♫☆

The white leather booth Paige was sprawled across curved around a glowing table littered with half-empty glasses, melting ice, and the remains of what had once been three very full bottles of liquor. Now they sat mostly drained in silver buckets sweating onto the tables, casualties of a long night.

Paige swirled her Dirty Shirley and watched Nika aggressively throw back another shot of tequila that she absolutely did not need. Honestly, she hadn’t needed the last three, but Paige wasn’t going to try to make that point again. It was a lost cause. The Croatian didn’t even wince. 

“I’m serious,” Nika declared for probably the tenth time in the last hour, leaning forward so abruptly her dark ponytail whipped over her shoulder. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”

Across from them, Napheesa Collier, Paige’s Lynx teammate, snorted into her vodka soda.

“Oh my god,” Phee laughed. “You are obsessed with this girl.”

“I am not obsessed with her,” Nika shot back. “I fucking hate her.”

Paige bit back a smile behind the rim of her glass. There was an important distinction in Nika’s mind. Obsession implied admiration. Hatred was apparently noble. And Paige knew better than to question the logic after all these years. This feud ran all the way back to college. 

Phee raised a brow. “You’ve said her name at least twenty times tonight.”

“That’s because she’s a fucking bitch.”

“She’s literally just a soccer player,” Paige corrected lazily, her brain, thankfully, a bit fuzzy from the alcohol. “Why you so pressed about her all the time, bro?”

“She’s the devil in shin guards,” Nika argued. “Seriously. Did you see how tiny her shin guards are? Like why even wear them?” 

Paige laughed, sinking deeper into the absurdly soft white leather. The booth was tucked in the corner of the VIP section overlooking the dance floor below, giving them a clear view of the entire club. The place was decent size, and about as trendy as you could find in Minneapolis, where the Lynx and the newer NWSL team, Twin Cities FC, were based. 

Honestly, Paige kind of loved it. Mostly because she was perfectly drunk enough for the pulsing music to feel pleasant instead of overstimulating as it hummed through her body. And the Lynx had off the next day, a nice reprieve from the gauntlet of games they’d been in to clinch a playoff spot.

Nika, meanwhile, was still fully locked into her postgame spiral after her team had lost to the Washington Spirit. Yet again. 

“She took my legs out,” Nika continued, pointing accusingly at nobody. “No attempt at the ball whatsoever.”

Phee tilted her head. “You sure you’re not just pissed she got by you and scored? ”

“Who’s side are you on, Phee?” Nika hissed before turning her attention to Paige. “Get your girl in line, Bueckers,” Nika scoffed, thrusting her thumb over her shoulder. Then she turned, glancing back at Phee through half-open eyes. “Seriously, did you even watch the game? She coulda broke my leg.”

Paige rubbed a hand over her mouth to hide another grin. It had been a hard challenge, but Nika was being a bit dramatic.

The game itself had admittedly been entertaining as hell. Twin Cities FC versus the Washington Spirit always got nasty fast, mostly because their captains seemed biologically incapable of behaving normally around each other for more than five consecutive minutes. 

There had been shoving. Bewilderment. Screaming. A few dramatic flops that Nika was still furious hadn’t gotten called. And, okay, maybe Azzi had baited Nika into at least half of them. 

In her defense, Nika was extremely easy to bait. Paige was working with a small sample size, but she was pretty sure Croatians came out of the womb ready to commit mild acts of violence over sports. That Balkan temper activated faster than Caitlin Clark fans on Twitter when Paige was mentioned in MVP talks. 

Paige had watched the game from the sideline with Phee and a few of her other Lynx teammates. She spent most of the second half trying not to laugh every time the broadcast camera caught Nika and Azzi chirping at each other. 

“You know what the worst part is?” Nika groaned.

Phee sighed. “I feel like you’re going to tell us anyway...”

“She acts all smug after. Like she’s funny. She’s been like that since college.”

Paige hummed into her drink. Because Azzi was kinda funny. Even if she was her best friend’s nemesis, Paige enjoyed how Azzi played with a competitive fire that bordered on cocky. It was how Paige played too. And Nika. Maybe that was part of the problem; they were all too similar.

Nika narrowed her eyes. “Why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“That face,” she huffed, swirling her finger inches from Paige’s smirk. 

Paige shrugged one shoulder, entirely unbothered and happy to goad her twin on. “I’m just saying. You can only get so mad when somebody looks that good cooking you.”

Nika stared at her in betrayal while Phee let out a laugh so loud a couple people turned toward the booth. Paige could tell from Nika’s shocked expression that she may have taken it a step too far.

“You’re sick in the head,” Nika informed Paige flatly.

Paige grinned, completely unashamed, but still eager to stay off Nika’s bad side. “Okay, okay,” she chuckled, tossing her hands up in surrender. “You know I support you, twin.”

Nika sighed and dropped her head back dramatically against the booth. “I can’t believe this is the support system I have.”

Phee checked her phone and groaned, her lips pulling into a tight line. “Speaking of support systems, I have to go home and get some sleep. Mila is going to be up so early.” 

Paige laughed as Phee slid off the couch, grabbing her purse and jacket off the seat beside her.

“Tell Mila I said hi.”

“She likes you more than me at this point,” Phee muttered.

“That’s because I bribe her with candy all the time.”

“I know,” Phee huffed, shaking her head. “You are literally the reason I have problems.”

Paige accepted the quick side hug Phee leaned down to give her before she turned to Nika.

“And you,” Phee pointed before dapping her up, “need to stop acting like Azzi keyed your car.”

