The Spy in the Stands

Maya's palms were sweating as she gripped her iPhone tight enough to crack the screen.

She sat on the bleachers, allegedly studying for AP Chem but definitely not. The real action was on the padel court below, where Lucas was absolutely dominating in ways that made Maya forget geometry existed.

Maya wasn't a spy. That's what she told herself, anyway. Spies were cool. Spies had gadgets and dramatic theme music. Maya just had a rapidly deteriorating GPA and a crush reaching concerning proportions.

Still, her iPhone camera was aimed in Lucas's general direction with the kind of casual nonchalance that definitely didn't scream "I am documenting your every move."

Her best friend Sasha slid onto the bench beside her, raising one eyebrow.

"You're at it again, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Maya said, failing spectacularly at sounding casual. "Just checking grades. College stuff."

"Maya, you have ten unread notifications and your camera has been open for twenty minutes."

Sasha gently pried the iPhone from Maya's grip. On screen, Lucas was frozen mid-serve, looking like a teen drama poster.

"This is genuinely pathetic," Sasha said, with affectionate disdain. "Also, he's looking right at you."

"What?"

Maya grabbed her phone back. Sure enough, Lucas was glancing up at the stands with a tiny, knowing smirk.

"He knows," Maya whispered. "The spy has been compromised."

"He's known since you accidentally liked his post from three years ago at 3 AM."

"That was ONE TIME."

Before Sasha could respond, Lucas started toward the bleachers. Maya's palms got sweatier. How was that physically possible?

"Hey," he said, stopping right in front of them. "You Maya?"

She made a sound that might have been "yes" and might have been a dying whale noise.

"I saw you watching earlier," Lucas said, and Maya considered spontaneous combustion. "You play?"

"Padel?" she squeaked. "No. Never. I don't even know what sport this is."

Lucas laughed. "We're short a player tomorrow. You should come. We don't bite, I promise."

He was being NORMAL and FRIENDLY and Maya was still gripping her iPhone like it contained nuclear launch codes.

"Sure," Maya heard herself say, because apparently she had no survival instincts. "I'll be there."

"Awesome." He tapped the bleacher right where her hand was resting, palm-down. "See you tomorrow, Maya."

As he walked away, Sasha turned to her with wide eyes. "You're going to play padel? You?"

"Shut up," Maya said, but she was grinning, and her palms were finally, mercifully, starting to dry.

Her iPhone buzzed. Friend request: Lucas Martinez.

The spy had been compromised, but Maya had a feeling she was okay with that.