The Papaya Pitch

Marcus adjusted his orange baseball cap, hoping it covered his disastrous post-practice hair. Coach had been riding everyone hard about the Riverside game, and Marcus's arm felt like jelly.

"Dude, you coming to Benny's?" Ty asked. "Emma said she might swing by."

Emma. The mention of her name made Marcus's stomach do that annoying flip thing. She'd transferred in three weeks ago and already owned sophomore year like she'd invented it.

"Yeah, I'll be there," Marcus said, trying to sound casual. "What's everyone getting?"

"Benny's doing exotic fruit smoothies now," Ty said. "We're all gonna try them."

*Exotic fruit.* Marcus had grown up on chicken nuggets and cereal. But Emma liked exotic stuff—he'd heard her talking about açaí bowls like it was normal conversation. So he made a split-second decision that would haunt him.

"Oh, cool. I love papaya. It's my favorite."

*Why. WHY.*

Fast forward to Benny's, and Marcus was staring at a bright orange smoothie that looked like something a fox might drag out of a dumpster after a successful raid. The menu called it "Tropical Sunset Blend" with papaya, mango, and spirulina.

"You gonna drink that or just stare at it romantically?" Emma teased, sliding into the booth next to him. Her hair smelled like vanilla and something expensive.

"Just appreciating the aesthetic," Marcus said, then took a giant gulp to prove his point.

The taste hit him like a baseball to the face. It tasted like if grass had feelings, and those feelings were betrayal.

"This is... interesting," Marcus managed, fighting the urge to gag.

"You look like you're eating spinach for the first time," Emma laughed. "My little brother does that exact face."

Marcus swallowed. "No, I love it. It's just got a kick."

"Liar," Emma said, nudging his foot with hers. "You totally hated it. Also, Ty told me you thought papaya was a type of melon until last week."

Marcus buried his face in his hands. "I'm an idiot."

"You're cute," she said, and Marcus's brain short-circuited. "But next time, maybe just say you don't know something instead of faking it? It's more endearing than pretending to be an exotic fruit connoisseur."

"I'll keep that in mind," Marcus said. "Hey, want to split some fries? I need to wash down the tropical sunset with something that tastes like food."

Emma laughed. "Only if I pay. Consider it compensation for your papaya trauma."

Marcus grinned, hat forgotten, arm feeling lighter somehow. Some losses were worth it.