Wake Up, Maya

I felt like a literal zombie. Not the cool, dramatic kind from Netflix shows—the pathetic, stumbling, barely-functional kind that hadn't slept since Wednesday.

"Earth to Maya," Lena said, snapping her fingers in my face. "You're staring at his calves again."

I snapped out of it. The guy across the padel court—Ethan, apparently—was stretching in those insanely athletic shorts that guys somehow pull off. My best friend had dragged me to this fancy country club at 8 AM on a Saturday because apparently that's what normal, well-adjusted teenagers did.

"I'm not staring," I lied, chugging my lukewarm water bottle like it was the elixir of life. "I'm observing. Strategically."

"You're thirsting," Lena corrected. "There's a difference."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Probably my mom asking if I'd made friends yet. The pressure to perform socially was exhausting. This was exactly why I preferred online gaming—at least there, I could mute everyone.

"So," Ethan said, walking over with a padel racket in hand. His curly hair was somehow perfect despite the humidity. "You guys up for doubles?"

My brain short-circuited.

"Sure," Lena said smoothly, while I stood there vibrating with anxiety. "Maya's actually really good."

I was NOT really good. I'd never even held a padel racket before.

The first ten minutes were a disaster. I tripped over my own feet. I swung at air. I served the ball directly into the net. Every time Ethan laughed—which was often, because I was a walking comedy routine—my face burned hotter.

But then something clicked.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was finally waking up after three nights of studying for finals. Or maybe it was just that Ethan kept bumping into me "accidentally" and winking.

"You're getting better," he said after I managed to return a shot.

"I'm channeling my inner zombie," I deadpanned. "Relentless. Undead energy."

He laughed. For real this time.

By game's end, I was sweaty, exhausted, and somehow... happy? The kind of happy that didn't come from achieving something or checking a box. The kind that came from being in the moment, slightly embarrassing yourself, and realizing no one actually cared.

"Same time next week?" Ethan asked, and there was something in his voice that made me think he wasn't just being polite.

"Yeah," I said, and for the first time all morning, I didn't feel like a zombie at all. "Definitely."