gio🫂

the bass thrummed through the suite like a second heartbeat, neon city lights cutting sharp across the dark. all-star weekend afterparties always spilled over like this—champagne, loud laughs, bodies packed tight enough to hide a thousand small moments. i stood near the windows with a whiskey ginger in hand, scanning the crowd until my eyes landed on her.

caitlin moved through the room like she was still on the court, tall, easy strides, black fitted top and pants hugging every lean line of her. hair down in loose waves, that post-game glow still clinging to her skin. she caught me looking and her whole face changed, that private little smirk pulling at her lips, the one she saved just for me.

she slipped through the crowd, one hand brushing my lower back as she stepped in close, like it was the most natural thing in the world. because it was.

“hey, baby,” she murmured, voice low and warm against my ear. her lips brushed my temple. “you been hiding over here?”

i leaned into her, letting her arm settle around my waist. “just waiting for you to finish charming everyone. you were unreal tonight.”

her laugh vibrated through me. she stole a sip of my drink, nose wrinkling at the ginger before she handed it back. we’d been doing this for months now, stolen touches in crowded rooms, quiet nights where the world felt far away. being her girlfriend meant learning how to love her in public without giving the cameras too much. tonight felt easier. looser. the afterparty haze let us stand closer than usual.

“my feet are killing me,” she admitted, shifting her weight with a soft groan. i smiled, sliding my hand down to squeeze her hip.

“poor superstar. want me to rub them later?”

her eyes darkened, playful heat flickering there. “you offering more than that?”

i raised an eyebrow, fingers tracing the edge of her top. “depends how good you ask.”

we stayed like that for a while, talking to a few people who came by—teammates, friends, random famous faces. caitlin kept me close, thumb stroking slow circles on my hip under the hem of my dress. every so often she’d lean down to say something just for me, lips brushing my ear, making me shiver. when someone asked how we knew each other, she just grinned and said “she’s mine,” like it was the simplest truth.

the tension built quietly. her hand drifting lower, my body pressing back into hers when no one was looking. by the time the crowd thinned a little, we were both buzzing with it.

“room’s two floors up,” she said finally, voice rough. her eyes locked on mine, that focused intensity that usually came before she drained a logo three. “been thinking about getting you out of this dress since warmups.”

we barely made it into the elevator before she had me against the wall, kissing me deep and slow, one thigh sliding between mine. her hands mapped my waist, my ribs, like she hadn’t touched me in weeks instead of hours. i tugged at her hair, smiling into the kiss when she groaned softly.

inside the suite she kicked the door shut and spun me around, mouth hot on my neck as she unzipped my dress. it pooled at my feet and she hummed in appreciation, palms sliding down my sides.

“so fucking pretty,” she whispered, kissing along my shoulder. i turned in her arms, pushing her back toward the bed until she sat on the edge. straddling her lap felt like coming home—her strong hands gripping my thighs, holding me right where she wanted while we kissed harder, tongues teasing.

i peeled her top off, tracing every line of muscle with my fingertips, then my mouth. she leaned back on her elbows, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, breath catching every time i scraped my teeth lightly over her skin. when i rocked against her she sat up suddenly, flipping us so i was underneath, her body pressing me into the mattress.

“missed this,” she breathed between kisses, hands everywhere, cupping my breasts, sliding down my stomach, dipping between my legs like she knew exactly how to unravel me. i arched into her, whispering her name as she worked me open with those long fingers, mouth following every gasp and moan. she took her time, savoring it, eyes flicking up to watch my face like i was the only thing in the world.

when i came she kissed me through it, swallowing every sound, then let me flip her again. i returned the favor slowly, tasting her, feeling the way her thighs trembled around my shoulders and her fingers tightened in my hair. she came with my name on her lips, raw and breathless, body bowing off the bed.

afterward we stayed tangled in the sheets, city lights painting soft patterns across our skin. caitlin pulled me close, arm heavy around my waist, nose buried in my neck.

