(C.) 535 always.

she glanced out the bay window to the other side of her. she could see the forest and the wavering silhouette of a deer, and for a moment she understood it. she and the deer were the same in that they were always standing off at the border of the pavement, both of them asking the same question: what comes next? what happens if i cross? i step to the middle. i turn, and there is light.

paige had gotten up early, most likely in the kitchen or out at the gym. this meant azzi had time to build her fortress. her wife was one of the most beloved things in her life, and in being so, azzi tried her hardest to avoid subjecting her to this version of herself.

but paige noticed patterns; paige was good at patterns. in fact, paige had been the one to urge azzi a year ago to begin tracking so that they could go to the gynecologist. you shouldn’t be in this much pain, she had whispered into azzi’s temple. i was raised catholic, azzi had wanted to whisper back, i know how to suffer—but her body had been lead that day, and so instead she had fallen asleep.

paige was tuned into most things, but above all, she was tuned in to azzi. but here she was unreachable. this wasn’t something to film-study and fix. this was only azzi at war with herself, and it was private, cellular, and deeply humiliating. this illness that infested her bloodstream, that had no visible wound to press.

it was always the same: two weeks before her period, it would start.

azzi would wake up with a strange tenderness in her chest, like she'd swallowed a blade in her sleep and her body had, against all wisdom, begun to heal around it. she’d look at paige and feel a course of love so large that it terrified her, and then—almost instantly—feel the fear behind the love: the knowledge that love was a spirit with the possibility of ruin, the knowledge of love as the rain and azzi as the earth that drowned beneath it.

she’d feel too aware of herself, far too aware of the space she took up. everything grated: her voice sounded when she asked for something, paige's face in the half-second before she answered, sunlight, moonlight, the bedsheets. it was as if her brain had developed a second language overnight, one that translated everything—every gesture, every pause, every nothing—into threat.

it was all against her: the world, her wife, even the bedsheets, abrasive, even a bystander in the grocery store parking lot who had done nothing more than exist near her.

paige could say hey, baby, how are you? and azzi would hear you’re utterly exhausting.

paige could ask you need anything? and azzi would only hear here we go again.

paige could hold her jaw and say look at me, i love you and azzi would only hear don’t make me regret it.

she hated it most then, when she could tell it wasn't real. when she knew she was misreading paige and still unable to stop, like watching herself cross a street against the light and being powerless to call herself back. she normally loved it when paige held her face and said look at me. look at me, i love you.

that was the true sickness of it: clarity without control. she wanted them back, them both.

she managed a few more minutes, lay there staring at the ceiling until the bedroom door opened and paige entered, bright movements around the bedroom, humming while she pulled clothes from the closet with her normal boat of casual confidence. azzi wanted to scream at her, to snap about her lack of consideration, but she got a hand around her mouth before she could and briefly felt like a child again, looking at the neighbor’s dog with its snout muzzled. she thought a lot of the mouth - the parts of it, of its crush against another. the way it opened. the way it could close.

it was a soft, dangerous trap, and she only opened wider.

azzi despised the way she existed to the point of discomfort. she loathed the thought of passing this down to a daughter: her personhood, so heavy that for fourteen days—sometimes longer—she struggled to begin the day and get out of bed. she was often an animal then, curled on her stomach and restless in sleep. her mind was never quiet. everything that was a drop of water became a pool, even if there was nowhere further to go. every small thing was asked to be a catastrophe, and some part of her kept agreeing.

azzi always felt on the edge of flight, bones straining against the skin as if all it would take was for someone to blow on her to prompt her free. she was not sure if it was always worth it to go through life this way. it was not something she could connect rules to. it was not something that she could ease because to restrain it was to lose herself, to lose the sensitivity that also made her the way she was the other fourteen days—the good fourteen, when she loved paige with a completeness that almost frightened her.

how could she do that to someone she loved?

paige came out of the bathroom with her hair still damp, face fresh, skin gleaming wet and aggressively clean. she had a grey cotton towel wrapped around her, but let it drop as azzi reached a hand out toward her, palm up, fingers uncurled. she leaned over azzi's prone form, blonde hair gone dark with water, and azzi could smell the root of her and her soap before it was masked by cologne: peach, chantilly cream, honeydew, bigarade, jasmine, a ginger note.

“hey, baby,” paige murmured.

azzi watched her with an unreadable expression, slowly losing herself to paige’s gaze, slipping into the blue. paige touched the side of her waist with two fingers, the tips soft in their touch.

“you still down for tonight?”

azzi blinked slowly, then carefully raised herself upward, hand settled in the middle of paige’s back to keep her steady. she slid that same hand up to the nape of her neck, then further into the thick of her damp hair, free hand coming to loiter on paige’s waist as she dragged all 6’0 of her wife into her lap. paige flushed at the motion, and azzi felt a flicker of feeling, the pink-edged pleasure of catching her wife by surprise; the brief, bright relief of being someone paige wanted to be caught by.

“remind me what tonight is again,” she said, though she knew. she’d known all week.

paige’s eyebrows lifted, amused. she knew this, too.

“dinner, mama. with liv and them.”

azzi closed her eyes, let out a low hum of understanding. liv. paige’s people. the orbit of friends paige had kept from college and the league and the endless overlap of both. they weren’t cruel at all, but azzi liked them less than she liked paige’s teammates. she found this group just a little too sharp, bizarrely competitive in a way that seemed to never turn off. they belonged to the vein of people who made jokes that leaned more offensive than comedic, and then, if you said as much, insisted you were too sensitive if you didn’t laugh.

they loved paige; they loved her rather loudly. but azzi always felt as though she was being assessed beside her, like an accessory someone might return. today in particular, she could not trust the accuracy of that feeling, and that uncertainty made it worse, not better. maybe she was the problem. maybe she was always the problem. the luteal phase specialized in that, making the unfalsifiable feel like fact.

“oh, i don’t really feel like going,” azzi said, and she pushed it out all in one breath.

it came out even, almost casual. she’d tried to make it sound normal, as though she was turning down the offer to view a film.

paige paused, leaning back, further away from her. azzi watched her shoulders flex and idly pressed a palm to the back of her, where she could feel the scapulae shuddering.

“what? why?”

azzi shrugged. her body felt like it was full of wet sand.

“i’m tired.”

in turn, paige gave her that look - soft, coaxing. her best working look, the one she used with kids at camps, with rookies who looked as though they might cry under another lashing from their coach, with azzi when she refused to admit she needed something, most often help.

“it’s just dinner,” paige said. “we’ll stay for, like, an hour. two, tops.”

azzi stared at the ceiling again. it was never an hour. it was never two. paige got there and became paige—radiant, social, highly regarded—and azzi would sit beside her, wasting away, feeling herself disappear and the copper tang of panic rising as she began to wonder if anyone could see her any longer. if she had already gone. if the thing sitting in her chair at the table was something else wearing her, doing a passable imitation.

“p,” azzi said, quieter, “i really don’t want to.”

paige leaned in then, hovering over her for a moment, before sliding free of azzi’s hold and lingering at the edge of the bed. she leaned down and pressed a kiss to azzi’s forehead -the connection butter-melted, warm and sloping over azzi's body before drifting away.

“you’re just in your head again, baby,” paige murmured. “we get like this, all comfy, just us two. but we gotta see people; it’s good for us. just tryna get us out. c’mon. for me.”

for a moment, the fall of her hair made azzi think of the floral arrangement out in the hallway, the one she’d had made and presented paige with just because: quicksand and playa blanca roses, white tulips, ivory calla lilies, pale beige dahlia, white anemones; a filler of bleached ruscus, dusty miller, and white astilbe. a blonde bouquet, azzi had teased, and paige had laughed even though it wasn’t all that funny. that was marriage, maybe. laughing when things weren't that funny, because the laughter was the point.

for me.

a gentle, affectionate plea. an unintended enormous weight.

azzi felt her lips part, her mouth opening and nearly letting slip: some parasite has crawled inside of me and has tainted me. i can’t explain this to you without sounding entirely insane.

instead, she said, “okay.”

because she loved paige. paige had a strain of loyalty that made you want to match it when exposed to it, made you ache to be the kind of partner who showed up always, who didn’t make things difficult, who was devoid of a devastating internal weather that could take up the whole room.

because she loved paige. and by saying okay, she sent out the only translation available to her, the only word that crossed between her language and paige’s in this moment. and so she said it, though her body was still full of wet sand, and the sun was straining over the room and causing a headache, and she would get up now.

she would get up, and she would go.

because she loved paige.

and that was all, really.

getting ready as a concept was by far easier than the execution of it.

in an effort to energize herself for the evening, azzi had taken herself back to bed after breakfast, pressing a light kiss to paige’s temple as she told her she was going to take a nap. as she strode into their room, she shrugged off the sweat set she had put on for the morning and didn’t bother with dressing herself in anything else before sliding underneath the sheets.

she’d slept too late, into the dark, waking up from a dream that remained more vivid in feeling than in detail. and her body had been so desperate to expel itself from her fantasy that it had forced her into a coughing fit. it had been a terrible feeling, to sit halfway up in the dark with her lungs contracting and expanding erratically, her throat scratched to shit as she heaved out so viciously that she kept retching up air and couldn’t breathe. azzi tried to call for paige but couldn’t get the word out, her voice lost, tried to raise her hands above her head, but it didn’t work the way it normally did, so instead she twisted her way out of the sheets and stumbled and fell into their wardrobe, feet bare against the new soft green body of the persian runner she’d laid against the floor the day before.

she’d turned on so many lights in different rooms looking for her wife—kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—hands pressing and pressing against the walls until she felt the slick white bodies of the switches tilt up, light opening and opening until she was drenched with it, until she was nothing but light and the animal fear of being seen. azzi knew then that she was having a panic attack: legs gone tingly, near numb, and she felt as though she was going to tumble straight off the porcelain rim of the toilet once she made it there. she’d barely made it back to the bedroom, where her phone was propped up, charging, glowing—something rapturous enough that could save her.

and there she lay, four in the afternoon, finally summoning enough strength to call paige, who had been only taking the dogs out. eventually, she felt stable enough to try to fall back asleep somewhere near five fifteen, and was woken again by paige’s gentle rocking at six—dinner was at eight—and azzi gazed at her, face like a moon and heart like a soldier, eyes shutting tightly and intermittently as she tried not to feel sick.

i had a nightmare, azzi told her, and she felt immensely like a child - so much so that she nearly burst into tears. but she pushed on, broke away to go shelter in the shower.

now, azzi stood in front of the mirror and tried to make herself look like someone who belonged properly to this evening's dinner, to her own life. she pulled on a red dress she’d bought months ago but had yet to wear: red, blood red, consequence red. a cling to her shoulders as if trying to hold her in place, keeping her upright. the neckline sat high, qipao-adjacent, nearly choking her but loose enough to avoid doing so - hiding her throat because the throat was vulnerable and everyone knew that. the fabric was fitted along her torso, tailored where it counted, neatly hemmed where it needed to be, but that fell apart at the skirt. the skirt was ruffled, like a secret panic—ruffles on ruffles on ruffles, swallowing her legs, swallowing the floor, an avalanche—folds so thick they looked nearly edible, like cake frosting, except the cut of it wasn’t sweet.

azzi knew paige would like it, even before she came up behind her, knew it would make her wife’s eyes go a little hungry, deepen into sapphire. she put on mascara and watched her lashes darken into black jasper.

her face looked fine, beautiful, even. but her eyes were all wrong, as if she’d been awake for days. she was clearly shaken. hopefully, no one commented on it.

she heard a scrabble of nails on the tile, and when she turned her head to look back, her face didn’t match what she was wearing. her expression was small and careful, as if she were trying to apologize for all that red. after a few blank moments, she remembered herself, peering down at the long, solemn face of their six-year-old cream-colored borzoi with a patient smile, letting a hand down to drag along the velvet backs of her ears as she cooed her name: aemma, my aemma, aemma, sweet girl.

paige came up behind her and slid her hands around azzi’s waist. she pressed her mouth to azzi’s shoulder, warm and easy.

“my god,” paige said, voice low. “you look beautiful.”

azzi should’ve felt flattered, at the very least desired. but she felt a deep wave of sadness so sudden it almost made her dizzy.

i just know i’m something animal, she thought, with brown eyes that are endless and long legs that knock into each other and bruise when i roll back and forth at night. i want to submerge myself underneath our comforter so that i can feel even warmer, even though our heat hasn’t once been turned off. even though i am already burning in the dead of winter.

but could she say nothing of the kind because paige wouldn’t understand her. paige could want her and still not understand her. paige could love her and still not know how lonely it was inside of her head, her mind an endless maze, the leaves devouring her.

azzi swallowed, the sound hard and wet, and forced a minute upturn to the edges of her lips.

“thank you, honey,” she said, and hated how lackluster it sounded.

she felt paige let her go and promptly secured her up-do with a mahogany and white jade hairstick before bending and touching a satin-matte-shade del rio kiss to aemma’s wet nose. when she pulled back, it looked as though the black cobblestone tip was bleeding red.

in the car, paige drove with one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to rest on azzi’s thigh. she always did that, and azzi appreciated the reassurance, the unknown way she was anchoring azzi to the present.

azzi stared out of the window at the city slurring past: streetlights, headlights, neon heartbeats of their chosen hometown. she turned away, back and inward, when paige squeezed her thigh.

“you okay, az?” paige said. “you’ve been a little quiet.”

azzi felt such a swell of affection then, immeasureably touched by paige’s insistence on knowing whether or not she was happy, on being determined to change it if it wasn’t so. she intertwined their hands, joining them, and lifted the bulk to kiss her wife’s knuckles. she smoothed them down after, fingers pressing along pale skin, sending the golden dusting of hair back into its downward drift.

“yes, sorry. i really am tired—that nightmare stole all of my sleep.”

and it truly wasn’t a lie. exhaustion was the most common symptom of her disorder, a depletion that traveled bone-deep, bleaching her limbs white, wearing her down. paige glanced at her, eyes roving up and down azzi’s face, a lighthouse searching.

“you mad at me?”

“of course not.”

“you sure?”

azzi exhaled through her nose. “paige. i’m sure. we wouldn’t have left if i were. you’ve done nothing wrong, i swear.”

paige made a noise low in her throat as though she didn’t believe her—and azzi knew she didn’t—but refrained from the urge to push. paige was like that: patient until she wasn't, patient until she got tired of guessing and yanked rather than pulled at a thread.

they arrived at the restaurant, and azzi’s stomach tightened as soon as she saw the warm spill of light through the windows, the silhouettes of bodies inside. there was a rise of laughter that was shed from the inhabitants, and the sound poured forth into the parking lot, an amber blaze. azzi felt dread seize her from all sides, an onslaught of warning for disaster.

paige parked and turned the car off.

“you good?” paige asked a final time.

azzi saw it for what it was: an escape route. she nodded, resolute.

paige leaned in, kissed her cheek, then her mouth. “one word and we’re gone.”

azzi closed the gap a second time, licking into paige’s mouth before breaking off, wiping carefully at the waxy smear of lipstick she’d left behind. they both knew she wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t say anything at all.

the restaurant was called the monarch. inside, the lighting was soft, yellowed, and impossibly low, spilling from unseen sources in graceful ribbons that pooled around the edges of the wooden floor. then there was the kitchen: open, exposed, a fire blazing within, emanating something almost psychosexual, a charge that spread as you walked past it. a gaze locked with a chef's for a moment, longer than was necessary. it lingered until you unraveled, wet and runny, a loose yolk.

paige’s friends were already there, of course, gathered around a circular stone table at the center like a small court, and the second paige was in view, the entire group swelled with light. olivia—liv to close friends, olivia mostly to azzi—swept forward, olive neck encircled by a gold band set with a diamond as large as a fruit.

“p!” she cheered.

paige smiled immediately, huge and effortless, the way she did on-camera. she slid into the moment like it was a tailored suit. azzi could only clutch tightly at her fingers and follow a step behind, already feeling the faint sting of being the evening's afterthought.

olivia hugged paige first, tightly. she was an art collector, founder of calatayud collection house; paige had met her through an interior design recommendation from lala and arike, and upon learning they were both from minnesota, born in two sets of coordinates that bordered one another, they had hit it off immediately.

“finally,” she said. “we were about to order apps without you.”

paige laughed. “you wouldn’t.”

“oh, we would. i’m fucking starving! we would’ve gotten you calamari, of course,” liv teased.

she pulled back and looked at azzi. her smile was quick but not unkind. “hey, azzi.”

“hi, liv, it’s really nice to see you again,” azzi said. “you look lovely.”

paige squeezed her hand, thumb rubbing the back of it - you're doing so well. the sentiment seemed to soften liv, and she put a hand on azzi's arm.

“i love your dress. it’s perfect for you.”

“thank you so much,” azzi responded, smiling with as much warmth as she could summon. she accepted the compliment and left it there before her brain could begin its work.

one of the guys—some teammate's brother whose name she could never hold—leaned over and grinned.

“azzi! good to see you’re alive. i swear we never hang out with you these days.”

azzi’s smile stretched stiffly on her face, an unnatural drag. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. it’s just been a bit busy lately.”

"courtesy of the ol' ball and chain," he cracked off, laughing at his own joke, and paige laughed too, because she knew azzi wouldn’t.

azzi laughed a second late, uncomfortably delayed; she could already feel the night draining something from her.

they sat. paige pulled out both their chairs before sliding into her own, and then—without asking—pushed azzi in and ordered two seven-ounce glasses of wine. something azzi usually found sweet - the way paige remembered her preferences, the way paige remembered her without having to be reminded. but tonight it rankled, felt like being spoken for. their knees pressed together under the table, casual intimacy,

conversation moved quickly, a blessing, darting between league gossip and old stories and inside jokes azzi wasn’t part of. paige was relaxed, leaning back, talking with her hands. azzi watched the ligaments move, the joints articulating as she expressed herself; her laugh was everywhere, a mellow lullaby, and azzi felt herself begin to separate—from her chair, from the table, from the version of herself she'd been only a few hours ago—as she watched paige become the public paige, the one the world got. she watched the ease with which paige belonged, and the sadness in her chest deepened, slow and sticky, like resin setting.

she tried. she really tried.

she remembered herself, her tasks, asked questions. she smiled and nodded along to someone’s news about this and that, even made a joke that landed well and earned a boisterous round of laughter, and then another that glened a few more. and for a moment, she felt the relief of being perceived as normal, as one of the group, with skin that fit.

then olivia turned to paige, wine glass raised coyly to the side of her cheek, wrist loose.

“so,” liv said, green eyes glittering—moss over rock—, “is it true y’all are moving?”

paige shrugged. “might be.”

azzi blinked, once and then again, before slowly turning her head to look over at her wife. paige kept talking, fingers toying with her napkin ring.

“we’ve been thinking about it for a while. just like… somewhere quieter.”

azzi felt her stomach drop. it wasn't the first time they'd talked about moving; they both ached for that sally mann kind of living, especially thinking about children. but—but nothing had been decided. and paige was talking about it as though it were settled, set in stone, as though azzi wasn't sitting right there with her own resistances and reservations; as though she were a footnote in this decision already made.

liv’s eyebrows shot up. “oh, my god. paige bueckers in the suburbs.”

laughter circled the table. the outpour settled into azzi’s body like a vibration. she felt like a bell, struck.

paige twisted her face in mock offense before letting it fall into an easy smile. “hey! not too much, now. i’m still me.”

azzi kept her face neutral, but she leaned closer to paige, voice a low curl.

“we’re moving?” she repeated.

paige's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. she turned so that for a moment they were closer than ever, heads settled together, uninviting the table from their intimacy. the position put only the other in focus, and it was why they both missed the dark shutter of olivia's face and the large swallow of wine that followed.

“not like, decided, mama,” paige murmured. “‘m just talking.”

azzi nodded, laid her hand along paige's thigh to say she understood. but something in her tightened: a small humiliation, a tiny cut. they broke apart, and the conversation rolled on, and azzi found herself shrinking again, pulling back from the edge of the table as if loath to let the light reach where she sat.

at some point, cam—another friend—looked at azzi and said, with the careful lightness of someone who actually wanted to know,

“you good? you look like you’re about to cry.”

it had a teasing nature, as though it were a joke. and azzi knew it was intended as much. cameron was one of the only people here she genuinely liked—a newly licensed therapist, and exceptional at it. a truly sweet girl. she'd probably leveled the question with levity precisely so the table wouldn't turn.

azzi felt her face flush. she stared at her water glass.

