A car door slams somewhere nearby and she glances up automatically, the familiar rush of anxiety of constantly being noticed bubbling up. But the couple that piles out of their car pay her no mind, so she keeps walking toward the building ahead. The sign is visible now, big blue letters mounted above the glass doors that fill her with excitement.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” she groans, softer but more pointed. 

Paige exhales through her nose, pushing a hand back through her hair where it’s still damp at the edges, not sure if it’s lingering from the grueling practice or from being out in the hot sun.

“I’ve looked at my schedule. I’ve talked to the trainers. I know when we travel.” She hesitates, listening. “Bro, I’m not making a rash decision because I’m lonely. Are you for real right now?” 

She slows as she reaches the sidewalk and glances up at the building again, at the streaked glass doors and the big logo on the window.

“Okay, mom. I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

She ends the call before the response comes through and lowers the phone. Staring at the dark screen for a second, she rolls her eyes. Of course DiJonai had decided that Paige’s very mature and well-thought-out decision to get a dog required a full risk assessment and unsolicited group discussion.

Paige slips the phone into her pocket and lets out a quiet breath, a mix of irritation and nerves. She loves DiJonai. She really does. But sometimes her friend forgets that Paige is capable of making decisions like an adult. And okay, maybe that has something to do with the fact that her fridge is never full of actual food, her snack drawer consists of potato chips and slim jims, and she insists her national championship net is actual decor, but that’s really beside the point. Paige has a lot of love in her heart and she wants to share it with someone. Preferably someone with a soft coat, and four legs; that won’t get mad if she doesn’t text back.

She reaches for the handle and stops, fingers curling around the metal.

Dallas Humane Society.

The letters stretch across the top of the building in thick blue letters, contrasting against the washed-out brick building. For a second, she just stands there, heat pressing at her back, heart beating a little faster than it should for something like this.

Then she tightens her grip, pulls the door open, and steps inside.

The first thing Paige expects when she walks into the Dallas Humane Society is dogs. Or at least animals, like a whole variety pack of them. Arike had told her once, very casually, that she adopted a ferret from here. Paige hadn’t asked follow-up questions at the time because the mental image of Arike living with a ferret was already too much. Although, Franklin is pretty cute. 

So okay, dogs, but also cats and birds and rodents. Maybe even some fish if that’s a thing people rescue? 

And, to be fair, when she steps inside there are animals. There’s noise, and barking that ricochets off the dirty tiles, and a woman holding a leash while a dog drags her like it’s late for a very important meeting while another person pets the most massive white bunny Paige has ever seen. 

But that isn’t what Paige notices.

Nope.

What Paige notices is the woman behind the counter.

She’s standing there with her elbows braced on the surface, looking down at something she’s writing like the chaos in the background doesn’t exist. Her black hair is half braided tight along her scalp, neat rows that look like they took patience, and the rest is pulled into a bun that sits high and a little messy, like she ran out of said patience or decided she had better things to do. Her face is stunning and it makes Paige’s brain go quiet because it needs to stop all other thoughts to make room for the fact that this might be the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in real life.

She stops walking entirely, right inside the doorway. Then the woman looks up and Paige’s stomach drops when those big brown eyes lock on hers. 

And honestly, Paige's brain forgets how to work for a second. Which is embarrassing. She has played in packed arenas, in front of hostile crowds, with cameras pointed at her face while trying not to vomit from adrenaline. She has stared down defenders who wanted to prove a point and smiled through interviews that were designed to get a rise out of her. And yet, she can barely walk up to a counter without losing her ability to form a coherent sentence. 

The woman’s mouth curves slightly, and oh my God, she has the cutest dimples and bunny teeth. While Paige is trying to remember how words work, the woman steps out from behind the counter and meets Paige halfway.

“Hi, I’m Azzi,” she says, voice light and soft, and absolutely fucking not what Paige expected. “How can I help you?”

Paige watches her approach and realizes, with a jolt of panic, that she is going to have to respond to this woman. Out loud. With words. Like the adult she just promised DiJonai she is.

“Dog,” she manages.

It comes out too blunt, and Paige wonders where her rizz has vanished to, because there is certainly no trace of it in her body right now. 

The woman’s brows lift, maybe slightly amused, but still attentive. “Okay,” she says, drawing the word out a touch. “What kind of dog?”

Paige opens her mouth. She has a list in her head. She did research, watched videos, and made notes. She talked to trainers and absolutely has opinions on energy levels and temperament and the merits of different breeds.

None of that survives the direct hit of those eyes.

“Beautiful brown eyes,” Paige stutters.

There’s a fraction of a second where the woman just stares at her, like she’s making sure she heard correctly. Paige doesn’t even try to backpedal. She can’t. Her brain is still stuck on the part where she accidentally said the quiet thing out loud and she could try to salvage it but that would probably make it worse. If that’s even possible. She’s not entirely sure. 

Then Azzi’s mouth twitches, the smallest hint of a smile, and she tips her head like she’s studying Paige. 

“Right,” she says. “Well… that’s… really helpful information.”

Paige presses her lips together, because the alternative is admitting she’s completely aware she sounds insane. And Paige is going to live in the delusional world she’s created where this interaction is still salvageable. 

The woman reaches behind her, grabs a clipboard off the counter, and flips to a form. Her tone stays friendly, but it shifts into something more official.

“Let’s get some details on you,” she says, pen poised. “Just so I can make sure you’re fit to own a dog before I let you back.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat. “Before you let me back?”

“Yeah,” Azzi replies. “Into the adoption area. We don’t just let anyone wander around back there. You’ve got to get approved.”

Paige’s mouth opens, then closes. She wants to argue on principle, mostly because she’s used to being allowed places, which is a gross thought but also completely true. Instead she just studies the clipboard wondering why the universe saw fit to have her vetted by the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

Azzi taps the top of the paper with the pen. “Okay,” she says. “What’s your name?”

Paige’s eyes narrow before she can stop herself. She doesn’t mean to make it a thing. It just happens; it’s almost automatic at this point. It’s the same look she gives a ref when they call something questionable. She’s never really been great at controlling her facial expressions.

Azzi looks back at her, unbothered, expectant.

Paige lets another second pass, then says, “You don’t know who I am?”

Azzi’s brow lifts. “Should I?”

It’s not rude or necessarily sarcastic, but she looks at Paige like she’s just a random stranger who walked in off the street. Like there’s not an entire billboard with Paige’s face on it a few blocks away. 

Paige’s confidence, which usually never takes a day off, pauses to regroup. For a second she almost laughs, because this is somehow the most disorienting thing that’s happened to her all week.

“No,” she says, forcing herself back into motion. “No. Sorry.” She clears her throat. “Uh, it’s Paige. Paige Bueckers.”

