Three Courts, One Summer

Jordan's striped polo stuck to his back as he stepped onto the **padel** court, regretting everything. His cousin Chloe had talked him into joining the country club's teen mixer, and now he was about to humiliate himself in front of literally everyone from Northwood High.

"You got this, J!" Chloe yelled from the sidelines, entirely too loud.

The guy across the net—Asher freaking Martinez, varsity jacket already on despite the eighty-degree heat—served a ball that curved like magic. Jordan swung, missed entirely, and tripped over his own feet.

Asher's laugh wasn't mean. That was almost worse.

Later, Jordan escaped to the pool area, where kids were cannonballing off the diving board like they owned summer. He found a spot at the edge, dipping his feet in. The **pool** water sparkled like something from a movie he'd never be cool enough to star in.

"Mind if I sit?"

Asher.

Jordan's stomach did something embarrassing. "Whatever."

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Asher said, "I suck at padel too. My dad's obsessed, so I'm stuck playing every weekend."

Jordan squinted at him. "You looked like you knew exactly what you were doing."

"That's the problem," Asher said quietly. "I'm good at everything I hate."

The confession hung between them like something fragile. Then Jordan's phone buzzed—his baseball coach asking if he was coming to practice.

"You play **baseball**?" Asher asked, actually interested.

"Pitcher. But I'm thinking about quitting."

"Why?"

"Because apparently I'm good at everything I hate too," Jordan said, and they both cracked up.

Asher's eyes lit up. "Okay, this is random, but my friend's having a thing later. His older brother has this batting cage in their backyard. You wanna come?"

Jordan's summer had just gotten interesting.

"Yeah," he said, already planning which shirt to wear. "Yeah, I do."