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she sighs at the thought of getting up, but the idea of an expectant paige behind the door spurs her into action. she quickly marks her page and sets her book down, throwing the covers off of herself and swinging her legs out of bed. her hips crack loudly as she crosses the room, and she prays that paige can’t hear it through the door. 

as she opens the door, she sees her blonde friend attempting to lean nonchalantly against the opposite wall, arms crossed and expression faux chill. she snorts, making eye contact with her, and paige’s whole face lights up in a brilliant smile. 

azzi’s always sort of loved that one smile she does, the one where her eyes flatten and her gums show, and her heart flutters in her chest at the sight. she feels her cheeks warm, and can’t help a nervous smile from making its way onto her lips in return. 

“what?” she asks, voice cracking. neither of them comment on it. 

paige kicks herself off the wall, crossing it so that she stands in front of azzi. azzi’s hyper-aware of the fact that she’s just a bit shorter than the older girl, eyes level with her pinkened lips, and she forces her gaze upwards. 

“i dunno,” paige shrugs, “just wondered how you were doin’. y’know, cause you’re up here all alone.”

azzi chews the inside of her lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. she remembers what she was just doing and the reason for it, and simultaneously thinks about how her hair must look like a wreck from laying down and reading. 

her hands shoot up to smooth it down, and she steps aside to let paige into the room. “i just wanted to read,” she lies, letting paige see the book placed on her pillow. 

in actuality, azzi feels like shit. she’s already the youngest player on team usa, and though she’s friendly with most of the girls, she’s only friends with paige. 

at dinner, the rest of the girls had proposed a group hangout in aliyah’s room later in the night, but the idea of walking down by herself into the room and having everyone’s eyes on her had made azzi feel nervous as all hell. when paige had gone directly to aliyah’s room after dinner and before the hangout, carrying over their conversation, azzi had been left out on the side. 

yeah, she’s friends with paige, but paige is extroverted beyond belief– she’s friends with most of girls on the team. azzi can’t really blame her for not hanging around to guess at azzi’s whims and moods, and she doesn’t begrudge her for it. she just feels– well. 

she’d figured that nobody would come looking for her, and she’d quietly slipped out of the dinner and headed back up to her room. and she’d been right– nobody had come looking for her. which had made her feel even worse. 

she’d earned her right to be here just like everyone else had. she’s an unequivocal part of the team, and she’s heavily valued on the court. but when it comes to the extra stuff, the hangouts and dinners and snapchat streaks and nightly facetimes, azzi’s– left out. she doesn’t want to intrude on anyone else, so she doesn’t. and nobody besides paige really talks to her, anyways, so why force it?

“you wanted to read instead of coming down to hang?” paige asks incredulously, face scrunching up in confusion. she flops down onto azzi’s bed like she owns it, her gangly limbs sprawling across the crisp comforter.

azzi flushes, sitting down quietly down next to her. “i dunno, i–” she starts, “yeah.”

she sounds dumb and she knows it. she cringes to herself. 

paige props herself up on her elbows, straightened blonde hair falling into her face. “it’s not the same without you,” she says honestly, offhanded but earnest in the way that only paige can manage. 

azzi searches her brain for a viable excuse. “it’s just, y’know. a lot of energy in that room,” she forces a laugh, forcing herself to look away from paige. she fixates on a chip in the wall paint. 

“that’s exactly why you gotta come down,” paige replies easily, “calm the energy. neutralize.”

azzi laughs for real, then, shaking her head. “maybe.”

“c’mon, azzi, what’s so good about this book? you literally read it last month. and when you were reading it then, you said you’d read it before that, too.”

and oh. paige remembers the book. paige remembers what she’d said about the book. 

“it’s the sequel,” she lies, for no reason, and paige fully sits up, then. 

“no, it’s not,” paige argues, her competitiveness fully overtaking her politeness, “it’s the same color blue. and it’s got that title about the bird.”

“they just look similar.” 

“yeah, cause they’re the same book,” paige throws her hand out. azzi hides a smile, feeling herself relax a little. the light bickering is a rhythm, a pattern. it’s how their friendship works, and the weight of loneliness begins to ease off of her shoulders. 

“you can admit you got it wrong,” she shrugs, and paige scoffs. 

“you’re literally lying, bro.”

“i’m not lying. and it’s a good book,” azzi says simply. 

paige rolls her eyes. “whatever,” she grumbles, side-eyeing the offending object. “c’mon. wanna head back down with me?”

azzi hesitates a fraction of a second too long, and paige’s brow furrows. 

“you have all trip to read your book,” she frowns, “everyone’ll want to see you tonight.”

azzi is quiet again. paige’s head tilts. 

“but,” the blonde says casually, tapping her hand on azzi’s thigh, “if you just wanna chill here, we can do that. but we have to put on a movie or sumn, ’cause i’m not readin’ that big ass book over your shoulder.”

azzi’s mouth suddenly feels a little dry, and she feels a little lightheaded. 

“but–” she struggles to comprehend, “you’d leave– no, i don’t want you to leave everyone else. they’re expecting you back.”

“yeah, but if i go back, i’ll be thinkin’ about how you’re up here all alone still, so i may as well just stay here.” paige says it so casually, like ditching fifteen of her friends to hang out with azzi and do nothing even though azzi had already said she wanted to be alone was just a normal thing that anyone would do.

and, well. azzi doesn’t want to go, but she really doesn’t want to hold paige from socializing with her friends, regardless of the fact that it would mean that she got to spend time alone with her. 

the words fall out of her mouth without her even really thinking about them. “no, it’s okay, i’ll go down.”

paige shoots to her feet in surprise, whirling to face azzi with wide eyes. “really?” she coughs. “i mean. are you sure? you want to?”

azzi wants whatever would make paige the happiest, but she can’t admit that to herself nor can she articulate it, so she just nods. 

paige extends a hand to azzi, a goofy grin on her face, and azzi stares at her for a second too long before tentatively placing her palm in paige’s grasp. paige smiles even wider at that, wasting no time tugging her up and turning towards the door. their fingers tangle softly for a moment, casual, before slipping apart as paige grabs azzi’s keycard from her nightstand and opens the door. 

as she steps outside, a fresh wave of anxiety swells within azzi’s stomach. she bites the skin of her bottom lip, and paige glances her way for a half a second. azzi starts thinking about the awkwardness of knocking on the door, of having fifteen pairs of eyes turning her way and wondering why she was so late, and her knees start to feel a little bit–

“bro, you know what i’ve been thinkin’ about recently?” paige interrupts her thoughts, slightly louder than she needs to. azzi blinks, looking over at her as they slowly walk down the hallway to the elevator. 

“getting an ipad,” paige finishes, and azzi makes a face. 

“you already have a phone,” azzi reminds her, “and a laptop.”

“yeah, but it would be so much more convenient for watching movies.”

“you could just get a dvd player. ipads are expensive,” azzi snorts, pressing the elevator button. 

“i’m gonna make money in college, though, trust,” paige promises, “it’ll be nothing in the long run.”

the elevator doors open, and azzi shakes her head as they both step inside. “overconsumption,” she chides, and paige’s arm brushes against her own. 

“someone’s gonna buy it, it may as well be me,” paige grins, and her smile looks a little crooked but kind of perfect nonetheless, and azzi stops herself from saying that’s not how it works so she can stare at paige’s mouth for a second longer. 

the elevator moves down a floor and opens, and they step out. azzi barely has time to collect herself before paige is knocking on the closest door, a gentle hand on her back. 

aliyah swings the door open. her face splits into a smile as she sees the two of them, but before she can say anything someone yells from behind her.

“is that–”

“finally–”

“azzi!” a shriek rises up from half the girls there, all clamoring over each other and shooting to their feet. they dash towards her, giggling, grabbing her arms and dragging her to the floor to sit. 

azzi blinks, wide-eyed, at the reaction, and looks back at paige. 

the blonde girl smiles softly, her hands shoved into her pockets. they stare at each other for a second, and azzi feels her heart thump before she gets swept up in her teammates’ excitement. 

and she still feels a little nervous, but now her chest feels lighter and not like it’s caving in, and the tension in her shoulders dissipates as paige saunters over and plops down next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

paige knocks her shoulder against hers in silent reassurance, but doesn’t look over. something in azzi feels like it’s tingling. 

oh, she thinks to herself. this is what it’s like to be included. 

