Jada

The flight itself had lasted for only a little over two hours and Paige had spent the entire time in awe of the first class treatment. It was her first time ever flying it. The seats were large and comfortable. There were even real meals on the flight, despite it being so short.

Azzi had brought her firefly things again, insisting that Paige should get a pair for her own legs when she had longer flights. Paige decided not to mention that this was yet another two hour flight, and that she also thought she would rather die than let some weird electric contraption force her leg to pulse continuously for hours on end.

Most of the flight was spent in comfortable silence. Paige and Azzi sent a few GamePigeon games back and forth before Azzi picked up the book she’d brought to read: a copy of Catching Fire from the Hunger Games series.

Paige struggled to hold it together for the majority of the flight. She hadn’t seen Nika since early in the summer–she’d left for summer training at the beginning of June and hadn’t been back to Minnesota before Paige had left for South Carolina. Which also meant that she knew exactly what it was like to be a volleyball player for the best team in the nation, because Nika had told her all about it in great detail.

Officially, coach-led practices couldn’t be held by the program until the beginning of August. Unofficially, the team had not-mandatory-but-actually-fully-mandatory six o’clock early morning conditioning sessions four times a week, player-led open gym sessions in the afternoons at least four times a week, and camps and various community service events to run on the weekends.

Preseason began in early August and was grueling, starting off with the same early morning strength and conditioning sessions mixed with two-a-days–first practice for individual development and position-specific training and afternoon practice for court practice and team film sessions following that. Once classes started up, class time was reserved for the mornings after lift so that practice and film could be in the afternoon. They had recovery, ice baths, and treatment mixed into all of that. Then they had the mandatory study hall that all freshmen and athletes with low GPAs had to do for six to ten hours a week. Plus team bonding and more events on the weekends, mixed with games and traveling. Then add your coursework on top of that.

Essentially, they owned your ass every second of every day until you graduated.

Paige knew she was truly and irrevocably obsessed with the sport when she felt herself foaming at the mouth to have the opportunity to practice with a schedule like that, to get pushed that hard. To prove herself in an environment like that, to people like Geno Auriemma.

When she got to college, she probably wouldn’t even have the time to sit around and think like how she’d been thinking herself into holes recently. The thought shouldn’t have brought her the amount of comfort that it did.

For official visits, you’d get assigned a player that would act as your “host” for the week. And you basically follow them around for the forty-eight hours you’re allotted to be there. You even stayed in their dorm room with them, which Paige had always thought was weird.

Ideally, you’d also get to experience the atmosphere of a home game the weekend of your official visit. But Paige hadn’t agreed to go early enough and Azzi didn’t get the offer until the NTDP, so they were just going to see the team practice, get tours of the facilities and campus as a whole, meet the coaches, and spend some time with the team.

Paige had already texted Nika probably upwards of ten times to remind her to be normal around Azzi. Emphasizing that she’d never talk to her ever again if she so much as hinted at a thing.

Not that Paige didn’t trust Nika. She did. The girl had been her closest friend for literal years. But that didn’t erase the fear that lived deep in her chest every day, terrified that Azzi would somehow figure out how she felt and hate her because of it.

At this point, she wasn’t even sure if that was a rational line of thought. Azzi was nice. Really sweet. And she seemed to genuinely enjoy Paige’s company and friendship. With the twelve person class at school with the exact same schedule, school volleyball practices and competitions, spending all of the winter NTDP together, AAU practices three times a week, travelling to and competing in AAU tournaments, and consistently getting in the gym and running extra drills together at least four times a week, it was safe to say that they’d gotten to know one another quite well. Spending that much time with one person would usually probably make you grow sick of them, but all it’d done for Paige was affirm all of her feelings. The other girl was so easy for Paige to talk to and was absolutely her favorite person to argue with. She was addicted to the feeling of just being in her presence.

And Azzi hadn’t once seemed like she didn’t also enjoy being around Paige. As long as Paige didn’t sit and think about it for too long. Which she tried not to do.

After Paige’s two hours of living in her head, it ended up being around four in the afternoon when they finally arrived on campus.

Storrs was cold. Way colder than Paige was expecting.

You’d think, having lived in Minnesota for sixteen years, that she would still be at least a little used to the cold. But her four months in South Carolina–where the weather was currently in the fifties–seemed to have left its mark.

And poor Azzi had never lived up north. She’d looked absolutely freezing on their short walk from the airport to their car.

As they headed over, Paige asked her, “You packed warm clothes, right?”

“Yes, Paige. I’m not stupid,” Azzi said between chattering teeth, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Paige smiled and held her hands up in surrender. “Just checking.”

They met with the recruiting coordinator and Associate Head Coach Chris Dailey at Werth upon arrival. Nika had already told her that Paige would get to shadow Nika and Azzi would get to shadow Aaliyah Edwards. They’d spend most of the day together as a group–but didn’t have a big enough dorm living room for Azzi and Paige to both have an air mattress to stay with Nika.

CD gave them a rundown of the schedule. Paige would stay with Nika and Azzi would stay with Aaliyah. They’d get a tour of Werth then go out to dinner with the team that night. Stay in the dorms overnight. Attend lift and a meeting with Geno in the morning, and then go to class with their respective hosts on Friday. Then they’d go to practice to see the team play before getting dinner at the athlete’s dining hall. Followed by a brunch with Geno and his wife on Saturday morning before heading back to the airport. Once Paige and Azzi were to go off with the team, their parents would stay and talk about the parent schedule for the visit–which apparently vastly differed.

After solidifying their plans with CD and the coordinator, the recruiting coordinator guided them deeper into the facility to find Nika and Aaliyah.

Werth was unlike anything Paige had ever seen before. High ceilings, walls plastered with the faces of all of the legendary athletes who had left their mark on the program since Geno became Head Coach in 1985. All of their Big East Championships. All of their NCAA Regional, Semifinal, and National Championships. All of the players who had won positional year-end awards. All of their players who had been First-Team All Americans. All of their players of the year. All the players who had gone on to play in the Olympics.

Her eye caught on an image on the wall to her right. Diana Taurasi. NCAA MOP. NCAA Champion. Four-time Setter of the Year. National Player of the Year. 2x Olympic Gold Medalist.

She’d watched her play throughout her whole childhood. She still remembered watching her play on the TV in the Olympics with stars in her eyes. It was one of her clearest early memories.

She saw Azzi in her peripheral vision, eyes trailing over all of the players, soaking it all in. Finger gently tracing over the engraved Sue Bird on the plaque as they walked by.

They turned the corner to the training room and Paige’s eyes immediately found Nika, sitting on one of the tables talking to Aaliyah. The second she saw her, she felt like a weight was lifted off of her chest. She didn’t want to make a scene by running over to her, but she’d missed her friend so much.

When they walked over to greet them, Nika pulled Paige into a hug and Paige found herself beaming.

“Missed you so much,” Paige murmured into her shoulder through a smile.

Nika pulled back, smiling just as wide and patting Paige’s cheek. “Aww, don’t get sappy on me.”

“Shut up, I wasn’t,” Paige said, rolling her eyes and pushing her hand away.

“I know you two have already met, but, Paige and Azzi, meet Nika and Aaliyah. They’ll be showing you around the next few days. If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to call.”

Paige and Azzi both told her thank you before they were left alone with the volleyball players.

Nika turned to face Azzi, extending a hand for her to shake. “So, Azzi, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

Azzi shook her hand, smiling back at her kindly. “You too. Paige talks about you all the time.”

Paige gasped, placing a hand dramatically across her chest. “Do not!”

“Do too!” Azzi insisted.

“That’s okay, Paige talks about you all the time too,” Nika said with a knowing smile.

Paige flushed, heart beginning to race. She should not have allowed Nika to meet her.

“Aww, Paige, that’s so sweet,” Azzi cooed, eyes crinkling at her.

Paige rubbed the back of her neck, face red.

After they got introduced and Nika and Aaliyah gave them a tour of Werth, they found themselves driving back to their apartments.

The volleyball team lived in the Hilltop Apartments. The housing was apartment style, with four people to an apartment with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The three team rooms were spaced next to one another in the same building.

For the official visit, they literally put an air mattress in the living room of the apartment for you to sleep on while your parents stayed in a hotel paid for by the school. It was kind of awkward, sleeping out in the open in the middle of an apartment shared by four people.

They ended up hanging out in Nika’s apartment before dinner with Aaliyah and the rest of Nika’s roommates.

The girls were all nice and welcoming. Paige couldn’t help but imagine herself living in either this apartment or one that looked similar in the future–surrounded every day by her teammates and her best friends.

That line of thought followed her all throughout dinner. They’d gone to a Mexican restaurant–which Paige didn’t eat much from, but it was still a fun experience.

After dinner, Paige found herself sitting next to Nika on her bed, legs tucked up underneath her with her back resting against the wall.

“So, how’s it been going, for real?” Nika asked, looking over at Paige’s side profile as she stared straight ahead.

“Fine, mostly. As fine as it can be.” Which was true. She hadn’t had to see much of Azzi’s boyfriend at all lately. Hadn’t heard any mention of him from her or the other girls at school or on the AAU team. Hadn’t had to see him at tournaments. And she’d spent so much time with the other girl over the past month that she’d almost grown used to the pain. All her feelings had done was grow, but, also, Azzi was a great friend to her. A really great friend. And Paige felt like, even though they hadn’t known each other for that long, she wasn’t sure she could live without her. So she would endure it, and just pray every day that loving her the way she was would be enough.

She’d at least grown more comfortable with her sexuality in the eyes of God. She still had her moments of fear and doubt, but she was getting there. The new church had helped a lot, hearing Mother Miriam every Sunday give her homilies about acceptance and love and understanding, almost as if they had been perfectly crafted to ease Paige’s fears.

“Wanna talk about it?” Nika asked gently.

“Not really,” Paige muttered. Nika was already dealing with so much playing for UConn of all places. She didn’t want to add to that.

She also, selfishly, wanted what was between her and Azzi to stay hers. Not that there was much between them. But it felt wrong to talk about her feelings out in the open like that. Not when she hadn’t told Azzi herself.

“Okay, well, if you ever want to, I’m here,” Nika said, before changing the subject to something safer.

—

Paige and Azzi went together with the rest of the team to strength and conditioning the next morning at seven.

Well, they got to the facility at six forty five so that they could grab some snacks for breakfast from the grab-and-go station.

After watching part of strength and conditioning, they were both meeting with Geno one-on-one before the players headed to their classes for the day. It was early, but she felt wide awake. Her heart hammered in her throat at the thought of speaking to the man alone.

The door had the name Geno Auriemma engraved onto the nameplate. Paige took a second standing outside it to gather herself, taking a deep breath before bringing her hand up and knocking. “Come in.”

She opened the door gently and was met with Geno sitting in the chair behind his desk, line of trophies laid out behind him.

As Paige stepped through the doorway, he got up from his chair, leaning across his desk to firmly shake her hand. “Paige. Good to see you.”

She took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, trying very hard not to fidget around with her hands.

“Good to see you too,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice even and to portray at least some level of confidence. “How’s your day going so far?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged in the way she always did when she watched him in interviews. “Good. A bit of an early start for my taste.”

Paige’s eyes trailed over to the analog clock on the wall, which read 6:07. She let out a small chuckle and shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, a little.”

“So, what do you think of all this so far?” he asked, gesturing to the facility around him as he said “all this”.

“I haven’t seen much of campus yet, but all of the girls have been really welcoming and your facility is great,” she said, trying to meet his eyes.

Geno nodded, contemplative. He asked, “Nika not giving you too hard of a time?”

Paige smiled, shaking her head. “No, sir.”

“Good, good,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. He continued. “What are you expecting to get out of college? Or, what’s most important to you in a future program?” he asked, tilting his head. Studying her.

She took a second to think about it before answering, trying to make sure her words came out the way she wanted. The truth was that she wanted a lot. Wanted to compete at the highest level, to win. Wanted to play with Azzi at the highest level—not that she’d ever consider saying that to Geno’s face.

But, at the same time, she wanted to have a good college experience. And not in the traditional “get drunk every night and sleep around” type experience you’d think of, but she wanted to be close with her teammates and be surrounded by people that would make her better.

“Um, I think most importantly I want to develop as a player and learn to be the best teammate that I can. Help elevate a team and put my best foot forward every day. I want to play professionally one day and I want to be ready for it.” She paused for another second, before adding on, honestly, “I’m sure everyone says this, but obviously I’d like to compete and win, too. Watching the National Championship at the winter training session really gave me a taste of where I want to be one day.”

Geno cocked his head at her. “Competing for Team USA didn’t do enough of that already?”

“I mean, it did,” she shrugged with a small laugh. “But there’s something different about the college level. It’s special.”

Geno hummed,  lips pursed. He was silent for a second before nodding, gesturing to her. “Good answers. Have any questions for me?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I think one big one is just what should I expect with my involvement on the team?”

Geno shrugged, arms crossed. “How the hell do I know? You’ll have to earn your minutes in practice.”

Paige felt herself begin to smile. She’d always heard how Geno operated, but hearing about it and actually listening to him say it were two different things. Everywhere else she’d talked to had essentially promised her the keys to the kingdom upon first email. But, here, Geno was presenting her with a challenge. And she loved a challenge. Having something to work for, something to chase. Another reason to bury herself in her sport, put her head down, and give it her all.

“Right. Well, maybe we’ll just have to see then,” Paige said, shrugging back.

Geno nodded. “Any more questions?”

She’d like to have had more, but she really didn’t. The decision of what school to go to had been made years ago. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright,” he said, setting his hands down on the desk to push up from where he was sitting. “You’d make a good fit. Think on it and let me know.” He got up from his chair, guiding her to the door of his office.

“Will do,” she said, following him.

“Grab Azzi for me, will you?” he asked, opening the door.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, stepping out side of the office.

He nodded. “See you at practice this afternoon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t need to keep calling me sir.”

“Alright,” she said, smiling. She bid him goodbye and was unable to wipe the smile off of her face as soon as she was out of his line of vision. You’d make a good fit. Think on it and let me know.

Part of her hadn’t really processed that those words had actually left his mouth. Her childhood dreams coming true, just like that. She silently thanked God for it before she rounded the corner and went down the stairs to the weight room, seeking out Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes found hers the second she entered the room, tracing over the expression on her face and beginning to mirror it as she walked over.

“Yeah?” Azzi asked.

“Yeah. It went well. He’s all yours,” she responded, gesturing to the door.

“Thanks, P. I’m glad it went well,” she said as she turned towards the exit of the weightroom. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. You got it,” Paige assured.

Azzi offered her a small smile before leaving to go find Geno.

Nika had watched the entire interaction from where she sat between sets on the bench. She raised her eyes at Paige when their eyes met. Paige flushed and walked over to her. Nika gave her a look that said “we’ll talk about this later”, to which Paige pointedly ignored.

“How was your talk?” she asked.

Paige shrugged, leaning against the bar of the cage next to Nika’s bench. “It was good. He told me you’re the worst and you air ball all your shots.”

Nika rolled her eyes dramatically, deadpanning, “No he did not.”

“Oh, but he did,” Paige insisted, arms crossed.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

One of her teammates–Christyn Williams–cut in as she moved behind Nika to spot her. “Time for your next set.”

She pointed at Paige. “We’re not finished with this.”

Paige held up her hands in mock surrender. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Nika glared at her before going back to her next set. Paige hung around, just observing everyone get their lift in, trying not to get too dead-set on picturing herself there in less than two year’s time.

—

The semester had just started again for UConn. They got back from winter break on the third Tuesday of January, giving them a lengthy winter break–not that the volleyball team hadn’t all been on campus since the first Tuesday.

Because they’d only been in class for a few days, Nika still barely knew her class schedule. She kept referring to the notes app on her phone where she’d haphazardly typed out the class names, locations, and times as Paige followed her around like a little duckling trailing after its mama duck.

Nika was a psychological sciences major, taking three psychological science-y classes and some type of literature. Two of the classes were twice a week and the other two were three days a week, the science ones being located in the psychology building, which was just a fifteen minute walk from Werth.

Her two Friday classes were Social Development and The Study of Personality.

“Can your classes tell me why my mom acts the way she does?” Paige said as she walked through the door Nika held open, muttering a “thanks”.

Nika shrugged as she led them both through the hallway, phone open to her notes app so she could make sure she had the right room number. “I mean, yeah, probably. How’s she been lately?”

Paige groaned. “Same old same old. I didn’t tell her about the visit, just invited dad and not her. I’m sure she’ll be pissed when she finds out, but they only really want one parent coming anyways, so.”

“You didn’t tell her you were touring?” Nika asked her in surprise, looking up from her phone to give Paige a look.

“Nope,” Paige said, popping the “p” as she followed Nika into the classroom and took a seat next to her.

“She’s gonna be pissed,” Nika pointed out.

“Yup,” Paige said, popping the “p” on that one too. “Don’t really care what she thinks.”