“i’m fine,” she answered, and it was meant to be soft, but came out like the shut of a door.

cameron raised her hands, silver rings blinding with the reflecting light. “okay. just checking.”

azzi touched her mouth in delayed horror, went to apologize, but the moment had already moved past her. azzi’s throat tightened. she blinked slowly and held her face in place. paige leaned in, murmuring, you’re fine, baby. cam knows you didn’t mean it, and azzi hummed and flagged down the server for a refill of her water.

paige was most likely right, but azzi couldn’t ignore it. she couldn’t set aside the way her insides were twisting, the height of the disorder rising, spitting her back out in a knot.

the rest of the dinner blurred. their plates arrived. azzi had chosen fish—salmon, to be exact—and it arrived blushing pink and sliced thin, fanned opulently across a black wire rack, flesh glistening under the low light, adorned by garnishes of black caviar, horseradish, and jewel-bright jam in a delicate blue-and-white porcelain dish. a set of crisp flatbreads leaned artfully against the edge; a tableau seemed made for someone else, far more present.

azzi picked at the salmon with the side of her fork, letting it curl onto her plate like a ribbon unwound. she spread a whisper of jam onto sourdough and bit into it without tasting, careful to maintain the pace of someone enjoying herself. her stomach tightened with every pass of the spoon over caviar, every careful dollop of cream. the food felt like a prop, her enjoyment a performance, and she could feel the audience—even if no one was watching—aware of her disconnection.

paige's hand stayed on azzi's thigh, but it did nothing now to soften the way her mind grew louder, her body heavier. she felt as though she was trapped behind glass, watching herself smile. by the time they'd made their perfunctory rounds of goodbye hugs and cheek kisses, her face ached from the effort of holding expression.

outside, the air was cold enough to bite. it should have helped, a glacial spill of clarity over her head. instead, it only made her feel more exposed. paige traipsed ahead, ribbing someone walking alongside them, and azzi slowed until she was floating behind like a spectre, watching their hands separate from a few paces back. she was dimly aware of it: the way paige reacted to the absence of her—an immediate stop, a loose spin edged with panic until she found her again. azzi stored that somewhere small and private, momentarily buoyed.

eventually, they made it to the car. the last friend peeled off three rows away, and paige turned the heat on, rnb starting automatically - a suede bluetooth bloom. she reversed out of the spot with one hand on the wheel and the other reaching across for azzi, neck bent like a crane’s leg as she looked manually out the rear window.

azzi didn’t move her leg away, but she didn’t lean into it either. as they pulled back onto the highway, the silence stretched. paige glanced at her, cobalt gaze pinched.

“you okay?”

azzi gazed through the windshield, face as empty as the glass, before going, “yeah.”

paige’s hand slid away. “no, you’re not.”

azzi said nothing.

“az.”

the particular exasperation in it, the plea threaded through the irritation, made azzi's skin prickle.

“what?” she said.

“why are you acting like this?”

azzi kept her eyes on the road. “like what?”

“like you're somewhere else entirely,” paige snapped. like you can't stand being near me.”

azzi's hands were folded in her lap, fingers pressed together so tightly that the joints had gone white. she pursed her lips.

“i told you i didn’t want to go,” she reminded her. she knew it was the wrong thing to say, though she said it anyway.

paige made a short sound. “okay, but you came.”

azzi turned her head slightly, looking at paige from underneath her lashes. “because you asked me to.”

“yeah, i asked. i didn’t make you.”

azzi laughed under her breath; bitter, hollow, a sound she barely recognized as her own. “no. but you know i’d do anything for you.”

“it was dinner,” paige said. “it wasn’t a hostage situation.”

azzi's throat burned, constricted. she reached up and pulled the hairstick from the dark twist of her hair, the pull incredibly sharp, three strands ripping free from the root.

“fuck, az—be careful.”

the road lights dripped across everything—windsheild, windows, the wing mirrors—high-beam refractions sketching paige's face briefly unfamiliar, harder, the angles more severe than azzi knew them.

“i felt like shit the whole time,” azzi said. “and your friends were being—.”

“my friends weren’t doing anything,” paige said immediately.

azzi looked at her. a long, even look. she could hear herself somewhere deep down, screaming at her to stop. “did you know that liv is in love with you?”

paige pressed her heel to the floor mat, grip tightening on the wheel. “not this again. she's not. she just jokes—that's how she is.”

“that's the problem.” azzi's voice stayed level, which somehow felt worse than if it had risen. “that’s always the excuse. that's how she is. that’s how they all are. that’s how you are. that's how i’m supposed to be.”

paige exhaled sharply.

“what the fuck are you talking about right now? you want me to cut them off? fight everybody?”

azzi’s voice rose, involuntary. “no. i would never ask you to do that.” she settled. “i went to the dinner. i just want you to notice me, to notice when i’m uncomfortable.”

“i do notice you,” paige said, and there was something almost wounded in it now. “baby, i married you. i did that so i could notice you for the rest of my life.”

azzi shook her head. “that’s not what i mean.”

paige’s laugh had no humor in it. “do you even know what you mean?”

azz gave up then, turning from the rigid side profile of paige’s face to press her forehead to the cold glass of the passenger window. her breath fogged a small circle, and she watched it shrink. she felt on the edge of collapse, and the precipice felt almost like a relief. she felt like she was already over it, a hair's breadth away from disintegration.

“no, i don’t,” azzi whispered

paige softened at that, body tenderized by the admission, and reached out to run a hand through azzi's fallen hair.

azzi didn't want to be this. a dramatic creature picking fights over topics that disguised her real afflictions. a serrated edge cutting and cutting until she'd bled out everyone's patience and tenderness for her, no longer beholden to tolerance. she loathed her ability to be difficult. she didn't want to be the kind of wife who turned everything into an emergency, who pulled every thread until the whole thing came apart.

but the thing about her and this insipid disorder was that it didn't feel anything like distortion. it simply felt like the truth, like her body handing her a document and saying: here. here is everything. evidence filed and organized. case closed.

azzi swallowed, her words tumescent and stuck. this all felt humiliating. how could you explain to someone that you were being possessed by your own making? that your brain had turned into a room full of weaponry, endless torture?

they turned into the drive, and as soon as paige parked, azzi unbuckled her seatbelt and burst from the car, stepping out before the engine had fully settled, moving without urgency but without pause; moving how she moved only when trying to outpace herself and knowing she couldn’t.

the garage door sealed shut behind them, and paige turned the car off as azzi fumbled with her keys. she got out quietly, closing the driver’s side behind her, and quietly selected the right one for the lock. azzi stayed still, staring straight ahead. paige perched her head on top of hers, thumb brushing azzi’s wrist.

“c’mon, mama,” paige said.

azzi stood just inside the doorway, coat still on, as though part of her had not yet agreed to come home. her body felt stuck in external mode, unable to unclench.

“az,” paige’s arms spread slightly. an opening, a doorway, please just step through it. “what is going on with you?”

azzi could only stare at her. paige's face was open, exhausted, and frustrated, and still, underneath all of it, trying. she was only offering her hands out. and azzi wanted to step into them—god, she wanted to—but something in her was still animal-cornered, still certain that if it stopped moving the chase would end and then it would die.

“i told you i didn’t want to go,” azzi said again. her voice sounded as though it was coming from someone else.

paige rubbed a hand over her face. “okay. yes. but we went. it’s done.”

azzi’s eyes stung.

paige stepped closer, reaching for her again. “come here.”

azzi jerked back.

“please don’t,” she said.

paige's hand stopped, fingers mid-curl. a terrible silence. azzi watched the hurt move across her face before it hardened over.

“what the hell?” paige said.

“please,” azzi's voice was barely above a whisper now, shaking at its edges. “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

she pressed her hands to her temples. her head felt like a hive, bees shouldering each other for space.

“you can’t what?”

“i don’t think i can be touched right now.”

paige exhaled through her mouth. when she spoke next, the frustration was still there, but so was something more unraveled - fraying, genuine. “so let me just understand: you can't be touched, you can't talk, you can't do dinner. i don’t—what am i supposed to do, az? what is it you actually need from me?"

azzi’s chest felt as though it was collapsing inward, and she was suddenly and entirely elsewhere—pulled back to her university days, stolen into the memory of the black, sweltering mouth of the tunnels as she rode the train late at night, watching the yellow-pocket-windows of passing carriages blinking in and out of the dark. other lives. other people, continuing. she was always in the tunnel between them.

“i don’t know,” azzi said finally.

paige's voice rose, not to a shout, but to the register just before it, where the control began to show its seams. “you don't know. azzi. you’ve been shutting down since this morning. looking at me like i’ve done something terrible. and i just—” she stopped, her jaw tight. when she looked back, what came out was small and almost involuntary, more exhaustion than pointed cruelty.

“you’re acting crazy right now.”

crazy.

the word arrived quietly. that was almost the worst of it, that it hadn’t been hurled in a fit of high temper, an accidental shot off a rifle both had thought unloaded. it had just slipped out, the way the most damaging things had a habit of. and it landed in azzi's chest, on the floor of her stomach, anchored to the ocean floor.

crazy.

the ugliest shorthand, the easiest dismissal. the easiest way to harm her. a fear fulfilled: her body was so unknowable, her mind even more so, and azzi always felt silly when she thought something was wrong because she was known to be a hypochondriac. but what was hypochondria but the body’s prophecy of its own unraveling? maybe, in ways, she was only a visionary. from the arcana, she’d nearly always pull high priestess.

azzi’s breath left her body in a swell of oxygen that mangled into a salt note not quite a sob. she gazed shell-shocked at paige, eyes wide and unblinking, and she felt the strangest sensation - floating above herself, watching the moment unfold from the ceiling. a sudden bid for freedom, as if she’d been waiting for this exact word. she stood very still. the kitchen light was on, and in it she could see aemma tucked against the base of the cabinet, ears low.

once, the world had been devoured by the chassis of hurricane named callum, and azzi still had to go to work. she’d felt as though she were in a mausoleum, everything so slick and wet and stony and gray. the winds were so strong that she’d lost every fight against them and was pushed by phantom hands, by the breath of something larger than weather. by the end, when she entered the sliding glass doors of her office building, she’d felt like the swell was inside of me and all she had to do was open her mouth and scream, collapse to the ground and writhe, and let it all spill out.

all the glass shattering and tumbling down, the concrete stairs rumbling as they divorced from one another and crashed onto every sign of life. the textile display in the lobby would go first, those great looming blank bodies snapping like branches off of toppling oaks. and azzi, in the middle, on the verge of running but unable to disengage with what possessed her. this is what it meant to live her own life.

she felt much like that now.

when azzi spoke again, her voice was different, unbearably quiet.

“i woke up this morning, and i felt it already,” she said. “before i even opened my eyes. just…waiting.” azzi wasn’t looking at paige. she was looking at the floor, or at nothing, or at the shape of whatever it was that she was trying to say. “i feel it moving, surging through me like i’m the levee and it’s the water. i feel it crawling all over me, a snake determined to bite. and i’m paralyzed, i'm watching myself, and i know—i know—it's not real. or it is real, but it’s wrong. but i can’t stop it. i’m helpless. i can’t get out of my own way. and moves much faster when it realizes i’m unable to fight.”

she stopped. she pressed her palm flat against the front of her coat, directly over her sternum.

“yes,” she said, “i do feel rather insane.”

paige’s face changed instantaneously.

“azzi—”

“don’t.”

azzi’s voice ripped, though still no rise. she shrugged her coat off, the heap sloughing to the floor.

“don't do that voice. you can’t fix this. there isn't a version of tonight where you say the right thing, and i'm okay.” she paused. “i’m not saying that to be cruel, paige. i’m saying it because it’s true.”

“it’s as though i'm strapped in, and someone else is driving,” she said, and her voice had gone to something very small, very careful, a near gasp as she searched for the best words and found them far from her. “and i can see the road. i can see everything—i see myself say things and think things and do things and feel things that make me—and i still can't—i can't make it stop."

she wiped at her face, furious at the tears.

“i know how it looks,” she said. “i know.”

paige stood perfectly still, like she was afraid that any sudden movement would cause azzi to shatter all over the floor.

“i know i’m being irrational, that i’m hard this way,” azzi continued. “i hear myself, and i have no idea who is speaking. living this way—sometimes i’ve gone into the bathroom and stared at myself and tried to talk myself down like a child having a tantrum.”

she dragged in a breath, shoulders shaking.

“and the entire time it’s just… grief. it’s grief for no reason, grief in different forms, changing outfits. it’s grief like a flood. it’s my brain trying its damndest to convince me for two weeks straight that i am deeply unloved and unwanted and disgusting, and then i look at you—” she swallowed, voice cleaving. “and you’re the only thing i have, and i still can’t hold onto you properly.”

paige’s eyes were glassy. her mouth opened, then closed. azzi shook her head, as if setting something loose.

“and the worst part,” azzi said, quieter now, almost ashamed, “is that i just have to bear it. every time.”

paige stepped forward, and azzi didn’t fall back this time.

“i’m sorry,” paige said. her voice was oddly stripped, raw; it didn’t get that way often. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.”

azzi’s sadness thrashed inside of her, misery tidal and enormous. paige meant it. paige meant it so sincerely that it hurt.

azzi shook her head. she pressed both hands over her face for a moment, then let them drop. she crossed the kitchen slowly, past paige, past aemma—pausing only long enough to cup her dog's narrow chin, press her lips to the bridge of her nose, feel the warmth of fur against her mouth. then she went to the top drawer of the kitchen hutch. her fingers found the paper without looking. she was always aware of its exact location, the way one was always aware of a bruise. only now were they beginning to touch the real wound.

she turned it over once and then again, before speaking.

“that day, i went to the gynecologist,” she said. “last year, in march. i came back and told you that she told me it was only pms.”

paige nodded slowly, confused.

“yeah, i know,” she told her.

azzi’s throat tightened at the phrase, sweet and sure. it made paige sound younger.

“you don’t,” she corrected. she lifted herself to full height, turned, gaze unflinching. “i lied.”

they didn’t lie to each other, or at least they used to not, and azzi saw the blow hit its mark. paige's mouth twisted down, face shifting through every stage of grief.

“what?”

azzi’s face crumpled.

“i didn’t want you to stop loving me,” she said, clutching her elbows. “and when she told me, i felt—i felt so disgusting. i cried in the car, nearly had an accident. i mean, she did—it was that. a form of it. just much more. white lie, really.”

paige’s eyes filled.

“you’re not disgusting,” paige said, and it sounded like a slur, furious. “you’re not. you’re perfect.”

without a word, azzi surrendered, held it out.

paige took it. read it. azzi watched as paige read it, the words already scored into her memory, her every cell.

azzi watched her face as one would watch the landscape outside the window, hooked on every minor change: the small furrowing, the progressive stilling, and then the place where paige stopped reading, and the whole of her pulled inward, an elongated inhale.

paige looked up. her eyes were wet. her expression was coldly furious, though azzi knew not at what: her or the situation.

“what does that mean?” she said. it was low, barely a question. “si. hi.”

azzi knew paige had already understood. azzi had fallen in love with a smart girl, had married a smart woman. she knew that paige had done the math, but had simply asked in the hope of correction.

she reached behind herself, back to the drawer, for the torn bottom half of the form she’d torn upon reception; the part she'd separated as soon as she'd gotten to the car that day, as though distance between the pages might soften what was on them. she held it out. paige snatched it from her, eyes skimming anxiously.

azzi saw the exact moment the words registered.

the apartment was now very quiet. azzi slipped around her and went to bed.

patient name: azzi fudd

dob: 11/11/2002

mrn: 004*****

date: 03/09/2025

assessment/diagnosis:

premenstrual dysphoric disorder (pmdd) (icd-10: f32.81)

rule out: major depressive disorder (mdd)

rule out: generalized anxiety disorder (gad)

history/presenting complaint:

patient reports severe mood lability, irritability, anxiety, fatigue, and depressive symptoms occurring during the luteal phase (approximately 10–14 days prior to menses), with resolution within the first few days of menstruation. symptoms have been present for >12 months and cause significant impairment in social and occupational functioning. patient reports “feeling like a different person.” patient endorses intermittent passive suicidal ideation during symptomatic periods without active plan or intent.

symptoms reported (luteal phase):

marked irritability/anger

depressed mood

hopelessness

tearfulness

anxiety/tension

difficulty concentrating

fatigue/low energy

sleep disturbance

appetite changes/cravings

somatic symptoms (bloating, breast tenderness, headache)

mental status exam:

alert and oriented x3. affect tearful and congruent with mood. thought process linear. no psychosis. insight intact. judgment intact. passive si reported during luteal phase; denies active si/hi at the time of visit.

plan:

begin symptom tracking for 2 menstrual cycles

discuss ssri options (intermittent luteal-phase dosing vs continuous)

consider combined oral contraceptive (drospirenone-containing) if appropriate

recommend psychotherapy (cbt/dbt skills for mood regulation)

safety plan reviewed; crisis resources provided

follow-up in 4–6 weeks

provider: dr. hanna korso, md ob/gyn / psychiatry

azzi cried herself out in stages.

it couldn’t pass in any clean catharsis, so it came in waves; shuddering, breathless bursts that made her ribs ache, each one receding only far enough to gather into the next. she managed to guide herself to the bedroom before sinking. the duvet swallowed her. somehow her nightgown had been donned—though she couldn't have said when, only that she was in it—and the room was dim around her, curtains half-drawn, the air cool against her overheated skin.

she lay there in the aftermath of herself. her face felt tight, the mascara drying in small obsidian fissures at the outer corners of her eyes. she had the distant thought that she was going to ruin their pillowcases and then couldn’t bring herself to care. she had begun, somewhere in the interval between the kitchen and here, to build a very detailed and almost tranquil vision of her future as a divorcee—the apartment she'd have, the quality of its lonesome silence—when the duvet lifted, and paige crawled in.

she was still dressed: suit jacket gone, but the dinner shirt still on, three buttons loose at the throat, the fabric carrying the residue of the evening spent in it. she had at least kicked her shoes off before getting in. azzi noticed this even with her face turned toward the wall. she noticed things about paige the way your body could note its own temperature, rather automatically, without ever having to try.

“hey,” she murmured.

azzi kept her face to the wall. she had nothing left to give, not even a language for a semblance of what nothing felt like.

paige didn’t ask her to turn over and look at her. she had learned, in the years they had been together, that eye contact could make azzi retreat further, turn her elusive; could transmute an offering into something that felt like interrogation, or like being witnessed in the midst of self-administered punishment. so paige tucked in behind her instead, one arm coming around azzi's waist, careful with the pressure: present, not restraining, maintaining a hold that strayed devotedly from becoming a trap.

it was only information: i am here. you are not alone, here, in this bed. i am in our life with you, our world. she only wanted azzi to know she was there.

azzi's breath hitched at the warmth of it, the unbidden mercy, and paige pressed her mouth to the back of her shoulder through the cotton.

“you can’t just go to sleep whenever things get hard,” paige said. “what are you, that princess and her pea?”

she kept her body very still while she waited, and azzi felt it—the tension paige was holding, the careful suspension of her, hoping—and laughed weakly, against the pillow. she felt paige exhale against her back.

“i’m here,” paige continued, lower, a soothing coo. “you’re good. you’re safe with me.”

azzi, in response, made a sound that didn’t resemble any language. she squeezed her eyes shut, and her whole body was tremulous as though held in tension for days, a deep internal shudder of something held very tightly for a very long time. paige's hand found the hem of azzi's nightgown and slipped beneath it, hitching it up to her stomach, palm warm and flat against the bare skin of her lower back.

and then she began: dragging her nails, slowly, up the length of azzi's spine, and back down. not hard enough to scratch. the point was not to scratch, but to apply just enough pressure, enough range of motion to send a sense of electric relief through her body. a slow, repetitive motion that told azzi’s nervous system: come down. you can come down now.

azzi inhaled sharply.

paige kept going.

up. down. up. down. up.

azzi didn't know when paige had learned this about her; she didn't think she'd ever explained it, had never had the words to explain it, but somehow paige had found it the way she’d found out most things about her wife, through meticulous and repeated attention. and right now, the forbearance of it, the utter lack of agenda in the motion, was the most devastating form of consideration she could have offered. azzi’s breathing transformed into a loosening, became a soft breeze. the panic inside her began to lose all architecture under the metronome of touch, melting into exhaustion.

