The Summer I Stopped Running

The orange crush tasted like artificial courage — sweet, citrusy, and definitely worth risking my reputation for. I'd been running from the truth all summer: I didn't actually like padel. I'd only joined the club because Maya did.

"Dude, you're actually getting decent," Liam said, fist-bumping me after I returned a serve that somehow cleared the net. The summer heat radiated off the court, making everything shimmer.

"Thanks, man." I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, feeling like a fraud. I'd been faking enthusiasm for weeks, showing up to matches, pretending to care about backhands and scoring systems I barely understood.

That afternoon, everyone headed to Alex's pool. The water looked perfect — blue and inviting, a stark contrast to the sticky heat. I hesitated, feeling like I'd infiltrated a friend group I didn't belong to.

"You coming in?" Maya called, splashing water toward me. Her orange bikini bright against the turquoise pool.

I froze. This was it — the moment I'd have to either keep lying or actually be real.

"Honestly?" I started, voice cracking. "I actually can't really swim. And, like, I kind of hate padel. I only joined because... I don't know. I wanted to fit in."

Silence. Then Maya laughed — not mean, just surprised. "Wait, you've been playing all summer and you hate it? That's actually kind of iconic."

Liam surfaced near the edge. "Bro, why didn't you just say something? We could've been skating instead."

The tension in my chest unraveled. They weren't judging me. They were... waiting for me to be real?

"Still coming to my party though, right?" Maya asked.

"Yeah," I said, finally stepping toward the pool. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Somehow I'd spent months running from myself, only to find that nobody expected me to be anyone else.

And the orange crush? Pretty sure I was allergic to artificial coloring anyway.