__

azzi’s in the backseat of paige’s mom’s chevy, windows rolled down to let in the hot summer breeze, when it happens for the second time. 

azzi’s known paige for about two years now, and apparently the fact that they text so much that azzi has to buy more storage because she refuses to delete the thread qualifies her for a free ride on the bueckers annual beach trip.  

paige let lauren sit in the front seat so that she could be next to azzi in the back, and she’s got her window rolled all the way down so that the highway breeze is whipping her hair across her face. she looks so relaxed, so at peace, and the sight of her settles something low in azzi’s stomach.

azzi’s staring at her kind of funny, and paige is completely oblivious, and azzi keeps replaying the events of the day in her head like a film reel that doesn’t turn off. 

scene one: they’d been at the beach for a couple hours of the late morning, sun growing warmer with intensity, and azzi’s skin had just begun to feel the edge of the rays permeating it that signaled that she needed to reapply her sunscreen. 

azzi toweled off her saltwater-damp limbs. paige was already pink around the cheeks and nose in the way that made her look flushed and heady, and azzi’s head sort of spun every time she looked at her. but paige had already reapplied her sunscreen, and was building a sandcastle with lauren with the wet sand near the waveline. 

azzi popped open the cap of spf 50+ that paige’s mom had insisted they bring (“it’s a misconception that people with darker skin don’t burn, the UV will cause skin damage and cancer risk either way”) and kneaded it into her thighs, her arms. 

she found her gaze wandering over to paige as she massaged the cream into her stomach; to her surprise, paige and lauren were no longer alone. 

a few girls had come up to paige and were talking to her, giggling at every third word that left her mouth. paige’s posture had gone smooth, relaxed, a confident grin making its way over her face. she looked the girls directly in the eyes as they talked, and azzi didn’t know if that made her mad or if it made her glad that paige wasn’t looking at their cleavage. 

she exhaled through her mouth, ripping her gaze away at paige’s mom’s chuckle. 

“lots of girls have been recognizing paige everywhere we go now,” amy laughed from her beach chair, looking down the bridge of her nose at the little group. “it’s cute, but it’s very strange.”

and, fine. paige had mentioned it offhandedly to azzi on the phone a couple times, but seeing it in person was disconcerting. paige wasn’t a celebrity. she was paige. 

“here, sweetheart, let me get your back,” amy stood up, reaching out her arm for the sunscreen. the motion must have drawn paige’s eye, because in five seconds flat she was right there and grabbing the bottle from her mother’s hands, frowning. 

“we’re supposed to be sunscreen buddies,” paige complained, posture already completely different from when she’d been talking to the girls. she ushered her mom back to her chair, wet hair dangling limply down her back.

“if you insist,” amy said dryly, sitting back down. paige grinned, turning azzi around with a gentle hand and stepping close to her back. 

azzi hissed as paige started slathering it onto her neck. “shit, p, it’s cold.”

paige laughed, head falling into the skin of azzi’s shoulder. “it’s like a million degrees out here. there’s no way it doesn’t feel good,” she said softly. and it was something that made azzi a little nervous, how paige had an azzi setting that was reserved for only her, and it was something that made her a little scared.

“whatever,” azzi sulked, letting the blonde smooth her hands in broad circles around her back. “just remember to get–”

“the edges, az, i know,” paige interrupted, running her hands up the sensitive skin of azzi’s sides to make her point. azzi hummed in acknowledgement, pointedly ignoring the way her core seized at the touch. 

out of the corner of azzi’s eye, she saw the girls walk past, sneaking glances at paige the whole way. something kind of evil twisted in her gut, and she tensed. 

“you got a fanclub?”

“maybe. you jealous?”

“maybe.”

paige laughed, like it was the craziest idea in the world that azzi had anything to be jealous of. “nah, it’s sweet and all, but i’m happier to spend time with you. it’s our beach trip. we’ve been planning it for months.”

“it’s your family’s girls-day beach trip,” azzi corrected, “that you’ve been asking me to come along on.”

“tomato, potato.”

“it’s tomato, tom-ah-to.”

“whatever. you gonna get back in the water with me, or you wanna read your book?” paige asked, turning azzi back around. she had a line of sunscreen on the edge of her thumb, and she dragged it along azzi’s collarbone and stroked it into her skin. azzi’s breath caught in her throat. 

it was kind of funny, azzi remembers thinking, that paige could have all the girls in the world, but somehow she wanted azzi. 

scene two: paige and azzi had been sent out to bring back beach food, and had stopped in a shop that sold pizza and saltwater taffy. they’d decided to eat their own before heading back, swinging their legs off the wooden benches and tucking bits of taffy into each other’s mouths. 

the radio was playing some god-awful cover of jimmy buffett’s margaritaville, and azzi desperately wished that they were both twenty-one so that they could sip frozen drinks on the beach. the last piece of taffy that she’d had was a little too sweet, sickeningly so, and clung to her molars so that she had to wrench her teeth apart to talk. 

and azzi can’t remember how they’d gotten there, but she remembers paige looking at her with her big eyes and saying, “my mom thinks i’m not happy enough because i’m always in my room. she doesn’t like that i’m always on the phone with you.”

and oh. azzi didn’t know how to respond to that, blinking back at her and starting to feel guilty for taking up so much space in paige’s life. 

“i–” she started, “are you happy enough?”

paige kept her gaze steady, unwavering. “yes,” she said, no hint of a smile on her face. 

“then that’s all that matters.”

paige let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her messy beach waves. “i wish we were at the same school. it would make everything so much easier. we wouldn’t have live off of facetimes.”

“the facetimes are nice,” azzi said quietly, and paige rushed to defend herself. 

“they’re great, azzi, but–” she gestured around, “this is perfect. i don’t want to have to be on the phone with you all the time. i just want to hang out with you normally.”

“if your mom isn’t happy with us facetiming so much, we don’t have to–”

“no, az,” paige cut her off, “i’m the happiest when i’m talking to you, i swear.”

“well, it might be nice to have other sources of happ–”

“i do. i have lots of sources of happiness. like my ipad. you’re just you, azzi,” paige said, so matter-of-fact that azzi felt her breathing still for a moment. “mom will get over it.”

azzi hesitated. “well, if she doesn’t– i’ll still be here.”

it was kind of funny, azzi remembers thinking, that paige is one of the busiest people that azzi knew, but somehow she would rather spend her time talking to azzi. 

scene three: it was mid-afternoon, and the clouds had started to roll in over the sand. this made it significantly easier for azzi to read her book, but significantly harder to get a tan. it also made her fucking cold, which she got teased about relentlessly. 

“azzi, it’s literally eighty degrees outside,” paige laughed at her, shoving her shoulder. 

“there’s a wind chill! it’s a cold wind!” azzi defended herself valiantly, trying to burrow into the soft fabric of her beach towel. amy and lauren joined in making fun of her, and the three of them started to go back and forth with each other. 

out of the corner of her eye, azzi saw paige get up and rummage through her bag. she ignored a last remark from lauren, closing her eyes and trying to will the clouds away. if she couldn’t see them, they weren’t there. she just had to revert to newborn baby levels of object permanence, and she’d be fine. she was at least halfway there when a soft fabric draped over her shoulders, and her eyes shot open. 

paige was laying back down on her own towel, eyes closed as she attempted a nap, and her gray zipup sweater enveloped azzi’s torso. it blocked the wind immediately, and a rush of warmth flooded azzi’s body before she could register it. 

“you’re too nice,” lauren giggled, poking azzi in the side, “she’s fine.”

“paige, is that your sweater?” amy asked, and paige frowned.

“obviously, it’s my sweater, it has my name on it,” she grumbled a response..

“i didn’t see that, paige, that’s why i asked.”

“azzi, you have black sand on your legs,” lauren interrupted, and azzi looked down. she sighed upon confirmation of the accuracy of the statement, reluctantly getting up and sauntering over to the shoreline. she waded into the water, bending over and cupping it in her hands to get the excess sand off her knees. 

the water level got lower, all of a sudden, so azzi stooped a little deeper, balancing a bit more precariously. 

that was a mistake, unfortunately, because as azzi had so unhelpfully forgotten, water level getting lower means wave, and a huge one crashed into azzi’s stomach and knocked her down onto her butt. 

her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she scuttled up and back to her towel. she felt so guilty about the drip of the water from the sweater to her feet, taking it off and trying to wring it out before paige opened her eyes. she set it out on the back of an empty chair, and cautiously laid back down on her towel, feeling sort of miserable for ruining paige’s sweater that she’d so graciously lent her. 