“She’d probably fucking enjoy it.”

“Goodnight, drama queen,” Phee chuckled. 

Nika flipped her off affectionately as Phee disappeared through the crowded VIP section toward the exit.

The booth settled into quiet for a moment as they watched Phee leave. Well. As quiet as a nightclub could be.

Holding her sweating glass in one hand, Paige stretched her other arm along the back of the booth, letting her gaze drift lazily across the crowd below while Nika continued muttering under her breath about missed calls and corrupt referees and apparently the moral collapse of professionalism in soccer.

Honestly, Paige only half listened. She loved Nika like a sister, but sometimes post-loss-Nika was like listening to a bad podcast with no pause button. Especially if she lost to Azzi.

Their feud started years ago. Nika and Paige went to UCONN, Azzi to UCLA. They didn’t cross paths much, at least, not enough to think there was time to become bitter enemies. Somehow, Azzi and Nika found a way. If Paige really thought about it, it made sense. The first time Nika and Azzi met was sophomore year when UCONN played UCLA in the national championship game. And maybe, Azzi took a dive in the box that led to a game winning penalty kick for UCLA. 

That was where it started but certainly not where it ended. Since then, the two had played countless times. In college tournaments, in subsequent national championship games, in the NWSL, in charity matches. And every time there was pushing and shoving, and cheap shots and swearing, and derogatory names mumbled under their breath. At least, that’s what Nika told her and Paige, ever the supportive friend, didn’t doubt her for a second. 

“And then,” Nika continued, drawing Paige’s attention back in, “she had the audacity to wink at me afterward.”

Paige smirked into her drink, trying not to choke on the sip she just took. “That’s kinda funny, bro.”

Nika whipped toward her. “Don’t act like you don’t hate her just as much as me.”

Paige opened her mouth to respond but stopped as a raucous laugh pulled her gaze away. 

A group of women had entered the VIP section, full of smiles and what Paige assumed must be postgame adrenaline. Security waved them through with immediate recognition of either their beauty or talent. She wasn’t sure which. 

Paige instantly recognized them too. Washington Spirit players. And right in the middle of them… 

Oh this is gonna be good, she thought with a wry smile. 

Paige slowly leaned back against the booth cushions, manspreading a bit further, eyes narrowing just slightly as Azzi stepped fully into view.

She was wearing black baggy jeans and a tiny red top. A silver chain reflected against her caramel skin and her hair was half up, half down in loose curls. 

Nika noticed Paige had gone quiet and followed her line of sight. Her entire face twisted in disdain when she recognized who was there. She drew in a deep breath like she was trying to fill herself with all of the patience she’d need to get through this encounter. Paige knew there wasn’t enough of that in the entire world. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Nika spat. 

Paige bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt, mostly to stop herself from smiling at the new development in their evening. 

“Absolutely not,” Nika muttered, sitting forward so fast she sloshed some vodka onto the table. “She’s stalking me now. She’s a legitimate psychopath, Paige.”

Paige made a vague sound of acknowledgment, but honestly, her attention had already drifted back. Azzi was laughing at something one of her teammates said, head tipped back, and it hit Paige square in the chest in that irritatingly familiar way it always did.

Azzi was hot. 

Objectively. 

Subjectively.

All-the-jectivelys.

The club lights caught the cross pendant around Azzi’s throat every few seconds, tiny flashes of sparkles against warm brown skin, and Paige’s eyes tracked the movement before she could stop herself. Her top was cropped just enough to show a strip of stomach when she moved, toned abs in full view. 

Throat growing dry, Paige quickly averted her gaze before she got caught staring. By Azzi or Nika. To be honest, she wasn’t sure which would be worse. Probably Nika. She was at least close enough to wrap her hands around Paige’s neck and squeeze. 

“She’s looking over here,” Nika complained, glaring back at the Spirit striker.

Paige took another sip, eyes slowly roaming across the club before settling back on Nika. “Maybe because you’re staring at her like you’re planning a murder.”

“That’s because I am planning a murder,” Nika scoffed. “Hers.” 

Paige snorted softly as Azzi’s group settled into one of the booths further across the VIP section. Azzi didn’t sit right away. She lingered near the edge of the booth, scanning the room while one of her teammates talked in her ear. Then her fingers tugged briefly under the chain at her throat, adjusting it.

Paige’s brain short-circuited for approximately half a second, gaze locked on her long, slender fingers and the way Azzi bit her lip in concentration at whatever story her teammate was telling. It seemed enthralling. 

She blamed the vodka.

“You know,” Paige said casually, finally dragging her attention back toward Nika before she got caught, “there’s only like two places around here people go after games.”

Nika looked horrified. “Are you defending her?”

“I’m just saying it’s not exactly shocking they ended up here.”

“Suprised she didn’t just stay in her hotel room cooking up another social media post. Fucking bitch.”

And, okay. Nika had a point there. The hatred might have started as a rivalry on the pitch all those years ago, but it had turned personal. The fire already burned between them, but Azzi was the one who threw the gasoline. Like a whole can of it. Maybe even two. Nika’s senior year, UCONN lost to UCLA in the national championship game, ending her season and collegiate career. Azzi, in the pure definition of pettiness, added a picture of Nika sitting on the field, knees to her chest, head in her hands, crying, to the end of her natty dump on Instagram. The picture was tagged—maybe next time. 