She thinks that might get a beat of recognition from her interrogator, but Azzi writes it down without hesitation, like it’s the same as if Paige had said her name was Emily from accounting.

“Okay, Paige,” she says, sliding her pen down the form. “Address?”

Paige gives it. 

“Do you rent or own?”

“Rent. For now.”

“Do you have any other pets?”

“No.”

“Anyone living with you?”

Paige hesitates. “Not permanently.”

The woman’s eyes flick up, curiosity flicking through them. “Meaning?”

Paige can feel herself starting to smile, because apparently she has no self-control in front of this woman. “Meaning I have teammates who think my apartment is their second home.”

That earns her a look that Paige could interpret as skepticism. But Azzi doesn’t comment on it, just keeps writing.

“Yard?” she asks.

“No.”

“Okay. What’s your schedule like?”

Paige hears the trap hidden inside the question and tries not to tense. “Busy,” she admits. “But manageable.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums, still writing. “And what do you do for work?”

“I play professional basketball for the Dallas Wings.”

The pen finally stops.

Azzi sets the clipboard down on the counter with a calmness that feels a little too deliberate, then looks fully at Paige. Her stomach drops. She watches Azzi’s face carefully, waiting for the normal reaction. The recognition, the excitement, the comment about a game she caught, the question about her stats. Or, there’s the “my cousin loves you,” or a request for an autograph.

Instead, Azzi’s eyebrows knit together and she says, “Doesn’t that involve a lot of traveling?”

Paige stares at her, thrown for a beat. “Yes,” she says, careful. “It does.”

“And you want a dog.”

It’s not really a question, but it still lands like one. Paige feels judged so fast she almost laughs again, not because it’s funny, but because she can practically hear Dijonai in her head going, “See? Even the shelter lady agrees with me.”

“I do,” Paige says, keeping her tone casual, even as heat creeps up her neck that has nothing to do with Dallas. “And I have a plan.”

Azzi leans back slightly against the counter, arms folding, like she’s giving Paige the floor but also not giving her a fucking inch.

“A plan,” she repeats.

Paige nods quickly, probably too quickly but she’s kind of sick of everyone questioning her choices. “A whole plan. I have a dog sitter lined up and someone who can do overnights when we’re on longer trips. I’ve already looked at trainers and have the best vet in Dallas on speed dial. I know what I’m getting into.”

Azzi’s eyes stay on her, assessing. Paige thinks she’d absolutely get lost in those warm brown pools if she didn’t care so much about passing this test.

“And you’re sure?” 

Paige holds her gaze. “I’m very sure.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums again, like she’s cataloging the answer but not quite buying it yet. “Because I’m not trying to be difficult, Paige. But it's my job to make sure a dog doesn’t end up back here in a month because the person who wanted it didn’t think past the cute part.”

Paige’s stomach twists. She’s not necessarily offended. She gets it. She really does. Still, she can’t stop the small edge in her voice when she says, “I did think past the cute part. I know what I want and what I’m capable of.”

Azzi watches her for a second longer, then sighs and reaches for the clipboard again.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me your plan.”

Paige exhales slowly through her nose, then nods, convincing herself can handle this. She’s handled DiJonai so certainly this can’t be any worse. However, she wasn’t really prepared for the person holding the pen and doing the questioning to look like that while she did it.

After some back and forth, Azzi finishes the last few lines on the form, pen scratching steadily across the page in a delicate scrawl while Paige stands there, shifting on her feet awkwardly, trying not to look like she’s back in high school waiting on a scouting evaluation. 

“Okay,” Azzi says finally, flipping the forms back and setting the clipboard aside. She smooths a hand over the stack of papers and Paige feels like she’s sealing her fate. “Why don’t we go into the back and you can see who we’ve got.”

Paige blinks. “So I passed?” 

Azzi pauses halfway around the counter, brow furrowing slightly. “Passed what?”

“The little test,” Paige says, twirling her finger at the paperwork. “Y’know. The vibe check.”

Azzi’s lips tighten like she’s fighting back a smile. “That wasn’t a test. It’s just paperwork.”

Paige narrows her eyes, not believing that for a second. It certainly felt like a test. A hard one at that. “But I passed,” she insists. “Right? Because you’re letting me go back there to see dogs.”

There’s a beat where Azzi just looks at her, and then she laughs.

It’s easy and warm, hitting Paige somewhere in the ribs like a chest pass that Arike put too much muscle into just to be a dick.

Paige has heard entire arenas scream her name. She has heard the snap of the net on a buzzer beater that sent her team into the playoffs. She has heard commentators lose their minds on national broadcasts.

Literally none of it compares to that laugh. If she’s being honest, she wants to hear it every day for the rest of her life. 

Azzi’s laugh settles into a smile that lingers, eyes softening in a way that feels… admittedly not professional. “Sure,” she says with an exaggerated nod, still smiling. “You passed.”

Paige feels ridiculous and pleased at the same time, which is a dangerous combination. She does a small, subtle fist bump at her side, muttering “yes”  under her breath because if there’s one thing Paige loves, it’s winning. No matter the context. 

Azzi steps toward the hallway leading deeper into the building, gesturing for Paige to follow. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s see if anyone matches your very specific criteria.”

Paige wants to kick herself for the earlier failure, now that she’s regained her footing, but Azzi is smiling at her so there are worse things in life. She  falls into step beside Azzi, her heart beating faster than it has any right to. 

The barking grows louder as they move down the corridor. This must be where the dogs are, she thinks. But as she watches Azzi walk ahead, Paige has the disorienting realization that she would’ve followed her down any hallway she chose without a single question. Literally none. 

The door swings open and the sound hits Paige first.

It’s louder back here, a layered noise that’s part barking, part whining, part nails scratching against kennel doors and concrete floors. The air is cooler than outside but still warm and a bit stifling with an unfavorable smell. Every few feet a pair of eyes tracks them. Some bright and hopeful. Some wary. Some tired in a way that makes Paige’s chest twist a little bit. 

Rows of kennels stretch down the corridor, metal and concrete with hand-written tags clipped to doors. A volunteer in rubber gloves walks past with a mop bucket, murmuring to one dog, sticking his fingers in another kennel. Paige’s gaze flicks from cage to cage, trying to take it all in without looking like she’s about to lose it.

She forces herself to breathe, then glances at Azzi as if Azzi is the only part of this that makes sense.

“So,” Paige says, aiming for casual. “What do you do for work?”

Azzi looks at her like Paige has asked what the sun does. She extends her arm slightly, then opens both arms and gestures around them, the barking, the corridor, the chaos, like the answer is so blatantly obvious.

Paige feels heat rush up her neck so fast it almost makes her dizzy. “Oh,” she says, voice catching on the word. “Right. I guess I thought people just volunteered here.” She clears her throat, scrambling for recovery. “I didn’t know you could actually work here. That’s… that’s fire.”