The teacher walked in before Nika was able to respond, and Paige was grateful for it, the start of the class effectively cutting off the conversation.

She sat next to Nika and half paid attention to the lecture, not wanting to be rude and stare at her phone. She didn’t know much of what was going on, but what she could understand sounded interesting enough.

Aaliyah’s class schedule didn’t overlap any with Nika’s, so she didn’t get to see Azzi again until it was time for practice in the afternoon.

The rest of the visit on Friday went about as expected–which meant that it was great. Early Saturday morning, she had a meeting with the academic advisor.

She was sitting in the lady’s office in a cushioned chair in front of her desk. The office was lined with beautiful bookshelves, wood finishes pretty enough that they just made Paige think of Azzi, and what kind of bookshelves Azzi would want in her future home.

“Have you thought about what you’d want to major in?” the advisor asked, looking over from her computer screen.

“Um, no, not really,” Paige replied. She had not. She’d been putting the thought off for ages. Drug her feet through all of the “career planning” activities she’d done throughout high school.

“That’s alright! We have plenty to offer, and a lot of people don’t know what they want to do at first. Totally normal,” the advisor said, immediately jumping into listing all of the schools and programs they had. She handed a laminated sheet over to Paige with a list of all of the programs offered. “You don’t need to decide right now, but if you have an idea of a general direction, I can show you what classes you might take and what your freshman year schedule would look like.”

Paige stared at the sheet in front of her, eyes raking over all of the options. The first major on the alphabetical list was accounting–the thought of which made Paige want to yak. Her eyes skimmed through, looking for any viable option.

Her mom had tried to talk to her about it several times, usually while insinuating that she “couldn’t just play volleyball forever”. Which always made Paige upset for a slew of reasons. The main one being that her mom hadn’t ever bothered to actually care about anything Paige was interested in, and her trivially writing off something she’d spent so many hours upon hours pouring her heart and soul into just further proved that.

Her eyes finally landed on an option that seemed feasible and vaguely interesting. Paige pointed to it and turned the sheet towards the advisor, who nodded. “Good choice. Let me get the mock schedule pulled up for you.”

Paige thanked her as she waited to get a glimpse at what her life might look like in just a few years.

After her advisement meeting and a nice brunch with Azzi and their families at Geno’s house, the flight back from their visit was quiet and contemplative.

“What did you think?” Paige asked Azzi honestly from where she sat next to her.

“I liked it a lot,” Azzi said, thinking about it before adding, “I still want to explore more options though. What about you?”

“I think I might be sold,” Paige admitted.

Azzi looked over at her in surprise. “Really? Not going to go on any more visits?”

Paige just shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

——

Thursday, January 30th, 2025 – St. Anne’s Academy, Anderson, SC

It was always a culture shock going back to school after being gone playing volleyball so frequently. It was like existing in two different worlds, completely separate from one another barring Azzi.

After their UConn visit, they’d only had a few days left of the holidays before it had been back to school and the grind. The first day of AAU practice had been on December 30th–running in the late evening on every Monday and Tuesday. They’d had their first two tournaments so far, both smaller ones to test out the new team dynamics. Their team had won both of them, and Paige was beyond thrilled to be surrounded by a real team and supported by a real coach. It was like a breath of fresh air after the school season.

She’d liked her teammates so far. One of Azzi’s closest friends was on the team–a quiet girl named Clare with a mean right-hand hit. She herself had become fast friends with two of their middles: Maddy and Cameron. She was also starting to get to know their libero, Georgia. She was a little blunt and nosey sometimes, but she was a good defender and she made Paige laugh with her stupid comments.

Paige and Azzi were still practicing together on their own, except this time with homework specifically given to them by their coach. First, they’d worked on Paige always setting Azzi at a consistent height, perfecting her ideal set. The past week or so, they’d switched focus to reading each other better off of an unideal pass, so Azzi would be able to know where the ball would end up and how to adjust.

Outside of volleyball, school had been fine. She was entering the part of the season where she’d start having to miss class more, and her teachers definitely weren’t a fan. Especially now that both her and Azzi were missing.

Her life followed a pretty steady schedule. Practice all day Monday–by herself with homework sprinkled in during the morning, with Azzi around lunch, with the AAU team in the afternoon. School on Tuesday, followed her own practice and then by AAU practice, followed by homework. Knitting Wednesday morning, followed by practice and the gym with Azzi for the rest of the day. School Thursday, followed by homework then AAU practice and then practice with Azzi. Then either school on Friday followed by practice with Azzi or they were traveling to a tournament. Weekends were usually filled with a tournament.

Safe to say she’d kept herself busy.

Before lunch, she got pulled aside by their Macroeconomics teacher, Mrs. Rosato, asking if she’d stay after class to talk. Which had caused Paige to spend the entire class wracking her brain for anything she may have done wrong to warrant needing to stay after. Did she miss a homework deadline? Forget to take an exam while she was out of town?

Azzi waved her bye and said she’d see her at lunch as she left the room with the rest of the class, leaving Paige alone with the teacher. She got up from her seat and walked over to her desk.

“Hey, Paige, thanks for staying,” she greeted her as she organized the papers on her desk, wrapping up from class.

“No problem,” Paige said, fidgeting with the hem of her stupid school uniform polo. “Um, what’d you want to talk about?”

As if noticing the apprehension on her face, Mrs. Rosato assured her, saying, “Oh, it’s nothing bad, don’t worry. I just wanted to ask you about scheduling for our exam next Friday since you’ll be gone at a competition.”

Paige found it a little odd that she’d held only Paige back to ask, when Azzi was going to be gone too. The confusion followed her as she walked into lunch for the day after ironing out details with Mrs. Rosato, as everyone was quiet and staring at her when she walked into the room. Which, okay. She was used to getting looks from people, being five foot eleven at age seventeen and being known around the country for volleyball both didn’t help her case. But she’d been going to school at St. Anne’s for half a year now and she didn’t think she’d done anything to warrant being stared at.

She made it a few steps into the room before she immediately noticed people she’d never seen before lined up against the wall, with cameras pointed in her direction. Standing at the end of the line was Cathy, with an arm around her little brother, who was holding a familiar-looking trophy. One she absolutely recognized and had dreamed of receiving for years.

Gatorade Player of the Year. Holy shit.

She didn’t think she’d be on anyone’s radar after playing for a 1A school like St. Anne’s. Especially a 1A school that started as poorly as St. Anne’s had. She stood in shock before a grin split across her face, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes crinkled.

Drew smiled up at her, lifting the trophy to make sure she saw it. She smiled at him before she looked over to her usual lunch table, seeing all of her classmates grinning at her. She caught eyes with Azzi, both beaming at each other. Paige felt her heart catch in her throat at the other girl’s expression: eyes sparkling, radiant smile on her face.

Paige walked up to her brother, kneeling down to grab the trophy and envelop him in a hug.

“You won!” he exclaimed excitedly into her shoulder, squeezing her tight.

Paige felt her waterline brim with tears as she stood back up and grabbed the trophy from her brother, posing to take a few pictures in front of the media.

Cathy had an actual microphone in her hands–where did she even get that–as she started talking, rambling on as if she hadn’t complained profusely at Paige missing school for a college visit literally not even a week ago. “We’re so proud to announce that our very own Paige has been chosen as National Gatorade Player of the Year for Girls Volleyball. This is an incredible achievement. The Gatorade Player of the Year award recognizes more than athletic talent. It honors excellence in competition, success in the classroom, and outstanding character.”

Paige couldn’t help but think that the speech sounded AI generated, and made a mental note to mention it to Azzi later.

Cathy continued on, saying, “We are incredibly proud to have someone from St. Anne’s receive such a prestigious honor. We thank God for the gifts He has given each of us, and especially to Paige. Talent is such a blessing, but it is our commitment, discipline, and the way we treat others that truly defines us. We are proud of the way Paige represents our Classical Education values on and off of the court. Congratulations, Paige.”

Cathy reached over to give Paige a hug, which Paige accepted with a smile–noting the cameras that were all trained on her. After Cathy’s speech was finished, Paige was freed to go over to her friends bringing her brother over with her.

The second Azzi was in her line of sight, the other girl rushed over to wrap her arms around her shoulders, holding her snug against her chest. Azzi whispered into her neck, “So proud of you, P.”

Paige felt her heartbeat running at a million miles an hour as she squeezed Azzi tighter, whispering back, “Thank you. Proud of you, too. So grateful for you.”

——

Sunday, March 30th, 2025 – Georgia World Congress Center, Atlanta, GA

They’d qualified for AAU Nationals. They’d earned their bid competing at the Big South National Qualifier in Atlanta–the largest tournament in North America. They’d given out three bids for the 17U Open division, and their team had been one of them. It was their first time qualifying for that division in over a year, since last year they didn’t have Azzi or Paige. Paige was really excited for Nationals. She’d gone with her AAU team in Hopkins every year, but they didn’t always do the best depending on who was on their roster at a given time. But Paige was confident that their current roster had a good shot at ending up on top.

After the long day, the drive back was late. A lot of the girls were stretched out in their rows, laying down in various different uncomfortable-looking positions, trying to get some well-earned rest after the long day. Paige had dearly missed charter buses. A whole semester of being shoved in the back of Virginia’s car meant that she’d never take a bus for granted ever again.

Her and Azzi always shared a row. It had become routine. Almost a superstition now, at least to Paige. Their team had done exceedingly well so far this season, and Paige had sat in the same row as Azzi every time both there and back from tournaments. Which meant that, obviously, they had to keep sitting together. She’d told Azzi as such when she’d tried to sit with Clare once a few weeks ago. Azzi had clearly thought Paige’s reasoning was a bunch of bull, but with puppydog eyes and a pouty face, she’d won her over and gotten her to sit in her row.

Ever since the flight to the NTDP training session, Paige had become her personal DJ for every travel experience. They didn’t always share Paige’s wired earbuds, but if Azzi was staying awake for the drive or flight, she always listened to a playlist Paige had made for her. She’d made her four already, with a fifth on the way. On their drive back from Atlanta, Paige had her own earbuds in, knowing Azzi didn’t like the noise and the feel of earbuds or headphones if she was going to try to sleep. Or she’d assumed Azzi was going to try to catch some rest—she usually did—but she’d been on her phone for most of the ride.

She noticed Azzi start fidgeting with her shirt out of the corner of her eye, something she usually only did when she was nervous.

Paige paused her music and took an earbud out, turning to look at Azzi in concern. “You good?” she asked, keeping her voice low to not wake anyone else around them.

Azzi startled, putting her hand over her heart. “Jeez, Paige, you scared me.”

Paige grinned sheepishly, apologizing softly. “Sorry.”

There was a beat where Azzi didn’t answer. Paige raised her eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.

Azzi drew her bottom lip into her mouth, reluctant. She finally answered, whispering, “Christian and I broke up.”

Paige absolutely hated that her first feeling was relief. Hated it. Felt like the worst friend in the entire world. Here Azzi was, experiencing a breakup from a relationship that had lasted who knows how long, and Paige couldn’t even force herself to feel sad about it.

“What? Just now?” Paige asked, fighting to keep her voice at a whisper.

Azzi nodded, expression tight.

Paige couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of having Azzi Fudd as your girlfriend and letting her go. Couldn’t help but think that, if Azzi were ever hers, she would do absolutely everything in her power to make the other girl feel as loved and cared for as she could, each and every day.

The thought sat in her stomach like a hot coal, burning.

“Over text? That’s really shitty, I’m sorry,” Paige said, concern written all over her features.

Azzi just met Paige’s eyes, simply saying, “I broke up with him.”

“Oh.” Paige hoped that one day Azzi wouldn’t break up with her over text. “Well, good riddance then.”

Azzi let out a small chuckle.

Paige tried to wrack her brain for any times she’d noticed anything weird or off about Azzi in the past few weeks, but, honestly, there had been nothing. Things had been good. Probably because Christian hadn’t been around much, which probably contributed to the breakup, if Paige were to have to guess. Not that she really wanted to know the details. The idea of Azzi loving someone else was still awful for her to think about in any capacity.

“Really though, you good?” Paige asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She leaned over to rest her head on Paige’s shoulder.

Paige took a deep breath as she tried to calm her racing heart. Stop it. Just because she’s single doesn’t mean she likes you. She’s still straight.

Azzi fell asleep after a few minutes of resting her head against Paige. Paige just sat there, dead still, for the rest of the drive. She never turned her music back on, just sat in silence, trying to let herself just enjoy the moment for what it was.

——

Monday, April 7th, 2025 – The Bueckers’s, Anderson, SC

Paige was laying flat on the floor of her bedroom, holding her phone and staring at a draft for an Instagram post, Nika’s face projected in the top right corner of her screen.

Today was the day. The deal was promised and she had the go-ahead. She was officially announcing her verbal commitment to UConn.

She’d been mulling over her caption for her Instagram post announcing it for at least half an hour. Nika, the soldier, had been on the receiving end of all of it.

“Do you think that sounds good?” Paige asked, reading off what was probably the tenth rendition of her caption.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should post it,” Nika encouraged. 

“M’kay,” Paige said, closing her eyes as she hit post.

[Picture of Paige with a UConn t-shirt on, holding a volleyball and pointing at the camera]

@paigebueckers: I am so honored and excited to announce my verbal commitment to play volleyball at the University of Connecticut! Forever grateful for all of the incredible coaches, trainers, family, teammates, and friends who have supported me and believed in me throughout my journey! I’ve dreamed about playing at UConn my entire life, and I’m so blessed to get to make that dream a reality. Go Huskies!

Proverbs 16:3 “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.”

She sat on her bed, refreshing her phone as the likes and comments started to roll in. Nika’s was immediate.

@nika.muhl: my goat 🔥🔥🔥🙌

Paige liked it. Rolled over onto her back as she shifted to hold her phone above her head. “Thanks for the comment.”

Nika replied, sarcastically, “You are so welcome.”

A text from her mom appeared rather quickly. She hadn’t told her mom outright where she was going. It wasn’t like she was involved in her life otherwise and she didn’t have to foot the bill since Paige would be on athletic scholarship.

Mom: Congrats!  Go Huskes  🐺

Paige hearted the message before closing the app.

“I’m proud of you though, you know that?” Nika said, turning more serious. “Can’t believe you’re going to be a Husky with me.”

Paige cooed, “Awww, don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Despite what she said, the sentiment was absolutely shared. She couldn’t wait to get to play with her best friend.

Nika scoffed. “Just shut up and take the praise, damn.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, laughing. “Thanks, Niks.”

“Anytime,” Nika muttered.

Paige laid there on her bedroom floor, kept refreshing the page, watching all of the praise flood her screen. It had been four minutes and the post already had five hundred likes and eighty comments, so many people excited to see the top recruit in the nation finally announce her commitment.

Nika’s voice cut through her next refresh. “I just know you’re refreshing waiting for her to comment.”

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Paige lied, flipping over to lay on her back and hold her phone up above her face.

“Liar.”

Making the announcement just amplified what she’d been feeling deep in her chest for the past few months. That she wanted Azzi to go to UConn with her, more than anything.

She wasn’t sure if UConn had given her an offer. They tended to avoid the topic of college decisions. Despite their one conversation about it before the all-star game, Azzi never offered to bring them up and, if Azzi didn’t want to, Paige wasn’t going to. Easier to ignore and push aside until you couldn’t put it off any longer.

The idea of not getting to play with her every day, not having someone to push her on and off of the court and compete with her over all of the stupid things sat heavy in her chest.

Selfishly, she was addicted to being in her presence. It was a drug that had held her captive and she wasn’t ready for the withdrawal.

She’d already decided that if she only got her high school years to play with Azzi, she wanted to make the best of them. AAU Nationals was calling their name. The other girl hadn’t had her shot to truly shine under the lights yet, and Paige would be damned if she didn’t do everything in her power to get her that win.

By the time her dad called her down for dinner and she had to say goodbye to Nika, Azzi had yet to see the post. She probably should’ve reached out and told the girl in person or at least over text where she was committing, but breaching the subject had been hard for her to do without sounding pushy and UConn-obsessed.

A few hours later, after her stomach was full and she’d showered and gotten all ready for bed, she re-opened Instagram. The notification at the top of the list made her heart jump.

@azzi35: So proud of you! No one more deserving 💗

Paige felt the smile form across her face as she hearted the message immediately, moving to reply.

@paigebueckers: 💗💗

Somewhere around three in the morning, Azzi’s eyes flicked open. The raw, burning ache in her chest had dulled to numbness, but sleep had been restless and shallow. She lay still for a moment, staring at the wall, before she finally rolled over onto her other side, intending to just close her eyes again.

Instead, her breath caught in her throat.

There, crumpled on the floor right beside her mattress, was Paige. She was still shivering slightly in the chill of the room, her knees pulled tight to her chest and her face hidden in her arms. Her cheeks were pale and stained with the tracks of dried tears, her breath hitching every few seconds in her sleep, a leftover reflex from hours of sobbing.