It got taken down shortly after she posted it, but the damage had been done. Nika was ready to board a plane to Los Angeles to rip Azzi apart, and Paige was ten toes down right behind her. Battling it out within the lines was one thing, but that had been a low blow and Paige was heated.

Paige nodded as her pulse ticked up a notch at the memory. “Yeah, that was trash, bro.”

She didn’t mention how Nika got her payback by purposely seeking out Azzi’s ex at a draft-party and posting a video of them making out on her story. That’s really where it reached the point of no return. 

“What a terrible human,” Nika slurred. “She probably has a fur coat made out of puppies.”

Paige laughed at the insinuation before taking a long sip of her drink. She flicked her gaze up to Nika, catching the way she clenched her jaw. The Croatian was clearly worked up. 

“I dunno, twin,” Paige sighed after a moment. “All that shit started in college. Maybe she grew up…” 

Nika narrowed her eyes. “Are you just saying that ‘cause she’s hot?” 

Paige leaned back against the booth cushions, very much trying to hide her amusement. 

Well.

Yeah.

Anyone with eyes could see that. 

Azzi was the kind of hot that made people walk into furniture. She probably got out of parking tickets just by smiling, and maybe even some petty crimes. Paige had spent years pretending she didn’t notice it quite as much as she did, mostly because Nika reacted to Azzi’s existence like a bull seeing red. 

Sighing, Paige let her eyes drift back across the room again, watching Azzi grin at something before finally sliding into the booth beside one of her teammates.

Then she shrugged.

“I mean,” Paige admitted easily, “she is hot.”

Nika stared at her like she’d just confessed to owning a Sophie Cunningham jersey.

“You are the weakest soldier I know.”

“Bro, all I’m saying is, aren’t you getting tired of keeping this grudge alive? Maybe she isn’t that bad if you both just gave it a chance.” 

“She tried to break my ankle like four hours ago.”

Paige winced. It didn’t seem like Nika had a penchant for forgiveness. Or even acting mature for two fucking minutes. 

“Okay, but in fairness, you almost ripped her jersey off near the sideline,” Paige argued. 

“That was tactical,” Nika countered in a bewildered tone. “She was going to break with the ball and they had numbers.” 

“That was literally almost assault, twin.”

Nika pointed accusingly at her, and Paige realized this was a lost cause. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side.”

“You just called my nemesis hot.”

Paige grinned into her drink, letting the warm and fuzzy feeling caused by the alcohol sloshing around in her veins smooth the edges of Nika’s harsh tone. 

“Multiple things can be true at once,” Paige mumbled under her breath. 

It drew a dramatic groan from Nika. Then she dragged both hands down her face.

“She might be hot but you ever notice how she’s always single? Bet no one can deal with that fucking attitude.” 

Paige didn’t mention that Nika also had a similar attitude and was also single. Things had already spiraled far enough and she was happy to live in the land of delusion with her best friend for a bit longer. 

After a moment, Nika shot Paige a look before abruptly shoving out of the booth.

“You know what? I’m leaving before I accidentally see her flirting with somebody and have to gouge my eyes out.”

Paige’s brows lifted slightly. It was barely eleven and they both had a rare day off tomorrow. “Already?”

“Yes, already.” Nika threw back the last of her drink that she didn’t need and took a step back, swaying slightly. “Some of us have emotional wounds to recover from.”

Paige laughed, but didn’t move to follow when Nika jerked her head toward the exit expectantly.

“You coming?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, not yet. I’m meeting some people out.”

Nika sighed in annoyance, but she didn’t push. 

“Fine,” she muttered, leaning down to dap Paige up before pulling her into a tight hug. “But if she slide tackles somebody in this club too, don’t call me. I won’t help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Paige chucked, drawing back. “You good with your Uber?” 

Nika nodded. “Should be here in five. I’m gonna wait outside and get some fresh air. I’ll see you at brunch in the morning.” 

She shot one final, deeply offended glare across the VIP section toward Azzi’s booth before making her way toward the exit.

Paige watched Nika disappear into the crowd, then leaned back with a slow exhale, one arm curling behind her head while the other held her half-empty glass. 

After another sip, her eyes lifted across the VIP section and landed directly on Azzi.

Who was already looking at her.

Oh. 

Azzi sat tucked into the corner of the opposite booth, one arm draped along the back cushion while one of her teammates talked animatedly beside her. But Azzi wasn’t paying attention anymore. Or at least she didn’t seem to be. Her warm brown eyes were fixed straight on Paige, amusement already curling at the edges of her smile like she knew exactly what kind of trouble she’d just caused.

Paige smirked, and shook her head.

That, apparently, was enough of an invitation. Without breaking eye contact, Azzi slid out of the booth.

Oh fuck. 

Paige watched her weave through the crowded VIP section. The black jeans sat low on Azzi’s hips, exposing the upper half of her v-line. Paige tried very hard to focus on her curls instead. It wasn’t going particularly well, considering they landed softly on her collarbone and left Paige wondering what would happen if she sunk her teeth in there. 

Heart thundering against her rib cage, Paige shifted in her seat and pulled in a deep breath. 

Get it together. 

Heads turned as Azzi passed, which wasn’t surprising. The annoying part was how Azzi kept her gaze locked on Paige while she walked. Like nothing else was as important as watching Paige crack. And she was cracking. 

By the time Azzi stopped in front of the booth, Paige’s pulse was already beating way too hard despite trying to play cool. She wondered if Azzi could see it through the black collared shirt she was wearing. 

Azzi tilted her head slightly, curls brushing her bare shoulder. “You know,” she said smoothly over the music, “usually when people stare at me this hard, they at least offer to buy me a drink.”

