Zombies at the Padel Court

I looked like a total zombie. Three hours of padel practice in the July heat will do that to you. My hair was plastered to my forehead, and I was pretty sure my padel racket had started feeling heavier than my entire body.

"Dude, you good?" asked Marcus, leaning against the chain-link fence with that infuriatingly effortless vibe. His backwards hat sat perfectly on his head, not a hair out of place. Some people just exist at the top of the social pyramid, you know? Marcus wasn't just good at sports — he was good at everything.

"Yeah," I managed, though it came out more like a wheeze. "Just living my best life."

He laughed, but it wasn't mean. That was the thing about Marcus — he was genuinely nice, which somehow made it worse. Like, couldn't he just be a jerk so I could hate him without feeling guilty about it?

"Coach wants us to run through that new drill again," he said. "Something about sphinx formations? Don't ask me, I just follow orders."

I groaned. "Sphinx formations? What is this, ancient Egypt boot camp?"

"Bro, I'm just the messenger. Don't shoot the messenger." He tossed me my water bottle. "Besides, you're getting way better. Your backhand was actually fire today."

Was it weird that his compliment made my stomach do that little flip thing? Whatever. It was just the heat. Definitely the heat.

"Thanks," I said, faking nonchalance while internally spiraling. I adjusted my own hat, pulling the brim lower to hide what I was 100% sure was a ridiculous blush.

The whistle blew. Coach shouted something about pyramid drills and sphinx positions that made absolutely zero sense but sounded impressive. Marcus jogged onto the court, already in the zone.

I took a breath. One more drill. One more hour of looking like a zombie while Marcus made everything look easy. One more chance to maybe, possibly, impress him.

I grabbed my racket and followed him onto the court. Whatever. Being a teenager was weird enough without overthinking every interaction. Sometimes you just had to play the game, even when you were running on zero energy and confusing feelings.

Besides, I'd take embarrassing myself at padel over sitting at home overthinking everything any day. At least here, I was too tired to obsess. Small wins.