buffalo1221

“Don’t you dare take another step, Fudd.” Nai’s voice isn’t loud, but it’s sharp enough to slice through Azzi’s panic.

“Let me go,” Azzi pleads, her voice cracking in desperation. “Please, Nai, I need to get out of here.”

“Oh, hell no!” Dijonai hisses, grip tightening. “Girl are you trippin? You’re really going to do this to her?”

The disappointment in her eyes hits harder than the fingers digging into her arm. Ever since Azzi was drafted to the Lynx, Nai has been there for her. She always believed in her, defended her, and trusted her. Right now, it feels like all of that is slipping away.

“I have to go,” Azzi whispers, frantic. “Please don’t make a scene.”

Nai doesn’t budge, just scoffs at the idea she’s the one making a scene. “Do you love her?”

The question is simple and the answer is immediate.

“With my whole heart.”

“But that’s not the problem, is it?” Nai murmurs, because she knows there was always more to it.

Azzi looks down, shoulders curling inward. She’s got no fucking spine today so it makes sense she can’t even hold her body upright.

“I thought I could handle this, but I’m just… I’m not ready.” Her voice spirals faster, frantic thoughts trampling each other. “And the truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

Nai’s expression softens, but it’s all heartbreak. “First and foremost, and romantic feelings aside, what is Paige to you?”

“My best friend,” Azzi answers simply. Paige has been her best friend since she was 18. 

“Then don’t you think you owe your best friend a conversation?”

The words land hard, and Azzi feels her chest collapse in on itself. Thinking about Paige’s face when she realizes Azzi isn’t going to be walking down the aisle… it’s unbearable.

“She’ll hate me,” Azzi whispers, wiping tears with the back of her hand. Her makeup smears, but she doesn’t care. She’s not planning on anyone seeing her anyway. 

“And you don’t think she’ll hate you more if she’s standing out there and you never show up?” Nai’s tone is laced with anger now. “Do you know how embarrassed she’ll be?”

Azzi squeezes her eyes shut. “What would I even say?” she asks, barely audible.

“Just be honest,” Nai says gently, like she’s talking to a wounded animal she’s trying not to scare away. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, she deserves to hear it from you.”

Honest. 

The irony isn’t lost on her.

If only it were that simple. 

But Nai won’t let her run, and somewhere, deep down inside, Azzi knows she’s right.

“Alright.” The word is barely a breath, defeat and sadness and hurt muddled together.

She turns and heads back. On her way down the hallway, she passes a massive window and freezes. Outside, the wedding is already coming alive.

When Paige mentioned that she wanted to get married at the summer lake house in Minnesota, the one tucked away on a private three acres with a stunning view, Azzi thought it was perfect. 

A white runner stretches from the wooden back porch to the arch that sits in front of the lake, soft and simple and unmistakably Paige. Blue and purple flowers climb the wood, the exact shades Azzi remembered from those magazines last summer—the ones Paige pretended to hate but spent hours looking through.

Guests are settling into rows of white chairs. Their UConn girls are crowded together on the left, laughing loudly enough for Azzi to hear through the glass. Paige’s hometown friends and an eclectic mix of WNBA players that have become like family to them chatter on the right. Her own parents, Tim and Katie, stand off to the side, talking warmly with Paige’s. She can only imagine what her brothers are going to get up to with Drew in their fancy tailored suits today.

A pang hits deep. This isn’t just Paige she’s hurting. It’s everyone.

Things will never be the same after this.

Never. 

The thought is horrifyingly suffocating.

She catches her reflection in the glass and winces. Tear tracks, mascara smudged, eyes swollen, rumpled dress. There’s no way she can face Paige like this, looking like a sad, pathetic raccoon. Honestly, that’s kind of what she feels like. Maybe she should just crawl into a sewer somewhere and die.

A burst of laughter echoes down the hall—Paige’s laughter—and Azzi’s stomach drops so fast she sways. Normally that sound is her favorite thing. Right now it feels like a knife twisting in her chest.

The clock behind her ticks loudly, a reminder that time has officially run out. If she’s going to do this, it has to be now.

Azzi inhales, shaky and thin, then scrubs at her cheeks, squinting, trying to repair what she can. Deciding it's as good as its going to get, she turns and walks toward the other bridal suite where Paige is getting ready, with whom she’s dubbed ‘the boys,’ but is really just any of the attendants not wearing a dress. 

She’s inches from the door. Her hand lifts to knock when someone yanks her backward.

“Don’t you dare.”

Azzi spins, startled, and comes face-to-face with Nika. She looks like she’s five seconds from committing a crime. A crime that involves murdering Azzi without a second thought. One that a jury would probably let her get away with once they heard her compelling motive.

Fuck premeditation. 

“Nika, you don’t know—”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re about to do.” Nika’s grip is vice-like, even tighter than Dijonai’s. “And you’re not doing it. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Nika has always been protective of Paige, but this is different. This is feral. This is over my dead fucking body energy and part of Azzi understands it. Paige has always been Nika’s person, twins with separate sets of parents and all that.

“Nika, please,” Azzi begs, desperation painting every feature of her tear-stained face.

“You can’t do this,” Nika hisses.

Azzi’s mind spins. Nai pulling her one way, Nika blocking the other. Both right. Both wrong. Both fighting for Paige, which is ironic because Paige has always been the other half of Azzi’s heart, but here she is torpedoing their lives.

She’s seconds from collapsing under the weight of it all when the door swings open behind her.

“Yeah, I’ll go check that everything is ready!” comes Paige’s voice, calling over her shoulder to someone in the room. It’s bright, and so fucking cheery, which only shoves the knife deeper into Azzi’s chest.

Then Paige turns around.

She walks straight into Azzi’s chest and freezes. Her smile falls instantly, beautiful face draining of color.

“Azzi what are you doing out here?” she breathes, eyes locked on the tear-streaked mess of her face and rumpled dress. “Az… what’s wrong?”

Her voice is full of concern. Not anger or suspicion. Instead it's just raw, familiar love and concern. 

That alone nearly brings Azzi to her knees.