Paige’s grin widened slowly, infinitely grateful Nika wasn’t here to witness the interaction.

“Thought about it,” she admitted, gaze dragging slowly down Azzi’s perfectly toned body before settling back on her perfectly pretty face. “But then I figured you deserved to work for it.”

Azzi’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh, is that what we’re doing tonight?”

Paige shrugged lazily, entirely too entertained by the little spark in Azzi’s eyes already. Playing indifferent certainly had its perks. “You’re in my city.”

“Oh it’s your city?” Azzi echoed.

Paige nodded once. “Yep,” she said, popping the last letter before licking her lips. She didn’t miss the way Azzi’s gaze dipped. “Last I checked we’re in Minneapolis. Means I can stare if I want to.”

Azzi laughed softly under her breath, the sound dangerous to Paige’s self-control.

“That confidence is crazy,” Azzi murmured incredulously.

Still, she stepped closer.

Paige spread her legs a bit further. It was out of habit. Not at all a reaction to the way Azzi had stepped into her space. Not at all an offering of sorts. 

“Hasn’t failed me yet,” Paige said coolly before taking a sip of her drink. 

Azzi watched, her eyes locked on the way Paige’s throat bobbed as she swallowed the cool liquid. 

“Mmm.” Azzi stepped closer, one hand reaching forward to pluck the glass from her grip. 

Paige let it go easily, watching the way Azzi’s lips wrapped around the straw, the way her cheeks hollowed as she pulled the last of the liquid into her mouth, the way her eyes twisted shut and her lips puckered as she swallowed the last sips of vodka.

“I see,” Azzi hummed, voice like velvet. She set the empty glass down on the table before leaning forward to place her hand onto the back of the booth beside Paige’s shoulder. “Does that shit work on all the girls?” 

Up close, Paige caught the faint smell of Azzi’s perfume underneath the lingering traces of sweat and expensive vodka. The effect it had on her body hit embarrassingly fast.

Azzi knew it too. It was apparent from the smug little look that settled onto her face.

“Works on the ones that matter,” Paige shot back, regaining some semblance of cool. 

That was apparently the correct answer and a coy smile tugged at Azzi’s lips as she climbed into Paige’s lap, sliding one knee onto either side of Paige’s hips. She glanced around theatrically before her soft brown eyes settled back on Paige, pupils blown wide. 

“So,” Azzi asked innocently even though they both knew she was anything but, “Nika done pouting yet?”

The club was packed. Azzi’s teammates sat fifty feet away and a who’s who of Minneapolis littered the VIP section, but Azzi didn’t seem to care. And Paige was way too many Dirty Shriely’s deep to really process anything but the beautiful woman sitting in her lap. Who could honestly blame her. Besides Nika.  

Blinded by the blissful fog in her brain and the weight of Azzi in her lap, Paige just chuckled, her hands shifting to Azzi’s waist. She stroked the skin peeking out from below the cropped top, relishing its warmth, as Azzi settled. The movement pressed them flush together, and Paige was sure now Azzi could at least feel the way her heart was racing even if she couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” Paige muttered, though she was grinning.

Azzi looped her arms loosely around Paige’s shoulders. “You love trouble.”

Paige hummed at the truth in the statement, blue eyes dropping to Azzi’s mouth for a second before meeting her gaze again. “It does seem to have a way of finding me.”

“Funny,” Azzi murmured, fingertips drifting behind Paige’s ear before trailing down the side of her neck, where they found the collar of Paige’s shirt. She absentmindedly smoothed it flat. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She found the cross pendant resting on Paige’s chest next, adjusting it even though it hadn’t actually needed fixing. Then her palm settled flat in the valley between Paige’s breasts.

They were in the middle of a crowded club, but Paige wasn't complaining. She was too turned on to recognize the alarm bells ringing.

Seemingly emboldened by the way Paige’s heart hammered against her touch, Azzi slid her hand further, fingers grazing a taut nipple through Paige’s shirt.

Jesus Christ. 

Paige bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath. It didn’t help settle her. She wasn’t sure anything could at this moment besides a bucket of cold water. 

“You tryna get in some real trouble tonight?” Azzi asked, voice soft against her ear. The words were almost swallowed by the crowded club around them, but Paige swore they rattled around her skull louder than the bass.

Paige laughed at the implication but she couldn’t deny the way it settled low in her belly. “It is my specialty.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?” Paige’s hand slid higher along Azzi’s waist, fingers pressing in harder before beginning to stroke back and forth. Two could play this game. And despite not knowing the rules, Paige was certainly enjoying it. “That why you came all the way over here?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Azzi shrugged one shoulder, but the smile threatening her lips gave her away. It was small but sinister.

For a second neither of them moved. 

The music pounded through the club. Lights flashed across the crowd below them and Paige suddenly felt hyperaware of every inch separating them. 

Which wasn’t much.

Some would even argue it was too much. That someone being Paige. 

“You look this good tonight just for me?” Paige asked, hopeful at the answer.

A soft laugh escaped Azzi and Paige tried to ignore the way her eyes sparkled when she tipped her head back. 

“That’s a terrible line.”

“Do I need a line?”  Paige arched a brow, a hint of challenge in her tone. “You’re the one who came over here.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped briefly to Paige’s mouth before darting back up. The movement was quick but not quick enough. Paige caught it, and apparently Azzi realized she had too because a faint blush immediately crept into her cheeks before she looked away.