“i hate this,” azzi whispered. her voice was wrecked, scraped clean. “god, i hate this.”

paige’s mouth pressed to her shoulder again. “i know.”

“i hate who i become.”

paige's nails kept their slow path, a tide going out.

“you’re not whoever it is you feel like you become,” paige said. and then, more quietly, like she was deciding it as she said it: “you’re just…who you are. you’re who you’ve always been. i know who you are.”

azzi swallowed. she could still taste the shame of their argument, the subsequent reveal, the shame of having been seen mid-fracture, and underneath that - the echo of crazy in her skull, moving to and fro, like a tennis match.

paige’s voice shifted, delicate now in a different way.

“i just hate that you felt you couldn't tell me.”

azzi didn’t answer. paige’s hand paused pace for half a second, as if she was checking something, then resumed, slower than before.

“and i shouldn’t have called you…that,” paige said. “i got frustrated, and i got careless, and i shouldn’t have said it.”

her voice was even, but azzi could feel the effort that evenness was costing her. she could feel it in paige's chest, pressed against her back, the slight irregularity of her breathing, the way her arm was not quite as relaxed as it appeared. paige was doing what she also chose to do: absorbing the blow, steadying herself, making herself a landmark, a solid presence for azzi to press against. and azzi was grateful for it and also, dimly, felt the ache of knowing what it must require.

she reached down and wrapped her fingers around paige's forearm, and without quite meaning to, began to mimic the same slow motion against paige's skin—up the muscle, and back. a reciprocation, or an apology, or just the only language available to her in that moment.

“i’m sorry,” azzi said. “for picking a needless fight. for keeping something like that from you.” she felt her throat tighten. “i was so scared. i thought—i don’t know what i thought.”

but she did.

she stopped. then: “i just—it feels like i’m possessed. like there’s something in me.”

paige hummed softly, a sound like understanding even if she couldn’t fully understand. azzi knew she couldn't fully, but this was someone who was choosing to believe her without any requirement. there was a difference, and azzi felt it.

“i believe you,” paige said.

the words sluiced over azzi, body entire, like warm water. like heat.

i believe you.

her eyes filled once more. it was devastating what that could do to you, the simple, unglamorous, complete act of being believed. paige’s nails moved a little firmer now, as if slowly coaxing something back, a fox in a burrow, a piece of azzi that had gone into hiding and needed to be persuaded that it was safe to return.

“i don’t want to be another person who makes you feel alone in it,” paige said, and her voice was quieter now, less certain; the careful admission of someone not entirely sure they hadn’t done that already. “i don’t wanna be that for you. i don’t.”

azzi's voice broke at the seams. “i feel so alone. i think i just can’t help it.”

paige’s arm tightened. “you're not.” and then, with a firmness that sounded like she was saying it to herself too: “you're not, azzi. you have me. you have aemma. you have our families, our people, our friends.” a pause. “well, the ones you actually like.”

azzi turned her head slightly. paige kissed her cheek immediately, before the laugh had even finished forming. then again. then she settled her forehead against azzi's temple, and her nails kept moving and azzi's answered against her forearm, and they stayed like that, spent an indeterminate amount of time doing question and answer, creation then recreation, call and response. each of them tended to the other in the only small ways available to them in that moment.

up. down. up. down.

up.

azzi's tears slowed. her body grew heavier, settling into the mattress by degrees, gravity reasserting itself as the crisis ebbed. the rage, the grief, the humiliation of being known this way - it all began to dull around the edges, losing definition. her eyelids stuttered. her palm flattened against paige's arm, and she felt paige still beneath her touch, a long, slow exhale pressing against the back of her neck.

she could feel paige coming down, too. that was the thing she didn't know if paige understood she could feel: the slow release of the effort it cost to be the bigger person, the way her wife’s body had finally, tentatively, begun to unknot itself now that azzi's had, as though she'd been holding breath this whole time. as she was always holding it.

paige’s voice drifted into her hair like smoke. “you want water?”

azzi shook her head faintly.

“you want me to stop?”

azzi's hand tightened around paige's arm; a fierce, involuntary grip.

“no.”

it was a fierce negotiation, and paige exhaled, a soft sound, nearly a laugh, full relief.

“okay, mama,” she murmured. “i got you.”

she kept going. the same route, the same slow pressure, over and over, until azzi's breathing turned shallow and regular and her grip on paige's arm loosened into something more like holding than clinging. azzi fell asleep like that: face still damp, breath carrying the last of the salt in it, paige’s arm locked around her middle like a promise vowed to never break.

paige did not fall asleep for some time. she lay in the dark with her eyes open, her hand still moving—at its slowest now, barely a motion, more a resting of her palm—and thought about the piece of paper still on the kitchen counter, and what it said on it, and what it meant that she had spent over a year not knowing.

when azzi woke, the room was pale with morning.

for a moment, like that first morning, she didn't move. she lay still and took inventory, checking for the emotional hangover, the leftover dread. her body felt leaden, her eyes swollen, her throat intolerably dry. the pillowcase was cool and slightly damp where her face had been.

but there was something else too. a tenderness that pooled around her heart and low in her belly, a warmth she hadn't expected to find. a small, unfamiliar calm, still water.

paige's side of the bed was empty. the sheets were still warm where she'd been.

azzi sat up slowly. her nightgown was wrinkled, twisted around her thighs. she looked down at herself and felt the bloom of it immediately; an old, fast shame. god. i must have looked insane. the word returned like pressing a bruise. she closed her eyes and swallowed it down, held it in her throat until it became just a word again, and then stood.

she padded down the hallway barefoot, moving carefully, as though her legs might crack if she walked too fast. she could smell coffee. she could smell the deep, dark sweetness of powdered sugar and french toast.

paige was on the living room floor.

she was cross-legged on that horrid cowhide rug—the one azzi had searched long and hard for because she knew paige would love it—thick lilac hoodie on and drowning her, blonde hair tumbling free from a low-nape bun. she was surrounded by material as if preparing for something important: books spread open around her, papers everywhere, a legal pad at an angle beside her laptop, a baby blue highlighter in hand. azzi hadn't seen her arranged like this since their college days, since the nights before a game.

her laptop screen cast a thin, bluish light across her ankles, and it made the veins there look stained, made her look younger: closer to the girl she'd been before the league, before the cameras, before the stalker, before the endured labor of holding her chosen career. there were printouts with clinical terminology sectioning off their headers, an actual medical textbook cracked open and weighted down with paige's crossed thigh, sticky notes bristling from the spines of two more books - small flags planted in foreign soil. a page of her legal pad was swallowed in sharp, angular handwriting.

azzi's eyes found her own name: az. luteal phase. 10–14 days before period.

paige's jaw was tight. her lips moved slightly as she read, clearly in the midst of processing a slew of text, trying not to panic. her knee bounced a steady, unconscious rhythm against the rug. she hadn't heard azzi yet—she was too far inside of it—but then a floorboard gave under azzi’s foot, and paige looked up. her expression changed immediately, something in her face releasing.

“hey,” paige said. “you're awake.”

azzi's mouth opened. nothing came out at first. her eyes roved over the pages: her name in paige’s beloved handwriting, the highlighted lines of close text she could half-read from where she stood, the clinical language spilling wildly out of its margins, curling and curling.

“hey, pretty baby,” she said finally, stepping closer. “what is this?”

paige shifted, a flicker of something almost sheepish moving across her face. she scratched the back of her neck.

“i couldn't sleep,” she said. “so i started reading.”

she nodded toward the papers. a confession.

“i just kept thinking about it. i didn’t realize it’s two weeks,” paige said. “i thought—i thought it was just right before your period. i knew it was bad, but i didn’t know it was that long.”

azzi's eyes burned. she stood still and let paige keep talking, because paige needed to say it, and because azzi needed to hear what it sounded like coming back to her from the outside.

“and it says the hormone levels aren't even necessarily abnormal,” paige continued. “it's the sensitivity. the way the brain responds to the shift.” her voice reedy, anxiety an underscore. “it's not the hormones. it’s that your brain can't—it—you can't regulate against them.”

she swallowed.

“paige—” azzi began, but paige jerked in place, struck.

“i didn't know it could make you feel suicidal,” paige interrupted, and her voice fell around the word like a shroud. “i didn't know it could get like that. i didn’t.”

azzi covered her mouth with her hand, head tilting to the side with the sudden hit of understanding. paige’s gaze stayed on her, steadier than she looked, blue fire, bright and endless. terrified.

“it says it can make you want to—” paige shook her head once, hard. she couldn't finish the sentence. her throat moved. “azzi. what the fuck. why didn't you tell me that?”

azzi opened her mouth. still, nothing came. her throat felt neatly sliced, as if given a paper cut, as if she had had her neck against a blade and had chosen to turn it very swiftly a few degrees to the right.

paige stood up quickly, almost stumbling, needing to move or she'd stay too still and feel the full implication of it all at once. her hands went into her hair. she was breathing harder now, though she was trying not to show it, the way she tried not to show anything that looked like losing control. azzi knew this body. she knew what it looked like when paige was frightened.

“is that true?” paige asked. her voice was barely her own. “is that something you—”

she stopped, unable to say the word. paige bueckers, who had stared down arenas full of screaming strangers, who had taken the ball in the last seconds of games that felt like life or death and treated them as neither—she could not say this word. her mouth held the arrow and would not release it.

azzi’s vision turned to a haze. paige’s face collapsed, a rupture of feeling.

“oh my god,” paige breathed.

she looked like she’d been told something irreversible. her hands dropped from her hair. she crossed to azzi in two steps and reached for her as though she needed to verify her, needed the physical evidence of her solidity, the warmth of her still being here - flesh and blood. her hands landed on azzi's shoulders, too firm at first, grip calibrating.

her eyes were wet. her voice went somewhere small that azzi rarely heard from her. azzi looked at her, at the fear moving openly across her face, undisguised, nothing held back or managed.

paige, whose whole professional life had trained her to withstand, was not withstanding at all.

that pale face twisted.

“i can't lose you,” she whispered. it came out a hoarse cry, the words too exposed for the room. “i can't. i just can’t. i wouldn’t be able to—i can’t.”

azzi knew she needed to go slowly here. paige wasn’t necessarily fragile—paige was decidedly far from fragile but if she were to be azzi would only hold her, retain the strength required for the both of them—but because the truth was housed in a room kept locked and labelled si (do not speak of), and even now she dawdled at handing over the key, at allowing paige a step into this barbed country without a map.

“i don't really want to die,” azzi said.

she said it plainly, without softening it or adding to it, and watched paige's eyes flicker with the slow burn of relief, uncertain whether it was allowed to land. she reached up and touched paige's wrist. paige's hand closed around hers immediately, an automatic grip.

“that is the truth. i don’t. it’s never been that. it's not that,” azzi repeated, tone purposefully sluggish, clearer. “i’ve never wanted to die. i only wanted the pain to be over.”

paige's face cracked down the middle, and she shut her eyes.

“jesus,” she whispered. “jesus christ.”

azzi moved closer, until paige’s hoodie brushed her cheek. paige smelled of what must have been her fifth cup of coffee, her body quivering with the proof, sleep, and an animal-warm base that surfaced only when she was scared; a bodily instinct that bypassed all fragrance entirely and went straight to skin. azzi lifted her other hand to paige’s face, thumb settling beneath her eye, where the wet had gathered.

paige opened them. and what was there, what azzi found, was not only fear but a more severe wound; one that skulked underneath the horror.

“sometimes i feel like you don't love me,” paige said. her voice was hoarse. she looked away as she said it, a quick involuntary flinch, like she hadn't meant to be that candid. “when you get like this.”

azzi turned to stone. paige looked down at her hands, watched them flex blankly. “you look at me like you can't stand me. like i'm in your way. i know you don't mean it—i know. but it gets into my head.” a pause. “and it stays there.”

azzi's throat closed. there was no longer any air.

this was the part of the disorder she never let herself think about fully, what it cost those she loved—especially paige—to live adjacent to it. not only its inconvenience, but its horrible, invasive, private wound: being looked at by the person you love and not being recognized in what you see looking back.

“oh, baby,” azzi whispered.

paige's jaw tightened. she was trying, with everything she had, not to fully cry; as though crying meant she had made this about herself, and she didn't want it to be about herself. god, azzi wished she’d be more selfish.

“come here,” azzi said.

she climbed into paige's lap, and paige handled her immediately, arms going around her waist, and azzi felt the grip, tighter than comfort. azzi took paige's face in both hands and made her look directly at her. paige's cheeks were full and damp, baby fat slick. she hadn’t permitted herself to cry, but she had cried anyway, weak against the instinct.

“once,” azzi began, hesitant. “once i got very close.”

she felt paige go ramrod straight, but azzi placed a firm hand on the back of her neck and brought her to heel.

“i think the worst days are the ones where i can’t pin the sadness on anything else. i’d been coming off of ovulation. we were in college, well, i was, you’d gone off then, drafted—” azzi broke off, memory overlapping as she built the bones of her confession. “senior year. i took a bath, it was only meant to be a bath, really. but i was so tired. it had hit me so deeply that day, i think i wasn’t really eating the way i should’ve been at that time, and so i kept sinking and i just—i slipped.” she shrugged. “i went under, and for a moment it was beautiful. i was weightless, and even as my lungs began to burn, my legs kicking, hips bucking, i did nothing to resurface. it was going to be over. it was what i had always gambled with my entire life: a bid for freedom.”

she knew paige was starting to remember, could feel it in the way her mouth parted against her shoulder, teeth ivory-slick against her collarbone; the slow reconstruction of it happening in paige's body before it reached her face: the memory rising, spirit to spirit, azzi on the phone, wet-haired, face drawn, voice skewed in a direction too left of azzi’s normal, in a way paige had noticed and chosen to believe the dismissal of.

“why didn’t you?” paige whispered.

azzi worked at a note in her neck, lifting the coil of blonde with one hand while she dug into the skin. finally, she answered.

“you called.”

and she had. the first call had been banished to voicemail, but then paige had dialed a second time, and there had been a horrible screech of some royalty-free jingle that had come long ago with the phone when azzi had bought it. and azzi had spluttered to life, hair wet and dark against her shoulders, dragging soap and transparent streaks across their bones. she’d picked up, gasping, had brushed off paige’s concern, and sat naked on the tile with her back to the tub’s cool lip as her then-girlfriend told her about the next dates she could come visit.

“i love you,” azzi said, it was not meant as comfort, but as fact. “i love you so much it frightens me. it robs me of my breath sometimes. i just see you, and i feel nothing more than love, something bigger than it, more than i’ve ever loved anything.”

paige panted against her, moist and hot. azzi pressed her lips to paige's cheek, then to the hinge of her jaw. small, unhurried, the kind of kisses that are not about desire but about insisting on presence, on the reality of the person beneath them.

“it's not you,” azzi said, against her skin. “it is never you. it's—my brain running amok over everything. it takes what you're doing, and it gives it back to me incorrectly. you say azzi, i love you, and it gives me don't make me divorce you. you reach for me, and it tells me you're doing it out of obligation.” she stopped. “i don’t know why i feel it, but that doesn’t change that i do. i know it’s wrong. i know while it’s happening. and i still am unable to stop it.”

paige's hands tightened at her waist.

“and it tells me i'm a burden,” azzi continued, the words coming more quietly now, a difficult nerve worked enough to lose some of its power. “that you'd be better off. i know that isn't true. but it doesn't feel like a lie when it's saying it. it feels…sourced. it’s the truth then, and that’s all there is. it takes extra will to combat it.”

paige pulled back to gaze at her with the unguarded attention she reserved for the last two minutes of a close game. total. nothing held back for later. azzi smoothed her thumbs over her cheekbones, pressed a kiss there, too.

“when i’m like that, when i’m like this,” she said, “i don't stop loving you. i’m just inside something i can't see past. i'm scared. i'm trying to survive it, and i don't always know how not to take you down with me. sometimes, in an effort to save you, i push you out.”

azzi felt paige’s spine contract at the thought.

paige said, “i hate that it does that to you.”

“i know, baby,” azzi kissed her temple. let it rest there. “me too.”

a silence settled and then,

“you really scare me,” paige said finally. closer to baseline, a few feet past the panic. “truly terrify me, az. not like, angry, scared. just. you scare me because i love you and i don't know how to fix it.”

azzi nodded. “you don't have to fix it. i don’t think it’s fair to ask that of you.”

“then what do i do?”

azzi looked at her. “this,” she said. “we do this.”

“we manage it. if it ever gets really dark,” azzi said, “i'll tell you. before it gets dark like that. i'll tell you, and you'll hold me, and we'll wait it out. that's what we do.” she paused. “okay?”

paige nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve in that slightly embarrassed way, as though she could retroactively tidy herself up.

“okay,” she said. “yeah. well—no.”

azzi stayed where she was and allowed her to speak.

“you have to go back to the doctor, azzi. you have to see dr. korso and try some of her recommendations. i know—last night, you said something about enduring it, and i just don’t want it to come to that any more. you may have this for the rest of your life, but you’re allowed to lessen your suffering. i want to—i’d like for us to look at some of those ssris she talked about.

“when i researched, i saw it’ll pause if you still want to carry, when we’re trying to get pregnant, but it comes back after. it can be even worse during the years leading up to menopause. i don’t want you on your back, on your knees, when you can be standing.”

azzi kissed her forehead, and paige leaned into it, as though each point of contact was something she needed to stockpile. azzi felt the dizzying pleasure of being needed like this, didn’t find it suffocating. she found it true.

“that’s fair.”

“why is it—what makes you feel like you can’t ask for help?” paige asked, her mouth a brand against azzi’s neck. beneath it, she could feel the torpid rhythm of azzi’s pulse.

“i think it’s because i feel like i'm being hunted,” azzi considered, half to herself. “every month, i know it's coming. i know the date, i know the phase, i know all the clinical words for what's happening in my body. and it still lands like it's the first time.” she pressed her lips together. “like drowning in a pool you've drowned in before and somehow still forgetting not to swim there. i think: this is it, this is the time at which we know best and can face it head on—and then it taps on my shoulder from a blind spot and it stabs me.”

paige pulled her closer, and they sat intertwined under weak sun, layers of research spread around them, the laptop screen still open to a tab she had yet to finish reading, the french toast going cold somwhere on the kitchen counter.

“we're going to figure it out,” paige said, a logistics statement, the voice used for things she intended to solve. “the doctor stuff. the tracking. all of it.”

azzi turned her face into paige's neck. this time, it was her turn to feel paige’s pulse there, that quick spur of life.