Azzi froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. The anger she had carried earlier instantly cracked, melting away at the sight of Paige looking so small. Paige had actually stayed there. She hadn't gone back to the comfort of her own bed; she had chosen to sleep on the hardwood just to be close to her.

Moving quietly, Azzi slid out from under her covers. The floorboards creaked softly under her weight.

Azzi reached onto her bed, grabbing her pillow and the blanket she was using. She sank down onto the floor beside Paige, the cold of the wood biting through her t-shirt, but she barely felt it.

With agonizing care, Azzi slipped one arm under Paige’s shoulders and the other beneath her knees. She lifted her just enough to slide the pillow directly under her head, easing her back down with a gentleness that contradicted every harsh word they had thrown at each other hours before.

Paige let out a soft, whimpering sigh in her sleep, her body instinctively shifting toward Azzi’s warmth, but she didn't open her eyes.

Azzi’s throat tightened, a single, stray tear slipping down her cheek as she got the blanket. She draped it over Paige’s shaking shoulders, tucking the edges securely around her feet and pulling it all the way up to her chin until Paige was completely insulated from the cold room. For a long, quiet moment, Azzi just stayed on her knees, her hand hovering an inch above Paige’s tangled hair, wanting so desperately to trace her cheek but forcing herself to hold back.

She still didn't know how they were going to fix this. The words Paige had said still sat in her chest. But as Azzi quietly sat on the hard floorboards right next to her, facing Paige in the dark, she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let Paige freeze alone in the dark.

—

Paige slowly blinked her eyes open. Her eyelids felt heavy, raw, and painfully swollen. For a disorienting second, she didn’t understand why the ceiling looked so high, or why her back felt so stiff.

Then she shifted, and the reality of the previous night crashed down on her.

She wasn't in her own bed. She was still on the floor next to Azzi's. But the freezing chill of the hardwood was gone, replaced by a radiating warmth. Paige looked down and realized she was completely wrapped up in Azzi’s favorite blanket, tucked perfectly up to her chin, with Azzi’s pillow cushioning her head.

Her breath hitched. She glanced up toward the mattress.

Azzi was asleep on her bed, curled onto her side. She had given up her own pillow and her blanket, leaving herself with just the thin top sheet, sleeping heavily from sheer exhaustion. Even in sleep, her face looked tired, the faint lines of stress still etched into her features.

A fresh, hot wave of tears immediately flooded Paige's eyes, blurring her vision. She tightly clamped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle the ragged sob that built up in her chest. She didn't want to wake Azzi up, but the sheer emotional weight of what she was looking at was completely overwhelming.

She’s so soft, Paige thought, a tear spilling over her cheek and soaking into the pillowcase. She is so sweet, and I hurt her.

The guilt was twisting her stomach into knots. After everything Paige had weaponized against her; after screaming that she didn’t owe her anything, after throwing her deepest insecurities in her face, this was how Azzi responded. Azzi couldn't even leave her to sleep on the floor. Even when her heart was completely shattered, Azzi's instinctive reaction in the middle of the night was still to protect her. To take care of her.

Paige let out a tiny, trembling whimper, her whole body shaking beneath the blanket. She felt entirely undeserving of the warmth surrounding her.

—

A soft rustle of sheets broke the morning quiet. Paige quickly wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle her sniffles, but it was too late. Up on the mattress, Azzi shifted, blinking against the light before her gaze dropped down to the floor.

For a long moment, Azzi just looked at her, the exhaustion still heavy in her eyes. There was no anger left in her expression, just weariness.

"Come here," Azzi whispered, her voice rough from sleep. She patted the mattress beside her. "Come sit with me."

Paige's heart practically stopped. She scrambled to her feet instantly, her limbs stiff and clumsy from hours on the hardwood. Desperate to be useful, she frantically gathered the blanket and the pillow into her arms, clutching them to her chest like a shield.

"I'm sorry," Paige choked out, the tears starting all over again as she held the bedding out like an offering. "I'm so, so sorry, Azzi. I didn't mean to take your things, and I'm sorry I woke you up, and I'm just so sorry for—"

"Paige. Stop," Azzi cut her off softly. It wasn't a mean command, just tired. She reached out, took the pillow and blanket from Paige's trembling hands, and tossed them on bed. Then, she caught Paige by the wrist and gently pulled her down until Paige was sitting on the edge of the mattress.

The moment Paige was within reach, Azzi’s demeanor shifted into something intensely focused. She didn't bring up the argument. Instead, her hands moved to Paige’s shoulders, pressing firmly against the muscles, then down to her lower back.

"Are you sore?" Azzi demanded, her brow furrowing into a stern, worried scowl. "Does your back hurt? Your neck?"

"Azzi, I'm fine, I don't—"

"Don't tell me you're fine, Paige, you slept on the floor for six hours," Azzi lectured, her voice taking on a familiar, bossy edge that made Paige’s chest ache with guilt. Azzi squeezed her shoulder blades, checking for knots.

"You're already shivering. What were you thinking? If you were going to stay up, you should have at least taken the desk chair."

Paige just sat there, completely frozen under the touch of Azzi’s hands. The gentle friction of Azzi’s palms trying to rub the chill out of her arms was almost too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," Paige whispered again, her shoulders dropping as she stared down at her own lap, a fresh tear dropping onto her pajamas. "I just... I didn't want to leave you."

Azzi’s hands paused on Paige’s shoulders, the friction stopping as her fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of Paige's pajamas. The lecture dying in her throat.

She let out a long, ragged breath, her head dropping forward for a second before she looked up, her eyes dark and completely raw.

"I am so angry with you," Azzi whispered. Her voice wasn't loud, and it wasn't harsh like it had been the night before, but the weight of her hurt vibrated through every syllable.

For Paige, hearing Azzi finally acknowledge the anger without shutting down made her lean in just a fraction more, her bottom lip trembling violently.

"I know," Paige choked out, fresh tears instantly blurring her vision and spilling over her cheeks. She didn't try to defend herself, didn't offer any excuses. "I know you are. I'm so sorry, Azzi. I'm so, so sorry."

Paige swallowed hard, the knot in her throat tasting like copper and tears. She needed to say this; not to absolve herself, but because the thought of Azzi picturing her happily moving on with Liam during break was tearing her apart from the inside out.

"I was so uncomfortable the entire time I was there," Paige spoke up, her voice cracking as she forced the words past a ragged breath. She looked directly into Azzi's eyes, her own raw and begging for her to understand. "I barely even spoke to him. I made him leave early because I couldn't stand being near him. And the second I got home, I yelled at my mom for the first time ever, and I just locked myself in my room and cried for hours."

A breathless sob escaped her, and Paige quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her shoulders shaking.

"I cried because the whole time all I could think about was you," Paige wept, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "I knew how badly it was going to hurt you when you found out. I knew what it would do to us.“

She reached out, her fingers hovering just over the edge of Azzi's sleeve, too terrified to actually make contact but needing to be close.

"It’s not an excuse," Paige added hurriedly. "I know it isn't, and it definitely doesn't change the things I said to you yesterday. But I just... I need you to know that I hated every second of it. I hated being away from you, and I am so, so sorry."

Paige’s voice dropped even lower, breaking completely as she laid her heart entirely bare on the edge of the mattress.

"I know I’m not always good to you," Paige sobbed, her hands gripping her own knees so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I know I'm not. All you ever do is give, and give, and give to me. You protect me, you hide me, you take care of me... and I just take it."

She looked up at Azzi through a thick blur of tears, her face twisted in absolute, agonizing regret.

"I know I don’t deserve you," Paige whispered, a ragged breath shuddering through her chest. "You deserve someone who doesn’t view this as shameful, someone who doesn't panic and scream horrible things at you just because she's scared. I need to be better."

Leaning forward just a fraction, her eyes practically begging, Paige let all of her remaining defenses crumble.

"And I will be," Paige pleaded, her voice cracking violently on the words. "I’ll be everything you need me to be. I will fix this... if you're willing to give me another chance. Please. Just one more chance."

Azzi sat perfectly still, her eyes tracking the trembling movement of Paige’s hands, then the tears staining her cheeks. The barrier she had built around herself finally began to crack, her shoulders dropping as the anger gave way to an exhausting sadness. Hearing how miserable Paige had been, and hearing how she had finally stood up to her mother, completely shifted something inside Azzi.

Slowly, Azzi let out a long, shaky breath. She didn't pull away from Paige's hovering fingers. Instead, she looked up, her own eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry too," Azzi whispered, her voice soft.

"I'm so sorry for cursing at you, and for yelling at you like that yesterday," Azzi murmured, her bottom lip quivering slightly. "I didn't even give you a chance to tell me the full story. I just... the second you mentioned it, I got so terrified. But I shouldn't have shut you down so quickly."

Azzi looked down at her own lap, a shadow of regret crossing her face as she swallowed hard.

"I know I can be mean to other people," Azzi admitted, her voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. "When I get hurt, I lash out and I shut down. But I don't ever want to treat you that way. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

Paige reached out with absolute gentleness, her fingers sliding softly over the back of Azzi’s hands before moving up to rest on Azzi's tense, rigid shoulders. A small, incredibly sweet smile touched Paige's lips, her expression turning completely calm and reassuring as she quietly shut the apology down. In Paige’s mind, the guilt was entirely her own to carry, but right now, she just wanted to soothe the girl in front of her.

"No, sweet girl, it’s okay," Paige murmured, her voice low and soothing. She began to knead the muscles at the base of Azzi's neck, her thumbs pressing into the knots of built-up stress. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

To Paige, her own behavior was the only real mistake, and Azzi's anger made perfect sense.

"You were just reacting to an awful situation," Paige explained softly, her hands continuing their gentle, rhythmic pressure against Azzi's shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I promise."

Paige leaned a fraction closer, her touch softening even more as she stroked the sides of Azzi's neck. "Let me give you a massage, okay? Just lay down and let me take care of you for a little bit. You don't have to worry about anything else right now."

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn't say yes, but she didn’t say no either. For a long, agonizing moment, she just sat there, staring at her own lap. Then, slowly, she shifted. She turned away from Paige and lowered herself onto her stomach, burying her face into her arms against the mattress.

Paige took a breath, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and reverence. Moving carefully so she wouldn't startle her, Paige crawled further onto the bed, positioning herself so she was straddling Azzi’s thighs, keeping her weight light and grounded.

When she first placed her hands on Azzi’s back, she felt a violent flinch run through Azzi’s spine. Paige froze, holding her breath, waiting to be told to get off. But after a second, Azzi let out a ragged breath and melted back down into the sheets.

Paige began to move her hands. Azzi’s shoulders were so stiff. The muscles along her shoulder blades and the back of her neck were tightly wound, practically vibrating with the leftover tension of a night spent crying and a morning spent sleeping without a pillow. Paige dug her thumbs into the base of Azzi’s neck, using a slow, steady, circular motion.

Paige poured everything she had into her hands. Every ounce of her regret, every bit of her love, and every silent prayer for forgiveness was pushed into the muscles of Azzi's back. She smoothed her palms down the length of Azzi's spine, applying just enough pressure to soothe, then worked her way back up to the base of her skull, gently massaging the tight skin there.

As the minutes stretched on, the line of Azzi’s shoulders finally began to drop. Her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and less guarded.

"Azzi?" Paige murmured, her voice dropping to a soft, reverent whisper in the room. She didn't stop the steady movement of her hands, her thumbs tracing the curve of Azzi's shoulder blades. "I just... I want you to know something."

Azzi didn't move or give any sign that she was listening, but Paige kept going, needing to lay it all out.

"This isn't me assuming anything," Paige whispered, a soft, bittersweet smile touching her lips even as her eyes welled up again. "I’m not doing this because I think it fixes what I did, or because I'm expecting you to just want me back. I know you're still hurt, and you have every right to be."

She moved her hands lower, using the heels of her palms to rub steady circles into the small of Azzi’s back, feeling the warmth of Azzi's body seeping into her skin.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Paige choked out softly, a single tear escaping and landing harmlessly on the mattress beside Azzi’s head. "Thank you for letting me do this. Thank you for letting me care for you for a minute, and... thank you for just letting me be close to you. Thank you for being so good to me last night even when you were mad."

Underneath her hands, Paige felt Azzi let out a long, trembling breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob, but she didn't pull away. She stayed completely still, letting Paige continue to rub the ache out of her body.

—

Azzi’s voice was so muffled by the mattress Paige almost missed it. "I don't want to go to class," she muttered, the words sounding small and completely defeated.

Paige didn’t hesitate. "Then we aren't going," she said immediately, her voice dripping with a soft, protective sweetness. She smoothed her hands one last time down Azzi’s back before gently sliding off her. "We have that one unexcused day the school gives us every year. We're using it today. Both of us."

Azzi didn't move, still face down in the sheets, looking so uncharacteristically small. The girl from yesterday and this morning had completely vanished, replaced by someone in a state of pure, hollowed-out exhaustion. She was so emotionally fried from the screaming, the crying, and the heartbreak that she simply didn't have the energy to do anything right now. She just wanted to be taken care of.

Slowly, Azzi rolled her head to the side, her eyes blinking open, looking up at Paige with a completely vacant, vulnerable expression.

"Can we take a bath?" Azzi whispered.

"Of course we can, Az," Paige said softly, her heart aching with tenderness. She leaned down, gently brushing a stray curl away from Azzi's forehead. "I'll go get it ready."

Paige moved around the room with purpose, eager to do absolutely everything for Azzi so she wouldn't have to lift a finger. She walked over to the dresser, pulling out two bathing suits so they could sit in the tub together comfortably, and then gathered up two pairs of sweatshirts and sweatpants.

Carrying the clothes under her arm, Paige stepped into their small attached bathroom. She knelt by the side of the tub, plugging the drain and turning the brass handles. She adjusted the temperature until the water was a perfect, steaming, soothing heat, the steam quickly rising and warming the chilly bathroom air.

As the tub began to fill, Paige walked back out to the bedroom, kneeling down right next to the edge of the mattress where Azzi was still waiting, watching her with tired eyes.

"Water's running, Az," Paige said, her voice a gentle, reassuring hum. "I've got our suits and warm clothes ready."

Paige stepped into the water first, sitting down at the far end of the tub and settling herself comfortably against the porcelain backrest. Then, stretching her legs out, she reached up and gently caught Azzi by the waist.

"Come here," Paige murmured, her voice soft and steady.

Azzi lowered herself into the warm water with a quiet, shaky sigh, letting Paige guide her back until she was resting completely against Paige's front. The contrast of the hot water against their skin immediately made Azzi’s shoulders drop, her entire spine going wonderfully lax as she melted into Paige’s embrace. Without a word, Azzi let her head fall back, her cheek settling perfectly into the crook of Paige’s shoulder, her eyes closing as the heat washed over them.

Paige wrapped her arms securely around Azzi's waist, pulling her flush against her chest.

Slowly, Paige brought her hands to Azzi’s stomach. She began to rub steady, soothing circles into the soft skin, her palms moving with a gentle, grounding rhythm that seemed to sync with Azzi’s slow, deep breaths. Azzi let out a tiny, contented hum against Paige’s neck, her fingers loosely resting over the edge of the tub.

From Azzi's stomach, Paige slid her hands outward, tracing the curve of her waist and the sensitive skin of her sides, applying just enough pressure to massage away the residual tension from the night.

Paige then reached down, her palms smoothing down the outside of Azzi’s thighs and legs beneath the warm water. She worked her way down to Azzi's knees and back up again in long, fluid strokes.

With every movement of Paige's hands, she could feel the last lingering fractures of the night's defense mechanisms completely dissolving out of Azzi's body. Azzi just lay there, trusting Paige entirely to hold her up and keep the rest of the world away.

Paige kept her arms wrapped securely around Azzi, her chin resting lightly against the top of Azzi’s head as her hands continued their slow, soothing strokes over the sides of Azzi's waist.

"Azzi," Paige whispered softly, her breath stirring the stray hairs near Azzi’s ear.

Azzi didn't open her eyes, but her breathing hitched slightly, a quiet signal that she was listening.

"You are everything to me," Paige said, her voice dropping into a soft, tentative murmur. "You mean the absolute world to me, Az. I adore you."

She shifted slightly, her movements careful as she tightened her embrace just a fraction, pressing her front against Azzi's back to offer her warmth.

"And... I need you to hear me on this," Paige continued, her voice trembling slightly with a quiet, fragile sincerity. "I swear to you, none of that engagement stuff with Liam or anyone else my parents try and throw at me is going to happen. I'm not going to let it. I'll be right here with you."

For a second, the room was completely still. Then, Paige felt a sudden, sharp tremor ripple through Azzi's shoulders.

A tiny, broken sound escaped Azzi’s throat, and then the dam broke. Tears began to spill rapidly from her closed eyes, tracking down her cheeks and mixing with the warm bathwater. Her chest heaved as she started to cry, the quiet, exhausted kind of sobbing that came from deep inside her soul. She didn't try to hide it or pull away; she just let her head sink heavier against Paige’s shoulder, her whole body shaking under the weight of a relief she had been too terrified to hope for.