“I’m actually the executive director,” she says. “But we’re short staffed, so here I am.”

Paige’s confidence snaps back into place “Must be my lucky day then.”

Azzi smiles and dips her head, and Paige watches it happen. There’s a faint pause, a second where Azzi’s eyes flick down like she’s composing herself, and Paige’s mind supplies the extremely unhelpful thought that she made her blush.

Azzi straightens, voice professional again. “Go ahead,” she says. “Look around. If you like any of them, let me know.”

Paige nods, trying to look like she is a person who can behave normally in the presence of a beautiful woman with big brown eyes, even when all she’s done thus far is prove she absolutely cannot.

She starts with the first kennel on the left, a shepherd mix who sits calmly, head tilted like he’s evaluating Paige right back. Paige crouches and holds her fingers out through the bars. He sniffs, accepts the contact, then turns his head away.

“Hi,” she whispers anyway. “You’re very handsome, sir. You also seem like you don’t give a shit about me. Respectfully.”

Azzi makes a noise that might be a laugh but quickly covers it with a cough.

Paige stands and moves to the next kennel. This one, a two year old cattle dog mix named Betty, according to her plaque, is bouncing, paws hitting the gate, blue eyes bright and frantic, tail whipping so hard it rattles the metal. Paige pets her through the bars and gets immediately licked, which makes her grin even as her hand gets wet with slobber.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “You’re adorable, Miss Betty. You’re also clearly a full-time job.”

The third kennel they come across is a pair of Chihuahuas, both small and trembling and dressed in tink pink jackets, pressed into the corner of the kennel like they’re trying to disappear into the concrete. Paige crouches again, lowers her hand, keeps her voice soft. They watch her with wide eyes, but don’t move.

“Those two are a bonded pair. They have to go together,” Azzi supplies. “We have someone coming to look at them later.” 

Paige swallows, glad for an excuse to not make up an excuse to keep walking. She stands slowly, giving the dogs space as she continues her journey down the line.

In the next kennel is a lab mix who shoves his face toward the bars and demands affection. He’s soft and wiggly and so undeniably adorable. Paige gives her attention willingly, scratching behind his ears, baby talking without shame.

“Oh hi, Captain! You’re so cute,” she says, her voice doing that ridiculous soft high-pitched thing that she can’t help. “You’re such a good boy. You could be famous. You could have brand deals.”

Captain pants happily, tongue lolling, and Paige smiles, but the feeling doesn’t click into place the way she thought it would. She’s charmed, but she’s not sure he’s the one, so she decides to keep perusing for her new best friend.  

After another couple kennels, Paige looks down the long row and lets out a deep sigh. The corridor stretches on, and the sheer number of kennels settles on her shoulders. It’s hard not to feel the sadness under the chaos, and the reality that for every dog here, there are more that never make it inside.

She finds Azzi’s gaze.

“There’s so many of them,” Paige says quietly.

Azzi nods once. “Yeah,” she says. “We have to turn a lot away, too. It’s tough.”

Paige’s mouth tightens. Her instincts kick in, that ever present feeling of wanting to fix any issue she encounters. “Should I maybe get two to help?” she blurts, then winces slightly. It’s impulsive, and she knows it. She barely passed the test-not-test for one dog, she doubts the director would let her leave with two. But she also knows she would do a lot of things if it meant easing the weariness in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi laughs. “I appreciate the concern, but why don’t you try your luck with one first, superstar.”

Paige’s chest lifts with pride at the nickname, even though it’s clearly meant to be teasing. Because Azzi didn’t know who she was, so she clearly doesn’t know that Paige is, in fact, a superstar. She tries not to smile too hard but fails miserably.

“Well,” Paige says, as they start walking again, “do you guys take donations?”

Azzi glances at her. “The adoption fee is a donation. We don’t just give them away for free.”

Paige shakes her head quickly. “No, I know that,” she says, keeping pace. “I mean extra. Like… the Wings are always looking for charities to sponsor, and maybe we could do an adoption night at a game or something.” Her words come faster as the ideas start stacking one on top of another. “You could have some dogs there, and like, I don’t know, we could do a feature on the jumbotron. Maybe a little segment. We could get people to sign up to foster. Or donate supplies. Or…” 

She falters when she sees Azzi’s eyebrows narrow slightly, not in annoyance, though. At least Paige hopes not. She slows, suddenly unsure if she just said something stupid.

“What?” Paige asks.

Azzi shakes her head, and her voice softens. “Nothing,” she says. “You’re just… really sweet to think about all that.”

Paige grins before she can stop herself, because Azzi just called her sweet. And she’ll take that to the grave with her because holy shit, is Azzi flirting back?

“Right… um,” she rubs the back of her neck, not sure what to do with that new bit of information. “I’ll… uh… have our community relations team reach out,” Paige says casually, like she isn’t already picturing Azzi standing beside her at center court, smiling while holding a bunch of wiggly puppies in their arms. Because that’s one hundred percent the image in Paige’s mind right now. 

Azzi nods and hums, and they keep walking. The barking shifts around them, louder in some stretches, quieter in others. Azzi’s gaze flicks from kennel to kennel automatically, calling out their names because she knows each one.

“You know,” Azzi says after a beat, “maybe you could do a photo shoot here to raise some awareness. I’ve been trying to get some Cowboys players here, but if you and your teammates are interested…”

“Bet,” Paige says immediately, blue eyes lighting up in wonder. Because Azzi wants to see her again, and even if it is just to use her fame and charm to rehome dogs, Paige will take what she can get. Also, Azzi wants to take pictures of Paige. And she… wouldn’t want to do that if she didn’t think Paige was pretty, right?  

“I’ll get my whole team to show up. And I know CeeDee Lamb on the Cowboys, so he’ll bring some of his boys too.” Paige’s hands start moving as she talks, ideas spilling out in rapid succession now that she has a runway. “This place will be empty when I’m done with all these ideas in my head.”

Azzi laughs again, and Paige gathers that laugh like a reward.

“Is that so?” Azzi asks, amused.

Paige nods, dead serious. “Trust. We’ll do a whole calendar spread. And I’ll match all donations. Or maybe like one of those things where I donate for every point I score. I dunno… I’ll think of something good.”

“And do you score a lot?” 

“What?” Paige squeaks, trying to cover it with a cough as her mind ventures into extremely unhelpful territory. 

“Points… “ Azzi clarifies, eyes sparkling with mischief that let Paige know she’s keenly aware of her effect. “Do you score a lot of points?” 

“Right,” Paige clears her throat, reining in her thoughts that definitely did not discern Azzi’s question as something else. “Yeah, I mean… I’m pretty good.”

Azzi hums. “Maybe I’ll check out a game sometime.” 

