When the Bull Charged

Maya's thumbs flew across her iPhone screen as she paced her bedroom, heart hammering against her ribs. The group chat was blowing up about Jake's party tonight—everyone was going, and she'd spent forty-five minutes perfecting her eyeliner just right.

"You're not going," her mom called from the hallway. "Abuela's coming over for papaya pudding, remember? Family dinner."

Maya groaned, throwing herself onto her bed. This was SO unfair. Just because she was fifteen didn't mean she should miss everything.

"But Mom—" She stopped mid-text when her phone buzzed. Jake had posted a pic of the new padel court his parents installed in their backyard. #TonightGonnaBeLit

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could lie. Say she was sick. But her mom would definitely check.

Fine. She'd go, eat papaya pudding with Abuela, and watch everyone else's stories while she died of FOMO. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Except two hours later, she found herself sitting on Jake's patio watching her crush, Sam, absolutely crush it at padel. His laugh when he messed up a serve made her stomach do that annoying fluttery thing.

"You play?" Sam asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Maya shook her head. "I'm terrible at sports. Like, impressively terrible."

"Bull," he said, grinning. "I bet you're secretly amazing. Come on, I'll teach you."

The first ball she hit went straight into a bush. The second nearly took out Jake's mom's prize hydrangeas. But Sam didn't laugh—well, not mean laugh. He kept coaching her, his hand steady on her shoulder as he adjusted her grip.

"You're actually getting it," he said after her fifth attempt actually stayed in the court.

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket—probably her mom wondering why she'd skipped Abuela's papaya pudding. But she didn't check. For once, she was too busy living in the moment to care about documenting it.

Later that night, walking home under streetlights, Maya's thumbs flew across her iPhone again. But this time she wasn't scrolling or posting or worrying about missing out. She was texting Sam.

"Same time next week?"

His reply came instantly: "Only if you promise to take out at least three hydrangeas."

Maya smiled, phone screen glowing in the dark. Some things were worth missing papaya pudding for.