"I've got you," Paige whispered down into her hair, her own eyes filling with tears as she held Azzi tighter, her hands rubbing soothing circles into her stomach. "I'm right here."

Azzi swallowed hard, her chest hitching one last time as she blindly reached down under the water, finding Paige’s hands and squeezing them tightly. She didn't open her eyes, but she finally forced her throat to work.

"I think..." Azzi started, her voice incredibly raw and barely louder than a whisper. She stopped, clearing her throat as a fresh wave of emotion threatened to choke the words out. "I think I try really hard to be super confident all the time. Like nothing affects me. Like I can just shrug everything off and be fine."

Paige remained perfectly still, just listening, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Azzi's tone.

"But it's not true," Azzi confessed, a bitter, self-deprecating tear slipping down her cheek. "It’s... it's kinda been drilled into me by my parents for so long. That I’m disgusting. That I'm wrong, and sick, and... and just broken for loving who I do. And normally it doesn't touch me. I don't let it. I don't believe a word they say."

Azzi’s grip on Paige’s hands tightened so hard her knuckles went white beneath the surface of the water. She let her head sink even more into the crook of Paige’s shoulder, completely exposing her throat, her posture entirely defeated.

"But then, when we had our argument yesterday..." Azzi’s voice cracked violently, the admission tearing out of her. "It kinda made me feel like maybe they were right. It made me feel like maybe I really am gross, and that I'm not deserving of love that actually stays. I just sat there thinking that there’s something wrong with me, and that no matter how hard I try, or how much I give, I'm never going to be enough to make someone choose me."

Recognizing the sharp intake of breath from Paige behind her, Azzi hurried to clarify, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush so Paige wouldn't misunderstand.

"None of those insecurities are your fault," Azzi whispered, her head shaking slightly against Paige's shoulder. "I know they aren't. It's not your fault at all. I just... I think this whole situation just brought all of those fears right back to the surface. It made me feel exactly like what my parents always said I was."

Azzi’s voice grew even weaker, the confession draining the last of her energy as she stared blankly at the tiled wall of the bathroom. The water around them felt warm, but a cold dread seemed to settle over her words.

"I am just so scared of losing you," Azzi whispered, her chest heaving as she let out a shaky, uneven breath. "When you told me everything about Liam... I genuinely thought that was it. I thought it was happening right then. I thought I was watching you walk right into the life everyone expects you to have."

She paused, a sharp, choked-back sob vibrating through her shoulders. Paige tightened her arms around Azzi's waist, burying her face in Azzi’s wet hair, but she stayed quiet, letting her speak.

"I don't want to be someone you look back on and regret," Azzi admitted, the words spilling out with a painful, fragile honesty. "I don't want to be just a phase to you, or some mistake you got out of your system before your real life started. It felt like I wasn’t valued. Like because we’re both girls, this isn't something you take seriously."

Azzi shifted slightly, her fingers restlessly tracing the water's surface, her head hanging low. "And I know being with me... it forces you to carry so much guilt and shame, and I know your family is never, ever going to accept us."

She turned her head just a fraction, her cheek pressing against Paige’s shoulder as fresh tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"I never want to put you in a position where you have to choose between me and your own happiness, or between me and your family. I know how much you love them, especially your siblings." Azzi wept softly, her voice breaking completely on the final thought. "I don't want to be the reason your life is hard. But you make me so happy, and the thought of you walking away because I'm not enough to stay for...I don’t really know what I’m saying, I’m just trying to say I’m scared."

Paige sat entirely frozen for a moment, the weight of Azzi's words hitting her chest like a blow. Her throat felt completely constricted, her mind racing as a wave of guilt washed over her. She had done this. Since the first day they met she had been reinforcing the idea that there was something wrong with her, something to be fixed. She thought of the first day they met, when Paige started praying for Azzi to be rid from confusion, she thought of the first time she ever yelled at Azzi, telling her she made her “sick”. She thought of all the nights Azzi watched her kneeling on the ground, praying away her feelings for her like Azzi was something to be ashamed of.

Every reassurance Paige wanted to scream felt suddenly shallow and entirely inadequate against the depth of Azzi's agony. She didn't even know how to properly respond to heartbreak this vast.

So, instead of trying to find the words to fix it, Paige simply let her own defenses drop completely. Hot, heavy tears finally spilled over her lashes, tracking down her cheeks as she tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her as close as possible in the warm water.

"Oh, baby," Paige choked out, her voice breaking completely on the words. She buried her face into the crook of Azzi’s neck, her own chest heaving as she rocked her gently. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, baby."

She didn't try to argue or make excuses. She didn't interrupt to defend herself. Paige just held her, pressing soft, tear-stained kisses against Azzi’s shoulder and the side of her neck, letting her hands slide back down to Azzi's stomach to rub tight, protective circles.

"I've got you," Paige whispered over and over, her voice a ragged, weeping lullaby against Azzi's skin. "Cry it out, baby. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

—

The transition out of the bathroom was quiet and tender. Paige gently dried Azzi off, helped her pull on her hoodie and sweatpants, and guided her back into the bedroom. Azzi was still moving in that slow, hazy daze of absolute exhaustion, letting Paige take the lead completely.

Paige pulled back the covers on Azzi’s bed, guiding her to lie down. As Azzi sank into the mattress, curled up on her side, Paige tucked the blanket securely around her shoulders.

Paige stood by the edge of the mattress for a moment, her fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of the blanket. She wanted nothing more than to crawl in beside her, but she remembered her promise to not assume anything, to let Azzi set the pace.

"Azzi?" Paige asked softly, her voice a gentle, tentative murmur. "Do you want me to lay with you? Or... do you need some space?"

Azzi blinked heavily, staring at the wall for a moment as she processed the question through her mental fatigue. She shifted slightly under the covers, her voice coming out as a tiny, exhausted whisper.

"I need some space," Azzi murmured quietly. Then, before Paige’s heart could sink, Azzi reached a hand out from beneath the blanket, her fingers loosely curling in the air toward Paige. "But can you lay with me in like ten minutes? Just... give me ten minutes."

A soft, bittersweet smile touched Paige’s lips, her chest swelling with a wave of gratitude.

"Yeah," Paige whispered back, leaning down to gently press her hand over Azzi's knuckles for a brief, reassuring second. "Ten minutes. I'll be right here waiting."

The ten minutes felt like an eternity, but Paige watched the clock carefully, not wanting to rush Azzi by even a second. When the time finally passed, she quietly crawled onto the mattress, moving with care so she wouldn't startle her.

Azzi didn't pull away. Instead, as Paige slid under the covers, Azzi instinctively shifted backward. Paige immediately opened her arms, pulling Azzi flush against her chest, wrapping herself completely around her.

Once they were settled, Paige brought her hand under Azzi’s hoodie, smoothing her palm flat against the warmth of Azzi’s back. She began to rub slow, soothing circles against her spine, but as she did, a tight knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach.

"Azzi?" Paige murmured into the quiet room, her voice laced with genuine worry. She stopped the movement of her hand for a second, just resting her palm flat against Azzi's back. "Do you feel okay?"

Instead of explaining or talking, Azzi just shifted. She pressed herself even closer, burrowing deep into Paige’s space until there wasn't a single inch of distance left between them. She tilted her head up slightly, her lips finding the warm skin of Paige’s neck, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss right against her pulse point.

It was quiet, entirely unprompted, and filled with a fragile kind of forgiveness that made Paige's heart ache. It was Azzi’s way of saying she was still hurt, and she was still tired, but she didn't want to be apart anymore.

Azzi leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of Paige’s ear.

"I love you," Azzi whispered.

The words were barely louder than a breath, raw and completely stripped of any defense. After the screaming, the cruel words from the day before, and the fear of losing each other, hearing that simple truth out loud made Paige’s chest violently tighten.

A sharp gasp caught in Paige’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, her jaw clenching as she fought with everything she had to keep from breaking down again. She didn't want Azzi to have to comfort her right now.

"I love you," Paige choked out, her voice cracking under the strain of holding back her tears. She wrapped her arms even tighter around Azzi, burying her face into Azzi's curls, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her. "I love you so much. I love you, I love you."

The words poured out of her in a desperate, breathless loop, a frantic prayer against Azzi's skin.

"My angel," Paige whispered, a tear finally escaping her tightly shut eyelids and soaking into Azzi’s hoodie. "I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at Paige, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Paige’s.

The kiss was slow, deep, and heavy with the exhaustion of everything they had survived over the last twenty-four hours. Azzi’s lips were soft and slightly trembling, tasting of salt and morning warmth, moving against Paige’s with a quiet, desperate honesty that cut right through all the residual guilt.

Paige let out a shaky, breathless whimper into the kiss, her hands instantly sliding up to cup Azzi’s face. Her thumbs traced the line of Azzi’s jaw, holding her there as if she were a dream that might dissolve if she let go.

Azzi’s hands came up too, her fingers tangling into the hair at the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer until the gap between them was entirely erased.

Paige gently broke the kiss, pulling away just a fraction of an inch so she could breathe. Her forehead rested against Azzi’s, her hands still trembling where they cupped Azzi’s face. The sheer grace of that kiss was almost too much for her heart to hold, and the tears she had been fighting so hard to suppress finally overflowed, spilling freely down her cheeks.

"Thank you," Paige breathed out, her voice cracked and entirely undone. She peppered tiny, desperate kisses along Azzi’s cheekbone, her jaw, anywhere she could reach. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She pulled back just enough to look into Azzi’s eyes, her own gaze wide with overwhelming, reverent gratitude.

"Thank you for loving me," Paige sobbed softly, a ragged, breathless laugh escaping her chest. "Thank you for forgiving me when I was so awful to you. You are so patient with me. You’re so perfect, and you're so loving, and I just... I don't know how I got so lucky."

Azzi listened to the frantic rush of words, her eyes softening even more. She reached up, gently catching Paige’s wrists and pulling her hands away from her face so she could hold them between their chests.

"Paige, look at me," Azzi murmured, her voice steady. She waited until Paige’s watery eyes locked onto hers. "You are absolutely not a bad person. And you don't treat me bad. We are just... we're in such a horrible situation right now. It's unfair to both of us, and it makes everything so hard."

Before Paige could argue or let the guilt take over again, Azzi leaned up and kissed her. This kiss was lighter, sweeter, a quiet reassurance that the storm had officially passed. When Azzi finally pulled away, a tiny, rare smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, though her eyes still held a lingering trace of caution.

"So," Azzi murmured, looking down at Paige. "Are there any more secrets you need to tell me?"

Paige’s expression went completely serious. She held Azzi's gaze, letting the silence stretch for a beat too long, deliberately feeding into the gravity of the question. "Yes," Paige said softly.

Azzi’s brow instantly furrowed, the sleepy softness vanishing as she braced herself. "What? Wait, Paige? Seriously?"

"I'm so in love with you," Paige confessed, her deadpan expression breaking into a bright, teary grin.

Azzi froze, blinking for a second as her brain processed the joke, before she let out a loud, playfully irritated groan. "Oh my god, you jerk! I know that!" she complained, shoving at Paige’s shoulder as the tension completely drained out of her.

Paige burst out laughing, the sound bubbly and relieved in the quiet room. She didn't let Azzi pull away, immediately throwing her arms around her and tackling her back into the pillows. "I just had to make sure!" Paige laughed, leaning over her and raining a flurry of quick, loud kisses all over Azzi’s face; her forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

"Paige, stop, it tickles!" Azzi protested, a genuine, beautiful laugh finally bubbling up from her chest as she tried to block Paige with her hands. The exhaustion that had held her captive all morning finally began to lift, replaced by the familiar, warm sound of them laughing together in the tangled sheets.

—

A week had passed, and Paige could still see the faint, lingering traces of their fight. She saw it in the way Azzi sometimes checked out during a conversation, or how she held onto Paige just a little tighter, as if she were still quietly waiting for the other shoe to drop. The sadness was still there, tucked away in the quiet corners of Azzi’s mind.

Right now, though, the room was entirely peaceful.

Azzi was sound asleep, lying completely across Paige’s chest. Her head was nestled right under Paige’s chin, one of her arms draped heavily over Paige’s waist, her breathing deep and even.

Paige lazily traced slow, gentle circles on Azzi’s bare shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. The contrast between how much Azzi loved her and how hesitant she still was tore at Paige's heart. She knew she had promised to fix this. She had promised to be better.

I need to show her, Paige thought, her heart suddenly doing a nervous, erratic flip against her ribs. I have to show her right now that I’m entirely hers.

The idea hit her with the force of a tidal wave, blinding and completely undeniable: She needed to ask Azzi to be her girlfriend. She wanted to strip away every ounce of Azzi's lingering sadness and replace it with absolute, unshakeable certainty. She wanted Azzi to wake up and know that Paige was choosing her above everything and everyone else.

Looking down at Azzi’s sleeping face, Paige’s chest swelled with a terrifying, beautiful wave of love. Her fingers trembled slightly against Azzi’s shoulder as the plan solidified in her mind. She wasn't going to wait anymore. The second Azzi woke up, she was going to ask.

Azzi stirred against Paige’s chest, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek before she slowly blinked her eyes open. She shifted up just an inch, her voice low.

"Good morning, beautiful," Azzi murmured, her eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

Before Paige could even answer, Azzi leaned in, burying her face into the crook of Paige’s neck. She pressed a warm, lingering kiss right against her skin, inhaling deeply, before tracing a path of soft kisses up Paige's jawline. She found Paige's lips, pressing into them with sweet, lazy affection.

Paige’s heart squeezed painfully with love, but she knew if she let the kiss go any further, she’d lose her nerve. Gently, she placed her hands on Azzi’s shoulders, creating just a few inches of distance between them.

"Hey," Paige said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "Stop for a second. I... I want to talk to you."

The shift in Azzi was instantaneous. The warm, sleepy softness in her eyes completely evaporated, replaced by sudden tension. Her shoulders locked up under Paige’s hands, and her gaze dropped slightly, her expression hardening as she instinctively began to shut down, bracing herself for a blow.

"Baby," Paige added hurriedly, her heart aching at how quickly Azzi’s defenses had gone up. She cupped Azzi’s face, forcing her guarded eyes to lock back onto hers, her voice dripping with tenderness. "Hey, it's okay. It’s a good talk, I promise. It’s a really good talk, not a bad one."

Paige carefully sat up, shifting her weight against the headboard and gently pulling Azzi with her. She guided Azzi until she was sitting directly in her lap, straddling her thighs. Azzi let herself be moved, but she was still watching Paige with a quiet, watchful caution, her hands resting tentatively on Paige's shoulders.

Looking at Azzi sitting there, so beautiful and so close, a wave of panic hit Paige's chest. Her heart started hammering against her ribs. What if she says no? The thought flashed in her mind, terrifying and cold. What if I ruined things too badly last week, and she just wants to keep things casual because she doesn't trust me?

A desperate urge took over Paige. If this was the last moment she had where she could hold Azzi like this, without any barriers, she needed to memorize every single second of it.

Being incredibly gentle, Paige brought both of her hands up to cup Azzi’s face. She slid her fingers into the soft curls at the sides of Azzi's head, cradling her jawline like she was holding something impossibly fragile.

"Paige?" Azzi whispered, her brow furrowing slightly at the intensity in Paige's eyes.

Instead of answering, Paige leaned in and pressed her lips to Azzi's. It wasn't a rushed kiss; it was slow, deeply tender, and filled with a quiet, pleading devotion. She pulled away just a fraction, only to lean back in and kiss her again, softer this time. She moved her lips to Azzi’s cheekbone, pressing a lingering kiss there, then down to her jaw, and up to the center of her forehead.

She was completely raining love down on her, her thumbs soothing back and forth over Azzi's cheekbones. She held her close, burying her face in the crook of Azzi's neck for a brief second, just breathing her in, before pulling back to look at her again.

Azzi’s shoulders finally began to untangle from their tight knot, her eyes softening as she melted under Paige's touch.

Paige took a deep, shuddering breath, her thumbs tracing the smooth line of Azzi’s cheekbones one last time to steady her hands. She looked directly into Azzi’s eyes, refusing to let her own gaze drop, even though her heart was hammering so loudly against her ribs she was certain Azzi could hear it.

"Az," Paige whispered, her voice cracking slightly with a mix of nerves and devotion. "I know I messed up so badly last week. And I know that even though we're okay right now, you're still carrying a bit of hurt. I can feel it."

Azzi stayed completely still in her lap, as she listened, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, tightening her hands just a fraction against Azzi's face.

"I want to be yours. Will you be my girlfriend?"

The second the word girlfriend left Paige’s lips, the cautious, guarded look on Azzi’s face completely shattered.

An absolute radiance took over her features as the biggest, brightest smile broke across her face. Paige felt her breath catch in her throat; she had never, in all the time she had known her, seen Azzi look so genuinely happy. The lingering sadness that had hung over her all week dissolved in an instant, her

eyes lighting up with warmth.