This information does something irrevocable to Paige’s brain. The image of Azzi sitting courtside at her game, dressed in something other than muddy jeans and a humane society polo—not that she isn’t also rocking that out—cheering for her, flashes through her head.

“You… uh. Yeah. You definitely should.” 

They share a look that warms Paige’s entire body, before Azzi turns and keeps walking, leaving Paige to clamor after her.

“So what other great ideas do you have?” 

Paige keeps going, because momentum is a disease and she is currently infected. She starts listing more ideas, partnerships, themed nights, social posts, player features, sponsors. She’s halfway into her spiel that’s legitimately three steps away from becoming a full on strategic marketing plan when she realizes Azzi has stopped walking.

Azzi is just looking at her, expression unreadable in a way that makes Paige freeze mid-sentence.

Paige clears her throat and forces herself to dial it back, suddenly aware she might be insulting Azzi, like she doesn’t have all these ideas already. “Well,” she says, slower now, “I mean… you’re the boss. So whatever you think will work.”

Azzi’s lips press together, and when she speaks, there’s something honest under the dryness. “I’ve been trying to do literally all of that for years,” she admits with a sigh. “Just haven’t been able to get in front of the right people.”

Paige’s confidence returns. She tilts her head slightly, meeting Azzi’s eyes and leans forward to adjust the wrinkled collar of Azzi’s navy blue polo.

“Well,” Paige says, pulling her hand back, “you’re definitely standing in front of the right one now.”

Then she winks. It’s subtle and quick, but it’s also the move that usually works for her. 

Azzi’s stare holds for a second longer than it should, and Paige has no idea whether she just flirted successfully or signed herself up for another round of judgment. But then her eyes land on a kennel past Azzi's shoulder, full of fuzzy husky puppies. Like, an actual pile of them. Her eyes widen with pure glee. Their little gray-and-white faces are pressed up against the bars, tiny bodies wiggling, ears not fully sure what they’re doing yet, paws too big for the rest of their bodies. 

Paige points before she even thinks about it, the words flying out of her mouth with zero thought for her dignity.

“Please let me in there. Pretty please.”

Azzi glances over, then back at Paige, like she’s taking in the fact that Paige Bueckers, professional athlete, is begging like a kid to be let into a room of puppies, hands clasped in front of her and everything. 

She grins. “You’re serious?”

Paige nods emphatically, already stepping toward the kennel, running her sweaty palms over her shorts to dry them off like these puppies will judge her for it. “So serious, bro.”

Azzi shakes her head like she’s humoring something ridiculous, but she walks over and unclips the latch. “Alright,” she says, stepping aside. “Go ahead.”

Paige doesn’t even hesitate. She slips in and plops right down on the floor, gangly legs crossed, hands out, inviting the chaos. The puppies swarm immediately, climbing her thighs, shoving their faces into her hands, pawing at her shirt and Paige makes a noise that is absolutely not a normal adult sound. It might not even be really human. 

“Oh my god,” she shrieks, laughing, voice going soft and high in a way most people would think her incapable of. “Hi. Hi, you’re all so cute and perfect and insane. I love you all.”

She lets them crawl all over her like she’s a jungle gym. One puppy wedges itself under her leg, another tries to crawl up her shorts, while the most bold of the bunch climbs her shoulder.

Paige runs her hands over their fur, helpless and completely addicted to the softness. “Who wants to come home with me?” she coos, like she’s not talking to animals that will forget she exists in ten minutes. “Who wants me to feed them off my plate and chew on all my furniture?”

One of the puppies tries to chew on her sleeve, and she just grins. “Oh, hi little guy,” she says. “Please don’t do that, sir.” 

Azzi chuckles behind her but Paige barely registers it. She’s too enamored by fluff and puppy breath and tiny sharp little nails pressing into her arms and legs. 

“Who wants to come home with me and snuggle in bed every night?”

She glances up at Azzi on that one and winks, because Paige is Paige, and she literally cannot help herself. But then she turns right back to the dogs like she didn’t just flirt with the executive director of the Humane Society while being attacked by tiny fluffy husky puppies. 

One of them, an especially determined light gray and white boy with darker eyebrows and stunning blue eyes, starts tugging on Paige’s shoelace with tiny teeth, growling like it’s a real fight. Paige laughs and gently boops his nose.

“Hey,” she tells him, mock-stern. “You are stupidly cute but these are new, buddy.”

He ignores her, obviously, and just tugs harder so Paige scoops him up. Lifting him easily, the puppy immediately licks her face and then shoves his cold, wet snout into her neck, settling there like he’s decided Paige is his and that’s that.

Paige could picture it now. Curling up on the couch after a long day of practice, eating a bite of her Wingstop herself before sharing one with the puppy melted across her lap. She’d order plain wings, obviously, but Nai would still scoff. Or how’d she’d sneak him into the practice facility, dodging José who would definitely be fucking pissed about it. Nola would help her keep the secret. Probably. And she’d also need to order the cleaning staff lunch a few times during the whole potty training phase, but the DoorDash sponsorship would help with that.  

Paige’s smile softens as she cuddles him tight and thinks about all the adventures they’ll have. She looks at Azzi over the puppy’s head. “Is he available?”

She holds her breath when the words leave her lips.

Thankfully, Azzi nods. But Paige doesn’t feel relief because there’s a look on her face that Paige can’t place at first. It’s not really annoyed or disapproving, but there’s something under the surface that doesn’t read like joy at another dog leaving the shelter. 

Paige’s grin fades slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Azzi leans a shoulder against the kennel door, arms—arms that are actually quite muscular, not that Paige is looking—folding loosely over the chest, ruffing her polo a bit. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, then she exhales. “It’s just… everyone always wants the puppies.” Her eyes move over the pile of fluff climbing all over Paige’s legs and the little one tucked on her chest. “These guys will be gone by the end of the day.”

Paige nods slowly, processing. She sighs and kisses the puppy once on the top of his head, then lowers him back down with a careful gentleness to rejoin his littermates. 

She stands, haplessly brushing fur off her black shorts, then looks at Azzi having just made a decision.

“Show me the dog who’s been here the longest.”

Azzi’s brows lift. “Are you sure? I’m not trying to guilt you if you think that puppy is the right fit…” 

And again with the people telling her what to do. 

Paige nods without hesitation. She steps out of the kennel and gently nudges the puppies back inside as they try to follow. “Someone will be here for you cuties soon,” she promises, voice a whisper like she’s keeping a secret from the rest of the dogs there. “Bye. I love you all. Be so good and have the best, most happiest lives.”

Azzi laughs at that and Paige grins, pretending it isn’t her favorite sound in the world. She follows Azzi down the long row, past more kennels until she stops at one near the end.

Inside, tucked into the back corner, is… a dog.