“i'm not going anywhere,” azzi murmured. “i will never leave you, do you hear me? not like that. not ever. i swear. i swear.”

paige said nothing in return, but her grip tightened, and azzi knew that meant she would hold her to it. azzi let herself be held here, eyes falling shut, feigning sleep; the entire space drifting into a beach of black. here they were whole and in their bodies in a way that didn’t demand of them a way to climb out.

after, azzi took aemma for a much-needed walk. then, upon the threat of the cold, she dashed back in to grab paige’s gloves off the wall’s black hook and a better scarf. her wife came running, a towel wrung to death in her hands, and asked her, what’s going on?i heard the door open and close. 

azzi had scared her, silent and instant in the hallway.

azzi couldn’t help her faint smile. they’d have to work on that, the jumpiness.

she was halfway out the door again, leash wrapped twice around the knuckle, when she told paige,

it was only me.

not this shit again. paige threw her head back against her headboard with a sigh. 

chillllll bro

it’s a vibe

she couldn’t think of any better way to explain what was happening. they didn’t really hang out alone, but they texted a lot. and flirted. paige was trying beyond comparison to be chill and normal, and was doing her damnedest to not hit on her. 

the only problem was that azzi fudd was jawdropping. paige had never in her life seen someone that gorgeous. to make things worse, she had a thing for talent, and the way azzi could shoot– paige got genuine heart palpitations watching her sink shots in practice. 

they were only a year apart, but azzi was her fellow number-one-draft-pick and her rookie of a whopping one month. it was stupid to have a crush on her, stupid to send her dumb jokes and to hang around her after practice as much as possible. paige should be leading. paige should be setting examples. 

well if she was leading the homo brigade and setting examples on how to look pathetic, she was doing a pretty good job. 

arike: wait did u know each other in college?

no, paige replied, too quick. the answer was more complicated than that; of course paige had known who azzi was in college. they’d played each other a handful of times. but college-paige had only cared about one thing while on the court: a natty. azzi was nothing more than another player to scout, some straight girl with a good shot. 

only, azzi wasn’t straight. and she was certainly no longer just another player that paige could ignore. 

sure, she’d seen the headlines back in the day– bueckers vs fudd, who will carry their team to victory– but it was all some bullshit. 

arike: bullshit 😂

arike: [picture attached]

paige squinted. it was a picture of her and azzi at some conference, azzi mid laugh at something and paige making a face. 

dang, paige had no clue where that had been taken. she’d given so many speeches with so many players over the years, made so much small talk– it could have been taken the week prior and paige wouldn’t have had the faintest idea. 

i dont even remember that bro fr fr

arike: she looks mad good tho

yeah

arike: 😂🫵

shut up. paige locked her phone, rolling her eyes. bait. 

after about three seconds, she unlocked it again, re-opening the picture and zooming in a little on azzi. dang, she really did look good. 

arike: don’t look too hard at it. you gotta look her in the eye at practice tomorrow ;)

kill yourself, paige shot back, locking her phone again and throwing it on her nightstand. it buzzed once more, but she refused to look. 

laying on her back and staring at the ceiling, she rested her hands on her chest. stupid. her heart beat against her palms. 

she closed her eyes, deciding to fall asleep. the image of azzi sprung into her mind, mid-smile, bathed yellow in the living room light. her mind supplied a little glint in her eye, a detail of a freckle on her cheek, a little curl by her ear. her heart rate sped up, pounding against her hands. 

“fuck,” she groaned. this was bad. she should not be thinking this much about azzi. but at the end of the night… she let herself flash back to earlier. 

…

if you asked paige what project hail mary was about, she’d be able to give you about a two word summary. first word: azzi. second word: fudd. 

the team was getting to know each other with all the new additions, hanging out at alanna’s house and watching a movie. it was literally nothing special– alanna just happened to have the biggest space to hang out, and they ordered food to eat and lounged around. 

half the team was off to the right, talking at the kitchen table in the next room. the remainder were huddled in the living room around two bowls of popcorn. 

when the movie started, paige was cognizant of about thirty seconds of science fiction freakiness before her gay brain took over entirely. azzi sat directly to her left, muscular arm brushing against paige’s, thigh pressed into hers. she didn’t seem to be aware of how close they were, at all, which was unfortunate because the situation was a little catastrophic for paige. 

she exhaled a little strangely and winced. smooth. nice.

it was honestly ridiculous, feeling her stomach jolt at the feeling of a pretty girl next to her. paige had cuddled with plenty of girls on couches before, had lounged around with tons of her friends. she should know what to do with her hands, should be able to keep her anxious stomach in check. 

but azzi was a category that paige couldn’t define; one year paige’s junior, and her athletic equal, paige felt responsible for ensuring her well-being. paige also felt like her brain melted like a popsicle every time azzi spoke words to her. which was unfortunate, because that was a lot. 

if this was a date, or if azzi was anyone but paige’s coworker that she was sitting with at a group function, paige would have leaned right into the touch and played along. if azzi were her longtime friend, paige would have manspreaded into her space to try to get on her nerves. but azzi was neither, and paige couldn’t decide how to act, so she just sat there, stiff. 

paige’s internal monologue was as follows: arm. she smells good. her hair is brushing my shoulder. can she feel how fast i’m breathing from the rise and fall of my shoulder? arm. thigh. dang, she really smells good. should i kill myself?

after about twenty minutes, azzi grew visibly uncomfortable. she shifted her torso away from paige, against the armrest of the couch, and drew her feet up to where they stopped just shy of resting on paige’s legs. 

paige stared really hard at her feet. she wanted to ask her– was it weird? 

no, it was weirder to overthink it. it was a friendly gesture, a kind gesture. they were hanging out. it was chill. 

“azzi,” she muttered. the brunette turned towards her, eyes wide and expectant. “stretch your legs out.”

azzi’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. trying to stop her cheeks from pinkening, paige patted her own lap. here. 

azzi smiled gratefully, understanding. she shifted her body so that her back was against the armrest, legs splaying across paige’s lap. 

bzzz. bzzz. paige’s phone vibrated violently from her pocket. her eyes snapped up, scanning the room. aziaha, who was sitting on a chair to their right, was pointedly raising an eyebrow at her.

aziaha: bro….

aziaha: be fr

paige stole a frantic glance at azzi to see if she was watching paige’s screen. which she wasn’t, clearly. why would she be? 

dude chill i’m just helping her be more comfortable

aziaha: wouldn’t have done ts for me 🤨

ur feet stink like poo 

she smells like sunshine and rainbows

aziaha: there’s a word for the likes of you and it rhymes with bomosexual

i swear bro i swear

don’t even know her middle name stop talking crazy

of course paige knew her middle name. her middle name was jazlyn. she’d found that out when she’d looked up azzi fudd on google, and also azzi fudd college highlights, and also azzi fudd from where and what perfume smells like jasmine but like better and valentino born in roma perfume and is there a born in roma cologne. she’d gotten distracted.

okay, jesus. she needed to focus. 

ryan gosling, in the movie, was wearing a really distracting yellow coat that made paige think of curious george. they were saying something about the sun dying, and paige wondered if they made him yellow on purpose. like the sun. that was dying. maybe he was going to die later in the movie, and it was foreshadowing.

she kept trying to see him as a serious scientist, but she couldn’t stop thinking of him as ken from barbie. this was Depressed Ken, maybe. he was certainly dressed the part, in some bullshit a depressed person would pull from their closet without thinking twice. 

her brain launched into an impromptu performance of i’m just ken, and she lost track of a decent amount of minutes before she came crashing back online. 

azzi’s legs were shifting uncomfortably again. don’t move, she wanted to say, but that would be pathetic. 

“you uncomfortable?” she murmured. stupid. clearly, azzi was uncomfortable. 

“yeah,” azzi whispered. “this armrest is really hard.”

“that’s what she said,” paige whispered back. azzi socked her on the arm. 

aziaha sat up straight. “what are y’all whispering about over there? i’m getting fomo.”

“i’m wondering if there’s a pillow i could use? the armrest is kind of hard,” azzi asked. 

at the conversation, everyone’s heads turned towards them. paige suddenly became incredibly aware of the two legs draped across her thighs, of the way her hands laid on top of them awkwardly. 

shit. she desperately did not want to seem like she was trying to make moves on the rookie, regardless of how incredibly badly she wanted to make moves on the rookie. 

“just use paige,” aziaha suggested. to azzi, she might have looked genuine, but to paige, who’d known her longer, she could see the shit-eating smile aziaha was trying to hide. she narrowed her eyes at her. 

“hey!” she complained. 

“paige got all that muscle now. go head and put it to good use.” paige was going to smack her the next time she got within arm’s reach.

azzi’s eyes flicked down for a second. paige unintentionally flexed a little. “yeah, alright.” azzi decided, shifting herself around. 

paige’s mind went full blown static as azzi laid down on her lap, on her back, head facing the screen and feet hanging over the armrest. it was a wonder sparks didn’t fly out of her head by the way that she was short-circuiting. azzi’s head was warm against paige’s thighs, flyaways brushing her bare skin with every breath. 

paige had the horrible urge to smooth her hands over azzi’s head, to play with her hair and scratch her scalp, and then she decided that she needed to die. honestly, she genuinely didn’t know how azzi was comfortable, but she wasn’t about to ask and risk her moving. 

she needed to distract herself, stat. could azzi hear her heartbeat in her thighs? was that a thing? because that could be a problem. clearing her throat, she squinted at the television and tried to pay attention again. 

on the screen, ryan gosling was having an existential crisis in a tunnel while eating some shit from a thermos. then, he was staring really hard at a plaque. then, he was doing some sciency shit in a lab coat that tried to cover up the world’s ugliest striped sweater. 

the best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time, paige’s brain sang. she snorted out loud. that was a good spongebob reference. 

azzi turned her head so she was looking up at paige. 

“what?” she asked, quiet. christ, she was beautiful. and really near paige’s crotch. enough.

paige blinked back at her. 

“what’s funny?” azzi tried again, whispering. 

“nothing,” paige muttered, “was thinking about something else.”

that seemed to be good enough for azzi, who rolled back over. paige spent the next few minutes thinking about the shape of azzi’s lips and pretending that she wasn’t. 

paige’s leg started to feel numb. azzi, bless her heart, was completely restricting blood flow to her lower left extremity. unfortunately, paige would rather die than kick a beautiful girl out of her lap, and she didn’t want to look fucking stupid, so she resolved herself to ignoring it and hoping her leg would figure it out. 

“wait, why is he on a plane?” azzi turned again, asking under her breath. 

“i really couldn’t tell you,” paige admitted. “i’ve been thinking about how to get the last piece of popcorn from that bowl without moving your head.”

azzi’s mouth curved upwards into a small smile. she reached her hand out and grabbed the last piece, holding it in front of paige’s face. the demons in paige told her to take it with her mouth, but she was a rational human being, and she let azzi drop it into her hands. 

“isn’t it cold now?” azzi asked. 

“eh,” paige shrugged, “like, room temperature. it’s still nice and salty, and that’s what matters.”

azzi wrinkled her nose. “makes me too thirsty.”

“good thing you have a water then, thirsty girl.”

thirsty girl? was paige fucking serious?

azzi snorted. she was fully looking up, then, not paying any attention to the movie. paige stared at her, hoping the dim lighting of the room was enough to cover the way she greedily drank in the sight of all of azzi’s face. 

“what’s he doing now?” azzi whispered. 

paige, with great effort, tore her eyes away from azzi to look at the screen. “he’s standing in front of a room of people who look like they’re in the military.”

azzi listened for a second. “i keep hearing ken whenever he opens his mouth.”

paige’s head snapped back down. “right?”

“he was just so good in that role. it ruined any of his other movies for me.”

“he was the perfect casting,” paige agreed. 

they looked at each other. dang, paige’s leg was really numb. 

paige was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to bend down and kiss her, awkward and mismatched, uncaring of anything but the feeling of their lips against each other. she held azzi’s gaze, dark and unblinking, and her thoughts started moving a million miles a minute. 

no, she shouldn’t. azzi was her fucking rookie, for god’s sake, and who knows what the team, let alone the rest of the world, would have to say about it. and it would be ridiculous to do it right there, in front of everyone. she’d never in her life gotten the impulse for such drastic pda. 

but she wanted to. 

azzi’s tongue darted out and wet her lower lip. paige followed the movement with her eyes, eyelids falling just a fraction. 

there was a sudden warmth at the corner of paige’s mouth, and she startled as she realized that azzi’s gentle thumb was brushing at her skin. 

“salt,” azzi murmured in explanation, like she hadn’t just given paige a heart attack. paige wanted her to do it again. the way azzi looked at her lips, the feeling of her soft and sweet, was intoxicating. 

paige’s breath caught in her chest, and her mind went a little blank, and–

she hissed loudly, leg jolting hard. fucking pins and needles, jesus christ, her entire leg was being stabbed–

azzi shot up. “what? oh my god, are you okay?”

even through the pain, paige felt immediately cold. “yes, yeah, pins and needles.”

someone paused the movie. “paige, bro, what–”

“pins and needles,” she groaned again, louder, “ignore me, play the movie.”

azzi laughed in her face, the rest of the team joining in. azzi patted her thigh gently. 

“fuck,” paige muttered, “sorry.” she tried to give her a sheepish smile. 

“s’okay,” azzi shrugged, “my fault.” she knocked her shoulder against paige’s, turning back to the tv. paige needed to get her fucking act together. 

____

TWO: 

paige had now known azzi for two and a half months. in the last week, alanna and jj had both singled her out to inquire about the status of her and azzi’s relationship; she’d had to tell them both a miserable no. 

with how chill all of her teammates were being about it, she figured that the whole “azzi is a rookie” hangup didn’t hold much water now. paige herself had only been in the league for one measly year, as arike liked to remind her. 

the point was that that was a good thing, because she was now pretty sure that azzi was flirting with her. 

she wasn’t positive, of course– it was very much a possibility that paige’s own delusional thoughts were misinterpreting azzi’s actions entirely. maybe azzi was looking for a super close best friend when she texted paige good morning with a little sun and a heart every day. they clicked so well on and off the court, it would make sense. 

but paige had to let hope cloud her vision a little, especially at times like this, where–

arike: bro where did u guys go

arike: always disappearing somewhere together i swear

arike: this my own house

arike: don’t desecrate it

woah woah calm down

we’re just talking in the driveway

arike: don’t wanna watch the fireworks out back with the team?

we’re having fun

ur buffalo chicken dip is fire

arike: of course it is

arike: come inside and eat my wife’s dessert before i whoop you both

be there in a minute mom

arike was hosting the team for a fourth of july party. everything was going well this season, and the wings were coming off a much-needed win. they were celebrating in the dallas heat, everyone a little happy and sweaty.

there’s a line paige remembered from to kill a mockingbird about the southern heat, something about the ladies being like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum. she said as much to azzi, who looked at her kind of funny. it sparked a conversation about whether or not talcum was a carcinogen, a topic on which neither of them were particularly knowledgeable. 

the point of her thought process was that azzi looked sweet and shiny and smelled really good, and paige kind of wanted to eat her whole.

as previously mentioned, half the season gone by had done wonders for getting rid of the azzi-is-a-rookie nerves. paige tried not to be corny, but azzi fit into her life in a way that she never expected her to. they had similar interests, hobbies, and humor, and they became practically inseparable. sports media adored them, calling them all kinds of names and gushing over their chemistry. 

it wasn’t something paige was proud of, having a fat and massive crush on azzi, but it was truly impossible not to. the more she’d gotten to know her, the worse it had become. she kept expecting azzi to do something weird and offputting that would change the way paige felt, but paige was endeared to all of her quirks. they just fit together.

time after practice was spent grabbing food together, time off on the weekends was spent hanging out with each other’s friends, and time before bed was spent texting back and forth about whatever crossed their mind. it was nice.

dressed in a striped blue tube top and little shorts, azzi looked like a muscled vision sitting next to paige on the pavement. her knees were drawn up to her chest, chin resting atop one. paige had been resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her for about twenty minutes straight. 

paige looked like an idiot in a white wifebeater and massive firetruck-red jorts, her butt in genuine pain from digging into the driveway. she probably had pebbles stuck up her crack. not really. but it felt like that. that was the common theme with paige when it came to azzi; she was stupid around her. every time she considered making a move, she managed to make herself feel so dumb that she thought azzi would get weirded out. 

“i just think it’s unrealistic for king kong to be that massive. like, think of evolution. everything got small again before apes even evolved,” paige complained. 

“not everything,” azzi disagreed, “think about whales.”

“yeah, but that’s underwater. they got their own freaky shit going on down there. i’m talking about on land.”

“well, why don’t you have a problem with godzilla?”

“because they didn’t make godzilla a massive fucking ape. massive fucking ape implies real-world evolution.”

“they probably have some logic for it. maybe he got chemicals spilled on him, or he was part of a species of giant apes living on an island and he was the last one, or something,” azzi mused. 

“massive fucking ape,” paige grumbled, again. “stupid.”

“you’re stupid.”

“your mom.”

azzi rolled her eyes, but paige could see her biting back a smile. 

a loud popping sound rang out, and they both winced. 

“oh– there, there!” azzi pointed, excited. the house diagonal from arike’s must have been setting off fireworks from their backyard, because the sparks were loud and massive. 

azzi’s eyes were wide as she looked up at the trailing colors streaking the sky. she looked beautiful, calm and happy, fully at peace in the moment. paige studied the way the lights fizzled out in the reflection on azzi’s pupils. 

on instinct, she moved her pinky so that it overlapped azzi’s. azzi turned to her, then; paige couldn’t tell if her cheeks were a little pink in the fading light or if it was a lingering beam from the almost-set sun. 

“this is romantic,” azzi said quietly. 

paige blanked, eyes widening. “what,” she said, more caught off-guard than a question. 

“i mean,” azzi clarified, flustered, “like, y’know, in the sense of the word where it means something pretty. like romanticize. like it– it just feels really lovely.” she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. 

right. sure. 

“i guess it could also be romantic,” azzi was definitely blushing, “with the right person.”

“yeah,” paige agreed, dumbly. she didn’t know why she said what she said next, but she did. “at my family’s cabin in minnesota, we used to go to the lake every fourth of july. my dad and my stepmom, well, my first stepmom, used to always stop what they were doing and kiss at the first firework.”

azzi leaned her shoulder against paige. “that’s really sweet.”

paige laughed. “yeah, i mean– they didn’t work out, clearly, but i always kinda wanted to do that some day. have a family, have a woman i love, make up stupid reasons to kiss each other. y’know.”

azzi’s pinky twitched underneath paige’s. “my dad does something similar,” she said. “he does this stupid thing called pancake kisses, where he makes pancakes on saturday mornings, and he kisses my mom once for every pancake she eats.”

paige grinned. “i could get behind that. i eat a lot of pancakes.”

“oh, you wouldn’t be the one making them?”

“depends. which would you prefer?” paige asked.

“i like waking up to the smell of batter and eggs,” azzi admitted.

“then i change my mind. i’d be the one making them.”

“whatever,” azzi grumbled, but she looked away and tried to hide a pleased smile. 

“are you someone who,” paige cleared her throat, “really likes things like that?”

azzi thought about it for a second before nodding. “yeah, i mean. my parents have always been like that, so i guess it’s by example. i just think it’s so sweet, always doing things to keep the relationship special,” she paused, “what about you?”

“probably, for the right person. i like keeping things fun. and i like to make people i care about feel appreciated,” paige admitted. 

azzi made a playfully intrigued face. “good to know.”

“taking notes?”

“maybe. you want me to?”

paige choked a little on her own spit, and tried to pass it off by clearing her throat. “wouldn’t complain.”

“then i’ll jot it down, boss.”

“perfect.”

“aren’t i?”

“yeah.” paige should kill herself. what the hell was she even saying? she couldn’t flirt for shit. was this flirting? jesus, what if azzi wasn’t even flirting?

“i get that a lot,” azzi sighed, scooting a little closer to paige so their sides pressed together fully, “usually in more,” she paused, “intimate context.”

nope, azzi was flirting. 

“oh?” 

“you heard me.”

paige laughed softly. “i’ll jot it down, boss.”

“perfect.”

the conversation lulled for a moment. another round of fireworks went off, red and spiraling high into the air before exploding. paige took a moment to appreciate what a blessing it was that she was able to be there, seeing something beautiful, warm and full of something like hope, with someone she cared about. 

she turned to face azzi. she kind of wanted to see the awe on azzi’s face as she looked up at the lights, to trace the curves of her face in mental graphite and commit it to memory forever. azzi, though, was already looking at her, eyes deep and dark. 

“you look pretty,” azzi whispered. 

which was ridiculous, because azzi was making paige’s heart functionally arrhythmic in her chest. paige couldn’t even think of the words to rebut that, just let her eyes drag down azzi’s frame and back up to her face. she raised an eyebrow as if to say really? coming from you?

azzi scrunched up her nose and smiled. paige felt a little breathless, a little captivated. jesus christ, she wanted to lean in so badly. she was fairly sure that azzi wanted her to. she let herself imagine moving forward, capturing azzi’s lips in hers, cupping her jaw and finally, finally, kissing her.

azzi blinked up at her slowly, and paige’s pinky curled around azzi’s. her heart fluttered against her chest like a caged bird, violent and frenzied. 

she wanted it bad. she wanted it like an angel pleading for its fucking wings.

but they were sitting outside of arike’s house. in public, on the pavement, in front of the windows, where anyone could be watching. she couldn’t. she couldn’t do it right there. 

oh, shit, arike. “oh my god,” paige blurted out, heart sinking. “arike wanted us inside, like, twenty minutes ago. she’s gonna kill us.”

azzi stared at her for a second like she was still processing her words. “yeah,” she said, slowly. 

“we’re dead,” paige groaned, “they’re gonna give us shit for the next week.”

