The Padel Court Confidential

I'd been **running** on fumes for three days straight, but nobody noticed. That's the thing about being the quiet girl – people see what they expect to see: the reliable friend, the decent student, the girl who never makes waves.

"You coming to the courts?" Maya asked, swinging her racquet bag like it weighed nothing.

"Yeah. Just need to grab my **vitamin** supplements." I lied smoothly. The truth was, I'd stopped taking them weeks ago. Couldn't afford the good stuff anymore, not since Dad lost his job and the unspoken rules of our household suddenly included *don't ask for anything that isn't absolutely necessary.* But admitting that felt like admitting defeat, so I became something else: a master of the casual deflection.

The **padel** club was our sanctuary – four walls, a net, and the satisfying *thwack* of ball against fiberglass. But today, everything felt different. Tyler was there, leaning against the glass wall with that easy confidence that made my chest tighten.

"Ready to get destroyed, Lena?" he grinned.

"In your dreams."

We played. I won. But it felt hollow. Afterward, I did what I'd been doing for months: I waited until everyone left, then pulled out my phone and opened Tyler's profile – public, innocent, totally normal viewing behavior. Except I did it every day. I knew his post times, his music taste, his coffee order. I'd become a **spy** in my own life, collecting intel on someone who saw me as nothing more than a decent opponent on the court.

"You're still here?"

I jumped. Tyler stood in the doorway, holding two drinks.

"Forgot my water bottle," I lied again. Smooth, Lena. Really smooth.

"You know, you play like you're angry at the ball." He set a mango smoothie on the bench beside me. "My treat. You looked like you needed it."

Our fingers brushed. The air between us shifted.

"I'm not angry," I said. "Just... running from something I can't name."

He nodded like he understood. "Me too."

Maybe that's the thing about growing up – we're all running, all spying on each other from behind carefully constructed walls, all trying to remember who we actually are beneath the supplements and secrets and perfectly curated lives.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.

"Same time."

And for the first time in months, I didn't feel like I was hiding at all.