"You..." Azzi started, her voice a breathless, disbelieving laugh as she wrapped her hands around Paige’s wrists. She repeated the words slowly, as if trying to prove to herself they were real. "You want to be my girlfriend?"

Paige let out a shaky, incredibly relieved laugh of her own, nodding quickly as fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I really, really do.”

Azzi surged forward, throwing her arms tightly around Paige’s neck and immediately kissing her. It was completely different from before; it was celebratory, and overflowing with a dizzying amount of love.

When Azzi finally pulled back just enough to breathe, both of them were grinning so wide their cheeks ached.

Paige, still needing to hear the official word through her happy tears, cupped Azzi's waist. "So... is that a yes?"

Azzi laughed, a pure, beautiful sound, and leaned down to press her forehead against Paige's. "Yes," she whispered, her smile brushing against Paige’s skin. "Yes, of course it's a yes."

Azzi leaned back in, capturing Paige’s lips in another deep, lingering kiss that tasted like absolute relief. When she finally pulled away this time, she didn't look tired or guarded anymore. She just looked incredibly proud.

"All mine," Azzi murmured, her fingers tightening where they were tangled in the hair at the back of Paige's neck.

Paige’s heart did a dizzying flip, a breathless laugh escaping her as she looked up at her. "All yours," Paige echoed softly, her hands smoothing over the sides of Azzi’s waist, holding her close.

Azzi leaned down and kissed her again, harder this time, her lips molding against Paige’s with an urgency that made both of their breaths catch. The sheer joy of it was intoxicating. Azzi pulled back just a fraction of an inch, her eyes glittering as she rested her forehead against Paige's.

"My girl," Azzi whispered, her voice dropping into a low, affectionate hum.

"Your girl," Paige echoed instantly, her chest swelling with so much love it felt like it might burst. "Always."

"We need a picture," Azzi murmured, her voice still a little raspy. "Right now. I need proof."

"Proof?" Paige teased, her hands staying securely on the sides of Azzi’s waist.

"Yes, proof," Azzi smiled, shifting her weight in Paige’s lap so she could hold the phone up.

Instead of turning the camera on both of them right away, Azzi angled the camera downward, focusing just on Paige from her high vantage point. Through the screen, she captured the view she loved most: Paige sitting beneath her, looking up with wide, adoring eyes, her cheeks still a little flush from kissing, and her hands resting possessively on Azzi's waist. Paige gave a soft, incredibly genuine smile just as the camera clicked.

"Let me see," Paige giggled, trying to peek at the screen, but Azzi quickly swiped it away.

"Nope, my turn," Azzi said, her smile widening as she flipped the camera to selfie mode.

She held the phone out to the side, angling it so they were both perfectly in the frame against the backdrop of the bed sheets. Then, Azzi leaned right back down, tilting her head to capture Paige’s lips in a sweet, deep kiss. The phone clicked in Azzi's hand, capturing the exact moment their lips met.

Azzi’s thumb tapped the screen again, switching the camera from photo to video. She held the phone up high, framing both of their faces as she looked directly into the camera, a proud grin lighting up her entire face.

"This is my girlfriend," Azzi said to the camera, her voice full of bright happy confidence.

Hearing the words out loud in that context made a giggle burst out of Paige's chest. She couldn't help herself; looking at Azzi’s face through the screen, she was completely overwhelmed by how much she adored her.

While the video was still going, Paige leaned forward and buried her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss right against her skin, making Azzi let out a quiet, happy hum. Paige didn't stop there. She traced a slow trail of warm, adoring kisses up the line of Azzi’s jaw, moving deliberately, before peppering sweet, soft kisses all over her flushed cheek.

"I love you," Paige murmured against Azzi’s skin, her voice dripping with absolute tenderness. "I love you so much."

Paige coughed a bit as she took off her paint suit. The fumes were almost overpowering on her walk to the water hose.

It was Sunday afternoon, which meant she was working on fixing up a 2010 Ford Ranger with her dad. He got it for her for Christmas last year, probably to make up for the conflict with her mom over Thanksgiving break, and she all but sobbed when she saw it.

But since her dad bought it off one of his coworkers for 500 bucks, it practically needed to be stripped down and built back up. So, their tradition for the last year had been to work on it for a few hours after church.

And they were so close to being done. They just finished the paint, and the engine was running perfectly, and after they sealed the final coat of paint, the truck would be completely hers. She couldn’t wait.

When she finished cleaning up, she headed inside where her dad was plating their dinner.

Bob Bueckers was the best dad she could’ve asked for. He wasn’t the richest, but he was the hardest worker she knew. And even when Paige’s mom left them in the dust, he stepped up and worked more hours to make sure Paige had everything she needed, plus a little of what she wanted. Even with how much he worked at various construction sites, he had never missed a game.

He was Paige’s biggest supporter, and the most important person in her life. Which meant that he knew everything about her.

“How’ve your grades been?” He questioned after they finally sat in front of their plates.

Paige swallowed her chicken guiltily. She was furious with herself at the amount of stress she had put her dad under. It wasn’t like he never asked her about her grades before, but he’d been asking more often since her grades had started slipping.

“Well, I got an 82 on my math quiz on Friday,” she shrugged, trying to maintain her nonchalant expression.

Her dad had the opposite reaction though – his whole face lit up with glee. “Paige! That’s amazing honey! I’m so proud of you sweetheart.”

She felt her cheeks darken and warm. As much as she acted like it wasn’t, that grade was a big deal. She hadn’t scored above a C on anything in math since her sophomore year.

“What changed? Did you start asking your teachers for help or something?”

See Paige hadn’t told her dad about the tutoring. Not because she was ashamed or anything, but because she didn’t know how he’d react to who her tutor was.

“Coach set up a tutor for me. She’s been really helpful – she kinda rewords everything so it’s something I understand.” She smiled thinking about how much she’d grown to understand in the couple of sessions they’d had so far. “She’s been really good for me.”

Bob broke into a wide smile, “That’s great, P! Who is she? Do we already know her?”

She winced a little before speaking. “It’s Azzi Fudd, and I know how her parents are. I know how her dad preaching nothing but hate, but she’s not like them dad, I swear.”

Her dad looked at her skeptically. She knew his history with the Fudds – how her parents started going to their church when she was a baby. How he preached about how if a man couldn’t completely support his family, he wasn’t a real man. That sermon was what started the fight between Bob and Amy Bueckers.

He hadn’t been back to that church since their divorce, but Paige’s mom was there multiple times a week. So it didn’t come as a shock when Amy completely cut Paige off after she came out last year. The pain that being unwanted by her own mother made her dad absolutely hate her mom and everyone else in that congregation.

He sat back with a deeply sigh, “Okay Paige.  I trust you – I just want you to be careful.”

“Dad, I promise. She hasn’t even said anything about me being gay, and she’s super nice and everything. I’ll see if she wants to come over for dinner or something. You’ll see.”

Paige didn’t know why she was defending Azzi so much – they weren’t even really friends. But she’d do it tomorrow, invite her to dinner after the game that week.

🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈

The next morning, Paige made sure to look a little more put together than she normally would on a Monday. Instead of sweats, she went with baggy off black jeans with a ‘she got game’ t-shirt with all of her favorite women’s basketball players on it. She couldn’t decide about shoes – there were the red and white fours, some light blue retro ones, and the classic crisp forces. After much deliberation, she decided that the blue writing on her shirt needed something to match. She slicked her hair back into a tight bun, and she was ready.

She hadn’t put that much thought into an outfit since she was in eighth grade and had a crush on Sarai Carmichael. And she didn’t have a crush on Azzi, like not at all, but she still wanted to put her best foot forward when she asked her to come over.

Her phone buzzed with a text.

Tash 💪🏽🤎: Iz had a makeup quiz so Nai’s gonna pick u up

She liked the message, only a little annoyed that Tash hadn’t told her anything until the last minute. Paige huffed softly, heading into the kitchen to find something to eat. Her dad left apple cinnamon oatmeal warming on the stove with a plate of bacon and eggs on the side. She was only able to finish the oatmeal and eggs when she heard a horn beeping from outside. She wrapped her bacon in a paper towel and grabbed an apple before heading out.

DiJonai’s car was as loud as she was – her music wasn’t blaring today, but the pink Jeep always stood out in a crowd. As Paige got closer to the Wrangler, she could see Nai tossing things into the back.

“What’s up, Paigey Waigey!” Nai beamed as she opened the door.

Of all of Paige’s closest friends, DiJonai Carrington was the one that made the least amount of sense on paper. For one, Nai loved school. She was the complete opposite of the dumb blonde cheerleader – she’d probably be a lawyer or a doctor or something. She was also the girliest person on the planet. There was not a single day where she didn’t have on at least on pink accessory. Nai was rich too – her dad was a retired football player who did motivational talks across the country. The only things they had in common were their inability to stay still for more than two minutes, their natural blonde hair, and their height. But somehow they clicked, and they’d been best friends since the day they met.

“Greetings, Mother,” Paige smirked, climbing into the Jeep.

There’d been a running joke since their freshman year. Nai would keep her more organized and in line for math, she brought snacks to help her focus when they studied together, and she always cheered the loudest for her at the football games. A couple people thought they were together for a bit, and Paige gagged with a quick “ew, she’s like my mom,” and the name had stuck since.

DiJonai looked her up and down as she pulled away from the curb. “You look mighty spiffy for a Monday morning.”

Paige felt her cheeks color. She didn’t know how to explain everything, but she was never able to lie to Nai. “I need to prove a point.”

All she got in response was a raised brow.

“I told my dad that Azzi was tutoring me, and he thinks that she’s gonna be like her dad.”

The older girl cut her eyes at Paige, brows furrowed. “What do you mean Azzi is tutoring you?”

Paige winced, “Yeah, coach set it up. Anyway – ”

“Wait, has she actually been helping?”

“Yeah, I got an 82 on my math quiz last week. Anyway,” she continued, waving Nai off. “I need to prove to my dad that she’s not rude and homophobic like her parents, so I have to get her to come to dinner, so he can see.”

Nai just hummed to herself, and a blind man could see the wheels turning in her head. “You dressed up to ask her to come over for dinner…? And you’re just going this because you need to prove a point? No other reason?”

Paige tossed her a look. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Girl, you better fix that attitude. I raised you better than that.” DiJonai glared. “I’m just saying, that’s a lot, just to ask someone to come over for dinner.”

“Yeah, well I need her to say yes, and I don’t think she’s gonna wanna come if I show up looking like shit.” She sighed.

Nai nodded, face pensive. “Azzi’s not like that though. But why do you care so much?”

“My dad hates her family, but she’s going out of her way to help me, and she’s being really nice about it. I don’t think he can be fully happy for me if he thinks I’m getting pity help from someone who hates who I am.”

DiJonai left it alone after that, but Paige couldn’t get the conversation out of her head. Why was she doing so much just to prove a stupid point?

The question bounced around her mind all day, even when it was finally lunch time and she saw the tutor for the first time that day.

Azzi was sitting with the same people she always did. All the uptight church kids who only knew the God who judged, and not the God who loved.

Paige grabbed her tray from the lunch line and headed toward her usual table in the back corner. The cafeteria was loud – chairs scraping, voices overlapping, someone's laugh cutting through everything else.

She had to pass Azzi's table to get there.

Jacob was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place. Chrissy sat next to him, her boyfriend's arm slung over her shoulders. Teagan was picking at her salad, Silas saying something that made Jacob snort.

And Azzi. Sitting between Chrissy and Teagan, hands folded on the table in front of her.

Paige wasn't trying to listen. She was just walking by. But Jacob's voice carried. It always did. "I mean, it's disgusting. Those dykes think they can just – "

Paige's steps slowed. She couldn't help it.

"It's an abomination," Chrissy said, her voice sharp and certain. "The Bible's clear about it."

"They're all going to hell," Harrison added. "Every single one of them."

Paige almost stopped walking, tray heavy in her hands.

"It's the broken homes," Jacob said. "That's what causes it. No father figure, or a weak one who can't lead. That's why girls like Paige Bueckers end up the way they do."

Her chest tightened. She turned her head slightly, just enough to see them.

Chrissy nodded along. "I heard her mom doesn't even talk to her anymore. Can you blame her?"

"I'd disown my kid too if they were a faggot," Silas said.

Teagan made a soft sound of agreement.

And Azzi – Azzi just sat there. Her face was blank. Not angry. Not uncomfortable. Just nothing. She didn't say a word. Didn't tell them to stop. Didn't defend Paige. Didn't even flinch. She just sat there, hands still folded, eyes on the table, like she wasn't hearing any of it. Like it didn't matter. Like Paige didn't matter.

Something cracked inside Paige's chest. She looked away. Forced her feet to move faster. One step. Then another. She kept walking, past their table, past the sound of Jacob's laugh, past all of it.

She made it to her table and sat down. Nai was already there, mid-conversation with Tash about something Paige couldn't focus on.

Nai looked at her. "You good?"

Paige nodded, not trusting her voice. Nai didn't believe her, Paige could never lie to her, but she let it go.

Paige stared down at her food. Couldn't eat. All she could think about was Azzi. Sitting there. Saying nothing.

She spent all morning getting ready. Put on the right clothes. Did her hair. Told herself it was just to ask Azzi to dinner. To prove to her dad Azzi wasn't like them.

But she was like them.

She was just like them.

She sat at their table. Listened to their hate. And said nothing.

Paige felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

The blue sneakers she'd picked out so carefully felt like a joke now.

She pushed her tray away and pulled out her phone, pretending to scroll through something, anything, so no one would ask her what was wrong.

Because she didn't have an answer. Or maybe she did, and she just didn't want to admit it.

🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈

Azzi just knew it was going to be a good day.

She knew her outfit was cute – she’d picked out all of her clothes for the week after church. It was just a simple chocolate polka dot skirt, a fitted cream top, with a chunky, brown cardigan. She wore her trust brown flats and pulled her hair back with a matching bow.

She also had her presentation on Tartuffe during first period, and she knew that it would be another easy A because she’d been preparing for a month.

Her parents were going to be out of town for the next ten days, which meant she was free from their expectations and critiques for a little while.

Earlier today, between second and third period, DiJonai Carrington cornered her in the bathroom. She’d always been friendly with DiJonai – they were always in the same French classes and had even been partners for a few projects – but they never really spoke out of class.

The tall cheerleader looked Azzi up and down with a smirk. “I heard you’re tutoring my best friend…”

Azzi’s stomach dropped. Everyone on campus knew how protective the blondes were over each other. “Um – I – yes. Coach Franklin asked me too, and I have no problem with helping her.”

“She said she got a B on her math quiz last week,” she continued, looking the tutor up and down. “She hasn’t passed a math test in like a year.”

“Well, it wasn’t like she couldn’t do the work,” Azzi started with a gulp. “I just think the way they are teaching her doesn’t work with how she processes information.” She explained, afraid that DiJonai would think she had the wrong intentions.

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Girl, I’m not mad. I just wanted to say thank you. She never let me help her, so I’m just happy she’s accepting help from somebody.”

“Oh,” Azzi felt her cheeks heat. “It’s nothing, I’m happy I’ve been able to help her.”

DiJonai pushed off the wall with a smile, “Yeah, well, me too. If you need anything, like anything ever, you know where to find me.”

The interaction was brief, but it meant a lot to Azzi – other people appreciated what she was doing for Paige. It wasn’t common that she received recognition from anyone other than the students she helped. It felt nice.

She thought about their chat in the restroom for the rest of the day. Not even the disgusting conversation at lunch could break her spirit.

She was even excited for tutoring today – well she always was because it meant that she could spend a little bit of time with her crush. She’d crafted a set of comprehension questions for The Great Gatsby, since Paige was supposed to finish it over the weekend. She hoped the questions would help the blonde get to know her a bit better. Show Paige that she wasn’t like everyone else in her circle.

Azzi practically skipped as she made her way to the library. She was still thirty minutes early to set up their table in the media center, but Kelsey Travis ended up skipping her session today, so she had the extra time.

She spread all the materials out. Following the same color-coding system she’d implemented on the first day.

After everything was set up, she pulled out her phone and opened Pinterest. Sure it was a little lame, but it was the only social media her parents had permitted her to have. And since she couldn’t download any new apps without their password, she wasn’t able to have any social media.

When five thirty rolled around, Azzi sat up a bit straighter, pushing her hair off her shoulders as she waited for Paige.

Then five minutes passed, which was odd, because outside of the first day, Paige had been right on time for their sessions.

After ten minutes, a stone of worry weighed in her stomach. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message.

Azzi: Hi! I am just wondering if everything is okay, or if we need to cancel for today :)

Another five minutes passed, and there was no response. Just a simple ‘Read at 5:47 PM’.

Azzi’s brows furrowed, wondering what had happened to cause the football player to just ghost her.

At 5:55, Azzi started packing up her belongings when she heard the click of the library door. She gave a worried smile as the tall blonde came into view.

