Zombie Mode at the Padel Courts

Maya dragged herself through the front door feeling straight-up **zombie** mode activated. Three hours of sleep before finals week will do that to you. Her phone buzzed — group chat blowing up about Jake's party tonight after the **padel** tournament.

"You coming?" asked Priya, her best friend since seventh grade. "Everyone's gonna be there."

Maya stared at herself in the mirror. Dark circles, messy bun, existential crisis energy. "Hard pass. I look like I died three days ago."

"You're being dramatic. Besides, you promised you'd watch me crush it at **padel**."

Right. The tournament. Maya had somehow agreed to spend her Saturday watching racquet sports she didn't understand, surrounded by Jake's lacrosse team and their perfectly curated Instagram lives.

Fine. She'd show up, be supportive, escape early to catch up on Netflix. Solid plan.

The courts were packed. Jake spotted her immediately, **running** over with that grin that made her stomach do weird things. "Maya! You made it!"

"Wouldn't miss it," she lied smoothly.

The game was ... actually kind of intense. Priya was surprisingly fierce, screaming at the ball like it personally insulted her family. And Jake — okay, Jake was distractingly good. His arms. Focus, Maya.

"Water break!" someone yelled.

Everyone migrated toward the **pool** area behind the club. Maya grabbed a chair, scrolling through her phone to avoid awkward small talk.

"You're not swimming?"

She looked up. Jake was standing there, hair wet, shirt somewhere on a lounge chair. This was fine. Everything was fine.

"Nah, didn't bring a suit," Maya said. Not technically true — she had one in her bag — but absolutely the right call.

"Jump in anyway. Clothes dry."

"Bold of you to assume I want to be wet and miserable," she shot back, and he laughed.

Something shifted in his expression. "You know what? You're the only person here who's actually real. Everyone else is performing for Snapchat. You're just ... you."

Maya blinked. Was that ... good? Bad? A somehow compliment?

"I think that's a compliment?" Jake said, reading her face. "What I'm trying to say is —"

"JAKE! Your serve!" Priya yelled from the court.

He groaned. "Duty calls. But seriously, Maya. Don't change."

Later, as she sat by the **pool** watching everyone fake-laugh at inside jokes, Maya realized something. Being the **zombie** girl who didn't care about performing social perfection? That was actually her brand now. And somehow, Jake thought that was worth something.

Her phone buzzed. Jake: "Afterparty at my place. You coming? For real this time?"

Maya smiled. Maybe she wasn't so zombie after all.