That’s literally the first thought Paige has. Just a dog. Not in the “what a handsome boy” way or really anything that involves being cute, per se. This one looks like someone took the leftover genes from five different breeds and tossed them in a blender. 

His fur is curly in places, straight in others, patchy along his back like it can’t decide what texture to commit to. The brown color of his coat is uneven, fading lighter around his muzzle, darker and almost muddy near his tail. One ear flops forward while the other sticks out to the side and his tail is too thin for his body and slightly crooked at the end.

If Paige had to guess, she’d say there’s some doodle in there. Maybe a retriever or lab. Definitely some pitbull. Maybe a shepherd. Probably something that once barked at a shepherd. She’s not entirely convinced a DNA test would come back with anything other than: Yes, this is a dog.

He’s pressed low into the corner of the kennel, paws tucked awkwardly under him, head dipped eyes wide, but not wild. He looks more unsure than anything, and is, objectively, not the dog that would get picked first. Or maybe even last, which Paige supposes is why he’s still here. 

And yet… there’s something about him.

Paige feels the pull before she understands it.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t budge when they approach, or how his nose twitches cautiously instead of snapping or retreating further. Maybe it’s the way his fur, despite the uneven curls and questionable grooming history, looks unbelievably soft right at the top of his big fat, disproportional head.

Or maybe it’s the way he watches them. His sad eyes not hopeful, like he’s resigned himself to living in this five by three foot cage for the rest of his life so it’s not even worth getting up to try. And for some reason, that makes him the most endearing thing she’s seen all day.

“This is Lenny,” Azzi says quietly, with a sigh like she’s already waiting for Paige to find a polite excuse to pass.

Paige crouches. “Lenny, huh?” Her voice turns soft on instinct and she glances at Azzi. “What’s his story?”

Azzi’s shift. She seems a little caught off guard, but her eyes narrow, expression more serious now. “He’s eight,” she says. “He came to us almost a year ago after his owner passed away.” She pauses, eyes on the dog, offering him a contrite smile. “He got passed around by family members for a while. Some of them… weren’t very kind to him, so he’s a little skittish at first.”

Paige’s jaw tightens, muscles tensing as she thinks about what kind of vile human can lay a hand on such an innocent being. And then her mind drifts to the way she was passed around after her parents divorce. Admittedly, it’s not the same thing. Plus, she eventually settled in with her dad and then got Drew. But still, deep down, she knows that listless feeling, of not knowing where home is. And this certainly isn’t a place any dog should call home permanently. 

Azzi keeps going, voice cracking just slightly. “He’s so sweet,” she says. “But everyone passes him up because he’s not the most social. The kennel situation gives him a lot of anxiety. He does better in quieter spaces. He just doesn’t show well in here.” 

She keeps her tone measured, but Paige has spent decades reading tells on the court and Azzi has them too. Paige sees the way Azzi’s eyes soften when they land on him, how her fingers wrap around the latch like she’s itching to go in there and pet him. This is someone who has spent months memorizing this dog and there’s something achingly tender about it. The way Azzi talks about him like he’s misunderstood instead of inconvenient.

Paige can tell he means a lot to Azzi, and that makes Paige tread lightly. “Can I go in?” she asks, quieter now.

Azzi studies her for a beat, like she’s deciding if Paige is worthy of him. Then she lets out a reserved sighs, unclips the latch and opens the door. “Yeah,” she says, handing Paige a treat from her back pocket. “Go ahead.”

Paige steps inside and lowers herself to the floor just inside the door, knees bent, hands resting on her thighs. She extends one hand out slowly, palm up with the treat resting on it, giving him room to decide.

“Hey, Lenny boy,” she murmurs. “How are you today?”

Lenny’s eyes stay locked on her hand, but he doesn’t move at first. His whole body looks braced for something bad.

Paige doesn’t let that deter her. She keeps talking in a low, gentle voice, the way she used to talk to Drew when he was a baby and Mila, now, when she’s trying to convince her to lie so Phee doesn’t yell at her for the whole ice cream after bed thing. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she tells him. “You can just sit there and judge me. That’s fine. I get it. I’m kind of a stranger.”

She shifts slightly, sitting down fully, careful not to crowd him. Arm extended, hand lying on the floor beside her, Paige lets the minutes pass, humming an Olivia Dean song absentmindedly. Paige can feel Lenny’s eyes on her and Azzi’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t feel pressure. Doesn’t rush it.

Eventually, Lenny’s body loosens by a fraction. He inches forward, and takes one cautious step, then another. Then he pauses again like he’s fighting his own instincts, a war waging inside him. His eyes flick up to Azzi who just offers a soft, “It’s okay, Lenny.” 

Paige stays still, only wiggling her fingers slightly, inviting him. “There you go, bud,” she whispers, eyes wide, as he inches closer again. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He finally reaches her hand and sniffs, long and slow, then nudges her fingers with his nose before cautiously grabbing the treat with the most dainty bite. Paige’s heart clenches as he backs away to eat it. She casts a glance over her shoulder, catching Azzi with an absolutely beaming smile as he steps back into Paige’s space. She slowly slides her hand up and rests it on his head, fingers sinking into the curls. And she was right. They are impossibly soft. 

Lenny doesn’t flinch when Paige starts rubbing slow circles, murmuring nonsense in a soft stream, telling him he’s good and safe and sweet, like the words might rewrite the past year if she says them enough times.

After a few minutes, Lenny’s body shifts even closer. He hesitates once, then settles his front paws onto her leg like he’s testing her. Paige holds her breath, doesn’t move, just shoots Azzi a proud smile because she can’t believe he’s coming around. 

Then, something in him finally gives up the fight or maybe he just senses the pureness of Paige’s heart like they say dogs can, and he climbs fully into her lap. Curling against her, he lets out a long, shaky sigh that comes from somewhere deep.

Paige swallows down the knot in her throat when Lenny lifts his big dopey head and looks up at her. 

Those big brown eyes are soft and a little sad, but still beautiful in a way that makes her chest feel like it’s in a vice. Paige feels something inside her quiet, like there’s been tension buzzing under her skin for weeks or maybe even years and she didn’t notice until it was released.

“You wanna come home with me, Lenny?” she whispers.

Lenny just stares at her like he doesn’t have the energy to do much else, and Paige stares back like she’ll find the answer in his eyes. She can feel it, the certainty settling in as he gives her face one big lick before dropping his head back onto her lap. 

She looks over at Azzi. “This is my dog.”

Azzi’s expression is careful. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I know you really liked the husky puppies. And having an older dog can be hard. There’s an adjustment period and Lenny is a special case.”