“Hi, Paige! Did practice run over today?” She asked brightly.

The blonde didn’t even look at Azzi as she shook her head. She crossed the media center and dropped her bag next to her seat. She tugged her hood low over her head as she dropped into her seat.

“Well, how was your weekend? Did you get to do anything fun?” Azzi tried again, keeping her tone bright, even though she was almost sick with worry.

One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Was fine.”

Nothing else. Not a ‘it was fine, what about you?’ or ‘I went to the movies with my friends’ or anything that suggested she was cared even the slightest bit.

Azzi shifted in her seat, nervous energy taking over her body. “Well, did you get a chance to finish Gatsby? I thought of some quest – ”

“Yeah.” She replied, cutting her off.

The rest of the session went just like that. Azzi would ask questions, and Paige would give her basic, one word answers, that didn’t even begin to be a sufficient enough response. They didn’t even get to use the questions that Azzi had spent hours crafting.

Tears welled in her eyes a couple of times, but she was quick to swallow them down. She didn’t want Paige thinking she was a crybaby too, but she was just being so mean.

Once six thirty rolled around, Paige didn’t say anything. She just shot up, grabbed her backpack and stormed out.

Azzi sat frozen at the table for a long moment after the library door clicked shut behind Paige.

The comprehension questions she'd spent hours crafting last night were still spread out in front of her, untouched. She'd been so excited about them – the questions she'd designed to spark conversation, to show Paige she understood her, to maybe learn something about her in return.

What do you think Gatsby's parties say about loneliness?

Do you think Daisy ever really loved him?

If you could ask Fitzgerald one question about the ending, what would it be?

Stupid. They were stupid questions.

Azzi's hands shook as she gathered the papers, shoving them into her folder without bothering to organize them. The color-coded system she'd been so proud of didn't matter. None of it mattered.

She replayed the session in her head as she packed up. Every attempt she'd made. Every one-word answer Paige had given.

"Did you have any trouble with the symbolism?"

"Nope."

"What did you think about Nick as a narrator?"

"Fine."

"Do you want to talk about the themes for your essay?"

"Not really."

Azzi had tried everything. She'd even mentioned the game – how she'd cool it was that Paige had three touchdowns – but Paige had just shrugged and said "Yeah" like it meant nothing.

Like Azzi meant nothing.

The worst part was the way Paige wouldn't even look at her. She'd kept her hood pulled low, her eyes on the table or her notebook or anywhere that wasn't Azzi's face. No eye contact. No smiles. No teasing about her color-coded notes or the way she always had three different highlighters.

Nothing.

Azzi's throat felt tight as she zipped her backpack. She blinked hard, willing the tears back. She would not cry in the library. She would not.

But her vision blurred anyway as she stood up and pushed her chair in.

What had she done wrong?

The bike ride home was torture.

Azzi pedaled slowly, her mind spinning faster than her legs ever could.

Did I say something wrong?

She replayed every tutoring session they'd had. Last week had been good – great, even. Paige had laughed at something Azzi said about the green light symbolism. She'd leaned in close when Azzi was showing her how to annotate. She'd stayed an extra ten minutes past six-thirty just talking about the football game that week.

So what changed?

Was I a bad tutor?

Maybe Paige had failed another quiz earlier that day. Maybe the B last week was a fluke and now she was back to failing and it was Azzi's fault for not preparing her well enough. Maybe Coach Franklin was going to fire her and tell everyone she wasn't actually good at this.

Is she failing again?

The thought made Azzi's stomach drop. She should have asked. Should have checked in about grades instead of just assuming everything was fine. But Paige hadn't given her the chance – she'd shut down every question before Azzi could get anywhere real.

Did I say something offensive?

Azzi's hands tightened on the handlebars. Had she said something last week? Something that came across wrong? She'd mentioned her church's youth group meeting. Was that it? Had that reminded Paige of something bad?

Or maybe it was the way Azzi had asked about Paige's mom. She'd just been trying to understand the family dynamics for the essay they were planning, but maybe that was too personal. Maybe Paige thought she was prying.

Does she hate me?

The question hit hardest.

Azzi turned onto her street, her eyes burning. The sun was setting, painting everything orange and pink, and it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

She pulled into her driveway and sat on her bike for a moment, one foot on the ground, staring at nothing.

Paige had been so cold. So distant. Like Azzi was just an obligation. A chore to get through.

Like she couldn't wait to leave.

Azzi's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, hoping – stupidly, desperately hoping – it might be Paige. An apology. An explanation. Anything.

It was just a reminder about youth group on Wednesday.

She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over her contacts.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she scrolled to DiJonai's name. They'd exchanged numbers sophomore year for a French project and had texted on and off since then – mostly about assignments, occassionally about random things.

Azzi's fingers moved before her brain could catch up.

Azzi: Hey! Random question but what's Paige's favorite dessert?

She hit send and immediately regretted it.

What was she doing? Why would she ask that? It was so obvious. So transparent.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

DiJonai Carrington: girl

DiJonai Carrington: GIRL

DiJonai Carrington: why are you asking me that

Azzi's face burned. She stared at the messages, her heart pounding.

Azzi: I just thought it might be nice to bring something to tutoring sometime? To celebrate her progress?

DiJonai Carrington: uh huh

DiJonai Carrington: and this has nothing to do with whatever happened today that made her get in my car looking like someone kicked her dog?

Azzi's stomach dropped.

Azzi: What do you mean? Is she okay?

DiJonai Carrington: you tell me

DiJonai Carrington: she won't talk about it but she's been in a mood since lunch

DiJonai Carrington: so I'm gonna ask you one more time

DiJonai Carrington: why are you really asking about her favorite dessert?

Azzi stared at her phone, her hands shaking.

Since lunch.

Something happened at lunch.

But what? Azzi had been at lunch. She'd sat with Jacob and Chrissy and Tegan and Harrison and Silas like always. They'd been going on and on about –

Oh.

Oh no.

The conversation. The one she'd tuned out because she didn't want to engage – couldn't engage. The one where Jacob had been on one of his rants and everyone else had been agreeing and Azzi had just sat there, hands folded, waiting for it to be over.

She hadn't been listening. Not really. She never did when Jacob got like that.

But Paige had been walking by.

Paige might have heard.

Azzi's chest tightened. Her vision blurred again, tears finally spilling over.

Azzi: Never mind. Sorry for bothering you.

She shoved her phone in her pocket, climbed off her bike, and wheeled it into the garage.

Inside the house, she dropped her backpack by the door and went straight to her room.

She sat on her bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and finally let herself cry.

She couldn't believe herself – she was just like them, not caring about who was hurt by their views. And now Paige had gotten hurt because she was too scared to have an opinion.

She fell asleep sobbing into her pillow, wishing she could just make Paige feel better.

Nestled between a corner bookstore with glowing windows and a boutique, a woman stands at a bus stop, squinting at a transit map like she’s trying to memorize every route in case there’s a test later. Her gaze darts between the map and the passing crowds, frantic and unfocused in a way that’s kind of endearing.

She’s completely lost and clueless. And completely ignored.

Azzi should keep walking. She knows that. There’s a hot shower waiting at home, calling her name, promising to thaw her frozen limbs after a brutal double session. Her body aches in that all too familiar way that means she’s pushed it maybe a little farther than the trainers would approve of.

Still, she can’t tear her eyes away.

The woman steps toward a passing man, frustration tightening her sharp jawline as the wind tangles the loose golden waves escaping from beneath her beanie. She says something, her voice barely audible over the traffic, but he doesn’t even slow. Just brushes past her without a word.

More pedestrians hurry by, wrapped in wool coats and thick scarves, eyes fixed forward, too focused on getting home or making dinner reservations to spare her a glance. Every few moments, a gust of wind sweeps through the street, rattling outdoor café chairs and making the blonde tuck her chin deeper into her jacket.

Azzi knows that look.

She’s worn it herself. Not that long ago, either. Lost. Overwhelmed. Struggling with the language, the customs, the bus routes everyone else seems to understand instinctively. She’s still lost in some ways, but that’s a separate issue she doesn’t have the energy to delve into right now.

She exhales, the breath visible in the cold, tightens her scarf, and crosses the busy street.

"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?"

The blonde’s head snaps up, blue eyes wide with panic. She shakes her head quickly and turns back to the map, shoulders curling inward like she’s bracing for another failed interaction.

Okay. Different approach.

“Can I help you?” Azzi asks again, switching to English as she places a light hand on the woman’s shoulder to get her attention.

Blue eyes, bright despite the fatigue, flick over Azzi’s face. The panic softens into mild relief. Still, exhaustion lingers in the hollows beneath her eyes, suggesting she’s been fighting this city all day. The purplish tint to her exposed fingers as they trace the colorful lines on the map confirms the suspicion.

“Thank God. Someone who speaks English,” she breathes.

The sincerity of it makes Azzi smile. She takes a moment to actually look at her now that she’s closer. Between the American accent, the oversized duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and the useless leather jacket, she’s clearly not a local. A jacket like that won’t do a damn thing against a German winter, no matter how good it looks. Neither will the flimsy beanie perched on her head. 

And no gloves? 

Rookie mistake.

“How can I help?” Azzi asks, keeping her voice easy.

The blonde’s grin is bright despite the exhaustion settling into her bones. She seems more at ease already as she extends her hand.

“I’m Paige.”

Something warm zips up Azzi’s spine when their hands meet. She isn’t sure why that surprises her, but it does. She pulls her striped scarf tighter around her neck, unsure if she’s blocking out the cold or the feeling, and quickly releases Paige’s hand, flexing her fingers to shake it off.

Needing something to do with her hands she tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

“Azzi,” she supplies in return after finally finding the ability to speak. 

Paige clears her throat and glances back at the map like she’s trying to refocus, though it’s obvious she has no idea what she’s looking at. Azzi can’t blame her. Four years in Germany and she’s mostly fluent now, but she still remembers those early months. 

So when Paige looks back up at her, pleading and desperate, Azzi doesn’t hesitate.

“Where do you need to go?”

Paige exhales in relief and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She studies it, then blushes. Azzi knows it’s not from the cold this time, and takes it gently from her numb fingers.

“Oh, I know where this is,” she says, nodding vaguely behind her. “It’s a couple of miles uptown, near my favorite bar.”

Paige smiles, grateful, but the apprehension doesn’t fully fade.

“Can you point to where I should go to grab the next bus? I need to get out of the cold.”

Azzi lets out a soft laugh before she can stop herself, catching it just in time.

“What’s so funny?” Paige asks, smiling despite her current situation.

Azzi guides her gaze back toward the map mounted on the metal pole beneath the swinging stoplight, placing a hand lightly on her lower back.

“We’re here,” she says, pointing, “and you need to go all the way over here.”

Her finger drags across the map as she speaks, ignoring the bite of cold metal through her thin glove, and the warmth of Paige leaning in just a little too close. Azzi shifts, pretending it’s for visibility, not because her nervous system has suddenly become unhelpfully aware of the blonde.

“The walk to the other bus stop is as long as the walk to your place.”

Paige groans, dropping her face into her hands.

“Either the taxi driver didn’t understand me, or he saw an easy target and robbed me of a bunch of euros.”

Azzi squeezes her arm gently. “I parked my car around the corner, and I live just a few blocks from where you’re going. Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”

It’s a lie. A complete lie. She lives across town, the opposite direction entirely.

Still, something about Paige tugs at her. The homesickness she rarely acknowledges stirs at the sound of an American voice. And yes,fine, the fact that Paige is attractive doesn’t hurt.

Azzi smiles, a little shy. “We could grab some coffee on the way to warm up. There’s a cute little place right around the corner.”

Paige stiffens instantly. “I’m married.”

She lifts her left hand, platinum band catching the dull light. Azzi laughs without thinking.

“Okay,” she laughs, hands thrown in the air in surrender. “I was just offering a ride and a friendly cup of coffee. I don’t make a habit of picking up helpless Americans off the streets and seducing them over lattes.”

Although she absolutely should.

Paige relaxes, relief washing over her features.

Before the highlight reels, before the trophies, before the interviews where she sat with a lazy grin and said the most confident thing possible in the calmest voice imaginable, before the white-and-blue UConn jersey made her look less like someone you used to know and more like somebody other people screamed over. You knew her when she was just Paige from Minnesota, the girl who showed up at your house with wind-chapped cheeks and scraped knees, basketball tucked under one arm like it was legally attached to her body, already talking before your mom even finished opening the door.

She was family, basically. Not by blood, but close enough that nobody questioned her walking into your kitchen without knocking, opening your fridge, stealing your snacks, and yelling, “Y/N, your mom said you gotta come outside,” even when your mom had said absolutely nothing of the sort. Her family and yours had been tangled together for as long as you could remember; cookouts, birthdays, lake days, holiday dinners where the adults would sit around talking for hours while you and Paige were shoved into the basement or backyard and told to entertain yourselves. Paige always chose basketball. You always complained. Paige always ignored you.

She was annoying. That was the thing you remembered most clearly.

Annoying in a loud, bright, impossible-to-miss way. Annoying like stealing the ball from you and then laughing when you got mad. Annoying like making everything a competition, even brushing your teeth at sleepovers, even who could get to the car first, even who could finish their ice cream without getting brain freeze. Annoying like calling you slow when you tripped over your own shoelace and then immediately crouching down to tie it for you because she was mean, but not actually mean. Annoying like showing up with that same grin every single time, so sure you would forgive her for whatever she did because you always had.

Back then, Paige was not hot.

Back then, Paige had bony elbows, too much energy, and the confidence of a full-grown NBA star trapped inside a lanky middle schooler who still got Gatorade stains on her T-shirts. Her hair was usually pulled back messily, flyaways everywhere, and her clothes were always some tragic combination of basketball shorts, slides, and whatever hoodie she had stolen from an older cousin. She was cute in the way all kids were cute when adults looked at them and said things like, She’s gonna be something one day. But to you, she was just Paige. Loud Paige. Competitive Paige. Paige who once cried because you beat her in Mario Kart and then demanded a rematch for two hours.

So when your mom told you, years later, that you were going to Connecticut for a few days and that the Bueckers family was going to be there too, you didn’t think much of it.

Not at first.

You were sitting at your kitchen counter, scrolling through your phone, half-listening while your mom talked about flights and hotel reservations and how nice it would be to see everyone again. It was winter break, cold enough outside that the windows had that pale, frosted look around the edges, and your mom was in full planning mode, which meant she was saying a lot of information very quickly and expecting you to catch all of it.

“You haven’t seen Paige properly in years,” she said, tapping her nail against the screen of her phone as if Paige was just another calendar event.

You hummed. “I’ve seen her.”

“On TV does not count.”

“I’ve seen her on Instagram.”

“That definitely does not count.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Okay, fine. I haven’t seen her in person in a while.”

“A while?” Your mom gave you that look mothers gave when they wanted to make a point but also wanted you to arrive there yourself. “Y/N, the last time you two were really together, you were what, sixteen?”

“Seventeen, maybe.”

“And now?”

You looked up. “Why are you making this dramatic?”

“I’m not.” She smiled into her coffee. “I’m just saying. It’ll be nice.”

Nice. That was the word everyone used when they talked about reconnecting with someone from childhood. Nice, like time hadn’t passed in a way that changed people. Nice, like you could walk into a room and pick up right where you left off. Nice, like Paige hadn’t become Paige Bueckers, the kind of girl people made edits of, the kind of girl strangers argued about online, the kind of girl whose name sat under headlines and whose face lived on posters and whose game had become something bigger than the driveway battles you used to lose by twenty.

Still, you told yourself it would be fine. It was Paige. Just Paige. The same girl who once tried to teach you how to shoot a proper jumper and got frustrated because you kept using both hands. The same girl who ate half your birthday cake before anyone had sung happy birthday and then blamed it on your cousin. The same girl who used to throw a pillow at you when you fell asleep first during movie nights because she considered sleep a form of losing.

You knew her too well to be nervous.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you landed in Connecticut.

That was what you kept telling yourself when your family checked into the hotel and your mom kept smiling like she knew something you didn’t.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you walked into the restaurant that night for dinner with both families and heard familiar laughter from the back of the room.

And then you saw her.

For one second, your entire brain went blank.

Paige was standing near the table with her back half-turned, one hand resting on the chair beside her, the other holding her phone loosely. She was talking to someone — one of her brothers, maybe, you couldn’t even process it — and laughing under her breath, not loud like you remembered, not that wild little kid laugh that used to burst out of her at everything, but something lower now, easier, warm and rough around the edges. Her hair was done in that game-day way you had seen in pictures, slicked back into a ponytail with the two front braids framing her face, clean and sharp like she had walked out of a tunnel with cameras waiting. She wore a fitted long-sleeve top under a jacket, casual but somehow not casual at all, because it sat on her like she knew exactly how good she looked without needing to try. A chain rested at her collar, catching the light when she shifted. Her jeans hung low on her hips. Her posture was loose, shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly as if the entire room had already given her permission to take up space.

Your first thought was not intelligent.