“yeah,” azzi repeated, brushing off whatever haze she was in. she shook her head and stood up, facing the door. “nice night, huh?” 

paige brushed her hands off as she scrambled to stand up, too.

“let’s go eat lala’s dessert,” azzi said, turning away and walking. 

that was abrupt, paige thought. did she look a little disappointed? shit.

azzi made it to the door, opening it and waiting for paige. 

“one second, i need to tie my shoe. go on ahead,” paige lied, waving azzi in. the younger woman disappeared through the door.

“fuck!” paige cursed, kicking a rock on the pavement. “stupid!”

__

THREE: 

it was the beginning of august. count of people who’d asked paige if she and azzi were together: fourteen. her mother, for one. her college best friends. the trainer. her dietician. name them, and they’d asked paige if she’d had her tongue three thousand leagues down the length of azzi’s gullet. it was beginning to piss her off, honestly. if that wasn’t obvious.

don’t say a word.

arike: wasn’t gonna

arike: later… 😏

NOTHING later. i will kill you. with a gun.

arike: hey man

arike: you’re digging your own grave

the team were sitting around a table, plenty of drinks for everyone. the place was a nice one, crisp black tabletops and comfortable chairs. they’d even given the table a bowl of chips to snack on, which paige was pleased with. the music was fairly loud, enough to really worm into paige’s brain when she finished her second beer, but it was nothing unpleasant. 

underneath the table, azzi’s hand was on paige’s thigh. 

it had started with her turning to the side, quietly complimenting paige’s rings while the rest of the team were arguing about something. paige had shown them to her, and she’d leaned in to get a better look, and paige had lost her breath at the proximity and felt like a fucking loser. 

azzi said, “i like the one that spins. i always need something to fidget with.” 

paige replied, “feel free,” and stuck her hand out. azzi giggled, dragging her fingernail up paige’s hand to the ring on her middle finger. she spun it gently once, twice, and gave paige a grateful smile. 

paige tried to tune back into the conversation after that, but she noticed that her and azzi’s chairs seemed inexplicably closer. she tried to laugh at something alanna was saying, tried to make fun of aziaha, but her brain kept replaying that little tilt of azzi’s lips. 

she was wearing this really shiny gloss that somehow hadn’t come off as she sipped her cocktail with a straw, and she also smelled really nice, and–

paige felt a finger trail across her knuckles. her eyes shot down to her lap, where her hands rested, and she saw azzi’s hand gently stroking her way back up to paige’s ring. paige felt her face pinken, and her free hand nervously came up to stroke at her ponytail. 

she stole a glance at azzi, but azzi was turned forwards, intently listening to the conversation in front of them. her hand was as low as possible, trying to be discreet– and she knew paige would let her. paige felt hot. 

not five minutes later, azzi’s fingers drew a sharp path down, onto paige’s lap. 

paige looked over, eyes widening in question, and azzi breathed a laugh. “these rips are bothering me.”

rips? what rips? 

right. the rips in her jeans. paige begged her brain to come back online. “what, you want them bigger? can’t see enough of me?”

not that online, jesus christ. middle ground. middle ground. 

azzi’s eyelids lowered just a fraction, barely noticeable. “no, the little white strands that come off of them– they’re all tangled.”

“so detangle them,” paige muttered, shifting her attention back to arike. the older woman was complaining about her brother-in-law, something about coming over to her house to detail his own car in her driveway. 

azzi didn’t need to be told twice. for a few minutes, she tugged on the outside of the rips, combing fingers through and separating them. she didn’t even look down as she did, just felt around paige’s thigh for the next rip and kept moving. 

when she finished tugging on the strands, her fingertip would circle the tear gently, as if seeking out another strand to focus on. if there were none there, she’d stay there for a minute, softly stroking the skin of paige’s thigh. she’d start with the pad of her finger, little lines, then edge it over to her fingernail, drawing little shapes. when she was bored of that, she’d go back to stroking, a little firmer and bolder.

it only became a problem when she reached one particularly close to the inside of paige’s thigh. the top half of paige wanted to jerk away– not appropriate for team dinner– and the bottom half of paige wanted– well. it wanted.

a bit more forcefully than she would have liked, she brought her hand over top of azzi’s, forcing it flat and stopping her movements. 

alanna turned towards her questioningly, looking down. paige drew her hand back up, tucking her hair behind her ear. she tried so hard to be nonchalant that her elbow knocked against the top of azzi’s chair, and she ended up extending her arm across it. 

great. now her arm was practically around azzi. subtle! cool!

it definitely did not help her case. clearly, nobody cared about what was going on between them, but paige was still nervous. it was rude, if anything, to be overly absorbed in one person at a group hangout. 

what also definitely did not help her case was the fact that azzi didn’t move her hand at all. for the next hour, azzi’s hand just rested on top of her thigh, tightening minutely as she laughed, absentmindedly fidgeting, and paige felt as red as a tomato and twice as wet as one. or whatever. 

past a certain point, she could almost forget about it; then, azzi would crack a joke too loud, and someone’s eyes would move from her face down to where her arm was slightly too far away from her own body, and someone would raise an eyebrow at her. whatever! whatever. 

slowly, people peeled off, paying for their own meals and excusing themselves to go home. eventually, it was just arike, paige, and azzi. 

paige was grateful that arike was there– she and azzi weren’t paying any special attention to each other, and minus the hand on her thigh, the interactions between them were perfectly friendly. it was three people settling deeper into their dynamic, talking life and firsts and basketball, and it was chill. 

it wasn’t even her fault that her and azzi had parked next to each other, and arike had parked down the street. 

when they left the bar, she and azzi lingered outside of their respective cars for a few minutes too long. paige leaned against her door, a casual elbow resting on her side mirror. 

“arike’s so funny,” azzi said quietly, lips curving upward. 

jesus, she was beautiful. paige’s brain took a mental snapshot. the short distance between them felt much bigger after their proximity all night, and paige wanted so badly to touch her again, to be close to her. 

“she’s aight,” paige shrugged, a lopsided smile on her face. “you know she’s real stubborn sometimes.”

“aren’t we all?” azzi asked with a laugh, and paige nodded. 

“for real, though, you’re really lucky to have her as your vet. on the personal level, she’s been through it all. ups, downs, getting overlooked….anger issues,” paige said, seriously. 

azzi snorted. “and being a lesbian. publicly. that’s pretty cool.”

“everyone’s a lesbian, bro.”

“yeah, but not everyone is open about it. i’m not. it’s brave.”

paige had to agree. “yeah. it is.”

“especially because, y’know, until recently nobody really watched us. the stereotype was that we were all dykes. nobody wanted to watch a league full of dykes. and now they do watch us, and there’s so much hatred being brought into our space, and she’s still proudly who she is. that’s really fucking cool.” 

paige looked at her, her eyes wide and earnest, and felt something in her chest soften. “you should tell her that,” she agreed quietly, “i think she’d love to hear it.”

azzi shrugged. “someday.”

“tomorrow, first thing at practice,” paige smiled.

“fat chance,” azzi rolled her eyes. 

they looked at each other for a minute, quiet and soft. 

“i should get going,” azzi said, eventually. 

“you should,” paige agreed.

they stood there for another moment. paige grinned. azzi mirrored her expression. 

“seriously,” azzi insisted. 

“sure,” paige nodded. neither of them moved. 

a feeling passed through paige that was too gentle to handle, and she finally shook her head and stepped forwards, arms wide. “c’mere,” she muttered. 

azzi stepped into her arms, hugging her goodbye. 

“i’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” paige said, cheek pressed up against azzi’s hair. 

“yep,” azzi agreed from somewhere next to paige’s neck, “don’t be late.”

“i’m never late.”

“you were late to this.”

“this isn’t practice.”

“well, you better practice being on time, because i better see you tomorrow.”

“bro, i’m gonna be there,” paige complained, finally pulling back. neither of their hands quite left the other, still in each other’s space. 

azzi’s face was a few breaths from paige’s, just below her, luminescent under the street lamps. her eyes were dark, wide and bright, and she was smiling again, and paige’s chest did some awful squeezing motion that almost knocked her breathless. 

she looked down at azzi’s lips. her eyes darted back up to azzi’s eyes in a fraction of a second, trying not to overstep, but azzi’s gaze was pointed right at her mouth. 

okay. she should kiss her. 

azzi had just spent an hour feeling up her thigh. azzi was looking up at her like she’d hung the moon. azzi’s hands were still around her back. 

she wanted to kiss her. 

azzi was right there, beautiful, perfect, and it would be so easy to just lean down and take her lips in a kiss–

right. paige was overthinking. all she had to do was lean down– or– wait. should she ask her first? was azzi the sort of person who assumed a kiss was okay, or was she someone who wanted to be asked? shit, if paige asked, would it be good, or would it ruin the moment– or– god, she should just do it, fuck– 

azzi moved her gaze back up to paige’s. she searched her eyes, pausing, and for a moment everything was still; then, at the same time, they both pulled away. 

“bye,” paige tried to say, but no sound came out. their hands dragged against each other for a heartbeat too long. 

see you tomorrow, azzi mouthed at her. she gave her one last smile before disappearing into her car. 

paige felt like a marionette, limbs uncoordinated and jerky as she forced herself back into her own car. she fumbled with the ignition for a moment, cursing under her breath. 

out of the corner of her eye, she saw azzi’s car back out of the parking lot and disappear. immediately, she groaned and slumped against the steering wheel. she sat like that for five full minutes, feeling pathetic and miserable and like a giant fucking loser. finally, she straightened up and put on her seatbelt. 

“FUCK!” she yelled, slamming her fist against the horn. BRAAM, her car protested loudly. she jumped. 

—

paige’s mouthguard hung halfway out of her mouth. she bent over challengingly, hands on her knees, eyebrow cocked. 

azzi smirked, dribbling the ball between her legs once, twice. she bent her knees like she was going to move forward, pretending to fake paige out. 

“go,” paige called out. her voice echoed in the gym. “you playing or just showing off?”

azzi shrugged, keeping the ball moving. “doesn’t matter. you can’t guard me either way.”

someone behind paige whistled, and paige narrowed her eyes. her gaze landed on the sweat on azzi’s collarbone. her bicep. her thigh. she shook her head. 

azzi started forwards, and paige sucked her mouthguard back in, hands immediately out. azzi stopped, grinned, and went the other way. 

fuck no. paige dogged her determinedly, fighting through a li screen and trying to get her hand on the ball before azzi shot. as her hand came down, azzi passed it to maddy on the three-point line. shit. she caught paige’s gaze and smiled, and there was a glint in her eye that sent a jolt down paige’s spine.

the ball bounced off the backboard to alanna, who shot it back to maddy. 

odyssey got in maddy’s face, and paige saw azzi’s body turn before the idea even came to maddy’s head. paige knew azzi’s catch-and-shoot, knew she was going to release it immediately–

the ball flew to azzi and paige was already jumping as azzi moved the ball up. azzi pivoted, turning past paige and sprinting in for a clean layup. 

absolutely not. paige hit the ground running, chasing her back, following the movement of her arm up, and BAM. 

the ball slammed back down to the earth before it had the chance to fly for more than half a second. paige’s chest pounded with exhilaration, and she shot azzi a cocky look as she turned on her heel. 

azzi, usually known for being calm and collected, looked pissed. it made something in paige’s stomach churn. she couldn’t stop a wild grin from taking over her face as she waited for azzi’s team to inbound the ball. her heart pounded. this was fun. 

alanna inbounded to arike. jessica ran a screen on odyssey. arike to alanna, paige shifted, alanna to maddy, paige shifted. 

her eyes, focused on the ball, never strayed for long from azzi. she looked intense and determined, brows furrowed and face flushed with exertion. she looked godlike. 

maddy to azzi, outside the arc, and before paige could blink, azzi nailed a three over her head. 

she froze, dumbfounded. how–? 

azzi backpedaled and winked at her. paige wanted to tear her clothes off. 

“that’s game! arike’s team, twenty points. water break,” jose yelled.

“she traveled,” paige complained weakly, but she knew it was a lie. she thought of azzi’s shirt riding up her stomach as she jumped up for the shot. she couldn’t think straight.

arike raised an eyebrow at her. “that’s it? no hitting the wall? no yelling? just a ‘she travelled?’” she clicked her tongue. “you’re soft on her.”

“no, i’m not,” paige grumbled, eyes flicking over to azzi. azzi grinned at her, reaching over and hitting her lower back. the touch rippled through paige like fucking sonar, and she needed to leave stat before her brain drove her absolutely insane. 

arike snorted.

“whatever,” paige muttered. “i left something in the car. be right back.”

ducking the rest of the group, she jogged out of the practice facility doors and through the hallway that led to the parking lot. she pushed open the exit, desperately fanning herself. she kept thinking about azzi’s face, determined, her perfect shot, how unfairly fucking attractive it was for her to be so good. 

she walked over to her car and rested her forearm against it, putting her head down for a fraction of a second before yelping at the hot metal and drawing back. she deserved that, she thought miserably, for being incapable of having normal, friendly thoughts about–

“paige!” azzi called out, walking out of the facility. 

jesus christ. this was not going to help. “hm?” she tried, unable to say much else. 

“oh,” azzi shrugged, “you left your phone inside.” she held it out, waiting for paige to take it from her. 

paige stared at her, trying to read her expression. slowly, she took her phone from azzi’s hand, letting their fingers brush together for longer than strictly necessary. 

“you know i don’t need my phone to get something from my car, right?” she didn’t even need to get anything from her car. she just needed some air.

“i know,” azzi said, matter of fact. “i just wanted to see you.”

paige held back a laugh. “you just saw me.”

“sure did.”

“and you came out here in the scorching hot sun to see me again.”

“is there a problem with that?” azzi challenged, stepping closer to her. her eyes sparkled mirthfully. paige wanted to swallow them whole. 

“depends.”

“depends on what?”

silence. 

paige couldn’t take it anymore. azzi was so– and– she was right there, and there were no excuses, there was nobody around– paige didn’t just want it, she needed it. azzi was a fire and paige had to stoke it, needed to breathe life into this thing that was driving her fucking mad. 

azzi raised an eyebrow at her, and paige stared back helplessly. they were so close, hovering on the verge but not quite daring to fall over it, and she was going to do it, she was finally going to do it, fuck it, she was going to ask–

“can i–”

azzi interrupted her by kissing her full on the mouth.  

paige felt like she was bursting into flames. azzi’s lips on hers were hot, perfect, firm and absolutely sure of what she wanted. paige’s hands clung to her waist like it was keeping her on earth, kissing back for all she was worth.  

it was whatever paige had fantasized about since the moment azzi had walked into practice on the first day, letting her hand linger in paige’s for a second too long when they shook hands. it was perfect. paige was fucking melting.

after a moment, azzi pulled back. “god, i’ve been waiting for you for months. you’re such an idiot.”

“well,” paige shrugged, “did it live up to the hype?”

“i need a second opinion.” azzi kissed her again, and paige smiled so wide she nearly broke their lips apart, and azzi only kissed her harder, and paige felt so happy she could fucking die. 

yeah, she could get used to this. 

___

[11:04 am]

arike: u massive liar

arike: “i need something outside” headass yeah needed some TONGUE

arike: i can see u thru the window  

[11:05 am]

arike: u dont get paid to kiss women on the clock get a move on

[11:14 am]

arike: dang let that lady ass go

[11:23 am]

November, 2018

"Az."

Azzi didn't look up from her phone, even though Paige had already said her name more than once.

"Azzi," Paige tried again, a little more pointed this time. When that still didn't get a reaction, she sighed loudly and leaned closer to her camera. "Azzi Fudd, if you ignore me one more time, I am hanging up and you can go be boring by yourself."

That finally did it.

Azzi lifted her eyes to the screen with a quiet huff, her expression unimpressed. "I am not ignoring you, I just had to answer a few messages, but I am listening."

Paige immediately narrowed her eyes, leaning in like she was inspecting her. "Oh yeah? Then what did I just say?"

Azzi blinked once. "Something… unimportant."

Paige's mouth fell open in exaggerated offense. "Wow, that's actually insane. I just poured my heart out to you and that's what you give me?"

"I am pretty sure you were talking about your sandwich still," Azzi said flatly.

"It was a good sandwich," Paige shot back, then grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "Also, you weren't listening, I was talking about basketball. I switched over like 2 minutes ago."

"Whatever," Azzi rolled her eyes and leaned back against her pillows.

Paige tilted her head, studying her now, the teasing disappearing just slightly. "You are tired."

Azzi shrugged, shifting on her bed and pulling one knee up, the sleeves of her hoodie bunching around her wrists. "Practice ran long."

"Yeah," Paige said easily. "I can tell. You are doing that thing again."

Azzi glanced at her. "What thing?"

Paige made a vague motion with her hand, like she was trying to pull the words out of the air. "The one where you pretend you are fine, but you get all quiet and…" she paused, squinting slightly, "...sulky."

"I am not sulking," Azzi muttered.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "You were literally mean to me for loving my sandwich a minute ago."

"That was valid."

Paige laughed and Azzi felt something in her chest loosen a little. She looked away from the screen for a second, mostly so Paige wouldn't catch that.

From downstairs, her mom's voice carried up through the house.

"Azzi! Dinner!"

Azzi closed her eyes briefly, letting her head fall back against the wall. There it was.

Paige noticed the shift immediately. "Uh oh."

"I don't want to go," Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige's expression softened, though there was still a hint of amusement at the corner of her mouth. "It's your birthday dinner."

"I know," Azzi said, dragging a hand over her face. "That's exactly why I don't want to go."

Paige grinned at her. "You are so dramatic."

"I am not," Azzi said, even though she knew she sounded like she was. "It's just going to be loud. And everyone is going to be… a lot."

"Your family is always a lot," Paige said.

"Exactly."

"And you love them."

Azzi hesitated for a second. "…I really do."

Paige smiled at that, like she had been waiting for Azzi catch up with her thoughts. "There you go."

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it now. "That doesn't make it less loud."

"No," Paige admitted. "But it does make it kind of worth it."

Azzi didn't answer right away. Instead, she picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, basically Paige's, her phone now propped against her knee so she didn't have to hold it.

Paige watched her quietly for a moment, then shifted closer to her camera, resting her chin in her hand.

"Hey," she said, softer this time.

Azzi looked back at her.

"You can call me after," Paige continued. "Like immediately after. You can complain about everything, I will let you be as sulky as you want."

Azzi's mouth twitched. "You already do, P."

"Yeah, but this time it will be encouraged," Paige said. "Full rant, no interruptions. I will even agree with you."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"Fine," Paige grinned. "I will try my best."

Azzi huffed out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing a little more.

"And," Paige continued, like she wasn't done yet, "we can watch something after. You can pick, even if it's boring."

"It won't be boring. I have good taste."

Paige gave her a look. "It will absolutely be boring."

"Then don't watch it with me."

"I will watch it with you," Paige said immediately. "I will just complain the whole time."

Azzi shook her head, but she was fully smiling now.

"Okay," she said after a second.

Paige's expression softened again, something quieter settling underneath everything else. "Did it help?"

"Yes," Azzi nodded.

There was a small pause, not uncomfortable, just a bit intense. Paige looked like she wanted to say something else, then didn't. Instead, she just smiled at Azzi softer than before.

"Go," Paige said. "Before your mom comes upstairs and drags you down."

"She would," Azzi muttered. "Or worst, send my brothers."

"I know," Paige said easily. "Text me when you are done?"

"I will call."

Paige's smile widened just slightly at that. "Yeah," she said. "Just call me."

Azzi hesitated for half a second before reaching for the screen.

"Az?"

She paused.

"What?"

Paige tilted her head, studying her for just a moment longer.

"Happy birthday, princess."

Azzi blinked, caught off guard just enough that she didn't have a response ready right away.

"…Thanks, P, " she said finally.

Paige smiled at her, then the screen went dark.

Azzi stayed where she was for a moment longer staring at her own reflection where Paige had just been. When her mom called her again, she grabbed her phone and headed for the door.

By the time Azzi got downstairs, the kitchen was already full. One of her uncles was talking over her grandma. Her brothers were arguing about something stupid that had probably started as a joke and turned into a competition, and her dad was pretending to mediate it in the loudest possible way. Her mom was trying to get the food onto the table, and her grandpa looked completely delighted by all of it, like the chaos was half the point.

That was just how it worked when the Fudds were together.