“what took you so long, az?” paige mumbled, and azzi startled. she whipped her head around to look at paige, but paige’s eyes were still shut. 

“i’m so sorry,” she blurted out, “i got your sweater wet in the water.”

“s’fine,” paige murmured, unmoving. 

azzi blinked. she didn’t care?

“happens to the best of us,” paige finished, rolling over and going still, “i’ll wash it later.”

it was kind of funny, azzi remembers thinking, that paige loves to bicker, but somehow she never accidentally makes fun of azzi for something she feels bad about. 

and truly, it’s a pretty stupid thing, current-azzi thinks, that paige seems to have a seventh sense for whenever azzi feels bad. 

and even now, sitting in the car hours later on the highway as the sunset casts an orange glow on the world, azzi looks at paige and feels completely unafraid. 

oh, she thinks to herself. this is what it’s like to be accepted. 

__

azzi’s in some stupid club with x’s on the back of her hands, feeling increasingly like going out with the team was a horrible idea, when it finally makes sense to her.  

“she keeps looking at you,” caroline whispers into the shell of her ear, and azzi shakes her head. 

“no, she isn’t.” 

and azzi’s aware that she’s kind of staring, and that she looks pretty pathetic, sitting in a booth on the second floor that overlooked the first just so that she doesn’t have to dance with everyone. but who can blame her, really? it was a long day, and she’d really just wanted to go home and take a shower. 

like, a really long shower. one that would probably get her thrown in jail if she lived in california during a drought. 

but no, aaliyah turned twenty-one, and had insisted that everyone come celebrate with her. canadians were much more party prone than azzi had previously given them credit for. and maybe azzi would be enjoying herself, but she didn’t know the music they were playing, but paige did, and she’d gotten swept up with nika and aubrey and kk as soon as they walked in without even getting a drink first. 

hence, azzi is sitting on her own. with caroline. on the second floor. pretending like she isn’t spending eighty percent of her time searching the crowd for a head of blonde hair. 

“she literally is,” caroline argues, gesturing down. azzi follows her hand to where she’s pointing, and paige is very definitively not looking at her.

“it doesn’t even matter,” she grumbles, resting her chin in her hands. she takes a sip of her non-alcoholic piña colada. it tastes like shame. 

“will you just go down there?”

“i’m not leaving you up here alone,” azzi argues. 

“tell nika i want her to come up, then. or i’ll go with you and bring her back up,” caroline replies, rolling her eyes. 

azzi’s gaze scans over the crowd again, but she can’t find paige’s head. 

“azzi, seriously,” caroline snorts, “you can’t just pout up here all night.”

“i’m not pouting! i’m just tired.” she could pout up here all night. if she wanted.

“you look like someone pissed in your piña colada.”

“i look like–”

“azzi!” paige’s voice travels over the crowd, and half the upstairs turn their heads to see the blonde coming up the stairs with a wild grin, cheeks flushed.

azzi stands before she registers it, ignoring the knowing smirk caroline was giving her. 

“hey,” she says, a little breathless, as paige barrels into her and wraps her in a hug. 

“you okay up here?” paige asks, pulling back and blinking down at azzi. she looks genuinely a little concerned, and suddenly azzi feels stupid for ever thinking that paige wouldn’t consider how she was doing. “you look tired.”

“i’m good,” azzi responds immediately, and she finds that she means it as paige’s hands travel from her back down to her hands, taking them in her own. 

“c’mere, mami,” paige tugs her into another hug. and that’s new, recently, the mami and the baby and the pretty and the near-constant touching. azzi can’t say she doesn’t enjoy it. she swallows, melting into paige’s grasp. 

“we’re gonna ask the dj to play mary j blige for you,” paige mumbles into her neck, and azzi suddenly feels hot. “you wanna chill here w’me, or you wanna come down?”

because of course paige is giving her the option. she looks back at caroline, flustered, who’s raising an eyebrow and hiding a smirk behind her drink. she gestures at azzi like, go, and azzi bites her lip. 

“i’ll come down,” azzi tells her, and paige’s face lights up like, azzi doesn’t know, something bright and nice. her brain feels a little mushy. and then paige is leaning over and pressing an excited kiss to her cheek, and caroline is making a strangled noise because that’s new, too, and then paige is pulling her back down the stairs and she’s following like a fucking lovesick puppy. 

“fudd! fuddy fudd!” kk yells across the room, and gestures wildly for her to join them. azzi smiles, being welcomed into the group enthusiastically. 

true to paige’s word, the group writes play mary j blige on their phone screens and holds them up towards the dj until he plays her, and paige is saying this would be easier on my ipad because the screen is so big and azzi is rolling her eyes, and then azzi is moving in a way that would be a little more fun drunk but she can’t find it in her to care. 

paige goes and grabs a drink and azzi is dancing with aaliyah, and flo milli comes on and everyone is screaming never had a WHAT, and azzi is having so much fun that she forgets that she was ever feeling off to begin with. 

a warm body presses into her back, and she knows the lines of it too well to startle. all of a sudden aaliyah is gone, and kk is turning around to talk to someone, and nika heads upstairs to see caroline, and it’s just her and paige in the middle of the dancefloor. 

paige’s hands find her hips and she rolls them, paige’s breath hot on her neck. she doesn’t let herself think about anything, just moves and lets herself feel, and paige spins her around and she puts her hands around paige’s neck and brings them forehead to forehead. 

“having fun, baby?” paige smiles, and she smells fruity and sweet, and azzi slots their legs together so that if she were to roll her hips again, she’d be rolling them against paige’s upper thigh. 

she nods, a laugh bubbling up from inside of her and spilling out, and paige doesn’t know what she’s laughing about but laughs with her, and azzi feels so fucking happy. 

and they’re swaying to the music, and paige picks up her drink and lets azzi chug it, and azzi’s mouth is so, so cold as she leans in and kisses paige’s cheek herself. and paige startles, because, yes, that’s new, usually it’s paige who does the kissing, and is immediately kissing azzi’s cheek again as soon as azzi draws back. 

azzi giggles, like a damn middle schooler, and says, “i love this song!”

paige blinks, like she hadn’t been listening to the song whatsoever, and then blinks again when she registers what song it is. it’s this new sza song that azzi hadn’t known existed before last week, when paige played it for her in the car, and unbeknownst to the older woman she had listened to on her own so many times that she’d probably streamed it more than her. 

“you– i showed you this song,” paige manages. 

“yeah,” azzi nods. 

“and you know the words,” paige continues. 

“correct.”

paige looks at her a little desperately, a little violently, hands tightening on azzi’s hips, and azzi flushes all over again. she lets her face fall into paige’s shoulder and starts dancing again, hyperaware of paige’s thigh between her legs. 

even though not twenty minutes ago she’d wanted to go home, wanted to go shower and sit under her covers and mope, she feels a little insane. there’s just something about being wrapped up in paige that soothes the ache in her bones, settles her stomach, and takes away her nervousness. there’s just something about paige that feels– comfortable. normal. 

and azzi really wants to do it. she raises her head, letting her eyes fall to the glossy pink of paige’s lips, and paige’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. she wants to do it so fucking bad, and paige’s fingers twitch at her sides, and azzi feels so warm and her breath gets caught in her throat and all of a sudden she’s leaning in and kissing her. 

and sweet lord, their lips are moving against each other, paige is kissing her back, and azzi’s fingers are threading through her hair and they’re making out, they’re making out in this club, and azzi feels so scarily light that she briefly worries that she might float away.

paige squeezes her waist, drags her hand up azzi’s back and pulls her closer, and azzi kisses her harder. the bass is beating through her chest, and maybe azzi has her problems but azzi also has paige, solid as a rock and holding her down to earth. 

they pull away eventually, breath soft and eyes full to burst with tenderness, and azzi’s face splits into a huge smile.  

paige makes a little noise in her throat before she presses her lips back to azzi’s, and it’s almost pathetically cinematic the way that everything else melts away as azzi’s mind goes oh, oh, oh. 

oh, she thinks to herself. this is what it’s like to be loved.

--

Chapter 4

2026, Paige Bueckers Dallas

By the time they got back to Dallas, everybody already had a version of the story.

Paige could feel it every time she walked into a gym, in the way conversations dipped and then picked back up when she passed. The way opposing fans chanted things that had nothing to do with basketball and everything to do with what they thought they knew.

Some nights it was the usual: “Overrated.”