“You looked lonely,” Azzi surmised, tone implying a casualness that didn’t exist.

“Lonely, huh?”

Paige smirked. They both knew it was bullshit. She could have any woman in the club if she wanted. It wasn’t lost on either of them what was happening. 

“Mhm,” Azzi hummed playfully, fingers returning to the collar of Paige’s shirt, and running along it until they found the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. “Thought you could use some company. Pretty confident I’d be better company than you’ve had all night.”

That was a direct shot at Nika. 

Paige knew it. Azzi knew it. Azzi knew Paige knew it. Paige knew Azzi knew it.

But Azzi’s legs were bracketed around Paige’s hips, one arm draped loosely across her shoulders and before Paige could defend her friend’s honor, Azzi’s fingers cinched in the hair at the base of her neck and it sent a jolt straight through Paige that settled right between her fucking legs. 

Willpower gone. Out the door. On vacation with no idea when it’d come back. 

She was fucked. 

Or at least that’s all she could think about. 

Paige’s hands had a mind of their own, sliding along the narrow strip of exposed skin beneath Azzi’s top before dipping lower to palm her ass through the soft fabric of her jeans. Azzi let out a soft moan that made Paige’s cunt throb. Somehow, she maintained enough composure to resist the urge to buck up into Azzi. 

This felt dangerous. 

Then again, most things about Azzi were.

The smile.

The confidence.

The history with Nika. 

The way she was somehow managing to make direct eye contact feel like fucking foreplay.

All of it. 

A pretty little bomb, wrapped with a bow, ready to detonate at any second. 

Azzi tilted her head slightly, studying her with a look that felt entirely too knowing.

“What?” Paige asked.

The coy smile widened because Azzi knew exactly the kind of effect she was having on Paige. The kind that had Paige thinking about what she tasted like. Tequila from her drink earlier? Maybe vodka and grenadine from the waning sips of Paige’s Dirty Shirley? 

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

A soft laugh escaped Azzi and Paige felt it more than heard it.

The lights swept across the room again, briefly illuminating Azzi’s face, and the faint smudge of lip gloss near the corner of her mouth.

Without thinking, Paige reached up.

Azzi went still as Paige brushed the pad of her thumb lightly against the corner of her lips, catching the smear and dragging it away.

“There,” Paige said, voice not entirely steady.

For a second, Azzi’s eyes tracked the movement of her thumb and Paige knew she had her. It was a look she’d gotten many times over the years from various women. None as enticing as Azzi, though. It was doing wonders for Paige’s ego. 

Smirk growing, she slid her thumb back along Azzi’s bottom lip, pulling it down, but resisting the urge to push into her mouth. Then slowly, she looked back up and met Azzi’s gaze. The soft brown was gone, instead replaced by wide, dark pupils, and a hunger that was mirrored in Paige’s own eyes. 

The expression on her face made Paige’s pulse kick against her ribs. The air between them was thick with tension. She was in trouble and there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she wanted to. Which she obviously didn’t. 

“Thanks,” Azzi whispered, before using her grip on Paige’s hair to pull her in. 

The kiss landed hard enough to steal the cocky response from the tip of Paige’s tongue. 

Azzi kissed like she played soccer: aggressive, confident, a little cocky about it. Same as Paige, which left them fighting to establish dominance. Azzi’s fingers tightened into the hair at the back of Paige’s neck, nails sliding and scraping against her scalp as Paige’s hands slipped lower and groped her ass.

Azzi made a soft little sound when Paige slipped her tongue into her mouth, and Paige felt it zip straight down her spine. The club blurred around them into bass and flashing lights and distant bodies moving somewhere outside the booth. But all Paige could focus on was the way Azzi kissed her, like she was staking a claim.

After a couple minutes, maybe even more because Paige had honestly lost track, Azzi pulled back just enough to breathe, lips pink and swollen. Paige leaned forward to chase her lips but a firm hand against her chest stopped her. 

Paige whined, not caring how pathetic it sounded. She’d had a taste and now it was all she could process. Unfortunately, the striker sent her a pointed glare that deflated Paige instantly.

“I thought,” Azzi started, a slight pout tugging at her mouth, “you were gonna tell her about us tonight.”

Paige groaned, dropping her forehead briefly against Azzi’s shoulder before pulling back to meet her dark gaze.

“Bro,” Paige laughed, “you literally took both her legs out with a slide tackle. You think tonight was the night to tell her?”

“First of all, don’t call me ‘bro’,” Azzi scolded in mock offense. “Second… did you not see her drag me down by my jersey in the first half?”

Paige snorted. “You provoked her.”

“I did no such thing.” 

“So you weren’t shit talking her in Croatian?” 

Azzi grinned proudly, which was really the only answer Paige needed. “I was just trying to be inclusive.”

Paige laughed again, unable not to. “You’re right, Az,” she admitted, really just hoping to move things along so she could get her mouth back on Azzi.

God, Paige had missed her.

They’d only been apart a couple of weeks—since Paige had played the Mystics—but still.

Unfortunately, the smugness that overtook Azzi’s face was immediate.

“Oh. I’m definitely telling her you said that.”

Paige pointed a warning finger at her, wagging it slightly. “Don’t even think about it. She’ll kill me.”

Azzi grabbed it, interlacing their fingers instead, and Paige felt the resistance seep out of her pores the way it always did when she had Azzi wrapped around her.

“She loves you too much to kill you.” 