Nobody believed in taking turns or let a sentence end before speaking again. A family celebration meant shouting, teasing, people reaching across each other, everyone trying to be funnier or louder or more dramatic than the last person.

Azzi loved them, but most of the time she also just wanted to retreat to her own quiet room and stay there until everyone calmed down.

It was her family though, too much all the time but still full of love.

Azzi had only just managed to sit down to her favourite spot at the table when her grandpa sit down next to her and leaned closer. Out of nowhere, he pushed a small velvet box toward her.

Azzi looked at him curiously but she picked the box up, turning it once in her hand. He smiled at her and nodded for Azzi to open it, so she did.

The ring inside the box made her pause.

It did not look completely new but it was clearly cleaned and polished. It looked like it had a history. Two silver hands held a heart, with a tiny crown resting on top, and the whole thing had that strange balance of being delicate without looking fragile.

Azzi lifted it carefully out of the box and turned it between her fingers, watching the light catch on the metal.

"It's really beautiful, Papa," Azzi said quietly.

Her grandpa leaned forward slightly, clearly pleased. "It's a Claddagh ring, honey bun. It used to be my mother's and it is now time to be yours."

Azzi looked at him gratefully while waiting for the rest of its story.

"It's a traditional Irish ring. The hands stand for friendship," he explained, pointing lightly toward them. "The heart stands for love. And the crown stands for loyalty."

Azzi's thumb brushed over the little heart while he spoke.

Friendship. Love. Loyalty.

Those words seemed simple on their own. Together, they felt heavier.

"And how you wear it has a meaning," her grandpa continued. "If you wear it with the heart facing out, it means your heart is still your own. Turn it inward, and it means your heart belongs to someone."

Azzi looked down at the ring again, suddenly much more aware of it in her hand.

Your heart belongs to someone.

And then, because apparently her brain had decided this was the perfect moment to be annoying, one name appeared there immediately.

Paige.

Azzi frowned faintly, shifting in her seat.

That made no sense. Paige was just Paige.

Paige was loud and nosy and always somehow exactly where Azzi was, whether she had been invited or not. Paige texted like she had never once considered that other people might sometimes want peace.

She said things that made Azzi roll her eyes in the moment and then think about them later, which was honestly its own kind of irritating.

But Paige was also funny when she was not trying too hard. Sweet when she wanted to be, annoying on purpose about half the time. And somehow impossible to ignore even when Azzi was actively trying to do exactly that.

That still did not have to mean anything.

Paige just got under her skin in ways Azzi did not have a good explanation for. But that was just because they were close. That was normal, that didn't automatically make it something else.

That was just what best friends did.

They were close and intense and involved in each other's lives and yes, it probably looked strange from the outside, but that did not mean anything had to be weird.

Azzi pressed her lips together and looked back down at the ring, trying to push her thoughts somewhere safer before they wandered off in a direction she definitely did not want them going.

She exhaled slowly and slid the ring onto her right hand, adjusting it until the heart was facing out.

Single.

That felt right or at least it felt like something she did not need to think about too hard.

Later that night, when the house had finally quieted down, Azzi slipped back into her room and closed the door behind her with a soft click.

The silence felt immediate and perfect. Finally no one was calling her name, no one was trying to drag her into another conversation she hadn't asked to be part of.

Azzi let out a slow breath and dropped back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

Then she reached for her phone. She didn't check her messages or scroll over her social media, Azzi just called.

Paige picked up on the second ring.

"I thought you forgot about me," Paige said immediately. 

Azzi rolled onto her side, tucking her arm under her pillow. "You wouldn't let me do that."

"You are damn right," Paige said, shifting her phone around until her face settled into frame. "I was about to give you five more minutes and then send something too interesting to ignore."

"You know that does not work on me."

"Nah," Paige said easily, a grin tugging at her mouth, "this would have been extra interesting. You had no chance."

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh, the leftover tension from the evening easing without her really noticing it.

"Did you survive?" Paige asked, settling in more comfortably on her end.

"Barely," Azzi said.

"That bad?"

"I don't even know, maybe not," Azzi muttered. "At some point the boys started arguing about who can dance better on one leg and then it escalated."

Paige nodded like that was a completely reasonable explanation, and it was for the Fudd's. "That does sound like your brothers."

Azzi smiled a little, turning her phone so it leaned against her water glass on the bedside table. It took her a second to get the angle right, adjusting it once, then again.

"Az," Paige said.

"What?"

"You look like a grandma trying to figure out FaceTime."

"I am not…" Azzi nudged the phone again, then leaned back satisfied. "It's fine."

Paige squinted at the screen. "You are like… only half in the frame."

"Good," Azzi said, pulling her blanket over her legs. "That's intentional. I don't want to be seen."

Paige laughed again and something about it made Azzi's chest feel lighter than it had been all evening.

"Okay, you big baby," Paige said after a moment, resting her chin in her hand, "how bad was it actually?"

Azzi shrugged, staring up at the ceiling for a second.

"It wasn't that bad."

Paige blinked. "What."

"Don't make it a thing."

"I am absolutely making it a thing," Paige said, sitting up a little straighter. "You just said your family birthday dinner wasn't bad."

"I said it wasn't that bad," Azzi corrected. "That's different."

"That's huge," Paige insisted. "You were literally sulking before you even went downstairs."

"I was mentally preparing."

Paige grinned. "You are such a princess."

"I am not!"

Paige didn't even argue this time. She just looked at her, smiling in that annoying, knowing way that made it feel like she had already decided she was right.

"What did you get?" she asked after a second.

Azzi shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher. "Sneakers."

"What kind of sneakers?"

"A few Nike ones. One of them is pink, the other one is white."

"Sounds pretty nice," Paige said immediately.

Azzi hesitated for a fraction of a second. "…Yeah. They are nice."

Paige's smile widened like she had just won something. "I knew it. You had fun!"

"You didn't know anything."

"I know you," Paige said easily.

The way she said it made something in Azzi's stomach scramble. Maybe she just ate something bad...

"Any clothes?" Paige continued, completely unaware. "Anything good or was it all questionable?"

"My auntie actually got me a hoodie I like," Azzi admitted.

Paige gasped. "No way. Auntie Carol?"

"I know."

"That's actually impressive."

"It is," Azzi said, a little more amused now.

Paige nodded, then leaned a little closer to the camera. "What else?"

Azzi's fingers brushed absently against her right hand.

The ring caught the light and Azzi stilled. For a second, she considered mentioning it.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say, just another small detail from the night.

"…That's mostly it," Azzi said instead, lifting her gaze back to the screen.

Why didn't she say anything about it? It did not make any sense.

Paige was her best friend. Azzi told her everything. Small things, stupid things, things that didn't matter.

Paige knew what she ate half the time, knew when she was annoyed before Azzi said a word, knew how her practice went just by how she answered a text...

Paige would have liked the ring, probably would have asked a few follow-up questions and made some joke about it before turning weirdly sincere for half a second. That was what she always did, and still...

Azzi frowned faintly.

It was just a ring, it didn't matter.

"Okay," Paige said, holding up her remote. "Movie time."

Azzi shifted properly onto her side, tucking her pillow under her head and adjusting her phone again so Paige stayed in view.

"Wait," Paige added quickly. "We need to count down so we are totally in sync."

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"Okay," Paige said, settling in. "On three."

"On three," Azzi echoed.

"One… One and a half…"

"Paige."

"What?"

"Just get to it.."

Paige grinned. "I am building anticipation."

"You are so annoying."

"You love it."

Azzi didn't answer that. She just pressed her lips together slightly and waited.

"Fine," Paige said. "One… two… three."

They hit play at the same time. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. The opening of Love & Basketball filled the quiet, soft light flickering across Paige's face on the screen.

Paige went still almost immediately, her attention settling fully on the movie. Azzi watched her for a second instead of the movie, then she shifted slightly, settling deeper into her pillow.

Her hand moved again.

The ring.

Her thumb brushed over it, turning it just a fraction before stopping.

Friendship. Love. Loyalty.

The words came back to her.

Friendship.

That one was obvious. It didn't require any effort to understand, didn't make her second-guess herself. Paige fit there easily without the need for further explanation.

Even on the days Azzi told herself she needed space, she still ended up answering her messages, still picked up her calls, still let Paige in without really thinking about it.

Loyalty.

That could have been Paige's middle name instead of Madison because Paige didn't really know how to do things halfway. Once she decided she cared about someone, she showed up, even when she was being annoying about it. There was something reassuring in that, something Azzi had already started relying on without ever saying it out loud.

It was the third word that made her hesitate.

Love.

Azzi's thumb brushed lightly over the ring again, tracing the shape of it like that might make the meaning feel less… confusing.

Love didn't seem complicated in the movies. It looked easy there, obvious. Something people said out loud without overthinking it.

That wasn't how it felt in her head at 16 years old.

Not when the word love showed up in her mind together with a face of her best friend and attached itself to something she didn't fully understand.

Azzi twisted the ring slightly, then turned it back. Her gaze flicked to Paige again, still there focusing on their movie.

Azzi exhaled slowly, her shoulders sinking further into the bed.

Eventually, she would like someone for real. A boy, probably.

That was what made sense. That was what everybody assumed, and honestly she had never really had a reason to picture anything else. It just had not happened yet. Maybe because she was busy with basketball. Maybe because most boys her age were uninteresting and quite boring, unlike Paige.

Paige who could be both annoying and comforting at the same time, who still made her want to stay on the phone longer than she meant to.

Azzi pressed her lips together slightly and looked back at the screen, forcing her attention onto the movie again.

When it happens, she told herself, it would make more sense than this.

Her fingers curled loosely against the blanket, the ring resting back where it had been, heart facing out. She didn't touch it again, but she didn't stop thinking about it either. And when Paige laughed softly at something in the movie a few minutes later, Azzi smiled and shook her head. 

Yeah, maybe she had a best friend who took up more space in her life than what was probably normal, but that still did not mean it had to be anything else.

She was only sixteen. She did not need to understand everything yet. She had plenty of time.

August, 2019

By the end of that summer, Azzi had stopped thinking of Paige being around as something temporary. 

At some point, without a clear moment she could point to, it had shifted from seeing Paige a lot to simply expecting her to be there. Paige had settled into her life so completely that her absence would have felt more noticeable than her presence these days.

After her injury in April and everything that had come with it, the frustration, the loss of control, the humiliating moments where Azzi had needed help with things she hated needing help with, Paige had somehow decided that being present was no longer optional.

Paige had shown up through all of it, and then kept showing up and somewhere in the middle of all that, something had changed.

Not enough to name it, but enough that Azzi could no longer convince herself it was just an ordinary friendship with a little extra intensity.

Because best friends do not usually exist like Azzi and Paige did around each other.

They do not crawl into bed beside you when you are too tired to stay upright. They do not let you tuck yourself against them or become the first person you look for when something hurt. And they do not make everything feel both easier and more complicated at the same time.

Or maybe some did. Azzi honestly did not know anymore.

What she did know was that somewhere between spring and summer, between long visits and FaceTimes, and the kisses that had begun happening with an almost alarming naturalness, Paige had become something Azzi did not have a word for.

Paige was still Paige.

Still loud and distracting, incapable of leaving anything alone, especially Azzi. But now Azzi noticed things she wasn't supposed to notice this much if she was being honest with herself. 

Paige always had a specific smile when she was pleased with herself. It was cheeky and a little smug, like she knew she was getting away with something.

Azzi also noticed that Paige always blushed a little after saying something more vulnerable than usual. As if she said something too much and she needed to check if Azzi had heard the part underneath the joke.

Paige also looked at Azzi when nobody else was paying attention. Somehow she always knew when Azzi needed something, even before her own family noticed. She always seemed to know when Azzi was tired before Azzi admitted it herself.

And then there were those times Paige would lean in way too close while talking and just stay there, close enough that Azzi could feel her breath on her face and get that stupid weird flutter in her stomach that she was absolutely not going to call butterflies.

It was irritating and not because the change was obvious, but because it wasn't.

If the change had felt bigger, something she could point to and say this is different, maybe it would have been easier to deal with.

Instead, it felt like the same friendship she had always known, only charged in places that used to feel harmless.

A look that lingered longer than it used to, a touch she remembered longer than it made sense. A kiss that made her heart stumble and then made her wonder why she had ever thought she could keep things simple.

And now…a shared tent during a Fudd family camping trip.

Azzi had thought about it far more than she wanted to admit.

The campsite itself was beautiful, the lake stretching out beyond the trees and catching the light in lazy silver flashes. The air was warm and pieceful, broken only by the occasional drift of voices from where her family had spread out across the site.

Her dad was working on the fire at the designated spot behind the tents, her brothers trying to help by gathering more wood, and her mom was attempting to organise the food before everyone got to it and ruined her structure.

Azzi had escaped with her book and a towel, intending to have an hour to herself by the dock before her mom inevitably called her back to help with dinner.

One hour of quiet, that had been the plan.

She had forgotten to account for Paige. And as always, barely 10 minutes later, Paige had found Azzi on the dock.

"I can't believe you enjoy sunbathing like this," Paige announced, dropping down beside her with a dramatic sigh that felt entirely unnecessary.

Azzi didn't look up, she had ignored Paige because encouraging her almost always made things worse. 

For a few minutes, Paige entertained herself by humming under her breath, then by skipping pebbles into the lake and narrating them as though this had suddenly become a competition between the pebbles.

But then she started asking unnecessary questions about the book in Azzi's hands even though she clearly had no interest in the actual answer.

Azzi tried to stay patient, but patience with Paige was a fragile thing on the best of days, and it was even harder now when her friendship with Paige has gotten more confusing.

"Do you ever actually relax," Paige asked eventually, rolling onto her side so she could look at Azzi properly, "or do you just stare at books until people leave you alone?"

Azzi kept her eyes on the page, even though the words had stopped registering minutes ago. "That second one works better when the person bothering me understands hints."

Paige laughed, completely unbothered and Azzi looked up despite herself.

Paige's hair had fallen across her forehead, and she kept pushed it back absently, smiling at Azzi in that way that made her look stupidly pretty, like unfairly pretty, and it made something small and annoying twist under Azzi’s ribs. Definitely not butterflies.

"You love me," Paige said.

Azzi's grip tightened slightly on the edge of the page. The sentence started to feel differently these days in Azzi's head.

Because now she knew how it felt when Paige leaned in and didn't stop. When Paige's lips found hers and started moving so easy and sure. The faint taste of her cherry lip balm, the heat of her breath and that hint of mint that lingered every time they paused, only for a second, before Paige went right back in.

So now, when Paige said things like that, Azzi could not just brush them off the way she used to. They sank in too deeply, and she had to keep herself from letting her mind run off with them, from turning every little thing Paige said into something more than it was.

"I love peace and quiet. You should try helping me find some," Azzi said instead.

Azzi could feel Paige drifting closer without even looking up.

Paige had this way of ending up just inside her space, like personal boundaries were more of a loose suggestion she didn’t really care about. Azzi could feel her watching her now, and it made focusing on anything else pretty much impossible.

"You know, your family is all the way over there," Paige said quietly.

Azzi finally looked up at her again. What a mistake.

Paige was closer than she had realized, only a few inches away, braced on one elbow, her whole attention fixed on Azzi. Her gaze dipped, just for a second, to Azzi's mouth before sliding back up to her face, but it was enough. More than enough.

Azzi felt it like a jolt through her whole body, her breath catching before her brain could do anything useful with it.

"Paige," she said under her breath, sharper than she meant to.

Paige blinked, caught for a second, but not really apologetic. "What?"

Azzi let her eyes flick toward the shore, where her family was still loud and busy enough not to notice anything, but not far enough away to make this feel safe. Her pulse was already stupidly loud in her ears.

"Don't start."

It came out less like a refusal and more like a warning she was trying to make sound firmer than it was. Paige's mouth twitched, and Azzi could tell she had heard the difference too.

"I wasn't doing anything," all fake innocence and soft voice.

Paige leaned even closer now, so close that Azzi could see the little shift in her expression. Her attention didn't leave Azzi’s face for even a second.

The air between them felt charged, like one wrong move and it would snap. Paige held her gaze, calm and infuriating, like she knew Azzi was already halfway gone. Azzi had the sudden, overwhelming urge to shove her straight into the lake and kiss her at the same time.

That was the problem.

It wasn't just Paige pushing, Azzi wasn't exactly pulling away either.

Which made whatever this was feel way too close to slipping out of her control. Because if they had been alone, she knew with humiliating certainty that Paige would have kissed her already. And Azzi wouldn't have stopped her. She would have met her halfway, closed the space herself, and let everything else fall away.

But they were not alone.

And the thought of one of her brothers looking over at the wrong second, or her mom picking up on something later sent heat creeping up the back of her neck. Enough to snap her back into herself.

So Azzi dropped her gaze back to her book, like she was above it, like she wasn't seconds away from doing something incredibly stupid. Even though her heart was beating too fast to really make it convincing.

Then Paige went quiet.

A second later, Azzi felt the light brush of fingers against her hand, so soft she almost thought she had imagined it. Azzi looked down and found Paige staring at the silver ring on her right hand, her attention caught there with an almost maddening kind of focus.

"You never told me about this one," Paige said.

Azzi's chest tightened so fast it almost made her sit up. Her own reaction annoyed her immediately.

It was just a ring, not some huge, dramatic secret. And still, heat rushed straight to her face, which only made it worse, because now Paige was definitely going to notice it too.

"It's nothing," Azzi said, too quickly to sound convincing.

Paige's eyebrows lifted immediately, her attention sharpening with interest. "That is absolutely not a 'nothing' reaction."

Azzi tried to pull her hand back on instinct, but Paige's fingers followed just enough to keep the contact, resting against her skin. 

And that only made it worse.

If Paige had laughed, if she had brushed it off or turned it into a joke, Azzi would have known exactly what to do. She could have deflected, rolled her eyes, made it irrelevant again.

But Paige wasn't joking, she was watching her. And Paige paying attention like that had quietly become one of the most dangerous things in Azzi's life.

"It's just from my grandpa," Azzi said, like that should have been enough to close the conversation.

Paige's gaze dropped back to the ring, her thumb brushing over it once. "Okay," she said, softer now, "and I can tell it means something. I will not force you to tell me, but I would love to hear about it. It sounds like it's important to you."

Azzi exhaled slowly through her nose and closed her book over one finger to keep her place, even though she hadn't actually been reading for a while. She could feel Paige beside her, waiting patiently.

That was part of what made Paige so impossible.

She had this way of locking onto things, like she could sense what mattered, and the second Azzi hesitated, Paige leaned in instead of backing off, especially when Azzi clearly wanted to hide it. But she also know how to do it in a way that Azzi actually wanted to suddenly share it with her.

"It's a Claddagh ring," Azzi said finally.

Paige didn't interrupt, she just shifted slightly, clearly settling in to listen properly. Azzi stared down at her own hand as she spoke, her thumb moving restlessly over the small silver heart and crown while she repeated what her grandfather had told her.

Friendship, love, loyalty.

Her voice stayed steadier than she felt as she explained how it was worn, the heart facing in or out, what each direction was supposed to mean.

It should have been that simple. It was only the history of the ring, the symbolism attached to it, a family heritage with an old tradition. 

None of that should have made her feel like this. But she could not pretend anymore, not since April.

Since the first time Paige had kissed her, gently on that hotel room bed, like she wasn't completely sure she was allowed to. And all the times after that, when it had quietly become something that slipped into their time together without ever being named.

Because ever since then, Azzi had caught herself, more than once, turning the ring so the heart faced inward without even thinking about it.

Never for long, just in small, private moments.

Lying in bed, replaying the way Paige's hand had settled at her waist while they were saying goodbye to Azzi's physical therapist, or how her voice softened when she asked if Azzi wanted to head to bed and watch a movie after a particularly tough day. While thinking of how Paige's mouth felt when she was kissing down on her neck...

And every time, the second she noticed it, it startled her enough to make her stop and turn it back.

They were not together.

That was the line she always came back to, the one that was supposed to make everything make sense again.

Whatever this was between them lived somewhere in between. In looks that lasted too long, in touches that had become far too intentional, in kisses that happened and then never quite got spoken about afterward.

It was obvious and confusing at once, something that existed in action but refused to settle into words.