Other nights it was uglier: “Homewrecker”

Once, in Seattle, someone screamed, “Keep your hands off the rookies, Bueckers” and the words had lodged under her skin and stayed there.

She’d spent her whole life trying to be loved by everyone in the building. Now half the building hated her, half of the other half wanted her traded, and the remaining sliver shipped her with the one person she absolutely could not be seen with.

And through all of it, there was Azzi.

Azzi who people now called “whore” and “cheater” and “snake”, like they weren’t talking about a person who still flinched when someone knocked too loudly.

They were both radioactive, it just hit Azzi differently.

Sarah getting traded mid-season? That had made everything worse.

Sarah had been Azzi’s buffer, just enough distance from the drama to be Switzerland when shit went sideways. Then one morning she was gone, sent to a different coast in exchange for picks and a vet wing, and suddenly Azzi didn’t have anybody in the locker room who knew her from UConn.

Paige watched her shrink.

It was little things, at first, like the way she pulled her hoodie up the second they left the tunnel, like she could tuck her face into the fabric. They were all in the same building, but somehow Azzi was alone in it.

And despite everything they went through, Paige hated that. And hated how much she wanted to fix it when she was the reason half of it existed.

The night everything snapped, they’d just beaten Phoenix.

Paige had played out of her mind, she’d felt light for the first time in months, like her body and her brain were finally back in the same place.

Azzi had not.

2-for-11 from three, and one ugly turnover in the fourth that had let Phoenix cut it to four before Paige bailed them out with a stepback.

In the locker room, Azzi sat in front of her stall, still in half her uniform staring at the box score on her phone.

Paige watched it for two minutes, waiting for someone else to notice, for literally anyone.

No one did.

So she dragged a sweatshirt over her head, grabbed two Gatorades off the table even though they were both the wrong flavor, and walked over.

“Hey,” she said, dropping one at Azzi’s feet “Wanna fight that stat sheet?”

Azzi didn’t look up “I might,” she muttered “It fucking deserves that”

“You took good shots, bro” Paige said “They just didn’t fall”

“That’s a coward’s sentence and you know it,” Azzi snapped back automatically “Sorry”

Paige dropped onto the neighboring stool, and Azzi huffed something that was almost a laugh “You never shot like this as a rookie,” she murmured.

“That’s just factually untrue,” Paige said “I just talked so much that everyone forgot”

Azzi’s jaw clenched “I should be better by now,” she whispered “I’m supposed to be better. I can’t keep giving people more reasons to hate me.”

“Hey” Paige nudged her knee with her own “That’s not a you problem. That’s a them problem.”

Azzi’s eyes finally lifted, shiny “Easy for you to say,” she said, and it wasn’t cruel “You walk into any gym and there’s always somebody cheering for you”

“There are people cheering for you”Paige said quietly

Azzi swallowed “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” she admitted, voice so small it almost didn’t sound like hers.

“This season?” Paige asked.

“This version of me,” Azzi said

The words cracked something in Paige that all the boos and comments hadn’t quite reached, and she hesitated, then reached out, fingers brushing Azzi’s shoulder

“You’re allowed to hate what you did without hating yourself,” she said “Join the club”

Azzi let out a little laugh and then, suddenly, she was crying. Just silent tears sliding down her face.

Paige didn’t think, she slid off the stool and onto the little carpet between the lockers, and tugged Azzi with her until Azzi’s head was tipped against her shoulder.

It was stupid, probably. Paige didn’t care.

She just sat there on the locker room floor, one arm around Azzi’s shoulders, feeling the little tremors of her breathing as she cried quietly into Paige’s sweatshirt.

“I miss having someone,” Azzi whispered at one point, “Like, not just a girlfriend. Like… someone. I miss having a person”

Paige’s heart squeezed “I know,” she said, and she wasn’t sure what she meant.

They just sat there until Azzi’s breathing evened out, until most people had left, until the staff started pretending they weren’t noticing.

Later that week, Paige started showing up at practice with an extra smoothie, Azzi’s weird green one.

Paige hated everything about it, but she handed it over anyway, making a face, and Azzi rolled her eyes and drinked.

_____________________________________________

They were good for a while. Good in the way people who had detonated each other’s lives could be good.

No kissing, just basketball, smoothies, film sessions and the occasional late-night text about some dumb show Azzi.

That was how it started again, actually. With a show.

“Have you seen this?” Azzi texted one Tuesday, sending a screenshot of a Netflix teen drama with an impossibly pretty cast.

“No?” Paige replied “Looks trash.”

“It’s extremely trash,” Azzi answered “You’d love it.”

Azzi sent an text a second later: “Come over. I’ll prove it.”

Paige stared at the screen for a solid minute. She knew better. She knew better the way she’d known better at eighteen, twenty-two and twenty-five.

The thing is, knowing better had never stopped her when it came to Azzi.

“Be there in 20,” Paige typed.

Azzi opened the door barefoot, hair in a bun, wearing the Lynx hoodie Paige had given her as a joke the first time Dallas had played Minnesota.

“When did you steal that?” Paige asked, brushing past her.

“When you were suspended,” Azzi said without thinking, then flushed “Shut up. Sit.”

They ordered takeout, and they made fun of the show. 

It was easy. God, it was so easy.

At some point, one of them shifted. Paige didn’t even remember who moved first, she just knew that one moment they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, arguing about whether the quarterback love interest deserved rights, and the next she could feel Azzi’s breath on her cheek.

“Do you ever feel like we’re wasting this?” Azzi asked quietly, eyes still on the screen.

“The show?” Paige said

“No” Azzi’s eyes slid to her “Us”

Paige’s mouth went dry “We are not drunk,” 

“I know,” Azzi replied “That’s kind of the point.”

She turned fully then, one knee up on the couch, facing Paige. The light from the TV painted shadows under her cheeks.

“I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel this,” she said, devastatingly “It’s exhausting.”

Paige opened her mouth to do the responsible thing, what came out was, “I don’t want to pretend either”

And then they were kissing again.

It was softer this time, she knew the angle of Azzi’s jaw by heart now, the little sound she made when Paige’s hand slid under the hem of her sweatshirt, the way her fingers trembled when they curled in Paige’s hair.

They didn’t talk about what it meant. They just let themselves have the night.

For a while, that was enough.

2028, Azzi Fudd

Dallas

Azzi should have been happier than she was.

Across the following two years of her rookie contract, Dallas had taken her in, bit by bit.

The “whore” comments were still there, but so were the people telling those assholes to shut up. 

On paper, her life was better

She had three all-star nods, and a team that had clawed its way into the semi-finals faster than anyone had predicted.

And Azzi had Paige Bueckers.

Not in a way she could put in an Instagram caption, but in the way that mattered at midnight on off days, when her apartment felt too quiet.

They watched dumb shows, and went on Target runs. Paige picked up her favorite cottage cheese and Azzi pretended not to notice the way Paige held the container at arm’s length.

They slept together more often than they didn’t.

Dallas losing in the second round to Seattle hurt, but it hurt less than it would have two years ago.

Paige had said, “Next year, we win the whole thing,” and Azzi had believed her because Paige rarely said those things without backing them up.

In the off-season, Haley and Maddy planned a team trip to the Bahamas “We deserve sun,” Maddy had declared. 

So the Wings went.

And somewhere between the sand and the ocean and the feeling of not being booed for a whole week, Paige and Azzi stopped pretending they weren’t a couple.

The weren’t official, but they shared a room and Paige drew patterns on Azzi’s thigh absentmindedly while they listened to music, hand resting there. 

Azzi, for once, rested her head on Paige’s shoulder in the pool and didn’t bother moving when someone snapped a picture.

And nobody really questioned it because it looked like the most natural thing in the world.

And Azzi liked it. In a way

She liked waking up to Paige snoring beside her, and she liked the way Paige said “our team” instead of “my team.”

But, Megan’s face still visited Azzi sometimes.

What if she fucked it up again?

So she held the blonde’s hand under the table in the Bahamas and let herself enjoy Paige for that trip.

And when the Minnesota Lynx called the next month? She said yes before she could think.

It wasn’t that simple, technically. But under all that math was a single, pulsing fact: The Lynx were offering her space.

Space to be a star in a place where she wasn’t also a walking scandal.

Azzi said “yes” and told herself she was doing it for her career, not because she was scared.

Then again, Azzi liked lying to herself.

2028, Paige Bueckers

Dallas

Paige had always been good at timing.