“She might actually hate you more than she loves me, though,” Paige countered. “You were supposed to chill today so I could talk to her, Az. Not rile her up even more.” 

Azzi giggled, and Paige swore that sound alone had probably taken years off her life. 

Then Azzi kissed her again. Slower this time, but also a little bit meaner. It was a kiss clearly designed to ruin Paige’s ability to think and it was fucking working. Especially when Azzi shifted in her lap, grinding down enough to make Paige’s grip tighten. A sharp breath caught in Paige’s throat and Azzi smiled against her mouth, pulling back just enough for Paige to see the mischievousness flicker in her eyes. 

“You’re evil,” Paige muttered.

“And yet, you’re going to take me back to your house and fuck me anyway.”

“Oh, am I?” Paige shot back with a cocky smirk.

It was rhetorical, laughable even, that Paige even asked the question. They both knew exactly how this evening was going to end—breathless and sated, wrapped around each other in Paige’s bed. And at some point, God willing, Azzi’s legs wrapped around Paige’s shoulders, around her head. 

Azzi pulled back and let her eyes rake over Paige. Clearly liking what she saw, she traced a finger up Paige’s arm, sending goosebumps scattering across her skin, before her long fingers wrapped around Paige’s jaw and lifted her chin so their eyes met.

“Yes. You are.”

Then Azzi’s grip on Paige’s jaw tightened. She held Paige in place, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “Especially on if you want to see what I’m wearing underneath this.” 

Paige gulped, swallowing down the cotton in her throat. “Which one is it?” she asked hoarsely, eyes half-lidded. 

“Your favorite,” Azzi mumbled coyly into her ear, her warm breath spreading through Paige like wildfire. “The one I wore for your birthday last year.” 

Paige’s hand slipped under the waistband of Azzi’s pants, grinning with pure joy when she felt lace beneath her fingertips.

She could picture it now. Azzi in that lavender lingerie set, spread out on Paige’s bed, writhing with pleasure as Paige buried her face between her legs. It sent a flood of wetness to her already soaked boxers. 

“Mmm,” Paige hummed against Azzi’s lips. “Yeah, I think we should call an Uber soon, baby.”

Azzi rolled her hips again, slower this time, but definitely intentionally. 

“Fuck, baby,” Paige breathed against Azzi’s mouth as she lost the last functioning brain cell she had left.

All she could think about was getting her fingers in Azzi’s cunt. Or her tongue. Or her strap. Paige didn’t care, she was an equal opportunity employer. 

And Azzi? She just looked unbearably pleased with herself. She leaned back slightly, fingers tracing teasingly along the chain around Paige’s neck, a soft smile replacing the smug one.

“You know,” Azzi said gently, “you are gonna have to tell her eventually.”

Paige sighed dramatically already knowing where this was headed.

“Or I can just fuck you right here and cause enough of a scene it floods social media by morning and she can find out that way…”

Paige winced at the thought, picturing how wide Nika’s eyes would blow. And then the slew of curse words that would slip from her lips, likely trailing off in another language. Which would probably be good because at least Paige wouldn’t know how Nika was planning on killing her. Sometimes not knowing was better. 

In her defense, she had been meaning to tell Nika. For months now, actually. But every single time she tried to bring up Azzi, Nika would say something like “If Azzi Fudd has no haters left on earth it means I’m dead,” or something along those lines, and Paige would lose her nerve.

Which maybe made her a little bit of a coward. But she valued her life. So. Whatever. 

Azzi’s fingers slid to Paige’s chain, tugging lightly to pull her back to reality. “Paige.”

She was serious now, the playful banter dissipating and Paige knew why. 

“I’ll tell her, Az,” Paige promised, kissing along Azzi’s jaw before she could keep arguing. “I swear I’ll tell Nika soon.”

The attempt at distraction worked. Azzi giggled quietly when Paige’s mouth brushed her neck, settling her weight back down and titling her neck to give Paige more room to work.

“You’ll fucking tell me what soon?”

The blood drained from Paige’s face so fast, chilling in her veins and freezing her in place. 

One second Azzi was giggling as Paige kissed along her neck, warm and smug and entirely too comfortable in her lap, and the next Paige was staring over her shoulder at Nika standing beside the booth with wide eyes and her forgotten leather jacket dangling limply from one hand.

For one spectacular moment, nobody spoke.

Paige could only hope Nika permanently lost the ability to speak as her brain scrambled uselessly for literally anything helpful to say. It was to no avail. Every possible sentence immediately sounded incriminating. 

On top of her, Azzi had gone still too, though not nearly with the same level of panic. Probably not with any panic at all. Paige could practically feel the amusement simmering under her skin.

Of course she was entertained. It was yet another win to hold over Nika’s head. And Azzi wasn’t the one about to be murdered by her best friend. Although if Paige got murdered, Azzi’s chances of multiple orgasms that evening dropped significantly. So really, it wasn’t a great situation for either of them.

Then Azzi, because apparently self-preservation meant absolutely nothing to her, tilted her head slightly and looked up at Nika with a soft, innocent expression that would’ve been believable if Paige hadn’t witnessed the decade-long feud between them firsthand. 

“Sup Mühl,” Azzi said way too fucking casually. 

Nika looked physically unwell. Behind the bewilderment, Paige knew rage was simmering. A deep seeded, festering rage. 

Paige opened her mouth instinctively. “Nika—”

“No,” Nika cut in immediately, pointing at Paige without taking her fiery gaze off Azzi. “Absolutely not. Don’t even speak right now, P.”