Turning the heart facing in felt like saying something out loud without actually saying it. And Azzi wasn't ready for that. Not even in her own head and definitely not here, sitting next to Paige, explaining what it meant while trying not to think about how easily Paige seemed to fit into all its meaning without even realising it.

When Azzi finished, Paige didn't respond right away.

She stayed quiet, which in itself felt off. Her attention lingered on Azzi's hand before lifting to her face, then dropping back again, like she was working something out piece by piece.

The words didn't fade, they just sat there between them, heavier than they should have been. Azzi glanced over, half-expecting a joke to cut through it, to break the tension the way Paige usually would.

"Oh," Paige said finally.

Oh.

It was such a small word, but something in the way Paige said it made Azzi suddenly conscious of everything. The heat in her face, the sun on her skin, how close Paige still was.

"It's not a big deal," Azzi said quickly, cutting the moment off before it could turn into something else.

Downplaying things had always felt safer than letting them turn into something too serious.

Paige nodded. "No, I know."

But she didn't sound like she believed that.

Azzi turned back to her book, mostly to have somewhere else to look. It didn't help. The words blurred, and Paige's quiet presence beside her only made it worse.

For the rest of the afternoon, she kept catching Paige looking.

Not obvious enough to call it out without sounding strange, but often enough that it became impossible to ignore. Every so often, Paige's gaze would drift to her right hand and linger just a little too long, her expression thoughtful, like she was still turning it over in her head.

Once, when Azzi handed her a drink, their fingers brushed and Paige's eyes dropped briefly to the ring before lifting again. For a second, Azzi forgot what she had been about to say.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But by evening, Azzi was hyper-aware of it, the weight of the ring, every small movement of her hand whenever Paige was near. She caught herself tucking it out of sight, then immediately felt stupid for it.

She told herself Paige was just curious. She liked meanings, little details, the stories behind things.

That had to be all this was.

By the time they crawled into the tent that night, the rest of the campsite had gone mostly quiet.

Azzi lay on her back under her blanket, staring up at the dim curve of the tent ceiling. She had been trying to fall asleep for at least twenty minutes, though it felt longer, because every time she got close to drifting off, her thoughts pulled her right back out of it.

Paige's face on the dock that afternoon. The way she had gone so still while Azzi explained the ring. The quiet little oh that should not have meant anything, except somehow it had.

And the fact that Paige was now lying only a few inches away, close enough that Azzi could feel her warmth through the narrow space between their blankets.

That part was definitely not helping.

Azzi shifted onto her side, telling herself it was only because she was more comfortable that way. In the dark, she could just make out Paige's shape beside her, already turned in her direction, which made something low and nervous move through her stomach. Not butterflies.

Her eyes had adjusted enough to catch the outline of Paige's face, the soft mess of her hair, the faint glint of moonlight catching on one cheekbone where the tent fabric let in the smallest bit of silver-blue light.

It was unfair, honestly, how even half-hidden in the dark, Paige was so beautiful.

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again. Still awake, obviously. A minute passed, maybe two, before Paige moved.

It was quiet, just the soft rustle of fabric and a shift of weight, but Azzi felt it immediately. Paige edged closer, slow enough that she could have stopped at any point if Azzi had pulled away.

Then slipped one arm carefully around her waist, the warmth settling there with such easy familiarity that Azzi's breath caught for half a second before evening out again.

"Can't sleep?" Paige whispered.

Azzi shook her head instinctively before remembering that in the dark Paige might not be able to see her.

"I can't," she whispered back gently.

The hand at her waist tightened slightly. Paige's fingers shifted against her side, before she spoke again, quieter this time.

"Have you ever turned it around?"

Azzi went completely still.

For a second, she thought about pretending she didn't understand. But the question sat too clearly between them for that. Paige wasn't asking about the absentminded moments, the ones Azzi corrected right away.

She was asking something bigger than that, and they both knew it.

Paige was asking whether there had ever been someone. Someone Azzi wanted enough, felt enough for, to wear the ring differently and mean it.

Azzi stared into the dark, suddenly very aware of Paige's arm still around her, the warmth of her body pressed close, the way the question hadn't been rushed.

Paige had waited to ask her this all day.

"Not yet," Azzi said quietly.

The truth came out easier than expected, but it didn't make it feel any lighter.

There had never been anyone else. Never been a boy she had thought about seriously, anyone who took up space in her thoughts like this. Whose touch made her body react before her mind could catch up, whose voice could still pull her apart just by dropping lower than usual.

There had only ever been Paige.

Paige stayed silent for a while, then her arm slid higher, pulling Azzi in more fully, not tentative anymore. And when she spoke again, her voice was so soft it barely carried.

"Can I kiss you?"

Azzi didn't trust her voice, instead, she moved.

Just a fraction closer at first, then the rest of the way, closing the space herself before she could think better of it. She found Paige in the dark more by instinct than sight.

Paige kissed her back immediately like she had been waiting.

One hand moved from Azzi's waist to the side of her face, fingers warm against her cheek, steadying her there. The kiss started soft, but it didn't stay that way for long.

It deepened slowly, as it always seemed to with them, until Azzi forgot entirely about the lake, the crickets, the tent, even the muffled sounds of her family sleeping somewhere in the distance.

All Azzi could focus on was Paige.

The warmth of her mouth, the hand at her cheek, the way her body curved toward Azzi's. And when they finally pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads nearly touching, breaths uneven in the small space between them.

Neither of them said anything else, but Paige's arm stayed around her, and Azzi let herself settle there, one hand curled loosely between them, the ring cool against her finger.

No, Azzi had never turned it around for anyone officially.

But lying there in the dark, wrapped up in Paige's arms with the taste of her still warm on her mouth, the heart on her ring facing out, the thought slipped in anyway.

Maybe she wanted to, for her.

May, 2020

At first, when lockdown began, Azzi told herself that having Paige there would at least make the days go faster.

That was the practical version of the truth, the one that sounded reasonable if anybody asked.

Paige was good company, a good training partner, and someone who could make the long, repetitive days feel a little less dull. 

All of that was true. It was just not even close to the whole truth. What Azzi did not say out loud was that somewhere along the way, Paige had stopped feeling like a platonic best friend.

These days, if someone asked, Paige was still simply Paige.

Paige who was there when Azzi woke up, usually already dressed and half-way through a conversation with Azzi's parents or arguing with one of her brothers before Azzi had even fully finished her coffee.

She was there through their workouts, matching her pace, pushing her harder, refusing to let her slack off even when Azzi wanted to.

She was also there in the afternoons, stretched out beside her on the old, worn couch in the basement, their shoulders pressed together as whatever movie they had put on played mostly in the background.

Paige had also somehow become part of all the ordinary, domestic things too.

She stole fruit from the bowl on the counter without asking, she reached past Azzi, her hand brushing her side as she grabbed something from a cabinet and flopped onto their shared bed with an ease that suggested she had lived there for years instead of weeks. 

They ate lunch with her family in the same kitchen that never really stayed quiet for more than a minute, and somewhere in the middle of all that, it stopped feeling like the Fudds were hosting Paige and started feeling like Paige had simply become part of her family.

That should have been simple if it stayed just that, but that was not the case. It became a dangerous game as the physical side of things hadn't stayed simple either.

Since that camping trip over the summer, Paige had become even more openly affectionate with her, as if whatever fragile line had once existed between them had quietly dissolved and no one had bothered to put it back.

Paige touched Azzi like it didn't occur to her not to. A hand at her back guiding her through the entrance of their favourite store. Fingers brushing her knee under the table. Her legs thrown across Azzi's lap on the couch during family movie night.

And when they were alone, or just hidden enough to pretend they were, it had become completely normal for Paige to kiss her too without asking first.

Softly sometimes, other times with just enough intent to leave Azzi flushed and unsettled afterward, staring at the wall or biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to think about the way Paige had looked at her right before it happened.

Azzi had stopped pretending she did not feel those stupid butterflies, but that did not mean she understood what to do with them. That was the part that kept snagging on her.

There were still moments when she could convince herself that whatever this was would sort itself out eventually, that she did not need to drag it into the light before it was ready.

Then there were other moments, when Paige looked at her a certain way or reached for her without thinking, and Azzi felt a nervous, aching certainty that this already mattered too much to be treated like something vague any longer.

That specific afternoon had also started because Paige had noticed she was in a mood before Azzi had even fully admitted it to herself.

Training had run long, both of them damp with sweat and already irritated by the time they were done, and the house had felt unbearable the second they stepped back inside.

One of her brothers had a game blaring from the TV. Her dad was on the phone in the next room, pacing while he talked too loudly, as always. Her mom was in the middle of reorganising something in their living room.

Azzi had stood there for maybe twenty seconds before that familiar tightness began settling in her chest.

She needed air and quiet and maybe a full hour where nobody asked anything of her.

She did not even have to say it. Paige, standing at the sink with her back half-turned as she filled their water bottles, looked up, took one glance at Azzi's face, and immediately knew.

She did not make a big deal out of it, she just walked over, handed Azzi her bottle, and said, "Go and take a shower, Az. We are going to somewhere more quiet, okay?"

Azzi nodded without arguing and by the time she came back down in a fresh pair of sweatpants she had stolen from Paige's designated drawer, Paige was already holding her car keys and waiting at the door like this had always been the plan.

The part they drove to was one of Azzi's favorites.

She had known it long before Paige ever visited her, and there was something comforting about Paige bringing her here without a question.

The trees were full and green, the grass still bright from the rain that had fallen the day before, and the air was warm enough that neither of them needed anything over their hoodies.

Azzi had expected maybe a blanket and a couple of drinks at most. Paige had somehow turned it into an entire picnic.

There was fruit, actual sandwiches instead of the protein bars they usually lived on after workouts, cold drinks, pillows and a blanket large enough that it was obvious they were meant to stay there for a while.

Paige set everything down with an expression that was far too pleased with herself to fool anybody, least of all Azzi.

"Why are you doing this?" Azzi asked looking at Paige even as she sat down and reached for the strawberries first.

Paige only shrugged, that familiar little smug curve appearing at the corner of her mouth. "You were getting grumpy," she said. "This seemed like the best option."

Azzi rolled her eyes. "I was not grumpy."

"You were, actually," Paige said, sitting down across from her. "Your whole face does this thing."

"What thing?"

Paige looked at her for a second too long, then smiled. "This cute, moody thing where you act like everybody is annoying and then refuse to admit that you are just hungry and need a break from everyone."

Heat crept up Azzi's neck immediately, which only made her more annoyed because Paige noticed that too.

"Shut up, P," she muttered, reaching for her coconut water mostly so she would have something to do with her hands. "Not from you though."

Paige grinned and, without asking, opened one of the sandwich wrappers and handed it to her before making her own. It was made exactly how Azzi liked it, turkey ham with butter instead of mayo. It was a small detail that should have been meaningless and absolutely was not.

That was the thing with Paige.

It was not just that she took care of Azzi. It was how she always seemed to know what she needed before Azzi was ready to say it. She remembered the small things and made them feel easy. Thoughtless, almost, and that was somehow worse because it meant she might not even realise what she was doing to Azzi every single time.

They ate slowly, Paige talking as she always did, but it felt softer out there, with the park stretched around them and the sunlight moving lazily across the blanket.

Every so often Paige paused just long enough to slide something toward her without being asked, a napkin, a drink, another piece of fruit,  as if the entire point of the afternoon was making sure Azzi relaxed properly for once.

And that was what made it feel so much like a date.

Not the blanket, or the weather, or even the fact that they were alone in a park with too much food for two people who had supposedly just needed air. It was the attention of it, the intention.

The fact that Paige had looked at Azzi's mood and built an entire afternoon around making it better without ever making her feel like she was too much for needing it.

And it was so confusing, because it could still all be explained away as Paige being a great friend.

Azzi could just be reading too much into everything because Paige had become far too easy to want.

By the time they finished eating, the sun had shifted higher and the early summer heat had settled around them.

Paige stretched out beside Azzi at first, then propped herself up on one elbow, already launching into yet another version of her ongoing argument about why Azzi should commit to UConn.

It should have been annoying and mostly it was, but not enough to stop Azzi from secretly liking it. Paige talked about UConn the way other people talked about futures they were already living.

The basketball part was always first, obviously, the coaches, the system, the pace of everything. Paige was sure that Azzi would love it there if she let herself imagine it properly. But woven through all of that, increasingly impossible to ignore, was something else underneath it.

"The basketball part should already be enough," Paige said, rolling slightly closer so she could look at Azzi properly. "You know that, right? You would love it there."

Azzi picked at the label on her drink, pretending that was enough to keep her busy. "You are already so biased and you haven't even started going there yet."

"I am being serious," Paige said. "Also, besides all of those things," she added, her voice softening into something Azzi had become far too tuned into, "you would have me there."

Azzi's stomach gave that familiar stupid little flip. Stupid butterflies.

Because yes, Paige was talking about basketball and facilities and all the practical reasons it made sense. But underneath all of that sat the thing Azzi could not quite stop hearing.

Come with me. Come build something with me.

That was what made her chest feel too full and too uneasy at the same time. Azzi did not know yet if she was ready to say yes to UConn, but she knew with painful clarity that part of what made the decision feel so enormous was that Paige had become tied to it.

UConn was not just a school anymore. It was a future that might include waking up near Paige, training with Paige, building routines around Paige, letting this strange unfinished thing between them become something ordinary instead of something they kept suspended between seasons and states.

Azzi listened, occasionally smiling or rolling her eyes, but mostly just let the sound of Paige's voice wash over her.

She had heard versions of these arguments before, but there was something about being out here under the open sky in her favourite park, away from everyone else, that made it feel less like recruiting and more like longing.

Let's close the distance instead of surviving it.

Eventually Paige ran out of reasons for the moment and flopped back onto the blanket with a dramatic sigh, making Azzi laugh before she could stop herself.

"You are so dramatic," Azzi said, though there was no real bite to it.

Paige turned her head and smiled at her, all bright warmth and easy affection. "And yet," she said, "you keep me around."

That was true enough that Azzi did not bother denying it. 

A minute later, Paige stretched out fully on the blanket and then, without asking, shifted until her head ended up in Azzi's lap.

Azzi looked down at her, Paige looked back up, entirely unbothered. Neither of them said anything, but Azzi's hand moved into Paige's hair almost on its own.

Paige's eyes drifted half shut immediately, her whole body going soft beneath Azzi's fingers. Azzi traced her fingers slowly through her hair, lingering near her temple, then over the crown of her head, and every now and then Paige leaned into the touch just enough that Azzi could tell she was doing it on purpose.

That too had become one of those things they did now without really discussing when it had started.

Paige liked being touched when she was tired and Azzi liked the immediate way Paige softened under her hand. It made her feel a strange, quiet satisfaction to be able to do that to her. 

Azzi was pulled back from her thoughts when Paige slowly reached up, almost lazily, and found Azzi's free hand where it rested against her own leg. 

Their fingers slid together without a word said out loud.

Azzi looked down at their hands and felt her chest tighten. Stupid butterflies.

It should not have been such a big thing. They touched all the time these days, that part was not new anymore. They leaned against each other and kissed without ever saying what that meant afterward. 

But this felt different. There was no teasing in it, no way to pretend Paige was only doing it to get a reaction. She was just holding her hand, like it belonged there. 

For a while Azzi only looked at their fingers laced together, at the contrast between Paige's pale hand and her own golden tone. Then her eyes focused on the silver ring sitting on her finger with the heart facing out.

Her pulse jumped a little harder when she realized Paige's thumb had kept brushed over it again and again.

Azzi had been switching the ring around a lot more lately.

Not every day, and still mostly only privately, but more often than before, especially since Paige had been here. It no longer felt like pretending in the same way it had last year. It felt closer to admitting something she was already carrying around in her chest, even if she still refused to ask the question out loud.

Because if this was what it looked like now, stolen kisses, almost-dates, Paige taking care of her like she had every right to, Paige holding her hand in the middle of a quiet afternoon like it was a normal thing to do, then what exactly were they doing if not dating?

And why did Paige get to be this affectionate, this soft, this quietly couple-like, without ever having to say the word girlfriend?

Even feeling all these emotions, Azzi had not talked to Paige about it. She had not asked if they were anything. She had not risked turning something fragile into a question that might demand a real answer before Paige was ready.

Which was why, when Paige carefully untangled their fingers and sat up just enough to take Azzi's hand fully in her own, Azzi's first reaction was confusion.

Paige's eyes had dropped to the ring. Azzi watched her thumb rest against the silver for a second before she slid it gently off Azzi's finger.

Azzi's breath caught immediately.

Paige turned the ring in her fingers, slow enough that Azzi could see exactly what she was doing, and then slid it back onto her right hand with the heart facing in.

The world seemed to go very quiet after that.

Azzi stared at the ring first. Her mind registered the position before her body did, and then all at once heat spread through her chest and face.

Azzi knew what it meant and she knew that Paige knew what it meant too.

Paige had understood enough to do this deliberately, here, in the middle of a warm afternoon in Azzi's favorite park, after an afternoon that already felt like a date even before that moment.

Azzi's heart suddenly beat so hard but slowly, she lifted her gaze.

Paige was watching her with an expression Azzi almost could not bear to look at for too long. There was no joke in it, nothing playful to hide behind. There was only tenderness there and certainty.

Azzi could have asked what does this mean, but the question would have been dishonest. She knew what Paige meant. Paige could have explained, but that would have made something private feel suddenly fragile under too much language. So neither of them said anything.

Instead, Azzi leaned down and kissed her.

Paige kissed her back immediately, one hand coming up to cup the back of Azzi's neck while the other still held Azzi's fingers. The kiss deepened slowly, but it held that warm, dizzying pull Azzi had already started associating with Paige and only Paige.

When they finally pulled apart, Azzi stayed close enough to feel Paige's breath against her mouth. She looked down once more time at the ring on her hand, at the heart facing in, and this time the sight of it did not make her panic. It made her feel claimed in the gentlest possible way and Azzi did not want to turn it back.

She never asked Paige why and Paige never explained.

But by the time they packed up the blanket and the empty containers and drove home through the slow golden light of late afternoon, the heart was still facing inward on Azzi's right hand. And every time she caught sight of it resting there, something quiet and certain settled a little deeper inside her.

October, 2020

Azzi hadn't expected something as small as a ring to feel this heavy suddenly.

And yet, somewhere between leaving home and crossing into Connecticut, she had turned it so many times that the motion had become instinctive.

Her thumb kept finding the edge of it, rotating it without unconciously, like her body was trying to decide something her mind refused to settle on.

Heart out, heart in, heart out again.

It shouldn't have mattered this much. If she had been looking at this from the outside, she would have told herself the answer was simple.

They weren't together.

That had been mostly her own decision. Carefully thought through, something she had convinced herself was the right thing to do. 

Paige had just started college, had just stepped into something new and demanding and full of possibility, and Azzi hadn't wanted to complicate that for her before it had even begun.

She hadn't wanted to be something Paige felt tied to, or worse, something Paige felt obligated to carry with her.

So Azzi had drawn the line.

At the time, saying they should stop what they had been doing had felt reasonable, responsible even. A choice a person would make when they were trying to be mature instead of selfish.

What Azzi had not accounted for, what she hadn't even imagined, was how easily Paige had accepted it.

There had been no argument, no pushback. No moment where Paige looked at her and said this is not what I want. There was no stay or this matters enough to fight for. Just a quiet nod, as if Paige trusted Azzi's judgment more than she trusted whatever she was feeling herself. 

Azzi had told herself that was a good thing. 

She had told herself it meant Paige respected her, that it meant she had made the right decision. That this was what maturity looked like when you cared about someone enough not to make it harder than it already was.

None of those explanations made the hollow feeling in her chest go away.

Now, sitting in the backseat of their old family van on the way to Connecticut, the whole thing felt less certain than it had when she first forced herself into it.

Not wrong exactly, just unfinished, like she had ended a conversation halfway through and never gone back to hear what Paige might have said if she had been given the space or courage to say it.

Her fingers turned the ring again, heart facing in this time.

The motion had become almost automatic over the past few days, something she did without fully realising it until she caught the shift and corrected it again.

She had worn it facing in for most of the summer after that afternoon in the park, after Paige had turned it without asking and made something quiet feel suddenly undeniable.

It had felt right back then, or at least close enough to right that Azzi had not questioned it once even without an explanation.