Your first thought was: Oh.

Your second thought was: No.

Because no. Absolutely not. That was not allowed. Paige Bueckers, the same girl who used to chew with her mouth open until your mom corrected her, was not allowed to stand in front of you looking like that. She was not allowed to have grown into her face like some annoying, unfair magic trick. She was not allowed to have that jawline, that grin, that slow confidence sitting on her like a second skin. She was not allowed to be the same Paige and not the same Paige at all.

Your mom touched your arm. “There they are.”

You blinked hard, like maybe if you reset your vision, Paige would turn back into the skinny kid in oversized shorts.

She did not.

Instead, she looked up.

Her eyes found yours across the restaurant, and for half a second, her expression did nothing. She just looked. Really looked. Like she was taking the years between you and measuring them quietly. Then her mouth curved, slow and familiar and devastatingly smug, and suddenly she was Paige again in the worst possible way.

Because she knew.

You didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.

“Y/N?” she called, and her voice was deeper than you remembered, still light with that Minnesota edge, still her, but older now, smoother. It hit you in the chest before you were ready.

You forced yourself to move. Forced your feet forward. Forced your face into something normal.

“Paige,” you said, and thank God your voice didn’t crack, because you would’ve had to walk into traffic.

She pushed away from the chair and came toward you with that easy athlete stride, like her body had never been awkward a day in its life. Which was a lie. You had proof. You had photos. You had mental evidence of her tripping over a sprinkler at age twelve and pretending she meant to do it.

But none of that helped when she stopped in front of you.

She looked down at you slightly, because of course she had gotten taller too, because apparently the universe had a personal vendetta against your peace. Her eyes dipped over your face, quick but not careless, and her grin widened.

“Damn,” she said. “You look grown.”

Something about the way she said it made heat rise up your neck.

You lifted your brows, trying to recover. “That’s usually what happens when people age.”

“Yeah, but you were always little Y/N to me.”

“Little?” You scoffed. “You were built like a praying mantis until sophomore year.”

Her laugh came out immediately, bright and surprised, and the sound loosened something in your chest that you hadn’t realized had gone tight. For a second, it was almost normal. Almost. Paige threw her head back slightly, eyes creasing at the corners, and you remembered being thirteen and feeling victorious any time you made her laugh hard enough to stop talking.

Then she looked back at you, still smiling, and the almost-normal feeling became dangerous again.

“Okay,” she said, nodding slowly. “Coming in hot already. I see you.”

“You started it.”

“I said you looked grown. That was a compliment.”

“You said it like you were shocked I survived puberty.”

Paige leaned in a little, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you caught the clean scent of her — something fresh, faintly expensive, mixed with the cold air she’d brought in from outside. “Maybe I’m shocked you got pretty.”

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

It was stupid. It was just Paige. Paige, who had said a million things to get under your skin before. Paige, who used to call you dramatic when you got mad and then follow you around until you laughed again. Paige, who loved winning too much not to notice when she landed a hit.

But this was not the same kind of hit.

This one sat low in your stomach.

You narrowed your eyes because it was the only defense you had. “Maybe I’m shocked you learned how to dress.”

Paige’s grin turned sharp. “You been checking?”

“No.”

“Sounded like it.”

“You’re still annoying.”

“And you still blush easy.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You are.”

“I’m cold.”

“We’re inside.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She said it like a fact, like something she had known for years and had no reason to question.

Your parents reached the table before you could answer, and suddenly the moment broke open into hugs and greetings and loud parental excitement. Paige’s family pulled you in like no time had passed; her dad gave you a warm hug, her brothers teased you about being taller even though you definitely were not, and your mom and Paige’s family immediately began talking over each other in that comfortable way people did when they shared too much history to bother with polite pacing.

Paige slid into the chair beside you.

Not across from you. Not at the other end. Beside you.

You noticed because of course you noticed. You noticed the way her knee bumped yours under the table when she sat down. You noticed the way she stretched one arm across the back of your chair for a moment as she turned to answer something her dad said, not touching you, not really, but close enough that your body reacted like she had placed her hand directly on your skin. You noticed the chain at her neck again. You noticed her hands, which was insane, because when had hands become something you noticed? Long fingers, short nails, a faint mark near her knuckle. Basketball hands. Hands that had stolen passes, signed autographs, probably held trophies. Hands that used to shove snow down the back of your jacket.

You hated this.

You hated every single part of this.

Paige leaned toward you while everyone else got caught in a conversation about travel delays. “You quiet now.”

“I’m literally just sitting.”

“Yeah. Quietly.”

“Maybe I matured.”

She looked at you, unimpressed. “You?”

You kicked her ankle lightly under the table. “Shut up.”

Her eyes flashed with amusement. “There she is.”

That should not have made your stomach flip. It did anyway.

Dinner was a problem after that.

Not because anything happened. Nothing happened. That was somehow worse. Paige was just there, close enough for your shoulders to brush when servers passed behind you, close enough that every time she laughed, you felt it more than heard it. She talked easily with everyone, slipping between family stories and basketball updates, making your parents laugh, letting her brothers roast her, pretending to be humble for exactly three seconds before ruining it with some smug comment about how she was still the best shooter at the table.

“Best shooter?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “You lost to me in HORSE when we were fourteen.”

Paige’s head turned slowly.

The table went quiet in that delighted, dangerous way families did when old drama was resurrected.

Paige stared at you. “You did not just say that.”

“I did.”

“You won because you made up some ugly backwards shot from behind the trash can.”

“And you missed it.”

“Because it was nasty.”

“But legal.”

“It was not basketball.”

“It was HORSE.”

“It was criminal.”

You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Sounds like something a loser would say.”

Her mouth opened slightly, offended in the most Paige way possible. The table erupted, her family laughing, your mom pointing at you like she had missed seeing you two bicker. Paige leaned back in her chair, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of her cheek, eyes locked on you with an intensity that made the room feel a little too warm.

“Okay,” she said softly.

You tilted your head. “Okay what?”

She reached for her water, still looking at you over the rim of the glass. “Just remembering who I’m dealing with.”

It was casual. It should have been casual.

It was not casual.

Because Paige had always been competitive, but grown Paige wore it differently. As a kid, she had been loud with it, all motion and noise. Now it sat quieter. Controlled. Like she didn’t need to prove she could win because everybody already knew. Like she could take her time. Like she could wait for you to mess up and still enjoy the view while you did.

You looked away first.

That was your mistake.

Paige noticed.

Of course she noticed.

The rest of dinner blurred into a strange mix of nostalgia and self-preservation. Old stories came up one after another, most of them embarrassing. Your mom talked about how you and Paige used to fight over who got the blue popsicle. Paige’s dad mentioned the time Paige slept over and convinced you to wake up at six in the morning to rebound for her in the driveway. You argued that she had tricked you. Paige said you loved it. You said you loved sleep more. Paige said you used to sit on the curb and watch her shoot anyway.

That made you pause.

Because you had.

You had forgotten that part, or maybe you had chosen not to think about it. The early mornings, summer air still cool, Paige in some oversized shirt, shooting and shooting while you sat wrapped in a blanket on the curb, complaining every five minutes but never actually going inside. She would look over after every made three like she expected you to react. You would roll your eyes. She would grin. The ball would bounce back into her hands, and the whole world would feel small and simple.

“You were my rebounder,” Paige said, nudging your knee under the table.

“I was forced labor.”

“You were committed.”

“I was sleepy.”

“You still stayed.”

You looked at her then, and for a second the teasing slipped. Paige’s expression had softened just enough to make you feel unsteady. Her eyes held yours like she was saying something more than the words, something about the years you had both walked away from without ever officially leaving behind.

Then her gaze dipped.

Not far. Just to your mouth, quick as a blink, quick enough that maybe you imagined it.

But you didn’t.

You knew you didn’t.

Your pulse jumped.

Paige looked back up like nothing had happened, but the corner of her mouth moved.

You hated her.

You really, really did.

After dinner, the adults refused to let the night end. There was talk about going back to the hotel lobby, maybe grabbing coffee, maybe sitting somewhere to catch up more. Paige’s brothers groaned. You silently agreed with them. You were exhausted from travel, full from dinner, and emotionally attacked by the fact that Paige Bueckers had grown into someone who could look at you for half a second and make you forget basic language.

But then Paige said, “I can show Y/N around campus for a bit.”

You looked at her immediately. “What?”

“What?” she echoed, too innocent.

Your mom brightened. “That’s a great idea. You two should catch up.”

“I think we caught up,” you said quickly.

Paige smiled. “Scared of campus?”

“Scared of freezing.”

“I got you.”

That made your stomach do something deeply embarrassing.

You crossed your arms. “Do you?”

She stepped closer, and because both families were busy gathering coats and bags, nobody else seemed to notice the way her voice dropped slightly when she answered. “Always did, didn’t I?”

For a moment, you had no comeback.

Paige’s face shifted, satisfaction flickering there. She had found a gap in your armor and looked far too pleased about it.

Ten minutes later, you were outside with her, bundled into your coat, breath fogging in front of you as the cold Connecticut air hit your face. The streetlights painted everything in soft gold, and the campus stretched around you quieter than you expected, all brick buildings and bare trees and patches of snow pushed against the edges of walkways. Paige walked beside you with her hands in her jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, but still somehow moving like she belonged to every inch of the place.

“So,” she said after a minute. “You nervous?”

You glanced at her. “About walking?”

“About being alone with me.”

You almost tripped.

Paige’s hand shot out automatically, fingers closing around your elbow to steady you. The contact lasted two seconds at most, but it went straight through you, warm even through your coat.

You pulled your arm back too quickly. “No.”

“You sure?”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“You almost ate pavement.”

“Because there’s ice.”

“There’s no ice.”

“There could’ve been.”

Paige laughed under her breath. “You always got an excuse.”

“And you always have an ego.”

“Earned it.”

That was so Paige that you couldn’t help looking at her. She was staring forward, smiling to herself, the cold tinting her cheeks pink. For a second, you saw the girl she used to be under all the grown-up confidence — the kid who believed she could beat anybody, the teenager who treated every driveway game like a national championship, the girl who had always been certain the world would make room for her because she planned to take it whether it did or not.

Then she caught you staring.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nah, what?”

“You’re just…” You stopped, because the honest answer was dangerous.

Paige slowed slightly. “I’m just what?”

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets. “Different.”

Her expression changed, not enough to be obvious, but enough that you saw it. The teasing didn’t disappear, but it softened around the edges. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“In a bad way?”

You shook your head before you could think too much. “No.”

The quiet after that was not awkward. It was worse. It was charged, thick with all the things you weren’t saying. Paige walked closer than she needed to, your sleeves brushing occasionally. Every time it happened, you told yourself it was because the path was narrow. It was not narrow. Paige knew it. You knew it. Neither of you moved away.

She showed you the campus like she was trying to be casual and failing in the most charming way possible. There was the gym. There was where she spent way too many hours. There was where the team grabbed food. There was the spot where freshmen almost wiped out in the snow last year. There was Gampel, looming in the distance like a cathedral built for basketball.

“You like it here?” you asked, looking up at the building.

Paige took a second to answer. “Yeah. I mean, it’s UConn. It’s a lot sometimes, but… yeah. Feels like where I’m supposed to be.”

You looked at her. “That sounds very mature.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am surprised.”

“Damn, okay.”

“You used to think maturity was not throwing the controller when you lost.”

“I did not throw it.”

“You launched it.”

“At a pillow.”

“At my head.”

“You moved.”

“Because survival instincts kicked in.”

Paige grinned, and the streetlight caught her face in a way that made your throat go dry. She was too pretty like this, relaxed and cold and amused, eyes bright with the kind of trouble you used to recognize instantly. Except now the trouble felt different. Older. Sharper. Like if she stepped closer, you would not know whether to shove her away or let her.

“You remember everything, huh?” she asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“What else you remember?”

You should have known better than to answer. “I remember you being shorter.”

“Everybody was shorter.”

“I remember your Justin Bieber phase.”

Her face dropped. “Don’t.”

“Oh, so you do have shame.”

“Y/N.”

“I remember the purple hoodie.”

“Stop talking.”

“I remember you thinking you could rap.”

Paige stepped in front of you then, blocking your path, and you almost walked straight into her. You stopped with barely any space left between you. The air shifted instantly. Your teasing smile faded because she was close now, close enough that you could see the tiny details of her face, the way her lips curved even when she was trying to look threatening.

“You done?” she asked.

Her voice was light, but her eyes were not.

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“You gonna do something about it?”

The words came out before your brain approved them.

Paige’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

For one awful, electric second, neither of you moved.

Then her grin returned, slower this time. “You got bold.”

You wanted to disappear. You wanted to stay exactly where you were. “You got annoying.”

“I been annoying.”

“You got worse.”

“You got prettier.”

Your breath caught again, and this time Paige was close enough to see it.

Her eyes flicked over your face, satisfaction and something warmer mixing in her expression. “There it is.”

“What?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one you keep giving me.”

You tried to laugh, but it sounded weak even to you. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nah.” Paige tilted her head, studying you with the patience of someone who had spent her whole life reading defenders and finding the smallest openings. “You looked at me in the restaurant like you forgot who I was.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I was surprised.”

“By what?”

You stared at her, completely trapped.

Paige knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands stayed in her pockets. Her body didn’t touch yours. She wasn’t doing anything obvious enough for you to call her out. That was the problem. She didn’t need to. The closeness did it for her. The lowered voice. The way she looked at you like the answer was already written across your face.

You looked away. “You just don’t look like you did when we were kids.”

She hummed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

“It’s a weak one.”

“Paige.”

“Y/N.”

You hated the way she said your name. Like she still knew it. Like years apart hadn’t made it unfamiliar. Like your name belonged in her mouth because it always had.

You forced your eyes back to hers. “Fine. You grew up.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t become…” You stopped.

Paige leaned in a fraction. “Become what?”

Your heart was beating way too fast for someone standing outside in freezing weather.

“Annoying,” you said.

Her smile turned wicked. “Liar.”

You pushed past her before she could see your face properly, walking toward the entrance of Gampel like you knew where you were going. You did not. Paige let you get two steps ahead before following, laughing quietly behind you.

“You walk fast when you’re flustered.”

“I’m trying to get away from you.”

“You invited yourself to my campus tour.”

“You literally offered.”

“You said yes.”

“My mom said yes.”

“You could’ve said no.”

You could feel her catching up, and then she was beside you again, shoulder brushing yours. “But you didn’t.”

You kept your eyes forward. “Because I’m polite.”

“Because you missed me.”

That shut you up.

Paige didn’t say it teasingly. Not fully. There was a smile in her voice, sure, but underneath it was something else, something careful enough that it made you look at her despite yourself.

She was watching you, waiting.

And suddenly you remembered that Paige had not only been annoying. She had also been everywhere. In your childhood home, sprawled across your couch, eating cereal from your bowls. In your backyard, yelling your name until you came outside. At your birthdays, in your family photos, in your memories so naturally that you had forgotten she was someone you could lose contact with. Then life got bigger. Paige got busy. You got older. Calls became texts, texts became comments, comments became silence with occasional likes on Instagram stories that felt too small to count.

You had missed her.

That was the worst part.

You had missed her before she got hot. You had missed her before tonight, before the fitted shirt and chain and slow grin and all the things your body had unfortunately decided to notice. You had missed the girl who knew your worst angles and your childhood bedroom and how you liked your hot chocolate. You had missed having someone who could annoy you into feeling known.

So you said, softer than you meant to, “Maybe.”

Paige’s face changed.

Just slightly. But you saw it.

The smugness dipped, and for a second she looked younger, caught off guard in a way you hadn’t seen all night. Then she looked ahead, jaw shifting like she was trying not to smile too hard.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

The words sat between you, simple and warm against the cold.

You walked for a while after that without trying to fill the silence. Paige took you around the outside of Gampel, telling you random stories about practices and games, about teammates and Geno and how Connecticut fans were a different level of intense. You listened more than you spoke, partly because you liked hearing her talk, partly because every few minutes she would glance over and catch you looking, and each time it felt like getting caught doing something far more intimate than staring.

Eventually, she led you inside.

The building was quieter than you expected at night, the halls mostly empty, the air warmer and carrying that faint gym smell of polished floors and old sweat and something metallic from the arena. Paige seemed different indoors too, more settled, like the building recognized her. She brought you through with easy familiarity, nodding at someone working late, swiping into areas you probably weren’t supposed to be in, then looking back at you with a grin that said she knew exactly that.

“Are we allowed to be here?” you asked.

“I’m allowed everywhere.”

“That is definitely not true.”

“It feels true.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You keep saying that like it’s not your favorite thing about me.”

You gave her a look. “My favorite thing about you was your parents’ snack cabinet.”

Paige laughed. “Cold.”

“You asked.”

She brought you to the edge of the court.