Paige sank deeper into the booth cushions, wishing the couch could swallow her whole. 

Nika’s wide-eyed gaze bounced between them, visibly trying to process the image in front of her. Paige knew exactly how bad it looked. Azzi was fully straddling Paige’s lap, Paige’s hand still rested beneath the waistband of her jeans, both of them flushed and disheveled enough that there was absolutely no chance of talking their way out of this. 

Nada. Zero. Zilch. 

Nika drew in a deep breath, held it a few seconds, and then released it. She suddenly looked entirely too calm. It was unsettling. 

Finally, she met Paige’s gaze.

“You,” Nika said slowly to Paige, like each word physically pained her, “are making out with my opp.”

Azzi snorted from Paige’s lap, moving her hands from Paige’s neck to rest gently on her shoulders. “Opp is crazy, Nika.”

“Was I fucking talking to you, Fudd?” 

Apparently Azzi didn’t take too keenly to the finger Nika was pointing in her face because she laughed. It was low and cold, a sound Paige had never heard but that made her chest cinch. This might be the worst possible position Paige had ever been in. And she’d found herself in some cataclysmic ones over the years. 

“Still pissed you lost, Muhl?” 

Nika’s eyes grew impossibly wider and Paige really really wished she had the power of invisibility and could nope herself right the fuck out of there. Even missing out on the chance to fuck Azzi would be better than having to sit through a scolding from Nika when her hands were still down Azzi’s pants. 

Oh shit. 

That certainly wasn’t helping the matter. 

Paige quickly withdrew her hands, not missing the way Nika’s gaze flicked down and cataloged the movement. Luckily, she seemed to be more interested in the bait Azzi was dangling in front of her. 

“You literally slide tackled me into another dimension tonight.”

“Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. I got the ball.”

“You got a yellow card!”

“And yet,” Azzi replied smugly, “we still won.”

The strangled sound that left Nika’s throat nearly made Paige laugh. Nearly. Despite the fluidity of her body from the alcohol and its longing for Azzi, it seemed her body also remembered Nika could probably snap her neck before she even saw it coming. 

Unfortunately, Nika’s brain was working faster now, piecing together details Paige really wished she wouldn’t piece together. Paige watched the exact moment her eyes dropped to the way Paige’s thumb was absentmindedly rubbing against Azzi’s side. Then Nika clocked how naturally Azzi was tucked against her chest, how comfortable they looked together, how neither of them seemed remotely awkward.

And then came the look. The one Paige recognized instantly. One she knew all too well. 

Absolute horror.

“Oh my god,” Nika whispered, eyes widening further as she moved her finger between the two in shock. “How long?”

Nobody answered fast enough. Which was apparently answer enough.

In Paige’s defense, she simply could not bring herself to say years. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but they were stuck. Call it self-preservation. 

“Paige!”

“Okay,” Paige started carefully, because she suddenly felt like she was diffusing a bomb with her bare hands. Honestly, that might be a more relaxing experience than the one she was currently embroiled in. “Before you react—”

“Before I react?” Nika repeated incredulously. “How long have you been fucking Azzi Fudd behind my back?”

The way she said Azzi’s name with so much disdain felt like a knife to the chest. A couple people at a nearby table glanced over briefly, curious at the sudden yelling.

Paige lowered her voice. “Can you maybe not announce that to the entire club?”

Nika ignored her completely, still staring like she was debating if her entire friendship with Paige had been a lie. “How long?”

Paige hesitated. Which, again, was apparently a mistake because it gave Azzi a chance to open her fucking mouth. A beautiful mouth, but a problem for Paige nonetheless. 

Azzi turned, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest and looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Nika,” Azzi said, inviting her to the couch across from them with a flick of her wrist. In the VIP booth that Nika had booked and paid for that evening. “Grab a drink and we can all talk like adults. For once.” 

Nika looked like she might actually combust. Honestly, at this point, Paige genuinely couldn’t tell whether Nika wanted to scream or cry. Probably both and maybe the thoughts were just so conflicting it was making her brain short circuit, which was why Paige and Azzi were still alive. 

Paige finally let out a helpless laugh, rubbing a hand down her face. “Okay, baby, you are not helping.”

Silence followed. Nika blinked once, then again, much slower this time. Finally, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh before looking back at Paige. 

“Baby?”

Ah.

Right.

That sounded bad.

Nika had been around long enough to know Paige didn’t do pet names. At least not with random hookups. The only time she’d used any sort of term of endearment in front of Nika had been in college, when she’d dated Brooke for a couple of years.

Azzi, meanwhile, looked absolutely delighted. Chuffed, if you will. She shifted slightly in Paige’s lap, practically radiating smug satisfaction while Paige mentally drafted her own obituary. The only thing worse than Paige fucking Azzi Fudd, would be actually liking Azzi Fudd.

“Are you… like not just fucking?” Nika asked carefully, like she was scared of the answer. “Like… are you… dating?” 

By now the outrage had softened into confusion. The question hit differently than Paige expected. Suddenly the issue wasn’t just the hooking up or the secrecy or even the rivalry. It was the fact that this might be something serious. Something that mattered. 

Paige felt Azzi glance at her briefly before she answered.

“Kinda?” Paige said cautiously.

Azzi immediately scoffed, looking offended. “Kinda?”

In all of the romcoms Paige had watched over the years—which was a lot because Nika fucking loved them—none had prepared her for being trapped between her best friend and girlfriend. There was no winning. And literally, Paige’s favorite thing to do was win. 