Paige knows what Azzi is doing. She isn’t trying to talk her out of it. She’s protecting Lenny, making sure Paige understands what she’s saying yes to. But Paige’s hand just keeps stroking Lenny’s head, a newfound sense of calm washed over her. “I’m sure,” she says, and she means it with a certainty that surprises her.

Azzi exhales reluctantly. “Lenny is my favorite.”

She steps into the kennel and lowers herself beside Paige, reaching out to scratch Lenny’s head. Lenny relaxes even more, then rolls slightly in Paige’s lap, exposing his belly like he’s offering trust without reservation.

Azzi’s fingers move gently through his curls, though they get stuck in the more matted parts. “He’s had it rough the last year,” she explains. “He really deserves the best for the short time he has left.” She looks at Paige with a sense of hesitation. “Can you do that?”

Paige meets her gaze and nods assuredly. “I can definitely do that. I promise I’ll give him the best life.”

Azzi nods once, decision made. “Okay then.”

She stands and grabs a leash from the hook on the wall, clips it onto Lenny’s blue collar, then hands it to Paige, hesitating just a beat.

“Let’s go finish the paperwork.”

They take care of all the paperwork up front in a blur that feels surprisingly efficient and not nearly long enough for Paige’s liking. Which is saying something because there’s a lot to cover. Like more, Paige thinks, than she had to sign when she signed her rookie deal with the Wings. 

Still, she signs where she’s told, initials where Azzi taps with the pen, listens to the rundown about microchips and food transitions and follow-up vet appointments. And the whole time, Lenny stays pressed against her legs, sitting directly on top of her shoes and making sure she doesn’t disappear without him. Not that she would dream of it. 

Every so often Paige feels his weight shift, a small sigh escaping him, and she glances down with a warm smile, squatting down to pat his head a few times and feed him one of the treats Azzi insisted she take. 

Finally, Paige slides her card across the counter and tries not to think about how different this feels from any other purchase she’s made in the last five years. So much more permanent. 

“Thank you,” Paige says when it’s done, meaning more than the transaction. “I promise I’ll take the best care of our boy, okay?” 

Azzi nods, tucking the paperwork into a folder with a sigh as she meets Paige’s gaze. “I know you will,” she says. “And I’ll look out for a call about some promos from the Wings.”

Paige grins. “You will. I’ll give our community relations director a call when I get home and get Lenny boy settled.”  

Azzi smiles and walks them to the front doors. Right before Paige reaches for the handle, Azzi crouches down in front of Lenny and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the tightest hug, pressing her cheek into his mess of soft curls. “You’re the best boy in the whole world,” she murmurs, voice soft in a way Paige hasn’t heard yet but absolutely wants to hear over and over again. “Be so good, okay? I love you and I’m gonna miss you, but I know you’re going to be so so spoiled just like you deserve.” 

Lenny leans into her like he understands every word, and maybe he does. 

Paige watches the whole thing and something warm spreads through her. It’s impossible not to see how much this place, and these dogs, mean to Azzi. Especially Lenny. 

Azzi stands slowly, brushing her hands down her shorts, and for a second their eyes meet and Paige swears she sees a tiny tear forming in the corner of Azzi’s eyes.

Paige takes a breath and reaches for the door.

Then stops.

She can feel her heart starting to sprint again, and she hates that it does that around Azzi, that she’s not in control. She shifts her weight, then turns back around before she can talk herself out of it.

“Hey,” she says, trying for casual but not coming close as she trips over the next words that leave her mouth. “Can I… um… maybe get your number? You know. In case I have any problems.”

Azzi’s mouth curves. She reaches into her pocket, and grabs a card and extends it toward Paige. “That’s the shelter’s direct line,” she says.

Paige looks down at the card, then back up at her a little dumbfounded. She thought she was being pretty straightforward. “Well like… what if it’s after hours?”

Azzi tilts her head. “Then you wait until we open the next morning?”

Paige frowns. “Okay, but like… what if it’s an emergency.”

God, she’s never had to try this hard. If anything, girls usually read too much into what she’s saying, not the other way around. 

“I thought you had a trainer and a vet all set up,” Azzi replies smoothly.

Paige huffs, because she walked right into that. “Okay, yeah, I do. But you and Lenny are like… friends.”

Azzi’s brows lift, amusement pulling the corner of her lip up into that adorable dimple. “Friends?”

Paige nods, smiling in a way that she knows probably looks a little unhinged. “What if he misses you? I mean, I gotta keep Lenny happy. It’s really for his quality of life if you think about it.” She gestures vaguely toward the dog who looks like he’s ready for his fifth nap of the day. Honestly, so is Paige with all the mental gymnastics she’s doing. “And you know… he doesn’t have a lot of years left, so we gotta make them good.”

She throws Azzi’s own words back at her without shame. 

Azzi just laughs. Then, without warning, she steps closer and reaches into Paige’s back pocket.

The contact is brief, her fingers just lightly brushing against Paige’s hip as she pulls the phone free, but a sharp jolt runs straight up Paige’s spine like that one time she shoved her finger into an outlet as a kid… or maybe it was college. 

Azzi holds the phone up in front of Paige’s face until it unlocks itself, then types in her number, and hands the phone back. Their fingers linger for half a second too long, the cool metal iPhone half in each grip.

“Lenny really likes ice cream,” Azzi says, looking up at Paige through long eye lashes.

Paige nods, trying to remember how to breathe.

“And so do I,” Azzi adds, softer with a smile that almost borders on shy.

Paige’s grin spreads before she can stop it, cheeks warming under the fluorescent lights. She knows Azzi can see how red she is, but she doesn’t even care. “Noted.”

She shoves the phone back into her pockets, and reluctantly pushes the door open, the suffocating rush of sweltering Dallas humidity hitting her again.

As Paige walks to her Jeep with Lenny at her side, leash secure in her hand, she glances down at him and smiles.

paige was mad at azzi.

it started in the late morning. they were lazing together in bed when paige told her she invited jess and lan over for a movie night. she felt a huff of breath against her neck before azzi lifted her head from her shoulder, blinking slowly, the haze of sleep still wrapped around her.

“fine,” azzi said. she dropped her head back down for a brief moment, pressing her forehead against paige’s cheek. then she got up, the blanket slipping off of her, and headed to the bathroom. paige listened to the muffled sounds of azzi’s footsteps against the carpet and sighed at the ceiling. azzi didn’t kiss her before leaving. that meant she was irritated.

paige pulled the blanket up and waited. 

she heard the toilet flush, the tap run, and then the door creak open, and she looked up to see azzi in the bathroom doorway, her curls frizzy from sleep, t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. the morning light painted her skin golden, her shirt swallowed her frame, and she yawned widely, which made paige yawn too.

paige stretched her arms out, beckoning her back into bed, pouting just a little bit to soften her. azzi paused and leaned against the doorway. she bit her lip, brows furrowing as she looked at paige thoughtfully. then she went back to the bathroom, ran the tap again, and crossed the room to the bed.