So she knew, in a very specific, physical way, that she was out of time the second Azzi walked into her apartment that night with that particular look on her face.

“Hey,” Paige said.

“Hey,” Azzi answered.

Three years as teammates, and two of them as something more than that. Which made what Azzi was about to say even worse.

“I got an offer,” she said, hands jammed in the pockets of her sweats “From Minnesota.”

Of course. Of course it was the franchise Paige had grown up watching, the team whose posters she’d had on her wall.

“What kind of offer?” Paige asked, voice steadier than she felt.

“Like… a max one,” Azzi said “They want me to be their next—” she trailed off, shrugged one shoulder “Whatever”

“Face of the franchise,” Paige supplied.

Azzi’s mouth twisted “Their words, not mine,” she muttered.

Silence settled between them.

“You’re gonna take it,” Paige said, and it wasn’t a question.

Azzi swallowed “I think I have to.”

Paige laughed once “You don’t have to,” she said “You want to.”

“It’s not selfish Paige. It’s not selfish to not want to feel like everything in my life is tied to you,” Azzi snapped, then winced like she’d heard herself “Fuck, that came out wrong.”

“No,” Paige said “I think that’s probably the truest thing you could’ve said”

Azzi pushed both hands through her hair, pacing a little “Paige, this—Dallas, us—it’s starting to feel like that UConn thing again,” she said “Where every story is about both of us. I love you, but I—I can’t breathe sometimes, it’s like you fill the whole room”

“So your plan is to go be the face of the franchise I grew up worshipping,” Paige said

“That’s not fair,” Azzi said.

“Nothing about this is fair,” Paige shot back “That’s kind of the point.”

Azzi stopped pacing, and met her eyes. “I was going to tell you sooner,” she said “But I knew you’d—”

“Ask you not to,” Paige finished “Yeah.” she took a breath “I was going to ask you something, too.”

Azzi’s face changed “What?”

Paige almost backed down, instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the little ring box she’d been carrying around for a week.

She didn’t open it, she just held it up, between them.

“This was supposed to be you and me in D.C. next month,” she said “With your parents. I just wanted you to be my girlfriend”

Azzi stared at the box “Don’t you think that’s… fast?” she asked weakly

Paige blinked “Fast?” she repeated loudly “We’ve been doing this for two years, Azzi. We basically live together. I know what vitamins you take. In what universe is that fast?”

Azzi’s eyes glossed over “I don’t—” she started, then stopped “I don’t know if I can be what you want,” she said instead “I keep fucking up, Paige”

“Yeah, you do. You’re right about that” Paige said softly 

“I’m tired,” Azzi whispered. 

“So your solution is to leave,” Paige said “Again.”

Azzi flinched: “I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said.

“You’re very bad at it then,” Paige replied “Are you going to take it?” Paige asked finally.

Azzi closed her eyes, just for a second

“Yes,” she said.

Something inside Paige went very, very still.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” Azzi repeated.

“Okay,” Paige said again “You go be the Lynx’s face. Figure out who you are. I hope it works. I hope you love it”

Azzi’s chin trembled “Paige—”

“I’ll send your stuff,” Paige cut in “Or you can get it. Whatever.”

“You’re mad,” Azzi whispered.

“Of course I’m mad,” Paige said “I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend and you’re telling me you don’t even want to be my teammate. I’m done, bro” she exhaled, long and shaky “I’m done.”

“Done?”

“We can’t be this anymore” Paige said quietly “If you don’t want this—us—for real, that’s fine. I’m not doing this again.”

Azzi’s eyes were wet now “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you go,” Paige said, “you’re not taking me with you. If you don’t want to be all the way in, I need you all the way out.”

“That’s a lot,” Azzi managed.

“It is,” Paige said. 

Azzi didn’t argue.

She cried a little, and apologized a lot. She said she didn’t know how to do this right, and Paige listened.

And for once, she didn’t try to fix it.

2029, Azzi Fudd

Minnesota

Paige had texted, once, after the deal went through, after the press conference where Azzi had held up the teal jersey and smiled that media smile.

Congrats. They got a good one.

Azzi had typed and deleted twenty versions of “thank you”, but she’d sent nothing.

A week later, her parents handed her an envelope.

“We saw her after the game,” Katie said simply “She asked us to give you this.” 

Azzi took it to her room like she was thirteen again.

Azzi,

If this is what you want for your life, I’m not going to stand in the way. I don’t want to be the reason you feel small. I don’t want you to stay anywhere, just because you think you owe me something.

So go. Be the star you are.

But I need you to know something, and I need to put it on paper because if I say it out loud I’ll walk it back.

If I can’t be your girlfriend, I can’t be your friend.

I’ve tried to be both, I’ve tried to be neither, and I’m not good at either version. I love you too much and I’m too selfish and I don’t have enough compartments in my heart to file you under “friend”

So this is me stepping back. 

If our paths cross on the court, I’ll guard the hell out of you. Off it, I’m going to keep my distance.

Take care of yourself. I mean that.

—P

Azzi sat on her bed and cried for a long time.

6 years later

2035, Azzi Fudd

Minnesota

The thing about growing up is that it doesn’t feel like growing up.

It feels like errands, it feels like little choices, like not throwing your phone across the room when your name trends for the wrong reasons again. 

Like deciding, one year, not to move teams just because the city suddenly feels too small.

By thirty-three, Azzi could look back and see the arc. At twenty-five, though, it had just felt like pain.

When she’d signed with Minnesota the first time her parents had flown in under the excuse of “helping her unpack.”

They sat her down in the bare living room, the one with the mismatched couch, and Katie did not smile.

“You can be mad at us if you want,” her mom said, hands folded tight in her lap. “But you need to hear this from someone who loves you.”

“You are always running,” her dad added, gentler but no softer “Every time you feel cornered, you burn the room and leave.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi had snapped, because at twenty-five everything still felt like an accusation “I’m allowed to change my mind. Dallas was—”

“Messy,” Katie said. “Yes. We know. But you can’t keep leaving every time you’re uncomfortable. That isn’t growth, honey. You’re avoiding growth.”

The word lodged under her skin: avoidance.

“We booked you a therapist,” her mom had said, and Azzi had laughed, incredulous. “You what?”

“You can fire her if you hate her,” Tim said “But you are going to go”

She’d gone out of pure stubbornness, ready to prove them wrong. The therapist’s office had been warm, the woman herself had been disarmingly normal.

“So,” she’d said after introductions “Your parents think you’re a bolter.”

Azzi had scoffed “Everyone moves teams. Everyone transfers. That’s sports.”

“Sure,” the therapist had said calmly, “I’m not talking about trades. I’m talking about what happens right before you leave. The part where it gets scary. What do you do when you’re scared?”

“Play better,” Azzi said automatically.

The woman smiled, not unkindly “And what do you do with the people who scare you?”

Azzi thought of Dallas, of Paige, of Megan and of the way she’d booked the flight to Minneapolis before she’d packed a single box.

“I leave them,” she’d said.

It had been awful. And then, slowly, less awful.

Minnesota did not roll out a blue carpet for her. The first season, she had slumps that made Dallas look like a warm-up act. 

She stayed anyway.

When an Olympics cycle came around and USA Basketball called, she’d almost said no just to avoid the possibility of sharing a roster with Paige again. Her therapist raised an eyebrow.

“Running away from global competition now?”

Azzi had snorted, then rolled her eyes, then accepted the invite.

Paige was there, of course. Number five on her chest, USA across the front, hair pulled back, jaw set in that familiar stubborn line. 

They didn’t talk beyond the necessary: “Screen left.” “You good?” “Nice pass.”

They won gold, and stood two people apart during the anthem. Later, alone in her room in the Olympic Village, Azzi realized nothing had exploded. She had survived being in the same gym as Paige Bueckers without cheating, without screaming, without fleeing the continent.

Azzi dated other people too.

Some of them were sweet, one of them, Lena, was so kind that Azzi half expected the universe to smite her just for cosmic balance. When they broke up after two years, it was because they wanted different things and Azzi stayed in the room for the whole conversation. 

She cried after Lena left, sat on the kitchen floor with her back against the cabinets, but she did not book a trade request. She went to practice the next day.

Maya was different.

Maya was quick to laugh and quicker to anger. They loved each other in that loud, messy way that looked great on Instagram and terrible in couples therapy.

They got engaged because it felt like something stable to anchor themselves to. It didn’t work, of course.

“I don’t think we like who we are together,” Azzi had said in their last session, voice shaking but steady “I don’t like who I become when I’m trying not to make you mad.”