“love you,” she mumbled, voice sleepy and warm. her fingers traced idle hearts on my hip. “thanks for coming this weekend. makes all the noise worth it.”

i kissed her forehead, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “wouldn’t miss it. love you more, clark.”

you’re sitting on the floor of the hotel room, legs stretched out in front of you, scrolling aimlessly on your phone while sonia paces in front of the bed. she’s already in her warmup gear, hoodie half-zipped, hair pulled back tight, but she keeps tugging the sleeves over her hands like the fabric’s gonna anchor her.

she’s been quiet since breakfast. not in the brooding, shut-you-out kind of way, just… quieter than usual. she had her head on your shoulder in the car to the arena for practice earlier, barely looking up when you tried to distract her with dumb memes. now, she’s chewing on her lip, staring at the carpet like it’s got the answers.

“you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” you say, leaning back on your palms.

she glances at you, a quick flicker of a smile, but it doesn’t stick. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not fine,” you reply, tilting your head. “you’re walking like you’re about to plead your case to the supreme court.”

she stops pacing and sits at the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together so tight her knuckles go pale. “i just—” she lets out this sharp exhale, like she’s been holding it in all morning. “i’m the only rookie. everyone else is, like, established. they’ve been in all-star weekend before. they’re… names.”

“you’re a name,” you remind her.

she laughs, but it’s short and humorless. “not like that.”

you push yourself up, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “you think they put you in this for fun? like, just to fill a spot?”

she looks up at you, eyes glassy but stubborn. “maybe a little. rookie filler.”

you crouch so you’re eye-level, hands resting on her knees. “sonia citron, i swear to god, if you don’t stop talking like that…” you trail off, shaking your head with a soft grin. “you earned this. you’ve been shooting lights out all season. they saw it. everybody saw it. you’re here because you’re one of the best.”

her jaw tightens like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. instead, her hands slide from her lap to your shoulders, holding on like she needs something solid.

“what if i choke?” she asks quietly.

you shrug, still smiling. “then you choke. and guess what? i’ll still be in the stands yelling for you like you just won the championship. i’ll still be here when you come back to the hotel tonight. i’m not going anywhere.”

she breathes out slowly, her shoulders dropping just a little. “you always know what to say.”

“yeah, it’s a skill,” you tease, leaning in until your forehead rests against hers. “plus, i really like kissing you when you’re nervous.”

she huffs out a laugh, finally a real one, and leans the rest of the way in. the kiss is soft, a little hesitant at first, like she’s still holding onto some of that tension, but when you cup her face, she melts into it.

when you pull back, she’s smiling for real this time. “okay,” she says, almost like she’s convincing herself. “okay. i can do this.”

you stand, offering her your hand. “you can more than do this. you’re gonna kill it. and afterwards, we’re getting room service and i’m ordering dessert for you even if you say you’re not hungry.”

she takes your hand, letting you pull her up. “deal.”

…

by the time she finally finds you in the hallway outside the locker room, she’s still got the little participant medal swinging against her chest, hair messy from where she’d ripped her headband off. she’s not even pretending to be cool about it—her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed, and she’s talking before you can even say anything.

“okay, so, the last rack? i thought i was done for, but then i hit three in a row and i swear i could hear you screaming from the other side of the arena—”

“because i was,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around her waist before she can pace right past you.

she lets you pull her in, still buzzing. “i didn’t win, but—god, it was so much fun. like, actually fun. i can’t even remember the last time i wasn’t overthinking every shot i took.”

you smile against her shoulder. “you looked happy. like, actual smile-on-your-face happy the whole time.”

she pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes softening. “i was. and every time i looked up, you were just—” she shakes her head, grinning. “you were standing up, waving your arms like a crazy person.”

“had to make sure you could see me,” you say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

she laughs, leaning into your touch. “mission accomplished.”

you start walking with her toward the exit, your hand sliding into hers. she keeps replaying little moments out loud—how the lights felt, how weirdly heavy the balls were, the way one of the vets gave her a wink before they started. she’s not holding anything back, not playing it cool like she usually does after games, and you love it.

“i think this is the most words you’ve said to me after a game since we met,” you tease as you push the door open for her.

she shoots you a mock glare, but she’s still smiling. “yeah, well, maybe you’re a good luck charm.”

“for you to lose?” you joke, and she shoves your shoulder gently.

“for me to actually enjoy it,” she says, more serious this time.

outside, the night air is cold, but she doesn’t let go of your hand. “thank you for being here,” she says quietly, and it’s so unlike her—no sarcasm, no playful jab—that you know she means it completely.