“hey–” paige scrunched up her nose as azzi flicked a few drops of cold water in her face. azzi giggled, softer than her regular laugh, voice still a little sleep-rough. she swung a leg over paige’s waist before she could retaliate, leaning down to kiss her, one hand braced on the pillow beside paige’s head. 

paige pulled her in closer, an arm looping around her neck, another finding its way to her ass. she kissed her back in the curtain of her curls, slow, unhurried, forgetting what she’d been sighing about.

azzi pulled back after a moment to look at her. her eyes were still a little puffy, her curls falling forward around her face, lips slightly curved. paige reached up and traced her thumb slowly over her mouth, following the shape of it. azzi let her, staying still, that same thinking-look settling over her face—the one where she was deciding something, or just watching paige the way she sometimes did, like she was trying to drink in as much of her as she could.

"just waking you up," azzi said finally, soft against paige's thumb.

"mean," paige murmured.

azzi's smile deepened at the corner. she stayed there for another second, and then she settled herself back down under the blanket, her weight warm and familiar on top of paige. 

outside the window, two birds were trading short sweet notes back and forth. azzi exhaled slowly through her nose, her shoulders dropping, the last of the tension from getting up draining out of her all at once. paige felt it go.

there were always two types of birds outside their window; the sweet ones that sang to each other in the early morning, and the other kind, the ones that squawked and rattled and made azzi groan into her pillow and pull the blanket over her head. today they had the sweet ones, thankfully. azzi's breathing evened out, slow and easy, her nose tucked back into paige's neck like she was considering falling asleep again.

“how late?” azzi said finally, the words mushed into her shoulder. 

“like, eight or nine-ish.”

“hmm.”

“it’ll be fun,” paige said. 

“hmm.”

paige slid a hand under azzi’s t-shirt, rucking it up to scratch her back lightly. azzi shivered, pressing closer, and paige smiled.

“sorry,” she said, pressing a quick apologetic kiss to the top of her head. “should’ve told you earlier. or asked first.”

"'s fine,” azzi said, pressing a matching kiss on her neck. 

it wasn't entirely fine, they both knew that, but it also wasn't a big deal, they both knew that too, and that was enough for the morning. 

soon, azzi would force herself out of bed first, getting up to make eggs the way she liked them before paige could complain about her adding too much spinach. paige would distract her as much as she could while she made them, hovering at the counter, wrapping her arms around azzi’s waist, kissing her cheek until azzi turned around to kiss her properly.

then paige would get shooed away to cut some apples and strawberries on the side, and she’d take her time with it to make sure she didn’t slice a finger off in the process too. azzi would make fun of her uneven apple slices but she’d steal one to snack on while the eggs cooked anyway. and by noon it would be mostly forgotten, a small friction smoothed out over the course of the day until they slotted together neatly again. 

paige had decided early on when they first started dating, that it was one of her favorite things about them. that she could be annoyed with azzi and love her the same, that azzi could be annoyed with her and love her the same, the fact that both of them knew it about each other and that they’d always settle back to the same balance even if the scales temporarily dipped to one side or the other. 

azzi peeled herself off paige's shoulder eventually, squinting in annoyance at the light coming through the curtains. 

"gonna make eggs," she announced, and climbed out of bed.

"can you make me some too?" paige called after her.

azzi paused in the hallway. "...yes," she said, in a tone that said she'd already been planning to, and was now annoyed that it seemed like she was going to do it because paige had asked.

paige smiled to herself.

so it didn't start this morning.

it started this afternoon; they were at the grocery store getting snacks. their cart was almost filled to the brim, azzi’s coffee bear ice-cream sitting on top of a pile of quinoa chips and lightly-salted popcorn bags. a very pastel haul of items, in paige’s opinion.

“baby,” she called out, waving around the dark purple bag with bright yellow lettering in her hands. 

azzi ignored her. she kept pushing the cart forward, occasionally picking up another pastel-colored bag, reading the ingredients on the back, then putting it back on the shelf.

paige jogged to catch up with her. “az,” she said, and tapped on her shoulder. 

azzi turned around. “what?”

she held out the bag with two hands, straightening the edges. “takis.” 

azzi looked at paige, frowning, and then at the cart filled with overly healthy snacks. “we’ve already got takis at home, though.”

“but we’re almost out.” paige looked at the bag of blue chips in her hands forlornly. the takis at home were the red ones anyway, so it wasn’t like they were doubling up on the same flavor.

“because you eat them all in one sitting,” azzi said, already pushing the cart forward again. the back wheel was wobbly and azzi let out an irritated huff as the cart kept veering to the side.

paige stepped in quickly, covering azzi’s hand with her own and shifting her out of the way with her hip to take over driver duties. she held the takis between her index and her thumb, not yet putting them atop their groceries, but not ready to let go just yet. “you sneak some too, literally every time. you always say oh those are so bad for you and then you dip into my bag, so don’t even play.”

"they give me a tummy ache," azzi said indignantly. "so no, i don't."

"yeah, because we eat the whole bag in one sitting together. that's why your tummy hurts."

azzi rolled her eyes, but in a softer way than she would if she was properly annoyed, probably because she knew paige was right. she reached out and yanked the takis from where it was trapped between paige’s hand and the cart handle without looking at her, dropping the bag on top of their growing pile of snacks.

paige smiled and azzi walked ahead of her, pointedly not smiling.

“but we’re gonna start portioning better,” azzi said, and paige nodded dutifully, following after her. 

that was fine too.

it was also fine when azzi made her carry both reusable bags up the stairs even though they were roughly the same weight and paige was the one who suggested splitting them evenly. and it was fine when azzi claimed the shower first—not letting paige join her because we just had sex and i wanna actually get clean as her reasoning—and used all the hot water. which she knew and apologized for immediately with her chin tucked down and her eyes slightly guilty, making it very difficult for paige to be annoyed about the hot water. 

and it was mostly fine when azzi spent the hour before jess and lan arrived on her phone with one-word answers to whatever paige was talking about and periodically saying things like i just think it would have been nice to know earlier when there was a pause in conversation, which paige acknowledged each time with a yes, you're right, you're completely right, i should have told you sooner, i'm sorry, which azzi accepted with a nod and then brought up again twelve minutes later.

so actually, none of it was that bad.

but it actually started two hours ago. 

jess and lan had arrived with drinks, lan's laugh carrying through the door, jess telling her to be quiet, lan laughing harder at being told to be quiet. 

paige and azzi had already set out all the snacks, spread out in bowls on the coffee table in front of the tv. but they spent some time in the kitchen first, getting the drinks sorted, and catching up with each other. lan had a story about practice that kept branching into other stories. jess had opinions about something she'd watched recently that turned into a whole separate conversation, that turned into a heated debate about whether or not there were bears in dallas, texas. azzi leaned against the counter next to paige, their shoulders touching as paige argued with jess, and paige leaned back without thinking about it. 

