Vitamin C and the Padel Court Spy Mission

The neon orange vitamin C tablet sat on my tongue like a betrayal. Mom swore it would boost my immune system before finals week, but honestly? The only thing feeling compromised right now was my dignity.

I crushed the vitamin between my teeth—sour explosion—and slung my padel racket over my shoulder. Today was the day. After weeks of covert reconnaissance—aka strategically timing my walks past the rec center whenever Maya's practice ended—I'd finally worked up the courage to join the club.

"You're really doing this?" Leo asked, tossing me my helmet. His golden retriever, Buster, trotted beside him, tail wagging like he knew something I didn't.

"I'm doing this," I said, though my stomach was doing gymnastics that had nothing to do with the vitamin.

The padel court smelled like rubber and teenage sweat. Maya was there, laughing at something across the net, her ponytail swinging. My hand shook as I adjusted my grip.

I'd been the ultimate spy this past month—tracking her social media, learning her favorite boba order, memorizing her class schedule like I was studying for an exam. But standing there, racket in hand, all that intel felt useless.

"Hey!" A ball whizzed past my ear. "You gonna play or just stand there looking constipated?"

Maya. Walking toward me. Actual Maya.

"Play," I squeaked. Smooth. Total smooth criminal energy.

She grinned. "Good. We need a fourth."

We played. I missed everything. My racket connected with air more than ball. But somewhere between my seventh serve fail and Maya doubling over laughing—not at me, with me—something shifted.

"You're terrible," she said afterward, wiping sweat from her forehead. "But you're also the only person who's made me laugh this hard all week."

My vitamin-fortified heart skipped a beat.

"Same time next week?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Only if you promise to actually hit the ball next time."

Walking home, Buster nudging my hand like the good boy he was, I pulled out my phone and deleted my carefully curated Maya spreadsheet. The spy mission was over.

Sometimes the best operations are the ones you don't plan.