For once, Maya didn’t argue, she just stared at her hands, then nodded. “Me neither,” she said.

They called it off. They both cried, and no one cheated. Azzi was weirdly proud of that.

By thirty-three, she’d stacked enough of those small choices that she could recognize herself again. She had a house in Minnesota — two, technically, the first one too small for the life she’d built.

She had a book club she actually attended, a group of teenage girls in the Lynx youth program who screamed when she walked in the gym.

She hadn’t thought about Paige in a long time. 

Paige was a highlight reel now, a face on W history graphics, a name on stat broadcasts. Their chaos years in Dallas lived in that mental drawer labeled “stupid twenties”.

And then the GM called her in.

“Don’t freak out,” he said, which was exactly how you made someone freak out.

Azzi sat anyway, hands clasped loosely between her knees “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try.”

He smiled, nervous “We’re bringing in another vet,” he said “We need help in the backcourt”

Her stomach knew before her brain did.

“Is it…” she started and stopped. There were only a few names that fit that description “Who is it?”

“Paige Bueckers,” he said. “She wanted to come home. We think it could be special, you two back together. On the court, I mean. Obviously we’ll give you space if there’s… history”

Azzi’s first instinct was the old one: book a ticket, demand a trade, find a new city before the collision hit. Her muscles tensed with it, like they remembered the path even if she hadn’t taken it in years.

She breathed through it.

“I knew this was a possibility,” she said slowly 

“If you’re not comfortable—” he started.

She shook her head “I’m a grown woman,” she said “I can share a court with her" 

The GM blinked, then nodded, relieved. 

When she left his office, Azzi sat in her car in the parking lot for a long time, forehead pressed to the steering wheel.

She thought of all the people she’d hurt by refusing to sit in discomfort. She had spent a decade learning how to stay. Here was the big test.

I want to apologize, she thought suddenly, startling herself.

And, selfishly, she wanted Paige to see her now, grown.

When the text came, it was almost a relief.

Paige: hey, heard the news is out. if you’re up for it, i’d like to talk before camp, coffee? 

Azzi stared at it for a long time.

Then she typed back.

Azzi:  yeah. i’d like that, send a time.

Her hands were steady when she hit send and that felt like growth too.

2035, Paige Bueckers

Minnesota

Leaving Dallas had felt wrong in her body.

For a long time, Paige had believed loyalty meant staying no matter what. 

Stay at UConn, even when her knee screamed under pressure; Stay in Dallas, even when the front office shifted around her and the fanbase turned on coaches, on teammates, on her; Stay in relationships past their expiration date because leaving would make her the villain again.

She’d watched Azzi leave twice and every time, some childish part of her had read it as a personal indictment: “You weren’t worth staying for”

It took too many therapy sessions for someone to finally say it out loud in front of her.

“Sometimes,” her therapist said gently, “your persistence is just self-harm”

Her mother’s health had been the other crack in the wall.

When her mom got sick, Paige realized that every year she stayed in Dallas was a year she wasn’t getting back in Minnesota. Another year she missed Sunday dinners and watching her sibling’s kids grow up.

When the Lynx called about the possibility of coming home, she’d said yes before she thought about anything else.

That, she would realize later, was the point. 

She hadn’t weighed it against Azzi, she hadn’t thought, “Oh God, I’ll be in her city” she’d thought, “Oh thank God, I’ll be in mine.”

The idea of playing with Azzi again came second.

“We know you two have history,” he’d said. “If that’s an issue, we can—”

“It’s not,” Paige had cut in, surprised herself with how true it felt  “We were kids, back then”

Later, alone in the small, tidy house the Lynx had helped her rent while she looked for something more permanent, Paige sat at the kitchen table and let herself think about Azzi properly.

They hadn’t spoken in years, only a few texts when one of them hit some milestone that felt too big to leave unacknowledged. 

She’d seen Azzi on broadcasts, of course. Tattoos she hadn’t been there for and a steadiness in her interviews that Paige didn’t recognize. 

When the engagement news had hit the timeline, Paige had felt the usual twist in her chest and then less than she expected, a little bit of pride.

She’s staying, she’d thought. With someone. 

When the breakup news came years later, Paige had read it, exhaled, and hoped, fiercely, that it had been mutual. 

Paige wasn’t innocent in the intervening years either. She’d had her own relationships— some public, some private. 

Jess and her lasted three years. When they’d broken up it was because they wanted different things, not because Paige panicked.

She’d even become real friends with Megan,

Time and distance and one long, tearful apology in a hotel bar had turned them from cautionary tales into something like allies. Megan, came to Dallas in her early thirties, and they shared a court for two seasons. They’d win a title together.

“You know you’re the reason mascs get a bad rep, right?” Megan had joked once, clinking a beer against hers.

“Ex-bad rep,” Paige had corrected, raising an eyebrow “I put in the work. I’m reformed.”

They’d both laughed, but there was weight behind it.

She’d told her agent: “I want to go home.”

She’d told the press: “I gave Dallas everything I had. It’s time for something new.”

She’d told her mother: “I want Sunday dinners again.”

She hadn’t told anyone, out loud, that she also wanted to look Azzi in the eye and say, “I’m sorry”, like an adult. Not because she was secretly hoping for some grand, late-thirties reunion, but because it felt unfinished.

The text she drafted to Azzi took three days.

She wrote paragraphs and deleted them. In the end, she went simple.

hey. heard the news is out. if you’re up for it, i’d like to talk before camp. coffee? 

When the reply came—yeah. i’d like that. send a time.—she let herself breathe.

They agreed on a small café near the river. Weekday afternoon, post-lunch rush, pre-evening crowd.

Paige got there ten minutes early.  She picked a table by the window, ordered a coffee, and spent five full minutes rehearsing possible greetings in her head.

“Hey stranger.” Too flippant.

“Long time.” Too obvious.

“I’m sorry.” Too much and too soon.

In the end, she didn’t say anything at first, because suddenly Azzi was there.

The first thing Paige felt was disorientation. Azzi looked both exactly the same and completely different. Same eyes, same mouth, but there was a groundedness to her now.

She wore a long, dark skirt that swished around her ankles, boots, a soft blue button-up tucked in. Her hair slicked back into a low bun, a few curls escaping at the nape of her neck. No flashy jewelry, just small hoops and a thin bracelet. She looked like someone who knew who she was when she got dressed that morning.

“Hi,” Azzi said, a small, real smile touching her mouth, her dimples showing up.

“Hey,” Paige managed, standing up halfway before realizing she didn’t know if they hugged now. They both did an awkward little step and then settled for a nod.

“You look…” Paige started, then decided to just commit “You look as beautiful as always”

Azzi’s cheeks colored, but she didn’t deflect, that was new “You too,” she said “Somehow you still don’t look like you’re over thirty.”

“Lies,” Paige said. 

The joke loosened something. 

“How are you?” Paige asked, and meant it in the big way, not the automatic one.

Azzi took a breath “Okay,” she said “Some days are better than others. But… okay” she hesitated, then added, “Mom was very happy, I came to see you”

“Sounds like her,” Paige said “Sorry, that your parents sort of adopted me and then refused to un-adopt me. I tried to give them an out once, and your mom said she didn’t want to let go of me”

Azzi laughed, properly this time “That sounds like her too”

“They told me about Maya,” Paige said gently “I’m sorry. I know that kind of ending hurts”

Azzi looked down at her coffee “It does,” she said “But we didn’t—we didn’t destroy each other. We just didn’t fit anymore. I’m proud of us for that.”

“You should be,” Paige said.

Azzi glanced up “Your mom?” she asked “I heard she was sick for a while”

“She was,” Paige said. “It’s managed now. We have more good days than bad. I wanted to be closer, you know? That’s a big part of why I left Dallas. I missed being able to just  show up”

Azzi nodded “I’m glad you’re here, then,” she said. 

They sipped in silence for a minute, but it didn’t feel like the old silences, this one felt breathable.

“I, um,” Paige started, then stopped, laughing at herself “God, I had this whole speech in my head. It was very dramatic”

“I’d believe that,” Azzi said softly.

“I’ll spare you the TED Talk version,” Paige said “The short version is: I’m sorry, Azzi. For Dallas. For All-Star, and for—For being mad at very choice you made that didn’t center me”

Azzi’s fingers tightened around her cup. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “And I owe you one too. Maybe more than one.”