She blew out a shaky breath, remembering the night a few months ago when she had nervously confessed to Azzi that she wanted to be exclusive. 

It certainly hadn’t started out that way. They’d met two years ago at an ESPY party. Paige beat Azzi for Best Championship Performance and had sauntered over to her at the bar, wearing a custom Louis Vuitton suit and a smug little grin. Her intention was to gloat, to rub it in a little bit so she could tell Nika all about it.

And she had gloated and she had rubbed it in, and the interaction had confirmed that Azzi Fudd was the terrible little shit she and Nika always thought she was. But Azzi Fudd was also hot, and Paige apparently liked it when a woman was mean to her, because suddenly she was eating Azzi out in the back of a limo, and they were hate fucking in Paige’s hotel room, and she’d woken up in the morning with Azzi’s head between her legs already halfway to an orgasm. 

She thought that was that. It was easy enough to chalk up to a drunken night where two people that hated each other fucked. Until she got a “You in my city?” text from Azzi a few months later when the Lynx were in DC playing the Mystics. Followed by an address. 

Paige had debated whether or not to go. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Azzi, sober at least. And she also wasn’t entirely convinced Azzi hadn’t sent directions to a crack house. But then she remembered how Azzi tasted. How she felt writhing underneath her. How she sounded—so breathless and needy and whiny—when she came. And Paige figured one more time wouldn’t hurt. 

The next time, Paige happened to be staying in the same hotel as Azzi at New York Fashion Week. A month later it was a Nike event in Los Angeles. Two weeks after that, Azzi was in Minneapolis for a game. 

Every time was more of the same. They’d fuck and then one of them would leave. Part of Paige did feel guilty keeping it from Nika, but it was a small part. There was really nothing to tell. No feelings involved. Just two people who didn’t particularly like each other, doling out mind blowing orgasms.

Except, it didn’t stay that way. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about hate fucking, and just became fucking. Then it became more than fucking, and Paige knew Nika would implode but she was honestly already in too deep.

And as much as Paige knew it was risking life and limb to admit to Nika, this was serious. It did matter. 

“Okay, yes, we’re dating.”

Nika stared at both of them like she was trying to keep herself rooted in place, hands shoved in her pockets because if she stepped forward there was no telling what she’d do with them. 

“When did this start?” she asked weakly.

Paige grimaced. Unfortunately for her, Azzi looked thrilled by the question.

“When did we start fucking?” Azzi asked sweetly. “Or when did we actually start dating?”

Nika’s soul visibly exited her body.

Paige grabbed Azzi’s thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. “Okay, chill,” she warned, though not unkindly. “You did not need to say it like that.”

Nika dropped heavily onto the edge of the booth beside them like her knees stopped functioning altogether.

“I hate both of you.”

Azzi leaned slightly toward Nika, curls slipping over one shoulder. “To be fair, you hated me before this too.”

“That’s true,” Nika grumbled immediately before grabbing the almost empty bottle of tequila from the bucket of melted ice and taking a big swig.

Then she pointed the bottle accusingly at Paige. “But your girlfriend being so fucking smug right now is making this significantly worse.”

Azzi grinned wider. “I’m trying really hard to be normal actually.”

“Shut up, Fudd.”

That finally broke Paige. She laughed hard enough her shoulders shook, because the entire situation had become so catastrophically stupid that there was nothing else to do anymore.

Nika looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “You’re laughing right now?” 

Paige’s heart rate had ticked down a few notches now that it seemed Nika wasn’t planning on killing either of them. At least for the moment. Maybe she did love Paige more than she hated Azzi. 

“I never planned for this to happen, Nika,” Paige said exasperatedly, before blowing out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you. Whatever you want to know I’ll tell you.”

Nika rubbed both hands over her face before groaning toward the ceiling. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. 

“You know what?” she huffed. “I’m too drunk for this shit.”

Paige bit the inside of her cheek to stop smiling. Nika stood again, grabbing her jacket before pointing firmly at both of them.

“I’ll see you at brunch tomorrow.” Then, more aggressively, she added, “Both of you.”

Azzi saluted lazily from Paige’s lap. “Can’t wait.”

Nika made it approximately two steps before whipping around one final time.

“And by the way,” she snapped, pointing directly at Azzi now, “that was a shit tackle and you know it, Fudd.”

Azzi looked deeply unrepentant and Nika’s eyes immediately cut toward Paige.

“Tell her it was a shit tackle, Paige.”

Paige inhaled slowly because this, right here, was the actual trap. She could already feel Azzi watching her, waiting to see which side she’d pick. Her heart slammed against her ribcage and she honestly wished it’d break free. At least then they’d have to call an ambulance and she wouldn’t have to answer, right? Although the two of them would probably start arguing about who got to ride in it with Paige to the hospital and she could only imagine how that would go... 

“Nika, I—”

Azzi grabbed Paige’s jaw before she could finish, kissing her hard enough to completely derail the sentence. Paige laughed against her mouth, one arm tightening around Azzi’s waist automatically as Nika let out the most exhausted groan Paige had ever heard in her life.

“See you tomorrow, Nika,” Azzi hummed against Paige’s lips, waving her hand dismissively. 

“My best friend,” Nika muttered while walking away, “is fucking my opp.”

Paige didn’t have it in her to fight, instead grabbing Azzi’s hips and pulling her in closer.

She probably should’ve felt more concerned about the impending doom waiting for her at brunch. There was a very real chance Nika would spend the rest of the night drafting a list of crimes she’d like to commit against both of them.