Tyler waved. "You play?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sometimes." Mia's voice squeaked. Smooth. Really living up to those smoothie-inspired gains.

"Wanna sub in? Jamie had to bail."

Before she could process the disaster waiting to happen, she was on the court, holding a racquet she barely knew how to grip. The glass walls reflected her terrified expression back at her. This was fine. Everything was fine.

She missed the first three serves. The fourth hit the wall at a weird angle and bounced sideways, nearly taking out a water bottle. Tyler didn't laugh. He just gave her this encouraging thumbs-up that made her chest feel tight.

Outside, the sky darkened. Rain started drumming against the roof, then harder. A sudden flash illuminated everything—**lightning** struck somewhere close, and the overhead lights flickered and died.

Total darkness. Then everyone's phones lit up the space, a constellation of flashlights and screens.

"Well," Tyler's voice came from somewhere to her left. "That's dramatic."

Mia started giggling. She couldn't help it. The absurdity of it all—her stalking his Instagram, the spinach smoothies, showing up uninvited, now literally being stuck in the dark with him—hit her all at once. Once she started, she couldn't stop.

"Are you laughing at my serve? Because honestly, same," Tyler said, sounding closer now.

"No, I'm—" Another giggle escaped. "I'm laughing at myself. I'm terrible at this."

"Hey, you tried that backhand. That was brave." His phone's flashlight beam found her face. "You're Mia, right? From Bio?"

"You know my name?"

"Yeah." The beam lowered. "I've seen you around. I was gonna say hi, but you always looked like you were concentrating on something super important."

The lights flickered back on. Tyler stood way closer than she'd realized. His hair was messy from playing, and there was something in his expression—something real.

"I wasn't," Mia said, the truth rushing out. "I was mostly just panicking about existing."

"Same," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Hey, after this—you wanna grab food? There's this place that makes actually good smoothies. None of that spinach weirdness."

Mia nodded, unable to stop smiling. Zara was going to lose her mind.