Azzi set the cup down, “I’m sorry I blamed you for things we both did, P” she said “And I’m sorry I kept running away”

Her mouth twisted “I hurt Megan. I hurt my parents. I hurt you. That’s… that’s ugly. I’ve had to sit with that for a long time”

Paige nodded, eyes stinging just a little “I know that feeling,” she said. 

Azzi gave a small, humorless laugh “Yeah. I spent almost a decade trying to be the opposite of that girl,” she said “Sometimes I overcorrect. But I… I like who I am better now.”

Azzi looked up, and met Paige’s gaze “I’m not proud of who I was with you,” she said “But I’m proud of who I am because of it.”

“That’s fair,” Paige said.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

“I thought you were the one,” Paige said suddenly, then flushed “Back then. In Dallas. When we finally… you know. Did the thing we’d been ruining our lives over. I thought that meant it had to work”

Azzi’s mouth softened “I did too,” she admitted “And I panicked”

Paige turned that over, then nodded “I felt awful," she said quietly “It wrecked me for a while. I stayed in Dallas longer than I should have just to prove I wasn’t like you. Which was stupid, because you were already doing your own thing”

Azzi winced “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“I know,” Paige said 

“We’re different people now,” Azzi said after a moment

“Different people,” Paige repeated.

Azzi looked at her “I don’t really know you,” she said “Not this you”

Paige swallowed past the lump in her throat “I don’t know you either,” she said

Azzi’s cheeks went pink again,  she said. “You should get to know me then”

“I should,” Paige said.

They sat with that for a moment.

“So maybe we start there,” Paige said quietly “If you want.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmered, but she didn’t look away “I do,” she said “I want to know you too”

Paige’s chest did that annoying, familiar twist again: “I like this new Azzi” she said.

Azzi’s smile this time was small  “She’s still a work in progress,” she said. “But she’s… better than the old one. I’m proud of her.”

“I can see that,” Paige said, and she meant it.

2035, Azzi Fudd

Minnesota

The shocking part was not the coffee, not the first practice, not even the first time she called out a coverage and Paige complained.

The shocking part was how quickly “Paige and Azzi, thirty something coworkers” turned into “Paige and Azzi, two thirty something lesbians sharing Advil and talking shit about rookies over pasta”

Months after that first café, this was just life.

They were the oldest in the court now, which was hilarious and slightly offensive. The Lynx had a crop of kids who’d grown up with highlight reels on TikTok. Half the time, team group chat read like code.

“What does ‘it’s pumping’ mean in this context?” Azzi had whispered on the plane once, shoving her phone toward Paige.

Paige, in glasses, squinted “Apparently it means nothing,” she’d said “I’m just gonna assume it’s a compliment”

They gravitated toward each other without really deciding to: They sat together on buses because their knees both hurt and they liked the same temperature for the AC; They ended up at the same end of shooting drills because they trusted each other’s passes. 

And off the court, somehow, they just stuck.

And Paige cooked now.

Azzi had known, in the abstract, that Paige could feed herself. But the first time she went over to Paige’s apartment Paige put an actual apron on and started chopping onions with terrifying competence.

“You’re domestic now,” Azzi had said, leaning on the counter, trying not to stare at the way Paige’s forearms flexed.

“I contain multitudes,” Paige said. “Also, if I don’t cook, my mom will drive over here and do it for me. And I love her, but I don’t want that”

Dinner was ridiculous: Roasted chicken, vegetables that actually tasted like something, potatoes that made Azzi groan out loud.

“This is better than any food anyone has ever cooked for me,” she’d said before she could catch herself.

Paige had arched a brow “That’s a low bar, Fudd.” but her ears had gone a little pink.

They talked. 

About their bodies, how different thirty-something recoveries felt. About league politics, and about money and investing and the terrifying novelty of actually thinking about retirement instead of pretending they’d hoop forever.

They talked about family and the way Paige’s eyes always softened when she talked about her nephews and nieces called her “Auntie Paigey”

“I used to think having kids would mean giving up on the court,” Paige said once, drying dishes while Azzi stacked them “Now I don’t know”

Azzi had nodded, fingers worrying the edge of a towel.

“I always wanted them,” she admitted “With Maya it was a whole thing, she wasn’t sure”

Paige had hummed, thoughtful “Jess didn’t want any,” she said “I didn’t leave because of that, but… it sat there.”

They both went quiet, and there was no rush to fill it anymore.

It was strange and sort of wonderful, Azzi thought, to have someone her age, her world, her exact demographic, to talk to.

They compared rookie contracts to current ones, laughed about old media days, mourned the players who’d never gotten the support they now took for granted.

They were friends. Until they weren’t just that.

Paige’s eyes lingering half a beat too long when Azzi laughed. The way her hand would brush Azzi’s back leading her through a crowd and then not move away.

The night Paige actually said it, they were on Paige’s couch, a game muted on the TV. Paige had cooked again — salmon this time — and Azzi was full, a little sleepy, entirely too aware of how close their knees were.

“Can I ask you something?” Paige said suddenly.

“That depends,” Azzi said. “Is it about pick-and-roll? I’m off the clock.”

Paige snorted “It’s… not about pick-and-roll”

She turned a little to face her, tucking one leg underneath herself. Her expression was open in a way Azzi hadn’t seen when they were younger. 

“I want to take you out,” Paige said “Like, on a date. With the understanding that it is a date”

Azzi’s brain did a quick, panicked loop: too old for this / too late for this / I want this.

“If you think it’ll be messy,” Paige added quickly, “say no. I won’t—I don’t want to knock over what we’ve built. But if you—if you feel any of this too, I’d like to see if there’s something here”

Azzi looked at her, at the lines at the corners of Paige’s eyes and at the way she sat, not leaning forward like she was begging, not leaning back like she was daring Azzi to chase her

“This version of you is interesting,” Azzi said slowly “I like her.”

Paige’s mouth twitched “That’s good,” she said “Because she’s the one you’d get.”

Azzi’s heart thudded.

“Okay,” she said, “A date.”

“An actual restaurant,” Paige said.

Azzi exhaled, something like a laugh and a prayer at once “I’ve literally never been on a real date,” she admitted “So if I fuck up the etiquette, that’s on you”

Paige grinned. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m an excellent teacher.”

_____________________________________________

Azzi spent way too long staring at her closet, she nearly texted Sarah a picture of three different shirts before reminding herself she was thirty-three years old and could pick her own blouse.

She showed up early, heart racing in a way playoff games hadn’t managed in years.

Paige walked in wearing black slacks, a soft cream shirt, sleeves rolled to her forearms. Her hair was back again, a few strands loose around her face. She looked… good. 

Hot, if Azzi was being honest with herself.

“You clean up,” Azzi said.

“I know how to dress,” Paige said. 

The waiter came over, and without really thinking, Azzi handed Paige the menu. Paige glanced at it, then at her.

“You still like salmon?” she asked “And anything with garlic?”

Azzi blinked, startled by the way her chest clenched “Yeah,” she said.

Paige ordered for both of them. It was such an old, small habit that Azzi felt herself smile. This is still us, she thought.

“Some things really don’t change,” Azzi said when the waiter left.

“Some things do, though,” Paige said. “ I can call the waiter back if you hate it. Old me would’ve doubled down”

Azzi laughed, “Look at you,” she said. “Emotional growth and consumer rights.”

They talked.

About stupid league gossip, and about the teenagers who used to ship them, how insane it would be if any of them could see this now.

“Can you imagine?” Azzi said, horrified and amused “Finding out we actually went on a date ten years later?”

“We owe them a fruit basket.”

They laughed so hard the couple at the next table looked over.

But they also talked about real things.

Paige told her, plainly, that she’d gone to therapy for years. That she had a handle on her ego now, not because she thought she was small, but because she knew exactly how big she was on a court and didn’t need to prove it.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Paige reached across the table and brushed a thumb along Azzi’s wrist, almost absentmindedly, like she was checking she was real.

“You’re really pretty,” Paige said, casual and sincere in the same breath “You know that?”

Azzi rolled her eyes on principle “You never used to say stuff like that,” she managed.

“I always thought it,” Paige said. “I just used to be too insecure to say it out loud. Felt like admitting how gone I was gave you extra power or some shit”

“Newsflash,” Azzi said “I knew.”

Later, walking out under the streetlights, they stood beside Paige’s car a little too long. 

“This feels… different,” Azzi said finally.

“Different good?” Paige asked.

“Good,” Azzi said.

