When the Cat Crossed the Court

Maya's first official hangout with Jake was supposed to be chill. Just two freshmen at the new padel courts behind the community center, him teaching her the basics he'd picked up at summer camp. She'd spent forty minutes on her outfit—cute but not trying too hard, you know?

But five minutes in, her phone died. She'd left the charging cable on her bed, because of course she had. Now she couldn't even fake a casual text to her best friend about how it was going.

"Whatever," Jake said, shrugging when she confessed her phone was dead at 4%. "We can just... be present. You know?"

Maya's stomach did that flippy thing. Jake was already the kind of comfortable she hoped to be someday.

Then the neighborhood's sphynx cat—Barnaby, according to the collar—came tearing out from behind the dumpster and straight onto their court. The hairless, wrinkly cat moved like a greased lightning bolt, sliding across the padel surface like it was personal.

Jake abandoned his racquet and sprinted after Barnaby, and Maya followed without thinking. They spent the next twenty minutes crawling under the bleachers, coaxing the cat out with promises of treats Jake didn't actually have.

"My sister's been looking for him everywhere," Jake said, finally scooping up the wrinkly cat. Barnaby purred like a tiny motor.

They ended up sitting on the edge of the planter box, Barnaby curled in Jake's lap while Maya petted his soft, alien skin. The padel game was forgotten. Jake told her about his little sister's obsession with hairless cats, and Maya found herself talking about her anxiety disorder—something she usually kept way below the surface.

"It's like my brain's just constantly overthinking everything," she said, watching Jake's fingers trace the cat's spine. "Sorry, that's probably TMI."

Jake shook his head. "No, it's... actually kind of nice that you're just real about stuff. Everyone's always curating, you know?"

They walked back to his place together, Jake carrying Barnaby like a baby. At his doorstep, he paused.

"So, my phone's dead too," he said, pulling out a black screen. "But I had a really good time. Even though we literally played zero padel."

Maya grinned. "Same."

"Same good," he clarified, "or same zero padel?"

"Both," she said, and didn't even overanalyze it for once.

Walking home, she realized she'd spent three hours with her crush without checking social media once. Maybe being present wasn't so bad after all.