"okay, are we actually watching something tonight or," lan said eventually, looking between all of them.

"yes," azzi said, straightening. she grabbed her drink from the counter. "i've been ready for an hour."

"you were reorganizing the snack bowls for an hour," paige said.

"i was getting ready," azzi said, and walked into the living room, trailing after lan.

paige watched her go, eyes drifting a little—because azzi was wearing shorts, and paige was very attracted to said shorts. jess watched paige watch her go, and then paige looked at jess.

"shut up,” paige said, her ears heating up, knowing what she probably looked like from jess’s point of view.

"hey, i didn't say anything," jess said, already smiling, and followed azzi into the living room.

and when paige went to the living room, cheeks probably still pink, she saw azzi waiting for her, hovering between the big couch and the smaller loveseat. azzi looked at the loveseat, then she looked at paige. she sat down on the two-seater, stretched her legs across both cushions, and smiled to herself when she saw paige’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

and that was when paige was mad at azzi.

not actually mad, though, because she knew what azzi was doing. it was a very specific kind of pettiness that paige had learned to recognize, it came with an air of innocence like she didn’t know what the issue was and a small suppressed smile that said she knew exactly what the issue was, and was azzi's version of i'm still a little annoyed but i'm also not going to make it a big deal about it. a punishment and a peace offering at the same time, and paige accepted it, but she didn’t have to enjoy it. 

she sat down on the big couch next to jess with a thump, and gave azzi a squinty glare, which only made the smile on her face stretch wider. and then she reached for the remote on the table to pick a movie that she knew azzi would absolutely hate, because she could be petty too. 

"ooh, yes, this one," lan said immediately, pointing at the screen.

"perfect," paige said as azzi pressed her lips together, face twisting up in annoyance.

they watched the movie. or paige watched the movie with one eye and watched azzi with the other—the way she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie, the way she laughed under her breath when something funny happened, the way she glanced over at paige every time something happened that she wanted to react to together, reflexive and unconscious, then quickly turned away to hide her smile when she saw paige was already looking at her.

it was unfair in paige’s opinion; azzi all comfortable and cozy and soft under the tv light, scrunched up on the couch, wrapped up in paige’s hoodie, but not in paige’s arms. very unfair. and the movie wasn’t even that good.

and then azzi fell asleep.

which, actually, paige was almost impressed. she lasted quite a long time, longer than lan at least, who had her mouth open and was snoring on the armchair across from azzi—maybe lan had absorbed some of azzi’s usual movie-induced sleepiness.

but paige watched as the inevitable happened; azzi blinking heavier, her head tipping sideways until it reached the armrest and stayed there, the yawn that came soon after. by the time they were halfway through the movie, azzi had completely passed out, cheek pressed into the cushion, curls coming loose around her face as the hood of paige’s hoodie fell back. her lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly as her brows furrowed at a loud noise from the movie, before smoothening out again.

paige watched her for another moment before getting up.

“‘m getting a blanket, you want one?” she asked jess, who already had the throw blanket covering her lap. 

jess looked at her confused, and shook her head. “i’m good, thanks.” and then she laughed at something happening on the screen because she’d been actually watching the movie, unlike paige.

paige went to the hallway closet, rifling through the sheets and blankets stored there before pulling out a nice fluffy purple one, big enough for two people. perhaps two people on a two-seater couch watching a movie. 

she walked back to the living room, blanket in hand, and stood in front of azzi for a moment, mentally doing the math on how she was going to execute her plan. she got an arm under azzi's shoulders and azzi stirred, made a small unhappy sound, and paige paused to make sure she didn’t wake up, before she lifted her up a bit higher. 

it was a slightly awkward fit; paige had to slip in under her almost diagonally with her back to the armrest, then unfold the blanket over them because she forgot to do it before. 

but eventually azzi’s cheek found her chest, one hand loosely fisting paige’s shirt, and paige wrapped her arms around her, pushing the curls away from her face to get a better view. 

under the dim light of the tv, completely asleep, unguarded, features smoothed out, azzi looked beautiful. she always looked beautiful to paige, but there was a different kind of beauty to her when she was sleeping—the small line between brows was gone, dark lashes dusting her cheeks, mouth soft. 

and paige had a problem, a very specific compulsion that had chased her ever since she’d known azzi. which was that azzi asleep produced in her an almost overwhelming urge to do several things all at once—press her mouth to her cheek, bite her ear very gently, squeeze her nose, kiss the corner of her jaw, wake her up just to look at her properly, to have azzi look at her. because she loved the way azzi looked at her.

and she wanted to do all of those things but she did none of them, because she had years of practice at this point and enough self control to not wake up her girlfriend just to bite her ear. 

instead, she settled for reaching up slowly, carefully, and hovering the pad of her thumb just above azzi's lips without touching, close enough to feel the warmth of them, the slight exhale of her breath. there was a sensation there, right at the edge of contact, the buzz of an almost. she traced the shape of azzi's lips without landing, but she thought she could still feel the softness. maybe because she already knew what it felt like against her thumb, against her mouth. 

azzi didn't stir. her lips parted slightly and paige took her hand back, watching for a moment. then, she traced her cheek instead. 

she wondered distantly if azzi could feel it somehow, if the almost of it registered somewhere in her sleep. if she liked it. she did know that if azzi woke up right now and saw paige doing what she was doing, she’d laugh, mumble “creep,” at her affectionately, then bury her face in paige’s shoulder to hide her blush. 

paige looked up at the tv, a loud crash from it distracting her for a moment. then she felt eyes on her.

jess was watching her from the other end of the couch, the movie entirely forgotten, chin resting in her hand. when paige looked at her she pressed her lips together like she'd been caught, and then gave up on hiding it entirely. she mouthed at paige: so cute.

paige flipped her off.

jess grinned and mouthed it again, adding an awww and punctuating it with her fingers curving into a heart.

paige pointed at the tv. jess looked at the tv for maybe four seconds and then looked back at paige with the same expression. paige exhaled through her nose, which was as close to a laugh as she was willing to give her, and looked back down at azzi.

she was already looking forward to tomorrow morning, she realized, when azzi would blink awake and find her, and look at her.

tomorrow, paige would apologize properly, a real one, a sorry i do this sometimes, sorry i assume you'll just be fine with things, i know it annoys you and i'll do better. and azzi would say i know, and then i'm sorry for being grumpy all day, and paige would say you weren't that bad, and azzi would say yes i was, i know you hate cold showers, and paige would say okay yes, but that just means you owe me a shower together now, and azzi would laugh and then they'd kiss.