But things were different now, or at least, they were supposed to be. 

They had said they were stepping back.

So wearing the ring with the heart facing in now felt like a contradiction. It felt like holding on to something she had told Paige to release only 2 months ago.

Azzi turned it facing out again and pressed her thumb against the cool metal.

Heart facing out. Single.

That was the truth now. That was what it was supposed to be.

But it didn't feel obvious like it used to. It felt like something she was choosing because it was easier to explain than the alternative, not because it fully matched what she felt. Because what she actually felt was not this.

Her thoughts, unhelpfully, drifted to the last time she had seen Paige in person. To the way Paige had looked at her after Azzi said they should stop. The brief pause before the nod. The absence of an argument.

Azzi swallowed and stared out the window, watching the trees and road blur into long, colorless stretches of green and gray.

The truth was, she had wanted Paige to fight for her. That was the part Azzi had not admitted to herself until a few days ago.

Azzi had wanted Paige to say no, to push back, to make it impossible for Azzi or herself to retreat without saying what they really wanted.

She had wanted Paige to close the distance between them and force the truth into the open finally, to prove that this mattered enough to be impossible to walk away from.

Instead, Paige had done the opposite.

She had given Azzi exactly what she asked for, and in doing so had left her alone with the consequences of her own decision.

It was unfair to feel this frustrated about it. Paige hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, Paige had been painfully respectful and good about not making Azzi feel guilty for the space she had asked for. They still texted daily and talked at least a couple of times a week, but it was not the same.

It definitely did not stop the ugly little thought from circling anyway. 

Maybe Paige had not understood how much this mattered to her, or maybe she had understood and chosen not to make it harder than it already was. 

Azzi did not know which option hurt more.

By the time they reached campus, Azzi had forced herself into something that resembled resolve.

The ring stayed where it was, facing out.

She did not change it again as she climbed out of the van and waved off her family. Azzi told herself that this visit did not have to be complicated unless she made it that way.

Then she saw Paige and Paige had also spotted her immediately. Her face lit up which caught Azzi off guard no matter how many times she saw it. For one stupid second all the careful certainty Azzi had built in the car started to wobble.

"Az."

Paige crossed the distance between them quickly and pulled her into a hug before Azzi had fully braced for it.

It was warm and tight and achingly familiar. It made Azzi feel both comforted and wrecked at the same time. Paige never did anything halfway, even her hugs felt like she meant them with her whole body. 

For a second, Azzi let herself sink into it.

God, she had missed this. She had missed Paige so much.

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, still smiling, still close enough that Azzi could see the details she hadn't realized she had been starving for.

The exact shape of her mouth, the way her eyes softened when she looked at Azzi, the tiny shift in her expression when she took her in properly. The butterflies were officially back.

And then, without thinking, Paige reached for her hand. Their fingers slid together like they had done it a hundred times before, like nothing had changed. And for one fragile second, it felt like nothing had.

But then everything shifted. Azzi felt like she was watching it in slow motion.

Paige's grip tightened just slightly before loosening, her eyes dropping to their joined hands with a focus that made Azzi's stomach turn over. Azzi followed her gaze.

The ring.

Azzi saw the moment land in Paige's face before she even said anything. Paige lifted their hands a fraction, her gaze fixed on the silver band, her brows drawing together slightly.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Paige let go of her hand. The absence was immediate.

Paige's smile came back right after, but it did not look the same anymore. It was still warm on the surface, but something under it had changed, like she had just swallowed down whatever she had been thinking.

"The team has been asking about you," Paige said, her voice felt too casual to be natural. "They are so excited to meet you."

Azzi nodded, even though her attention was still caught on the empty space where their hands had been.

"I am excited to meet them," she said, trying to match her tone and failing just enough to be noticable.

Paige had already turned slightly, moving before the moment could settle into something heavier. "Come on, I will introduce you."

Azzi followed, falling into step beside Paige like nothing had just happened, but something in her chest had gone tight and strange. It felt like she had taken one wrong step and was still trying to find the ground again. Her gaze dropped to her hand as they walked.

The ring sat there heart facing out. Single.

For the first time since she had put it that way in the car, it did not feel true. It felt loaded, something Paige had noticed and something she had not liked. Not enough to say anything, but enough to change the air between them and make it more tense.

Azzi swallowed, trying to make sense of something that refused to settle into logic.

She had been the one to draw the line, she had been the one to step back. Paige had respected that, Paige hadn't pushed. Paige had done everything Azzi had asked.

So why did it suddenly feel like Paige had taken her hand away twice? Why did it feel like she had just told Paige something she hadn't meant to say?

Azzi didn't have an answer.

She only knew that the warmth from Paige's hug was still lingering on her skin, and the absence of her hand in hers felt worse than it should have. And for the rest of the walk across campus, she could not stop thinking about the way Paige had looked at her ring like it had meant more than Azzi had allowed it to mean.

A few hours later, Ted's was exactly as Paige had promised it would be.

Loud, crowded, warm with bodies and music and a specific energy. It was the only bar on campus and the place where the team naturally drifted after games or on nights when somebody decided they needed to get out of the dorms and pretend they were having a normal college experience.

But if Azzi was being honest, she did not want to go out that night.

It felt like too much after the long drive and the tension she hadn't shaken off since stepping onto campus and seeing Paige again. Since realising that nothing between them had actually settled the way she had told herself it would by now.

Azzi would have much rather stayed in Paige's room. But then Paige had smiled at her, bright and persuasive and impossible to refuse.

"You have to experience Ted's, Az," Paige had said. "The team has been waiting to meet you properly."

So Azzi had gone, because saying no to Paige had never been as easy as she sometimes pretended it was.

Now, a couple of hours in, Azzi was liking it more than she expected it. She enjoyed it enough that she could move through conversations wih the team without feeling like she was forcing every word.

Azzi let herself be pulled into the easy rhythm of Paige's teammates without thinking too hard about the fact that next year they would be hers too.

She still had not told Paige that she is committing to UConn, and part of her felt the weight of that every time someone casually said potential future teammate. 

Luckily, the girls were also easy to like and get along with.

Dorka was warm and sweet with an accent Azzi had immediately noticed and liked. It made her feel less conscious about how she phrased things herself.

Nika was quieter at first, but funny and loud once she warmed up, with an expression that suggested she was paying attention even when she looked like she wasn't.

Together they had made Azzi laugh more than she had expected to, and for a while it had almost been enough to make the night feel normal. Almost.

She had been talking to them near the edge of the bar, one hand wrapped loosely around her drink, when she noticed Paige.

Paige stood a few steps away, angled toward another girl, her body relaxed, her expression open in that same easy way she had always had with people. She was clearly listening, nodding, saying something that made the girl laugh.

It looked completely normal at first.

But then Dorka glanced over too, and the look on her face changed into something far too knowing.

Dorka tipped her head slightly toward Paige and said, with maddening casualness, "Paigey has been busy since she got to campus. She hangs out with a different girl like every week."

Azzi's stomach dropped.

Dorka kept talking, unaware of what her words were causing to Azzi's butterflies in her stomach.

"Paige is kind a player. In more ways than one. Maybe that girl is the next one."

It was said like a joke, just an observation that wasn't supposed to matter, but it did. It mattered so fucking much to Azzi's stupid, dying butterflies.

Azzi knew had no right to feel anything at all.

Paige was single. They were not together. So Paige was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. She was allowed to flirt, or not flirt, or do whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted.

Azzi knew that.

She knew it with the same part of her brain that knew how much it did not matter what she knew. Because it still hurt, the thought of Paige with someone else made her chest feel tight. It also made her feel so humiliated that Azzi wanted to disappear into the floor.

Nika's gaze was focused on her now, more attentive.

Azzi forced a small, tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Good for her, I guess."

The words tasted wrong the second they left her mouth.

Dorka nodded like that was the expected reaction, already moving on and talking about something else that Azzi didn't catch because the noise in her head had gotten too loud.

Azzi swallowed, her grip tightening slightly around her glass.

"Hey, I am just gonna…" she started, then stopped, recalibrating. "Get some air."

Dorka blinked at her, and Nika's expression softened a little, though neither of them said anything.

Azzi was already moving and she didn't look back, not at them, nor at Paige, even though she could feel it, the almost physical awareness of Paige's attention shifting towards her the moment Azzi moved away from their group.

Azzi pushed through the crowd and out into the cooler night air, the sound of the bar muffling behind her almost immediately. It helped a little.

She leaned back against the wall, tilting her head up toward the sky, closing her eyes for a second, hoping that it might help her get through the next minute without falling apart. 

This was stupid. It was actually so fucking stupid.

She had no right to feel like this, no right to care who Paige talked to, who she laughed with, who she touched. She had been the one to draw the line and to make sure whatever they had didn't become something that could complicate everything else.

This was what that decision meant now, Paige moving on, Paige being free to do whatever she wanted.

Azzi's throat tightened.

She exhaled slowly, pressing the back of her head against the wall, willing the feeling down.

The door opened behind her and Azzi didn't need to turn to know who it was.

Paige stepped out and moved to stand beside her, leaning against the wall in the same way, close enough that Azzi could feel the heat of her body but without actually touching her.

For a while, neither of them said anything, but the silence wasn't empty, it was full of everything they weren't saying.

"I wasn't…" Paige started after a moment. "She is just in my stats class. She was asking about a…."

Azzi lifted her hand before Paige could finish. A small, instinctive stop motion.

"Don't," she said, her voice slightly shaking. She swallowed, her fingers moving again, twisting the ring slightly without realising it. "It's okay, Paige." 

Paige went still.

"You are single," Azzi said, keeping her voice carefully flat. "You can do whatever you want."

Paige did not answer right away.

After a few seconds, she reached for Azzi's hand. Her fingers closed around it before Azzi could pull away, and with that one small movement she stopped Azzi from playing with the ring again. Her thumb pressed lightly over the band, stilling her.

Azzi finally looked up at her.

Paige was watching her with an expression Azzi could not quite read, except that it was too vulnerable to be nothing. There was something in her eyes that made Azzi's chest hurt in a different way, like Paige was standing right on the edge of saying something and still refusing to take the step.

At the end, whatever it was Paige did not say it. Instead, after a beat, she asked quietly, "Do you want to go back to my room?"

Azzi held her gaze for half a second longer, then she nodded once. "Yes, please."

Paige's hand loosened, but only just enough to let them move.

They went back to Paige's dorm without saying goodbye to anyone without saying a word about what happened.

Inside Paige's room, everything fell into a quiet routine.

Azzi moved through the small space without looking at Paige directly, pulling open her bag and reaching for the first thing her hand touched.

It happened to be one of Paige's shirts.

Paige glanced over at her right then, before she crossed to her closet and handed Azzi another one. Paige's favourite lavender Nike shirt she had been wearing constantly for weeks.

"Wear this one," she said quietly.

Azzi looked at the shirt, then at Paige, then took it without saying a word and pulled it over her head.

It smelled like Paige.

Neither of them spoke while they got ready for bed. No small talk and no attempts to make the room lighter. Just the quiet rustle of movement and the shared weight of everything neither of them had said.

When they finally got into bed, Paige did not hesitate.

She moved closer first and Azzi met her halfway instantly, as if she had been waiting for the same thing. And then they were there, curled into each other, Paige's arm settling around her, Azzi's face tucked into the familiar space near her shoulder.

One of Paige's hands rested at her back and the other found the small baby hairs that were loose under her bonnet. She started playing with them and the feeling was so familiar it almost made Azzi cry again.

Azzi let out a breath she had not realized she was holding and buried her face against Paige's neck. Paige held her without asking a single question.

After a while, Azzi closed her eyes, her hand resting between them, the ring pressed lightly against Paige's shirt.

She didn't move it, she didn't turn it around.

Azzi just laid there, being held, trying not to think about how easy this was, or how much harder everything else had become.

Neither of them said a word about any of it the morning after.

October, 2021

Azzi woke slowly.

For a few soft seconds, she stayed exactly where she was, wrapped in the cosy warmth of the bed and a certain peace that only existed before the world fully woke up.

Her body still felt loose and warm from sleep, and there was something almost disorientingly good about realising, before she had even opened her eyes properly, that Paige was still there.

And this time, not just near her, but with her. It was the first morning after they had finally said it out loud.

After months of circling each other again, of moving closer without ever quite naming what they were doing, of lingering and waiting and pretending that the thing between them could stay suspended forever, last night had changed something.

Finally, after all that time, they had stopped pretending they did not already have each other's hearts.

Azzi let herself stay still for another moment, just enjoying the feeling of being held.

She could feel the warmth of Paige's hand resting low on her stomach, the faint pressure of her body against her back, the quiet rise and fall of her breathing against her shoulder.

Azzi had wanted to feel this for so long that waking up inside it felt like a dream.

And that was the part that made her a little nervous.

Not because she thought last night had been a mistake or a dream only, it hadn't been. If anything, it had been the most honest they had been with each other in a long time, maybe ever.

But mornings had a way of testing things, of making words feel sturdier or suddenly smaller depending on how the light hit them.

Azzi knew herself well enough to know that she had been hurt before by moments that felt certain until the next day arrived.

So she stayed where she was a little longer, letting herself have this first small stretch of peace without forcing it into anything else.

After a few minutes, she turned in Paige's arms slowly until she was facing her.

Paige was still half asleep, her face softer than Azzi ever saw it during the day, free of the small smirks and easy confidence and constant movement Azzi had grown so used to.

Like this, Paige looked even younger, sweeter, almost impossibly innocent.

Azzi found herself staring a little longer than she meant to, just taking her in.

Wanting this, wanting Paige had never been the problem, not really.

The problem was that Azzi had wanted it for so long, and for so long she had only let herself want it in pieces, in private, in ways that never felt entirely safe to trust. Now that it was here, resting warm and real in front of her, Azzi did not fully know what to do with how happy it made her feel.

And then Paige's eyes opened slowly and for one quiet second, she just looked at Azzi.

There was no confusion in her face, no awkward pause or a hint of  wanting to pull away. Just softness settling over her features the moment she focused on Azzi.

"Hey princess," Paige murmured, her voice low and rough with sleep.

Azzi answered just as softly. "Hey, P."

Paige smiled a little, still half caught between sleep and waking, and then she moved closer. Her arm tightened around Azzi's waist as she drew her in, and then Paige kissed her, slow and sure and without even a shadow of uncertainty.

It wasn't the same as last night. Last night had carried years of weight in it, all the tension, the almosts, the careful restraint finally giving way.

This kiss felt calmer, like waking up and choosing the same thing again with open eyes.

Azzi kissed her back immediately, her hand rising to Paige's neck without thinking, fingertips resting there. Paige stayed right there with her, close and warm, and when they finally pulled apart, they barely moved at all. Paige's forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingled in the small space between them.

Azzi looked at Paige for another second, and what she found there didn't make her nervous the way she had feared it might.

It made her feel seen.

Paige was not looking at her like last night had been a beautiful mistake. She was looking at her like this was exactly where she wanted to be. Then Paige's gaze dropped and Azzi followed it instinctively. The second she saw where Paige was looking, her pulse stumbled.

The ring.

It rested on her right hand, the heart still facing out, the position she had kept it in for so long. 

Paige reached for her hand gently. She paused looking down at the ring for a second, her thumb resting lightly against the silver, and Azzi could feel the weight of the moment gathering before either of them said a word.

Then Paige slid it off just like she did almost 1,5 years ago in Azzi's favourite park. Paige turned the band slowly between her fingers but did not slid it back onto her fingers this time.

Azzi looked down at it between Paige's fingers.

The meaning of the ring had never been hard to understand, that had always been the point. It was small, but it said something specific, something unmissable.

And now, in Paige's hands, with their bodies still tangled together, it finally didn't feel like something Azzi had to interpret by herself anymore.

Paige let out a quiet breath, her gaze flickering down to the ring again before returning to Azzi’s face.

"You know what’s kind of messed up?” Paige said softly with a faint, almost disbelieving smile. "Since the first time you told me about this ring… I don't think I ever really stopped thinking about it." Her thumb traced slowly along the edge of the band.

"You explained it like it was just… history. Like it was this cool thing your grandpa gave you, and yeah, I listened and acted like it wasn't a big deal. But it was, at least to me. Because all I could think about was that one day, that ring was going to turn,” Paige continued, her voice dropping, more serious now. “And it wasn't going to be because of me."

The words landed heavier this time and finally there was no deflection. Azzi felt it right in the center of her chest. Paige's gaze dropped again, her jaw tightening just slightly before she continued, like she had decided she wasn't going to leave any part out.

"I kind of hated this ring," Paige admitted. “Or maybe… not hated because I knew how impart it was for you. But I definitely feared it, it made me anxious." She let out a small breath. "Every time I saw you wearing it, I was checking which way it was facing without even meaning to. Each time i saw it still facing out, I told myself I had time. That I hadn't missed it yet."

A small pause.

"I don't know what…" Paige shook her head slowly. "I don't know what I would have done if I ever saw it turned and knew it wasn't for me."

Azzi’s fingers curled instinctively in her grip. For a second, something gentler passed over Paige's face, like the memory.

"And then that summer, when we were in the park and I turned it…" Paige glanced up at Azzi briefly, something almost shy flickering there before it steadied again. "I knew exactly what I was doing,. I just didn't say it out loud, because I didn't know if I was allowed to. I didn't know if you were going to look at me like I had crossed a line… if I had just imagined everything in my head over the years."

Her thumb moved slowly over the ring in her hand again.

"But you didn't turn it back,” Paige added. "You kept it with the heart facing in. And I think that was the first time I let myself believe this wasn't just one sided."

Azzi's throat tightened and she stared at Paige, her mind briefly blank. Every careful little feeling she had spent so long holding back seemed to suddenly rush into her mind.

Every time she had turned the ring back because she told herself she was being sensible, all the times she had convinced herself that longing and closeness and kisses and history still were not enough to name something.

The moments she had hoped Paige would make it impossible for her to keep pretending they were still just best friends.

"And then you came to UConn," Paige said quietly, "and the heart was facing out again..."

Paige let out a breath that sounded like it had been sitting in her chest for far too long.

"I remember seeing it and feeling two things at the exact same time," Paige's voice steady but more vulenrable now. "I was relieved, because I thought...okay. Good. I didn't miss my chance. Nothing happened while we were apart. I still have… something to work with."

Her jaw tightened slightly.

"And I was also… kind of wrecked by it," Paige admitted. "Because it felt like everything we had just… got erased. Like it didn't count. Like we never actually said it out loud, so it didn't exist."

Azzi felt that land deep. Paige looked back up at her then with clear determination.

"And I still didn't say anything," she went on. "I just… let it happen. I let you have your space. I let you make the call for us. I told myself I was being respectful. Maybe I was." A quiet frustrated sigh. "But I was also just scared to say it out loud and be wrong."

Paige's fingers tightened around Azzi’s hand again.

"I don't want to do that anymore."

There was no nervousness in Paige's voice, only conviction that came from having lived with a truth for so long that finally saying it out loud almost sounded easy.

"I don't want there to be any doubt about this," Paige said. "Not for you. Not for me."

Paige's thumb brushed once more across the ring before she lifted it up while her eyes stayed with Azzi's and slowly pulled it onto Azzi's finger with the heart facing in.

"I have always wanted this ring to face inward because of me. I have wanted you to be my girlfriend for so long, Az."

That did it.

Azzi laughed relieved, but the sound came out shaky and watery, because there were tears suddenly burning behind her eyes. She looked down briefly at the ring again, at the heart finally facing in. 

It was finally real now, not only implied anymore. Paige had finally said it out loud and defined what they were.

"You took your time to finally say it loud," Azzi whispered.

Paige smiled immediately with her smile that always looked brighter when it belonged to Azzi.

"I know," Paige said, leaning closer until their noses brushed. "So will you be my girlfriend, Az?"

Azzi let out a shaky breath and buried her fingers tighter into Paige's hair at the back of her neck.

"Yes," she said with all the certainty she had been so afraid to trust for years, "I would love to be your girlfriend, P."

Paige kissed her again before anything else could be said, and this time the kiss felt different from every one that had come before it. Azzi kissed her with the ring warm against her skin, the heart facing in, the silver suddenly feeling lighter than it ever had before.

For the first time since her grandpa had placed it in her hand all those years ago, Azzi finally understood something she had not been able to put into words before.