The Vitamin Cure

Jordan's thumb hovered over the screen, heart doing that familiar stutter-step thing. The group chat was blowing up—everyone making plans for Friday at the padel courts again—and Jordan wasn't invited. Not explicitly. But the NOT invited energy was loud.

"You're coming, right?" read Mateo's DM. Jordan's stomach did a flip. Mateo, the new kid from Spain who actually knew how to play padel, who'd somehow infiltrated Jordan's former friend group without even trying.

Jordan typed: "idk been super busy" then deleted it. Typed: "maybe lol" deleted that too.

Finally: "sure sounds fun"

The iphone screen glowed with Mateo's response: "bet. pick you up at 4"

Friday arrived with Jordan wearing their sister's padel racket (still had the price tag) and scrolling through mental excuses for why they'd be terrible. Vitamin deficiency, maybe. That could explain the shaking hands.

"Dude, you good?" Mateo asked from the passenger seat of his brother's car. "You look like you're about to throw up."

"Just need a vitamin," Jordan mumbled. "Forgot to take my supplements."

Mateo laughed. "Bro, you don't need vitamins. You need to chill. We're just hitting a ball around."

But at the courts, something went wrong. Jordan's former friend group—Chloe's crowd—was there. And they were staring. The ball sailed over the fence during warm-up, into the neighbor's pasture.

"I'll get it," Jordan volunteered, desperate for a escape.

The pasture was empty except for one very real, very large bull. Jordan froze. The bull stared back.

"Nice bull," Jordan whispered.

The bull snorted.

"Yeah, I get it. Today's trash too."

Jordan stood there, phone silent, bull unmoving, and suddenly it all seemed so ridiculous. The padel racket. The fake casual. The entire performance of trying to be someone they weren't for people who didn't actually care.

The bull stepped closer. Jordan's breath caught—and then they started laughing. Like, actually laughing. The bull looked unimpressed.

"You're right," Jordan said. "This is stupid."

They walked back to the courts, racket dangling, phone tucked away. Found Mateo waiting.

"Where's the ball?"

"Bull ate it," Jordan said. "Probably for the best. I'm trash at this anyway."

Mateo grinned. "Yeah, I noticed. You want to just get tacos instead?"

Jordan's shoulders dropped. Something unclenched. "Yes. Absolutely."

"You wanna bring Chloe's crowd?"

Jordan looked back at the courts, at the people who'd made everything feel like a performance. Then looked at Mateo, who'd waited.

"Nah," Jordan said, phone finally forgotten. "Just us. That's the only vitamin I need."

They left the courts, the bull, and the performance behind. Jordan's phone stayed in their pocket all afternoon.