Zombie Mode at the Padel Court

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her padel racket. Great. Just great. She'd been operating on full zombie mode for three days—finals week will do that to you—and now she had to play against crush-worthy Lucas in the summer tournament.

"You good, Maya?" Lucas called from across the net, flicking water from his hair like some sort of slow-motion sports commercial. His palm tree tattoo peeked from his shoulder, distracting her for the hundredth time.

"Totally," she lied. "Just... vibing."

Vibing with impending humiliation, more like. Her little brother had been preparing for the zombie apocalypse since third grade, but Maya? She was facing something worse: social embarrassment in front of the one person whose opinion actually mattered.

The game started. Lucas served, and somehow Maya's body remembered what her sleep-deprived brain had forgotten. She returned it perfectly. They played back and forth, the rhythm hypnotic, the sound of the ball popping against their rackets syncing with her heartbeat.

Then it happened. Lucas hit it high, and Maya jumped, her palm connecting solidly with the racket handle. She smashed it past him, point-winning, perfect.

"Whoa," Lucas said, grinning. "Since when do you got moves like that?"

"Since I started mainlining energy drinks," Maya shot back, surprising herself with the flirting.

Someone tossed her a water bottle. She caught it one-handed, suddenly feeling less like a zombie and more like... herself. Maybe sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated, anxiety-ridden herself was okay. Maybe that was the point.

"Rematch?" Lucas asked, eyes bright.

Maya's phone buzzed—Zombie Squad group chat blowing up about plans later. But for the first time all week, she didn't feel like the walking dead. She felt alive.

"You're on," she smiled, ready to play until her palms stopped sweating and her heart stopped racing—or maybe exactly because they wouldn't.