Paige hesitated, then stepped closer, one hand gentle at Azzi’s waist “Can I kiss you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Azzi said.

The kiss was unlike any of the others, precisely because it wasn’t trying to be anything but itself.

Just Paige’s mouth meeting hers, slow and sure. The slide of lips, the hint of wine and lemon, the soft exhale against her cheek. Azzi’s hands found Paige’s shoulders, fingers curling into fabric, not to hold on for dear life but because she wanted her closer.

Later, in Azzi’s bed, clothes half on, half off, Paige traced gentle lines along her face. Down the curve of her cheek, across the bridge of her nose, along her brow.

“Your nose is so pretty,” Paige murmured “It’s unfair, honestly, who has a pretty nose?”

Azzi huffed a little laugh, eyes closing. And every brush of Paige’s fingertips felt like a tiny apology to every younger version of them who’d never gotten this softness.

They kissed lazily, in between sentences. Paige would say something about a center’s outfit, lean in, kiss her slowly, then pull back to finish her point. 

Azzi found herself giggling against her mouth.

“This is… romantic,” Azzi said at one point, almost accusing.

Paige smiled against her collarbone, smelling her in “I heard that’s allowed now,” she said.

2036, Paige Bueckers

Minnesota

When Azzi asked her to be her girlfriend, it was after a Seattle game.

It felt right, somehow. 

They flew home wired instead of exhausted, the whole team buzzing for the play-offs.

Paige ended up back at Azzi’s place without really deciding to. She hadn’t slept in the league-provided apartment in months. Her life, her shoes by the door, and her favorite hoodie were all slowly migrating to Azzi’s house.

Azzi cooked, badly by Paige’s standards, but with earnest determination. Pasta, slightly overcooked and whatever spices Azzi grabbed first.

“I’m offended on behalf of Italian people everywhere,” Paige said, twirling noodles. 

“Shut up and eat,” Azzi said, cheeks pink “I’m trying.”

They ate at the kitchen table, still half in their travel sweats, hair pulled back, faces bare. 

Halfway through, Azzi put her fork down, and her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the table.

“I want to ask you something,” she said.

“Is it about the pasta?” Paige said. “Because I already told you I forgive you, princess”

Azzi gave her a flat look, then exhaled “Be serious for, like, thirty seconds,” she said.

“Okay,” Paige said, straightening instinctively “Serious face on”

Azzi swallowed. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” she asked.

For a second, Paige thought she’d misheard.

Her first reaction was stupid: laughter bubbling up. No one had ever asked her that before. She’d been the one chasing, or assuming, or avoiding the question.

“Are you—” she started, and her voice came out thick “Are you sure?”

Azzi’s mouth twitched “I’m thirty-three,” she said “You’re thirty-four, almost thirty-five. We’ve been… whatever this is… for six months. I like you” her eyes softened “I want to be with you.”

Paige’s eyes burned, to her horror, they watered.

“Oh my God,” Azzi said, immediately panicking. “Stop. Don’t cry”

“I know,” Paige said, laughing through it “Fuck. I just… I’ve never… no one’s ever… asked like that”

Azzi came around the table, hands cupping her face “Baby. Then I’ll ask. I’m asking very clearly,” she said “Be my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, the word easy in her mouth.

Azzi kissed her, and Paige leaned into it, laughing against her mouth.

2038, Paige Bueckers

Minnesota

Paige stood under a string of lights, microphone in hand, and thought: Of course we ended up here.

The wedding had been outside because Azzi wanted trees and Paige wanted good lighting for photos. It had also been hot, because the universe had a sense of humor and Minnesota summers were rude like that.

They’d kept the ceremony short — simple vows, rings, tears, a kiss that made KK yell “Finally!” loud enough for the back row to hear, and Azzi in a white dress that made Paige’s heart stop every time she turned her head. 

Now, at the reception, the air was cooler, the sun low. Everyone was there.

Sarah, already tipsy, leaning on Haley’s shoulder. Megan, with her wife, she’d introduced her with a grin and whispered, “She knows the whole saga, don’t worry.” Their parents, clustered together and Geno somewhere in the back, pretending he wasn’t misty eyed. 

Azzi sat at their table, shoes already off, dress hitched up a little for comfort, face glowing in that infuriating way of hers. She flat-out refused to give a speech.

“I don’t do speeches,” she’d said “Know your role, Bueckers.”

So here Paige was: In her role.

“Okay,” she said into the mic, tapping it once “Hi. I’m Paige. I’m the one who wanted the microphone. And this is Azzi” she said pointing at her wife “She’s the one who tried to hide it from me.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd. Azzi covered her face with her hands, dimples adorably deep in her face.

“I promised we’d keep the vows at the ceremony short so no one passed out,” Paige went on “But I did tell a few people I had… thoughts. And when have I ever passed up an opportunity to talk in front of an audience?”

More laughter, she waited for it to settle, then looked at Azzi.

“So,” she said. “Most of you know some version of our story. Some of you know too many versions, frankly.”

KK whooped. 

Paige shook her head “We have collided so many times,” she said “And every time, we managed to create something out of it. Each time, y’all probably saw it on twitter."

She took a breath, the jokes were the easy part. This was the slow cut.

“I spent a long time being obsessed with the idea of not changing,” she said. “I thought if I could just stay the same I could keep everything from falling apart. The idea of changing felt like betrayal, like admitting I’d been wrong”

She glanced at Azzi, and saw her listening.

“And Azzi,” she said, “spent a long time being obsessed with the idea of always changing. I think the idea of staying, must’ve felt like getting stuck”

She spread her free hand, smiling “Put those two together and you get…well. Our twenties”

A ripple of knowing laughter.

“We hurt people,” Paige said plainly “We hurt each other. We hurt people we loved. We hurt our own parents. A lot of you in this room had front-row seats to that, and the fact that you’re still here says more about you than us”

She paused, then couldn't help herself “I swear to God it is going to get cute,” she quickly added “Stay with me”

Azzi laughed out loud, shaking her head.

“There was a night,” Paige said, “in Dallas, when I watched this woman walk away from me again. And I decided, very dramatically, that I was done. That the person I thought was going to be the love of my life, maybe wasn’t. That I needed to un-believe in us to keep living”

She swallowed, memories brushing past her head.

“I tried really hard,” she said “To convince myself you were just a story I’d made too big in my head”

She looked at Azzi again, let herself feel how surreal it was to be saying this with a ring on her finger.

“But the truth is,” Paige said, voice softening, “I knew that if you ever stayed, really stayed, you would be the love of my life. I just didn’t think I was ever going to be lucky enough to meet you in a version of our lives where we were ready to stay for each other”

Azzi’s tears spilled over, softly.

“I am so glad I was wrong,” Paige said “Because somewhere between Dallas and now, we did the thing I never thought we could: we grew up”

She gestured around “We became people who fight about dishes and paint colors and whose turn it is to take the recycling out instead of… rooftop scandals”

Laughter again, softer, gentler.

“And then,” Paige said, turning fully toward Azzi now, the mic forgotten in her hand, “we ran into each other again, and for the first time in our very long, very dramatic history, I didn’t see a what-if. I saw you. The version of you you’d fought to become. And I thought: I’d like to get to know her.”

Azzi was crying openly now, one hand wiping at her cheeks.

“I have loved so many versions of you, princess” Paige  smiled, eyes shining “But you, right now that’s my favorite one. That’s the one I choose”

She took a breath, letting herself feel the weight of it.

“If I could go back in time and tell nineteen-year-old us something, I wouldn’t warn us off each other,” she said “God knows we wouldn’t have listened. I think I’d just tell us this: You are not ready for each other yet. But you might get another chance when you finally are”

She looked right at Azzi.

“And when that chance comes,” she said, voice steady, “take it. That’s the love of your life”

Then Nika yelled, “Kiss her!” Geno clapped once, sharply, like he was about to call a timeout.

Paige laughed, handed the mic off to whoever was closest, and walked over to Azzi.

Up close, Azzi’s mascara was smudged, she was still the most beautiful thing Paige had ever seen.

“You know I hate you for making me cry in front of absolutely everyone,” Azzi whispered, smiling through it.

Paige cupped her face, thumbs brushing away tears, and kissed her.

She pulled back just enough to breathe.

“Hi, princess,” she said.

Azzi laughed, that bright, full sound Paige had chased across states and decades “Hi,” and as Azzi pulling away from their embrace, Paige held her arm and pulled her closer again.

 “Stay,” she said softly.