The arena opened up around you, dim and huge, seats rising into shadow, the court glowing under partial lights. You stopped without meaning to. You had seen basketball courts before, obviously. You had been around Paige enough growing up that basketball had always felt like background noise. But this was different. This was hers. This was the world that had taken the kid from your driveway and made her into the girl standing beside you now, into the name people chanted, into the person with cameras following her and kids wearing her jersey.

Paige watched you take it in.

“Cool, right?” she said.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool.”

“You sound impressed.”

“I am.”

“Careful. I might get used to that.”

“You already are.”

She smiled, then walked onto the court. Her sneakers squeaked softly against the floor. You stayed near the sideline, watching as she grabbed a ball from a rack nearby and bounced it once. Twice. The sound echoed. She spun it in her hands with that absent ease of someone who had done it more times than she had breathed.

Then she looked at you. “You wanna shoot?”

You laughed. “Absolutely not.”

“Scared?”

“Of embarrassing myself? Yes.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“You tried that when we were thirteen. You said I had the shooting form of a wounded bird.”

Paige winced, but she was smiling. “I was a harsh coach.”

“You were a bully.”

“You were bad.”

“I was a child.”

“You were still bad.”

You crossed your arms. “This is why I don’t miss you.”

“Yes, you do.”

She bounced the ball toward you. It came slow, controlled, rolling until it tapped against your shoe. You looked down at it, then back at her.

“No.”

“One shot.”

“No.”

“For old times.”

“That phrase is how people get manipulated.”

“Y/N.”

The way she said it made you pick up the ball. You hated yourself for it.

Paige grinned like she had won something, which she had. You stepped onto the court, feeling immediately out of place. The ball felt too large in your hands, familiar only because childhood had forced familiarity onto you. Paige stood near the free throw line, watching with open amusement.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned.

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re already laughing internally.”

“Can’t control my thoughts.”

“You can control your face.”

“Not around you, apparently.”

That did not help.

You positioned yourself awkwardly, trying to remember anything she had taught you years ago. Paige’s gaze moved over you, not in the obvious way, but enough that your skin warmed beneath your coat. You lifted the ball. She made a small sound.

“What?” you snapped.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Your elbow.”

“My elbow is fine.”

“Your elbow is fighting for its life.”

You dropped the ball to your hip. “Do you want me to shoot or not?”

“I want you to make it.”

“You want to make fun of me.”

“Both can be true.”

You glared at her.

She walked toward you, still smiling, and your stomach tightened with every step. “Here,” she said. “Let me fix it.”

“No, I remember.”

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“You’re holding the ball like it owes you money.”

“Maybe it does.”

Paige stopped in front of you. “Can I?”

It was such a simple question. Two words. But it landed differently because her voice had gone softer, because she wasn’t touching you yet, because she was actually asking.

You nodded before you trusted yourself to speak.

Paige stepped closer.

Her hands came up, not quite touching yours at first. “Relax,” she said.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re gripping the ball like you’re about to fight it.”

“I’m cold.”

“You use that excuse a lot.”

“It’s versatile.”

She laughed quietly, then placed her hands over yours.

Everything in you went still.

Her hands were warm. That was the first thing you noticed. Warm and sure as she adjusted your grip, fingers guiding yours into place with casual precision. She stood close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed your chest, close enough that you could see the small curve of concentration between her brows as she focused on your form. You tried to listen as she explained where your shooting hand should be, how your guide hand wasn’t supposed to push, how your elbow needed to come in, but the only thing your brain understood was that Paige’s hands were on yours and her voice was low beside you and the entire empty arena suddenly felt like a locked room.

“Y/N,” she said.

You blinked. “What?”

Her eyes flicked to your face. “You hear anything I just said?”

“Yes.”

“What’d I say?”

“Basketball.”

Paige stared at you.

You stared back.

Then she laughed, not loud, but close enough that you felt the breath of it. “You are so unserious.”

“You’re distracting.”

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Paige’s laughter faded.

Her eyes moved over your face, and there it was again — that shift, that little spark of recognition, like she had been waiting all night for you to slip. Her hands were still on yours. Neither of you moved.

“I’m distracting?” she asked.

You swallowed. “You talk a lot.”

“That’s what you meant?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep lying.”

Her thumb brushed lightly against the side of your hand. Maybe by accident. Probably not. Your grip tightened around the ball, and Paige noticed that too. Her gaze dropped to your hands, then back to your face.

“You nervous?” she asked again, quieter.

The teasing was still there, but now it had heat under it.

“No,” you said.

“You sure?”

“You ask that a lot.”

“You keep giving me reasons.”

You wanted to say something sharp. Something funny. Something that would put space back between you. But Paige was looking at you like that, and the arena was empty, and the court lights made everything feel unreal, and suddenly the years between you didn’t feel like distance at all. They felt like a fuse.

You forced yourself to raise the ball. “Are you going to help me shoot or keep flirting with yourself?”

Paige’s mouth curved. “So you admit I’m flirting.”

“I said with yourself.”

“Still heard flirting.”

“You hear what you want.”

“Right now?” she said, stepping slightly behind you to adjust your stance, her hands hovering near your waist before settling carefully at your elbows. “Yeah, maybe.”

Your breath caught.

Her chest was not touching your back. There was space. Barely. But you could feel the warmth of her behind you, the shape of her presence, the way her voice came from over your shoulder now.

“Bend your knees,” she said.

You did, badly.

Paige made a sound like she was trying not to laugh. “Not like you’re about to sit in an invisible chair.”

“I hate basketball.”

“No, you hate being bad at it.”

“I hate you.”

“You keep saying that too.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

Her hands adjusted your elbows, gentle but firm. “You always this mouthy now?”

You turned your head slightly. Mistake. Her face was closer than you expected, close enough that your noses were almost aligned, close enough that the rest of the sentence died in your throat. Paige’s eyes dropped to your mouth again, slower this time. Not a blink. Not imagined.

Your entire body forgot how to be casual.

Paige looked back up. “What?”

You whispered, “Nothing.”

She smiled faintly. “You sure?”

You looked forward quickly. “I’m shooting.”

“Go ahead, ma.”

The nickname hit like a shove.

You shot the ball.

It missed everything.

For one full second, silence.

Then Paige lost it.

She doubled over laughing, hand over her mouth, trying and failing to contain herself as the ball bounced uselessly off to the side without touching rim, backboard, net, anything. You stood frozen, humiliated, betrayed by basketball and by your own nervous system.

“Oh my God,” Paige choked out.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not, that was crazy.”

“You distracted me!”

Paige pointed at herself, eyes bright. “I didn’t shoot it!”

“You were standing behind me whispering like some evil basketball demon.”

“Evil basketball demon is insane.”

“You sabotaged me.”

“You airballed from ten feet.”

“I said don’t.”

Paige was still laughing when she jogged after the ball, ponytail swinging behind her. You tried to be mad, genuinely tried, but the sound of her laughter filled the arena in a way that made it impossible. She looked happy. Not interview happy. Not camera happy. Real happy. The kind you remembered from being kids, when making you angry was the funniest thing in the world to her.

She came back with the ball tucked against her hip, still grinning. “Okay. Redemption shot.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m retiring.”

“After one airball? Weak career.”

“I’m protecting my legacy.”

“What legacy?”

“My childhood HORSE win.”

Paige pointed at you. “Fraudulent.”

“Still counts.”

“Run it back then.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“One game of HORSE.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“In UConn’s arena?”

“You scared?”

“You’re literally Paige Bueckers.”

“And you’re the alleged champion from 2015.”

“That was different.”

“Because I wasn’t hot then?”

You froze.

Paige froze too, but only because she was waiting for your reaction.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing came out.

The smile that spread across her face was criminal.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That’s what it is.”

“No.”

“That is exactly what it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You just glitched.”

“I didn’t glitch.”

“You fully stopped working.”

“Because you said something stupid.”

“Because I said hot.”

“Because you referred to yourself as hot, which is embarrassing.”

Paige walked closer, dribbling once. “But you didn’t disagree.”

You looked anywhere but her face. “I don’t need to respond to everything.”

“You respond to everything.”

“I’ve changed.”

“Nah.” She stopped in front of you again, ball balanced against her side, eyes fixed on you with that slow, merciless amusement. “You still can’t lie to me.”

Your heart thudded.

“I can lie to you,” you said.

“Try.”

“You’re not hot.”

Paige stared at you.

You stared back.

It lasted maybe three seconds before her mouth twitched.

“That was terrible,” she said.

“Shut up.”

“No conviction.”

“I had conviction.”

“You looked like you were in pain.”

“I am. This conversation hurts.”

Paige leaned down slightly, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Say it again then.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Say I’m not hot.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t take orders from you.”

“You used to.”

“You used to be less annoying.”

“You used to be less obvious.”

Your face burned. “I’m leaving.”

You turned, but Paige caught your sleeve gently, not enough to stop you if you really wanted to go, just enough to ask you not to. The softness of it made you pause more than force would have.

“Y/N,” she said, and this time her voice wasn’t teasing.

You looked back.

Paige’s smile had faded into something smaller. Still confident, still her, but not mocking. Her fingers slipped from your sleeve, and she shifted the ball under one arm. “I’m playing.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

You let out a breath. “I know.”

The quiet returned, but it had changed. Less sharp now. More vulnerable, which somehow made it scarier. Paige looked at you like she wanted to say something, then didn’t. You could almost see her deciding against it, locking it behind that easy grin she wore so well.

Then she stepped back and tossed you the ball.

“HORSE,” she said. “No mercy.”

You caught it against your chest. “You’re challenging me after I just airballed?”

“Yeah. I like my odds.”

“You’re such a loser.”

“I’m a winner, actually. Public record.”

“Your ego needs medical attention.”

“And your jumper needs a funeral.”

You gasped. “That was personal.”

“That airball was personal to basketball.”

You laughed then, because you couldn’t help it, and Paige smiled like she had been trying to get that from you all night.

The game was ridiculous.

You lost badly, obviously. Paige didn’t even try at first, which offended you more than if she had destroyed you properly. She made lazy shots from the elbow, casual floaters, one-footed nonsense that still went in because the universe loved her too much. You made two shots total, one of which Paige generously called “valid” even though it barely survived. Every time she missed, which was rare, you celebrated like she had lost a championship. Every time you missed, which was constant, she made a face so dramatically pained that you threatened to throw the ball at her.

At some point, you forgot to be nervous.

Almost.

Because then Paige took off her jacket.

It was not dramatic. It should not have been dramatic. She just got warm from moving around, pulled her jacket off, and tossed it onto a chair near the sideline. Underneath, the long-sleeve top fit her even better than you had realized. You looked away instantly, but not fast enough.

Paige caught the ball after a made shot and turned, eyes narrowing with delight. “You good?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Stop asking me that.”

“You keep looking like you need medical assistance.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’ve shot four times.”

“Emotionally tired.”

“From losing?”

“From your personality.”

She laughed and walked toward you, spinning the ball on one finger because of course she could do that too, because apparently she had decided to be insufferable in every possible category tonight. “You know what’s funny?”

“Unfortunately, you’ll tell me.”

“You used to talk so much trash.”

“I still do.”

“Not like before.”

“I’m being polite.”

“You’re being careful.”

That landed too close.

You looked at her sharply. Paige’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes did. They were watching you in that way again, not teasing now. Reading.

“I’m not,” you said.

“You are.”

“You don’t know me like that anymore.”

The words came out harsher than you intended.

Paige stopped.

For a second, you wished you could pull them back. Not because they were untrue, but because they were. Because she did know you once, maybe better than anyone, and now there were years she had missed, things she didn’t know, versions of you she had never met. And maybe that was why tonight felt so strange. Because she was familiar enough to hurt and unfamiliar enough to want.

Paige lowered the ball slowly. “You’re right.”

You swallowed. “Paige—”

“No, you’re right.” She looked down, nodding once, then back at you. “I don’t know everything anymore.”

The vulnerability in her voice made you feel awful.

Then she added, softer, “But I still know when you’re lying.”

Your chest tightened.

She stepped closer, not crowding you this time, just closing some of the space. “And I know you do that thing where you act annoyed when you don’t know what else to do.”

You stared at her.

She smiled faintly. “You’re doing it tonight.”

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to say something sharp enough to make her back off, but she was right, and you hated that she was right. You had been acting annoyed because annoyed was safe. Annoyed was familiar. Annoyed was what you and Paige had always been. It was easier to roll your eyes than admit that seeing her again had knocked something loose in you.

“It’s weird,” you admitted quietly.

Paige’s face softened. “What is?”

“You.”

Her brows lifted.

You rushed to fix it. “Not you. I mean—this. Seeing you. Being here. You’re still Paige, but you’re also…”

“Hot?” she supplied.

You groaned. “Oh my God.”

She grinned. “Sorry. Keep going.”

“No, I’m done.”

“Wait, I was locked in.”

“I doubt that.”

“I was listening.”

“You ruined it.”

“I’ll behave.”

“You don’t know how.”

Paige’s smile lingered, but her eyes stayed soft. “I can try.”

That was worse.

You looked at her, really looked, and the words came before you could stop them. “When did that happen?”

Paige tilted her head. “What?”

You gestured vaguely at her, immediately regretting every life choice that led you there. “This.”

Her grin returned slowly. “This?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll be unbearable.”

“I’m already unbearable.”

“Exactly.”

Paige stepped closer again, and this time you didn’t move away. The ball rested against her hip. Her shoulder was bare of the jacket now, the fitted fabric of her shirt catching lightly across her chest and arms, and you hated that you noticed, hated that your gaze betrayed you for half a second before snapping back up.

Paige’s eyes darkened with amusement.

“Y/N,” she said softly. “When did what happen?”

Your pulse beat in your throat.

You could lie. You could dodge. You could make a joke and escape, which was what you had done all night. But something about the empty arena, about the years between you, about the way Paige was looking at you like she wanted the truth not just because she could tease you with it, but because she wanted to hear it, made you tired of pretending.

So you looked at her and said, “When did you get hot?”

For once, Paige Bueckers went quiet.

Not for long. Barely a second. But enough. Enough for you to see the words land. Enough for her smugness to flicker into surprise, then pleasure, then something deeper that made your stomach twist.

Her tongue pressed briefly against her cheek.

Then she smiled.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

You rolled your eyes, but your face was burning. “And there it is.”

“What?”

“The ego.”

“Nah.” Paige stepped closer, close enough now that the ball between you was the only thing keeping your bodies apart. “That wasn’t ego.”

“No?”

“No.” Her voice dipped. “That was patience.”

Your breath caught.

The air between you changed so fast it almost scared you. One second you were teasing, the next you were standing in the middle of an empty basketball court with Paige looking at you like the game had become something else entirely. Her eyes moved over your face, slow and careful, like she was checking for permission without saying the word. You hated how much you wanted her to find it.

“Paige,” you whispered, though you had no idea what you meant by it.

Her gaze dropped to your mouth.

The ball slipped slightly between you as her grip loosened.

Somewhere outside the arena, a door opened and closed.

Both of you snapped back like you’d been caught.

Paige stepped away first, clearing her throat as she tossed the ball lightly from one hand to the other. You turned toward the seats, heart racing, even though nobody had come in. The sound had been distant, probably from another hallway, but it was enough to shatter whatever had almost happened.

Almost.

That word would kill you.

Paige looked at you again, and the grin was back, but it wasn’t as steady as before. “You scared?”

You laughed breathlessly. “Of what?”

“Me.”

You should’ve said no. You should’ve teased her. You should’ve said something normal.

Instead, you looked at her and said, “A little.”

Paige’s expression shifted.

The honesty sat there, exposed.

Then she nodded once, slow, like she understood more than you had meant to give her. “Good.”

Your eyes widened. “Good?”

“Yeah.” She spun the ball once, then caught it against her side. “Means I got a chance.”

You stared at her. “A chance?”

Paige smiled, but this one was softer. Less performance. More real. “To make you nervous on purpose.”

Your stomach flipped so hard it was embarrassing.

“You are unbelievable,” you said.

“You already knew that.”

“I knew you were annoying.”

“Now I’m hot and annoying.”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed, and the tension loosened just enough for you to breathe again, though it didn’t disappear. It stayed under everything after that. Under the jokes, under the last few shots, under Paige walking you back through the empty halls with her jacket over one arm and her shoulder brushing yours every few steps. It stayed when you walked outside again into the cold, when she looked at you and asked if you were warm enough, when you said yes even though your hands were freezing.

Paige noticed, because of course she did.

She stopped near the hotel entrance, where the lights spilled gold onto the sidewalk. Your families were probably inside somewhere, still talking, still assuming the two of you were just catching up like old friends. Maybe you were. Maybe this was what catching up felt like when the person in front of you had once known your childhood and was now making you think things you had no business thinking.

“You’re cold,” Paige said.

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N.”

You sighed. “A little.”

She held out her hand.

You looked at it. “What?”

“Your hand.”

“Why?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“I ask normal questions when people randomly demand my hand.”

Paige gave you a look. “You trust me or nah?”

That was unfair.

Because you did.

Even now. Even after years. Even with your heart doing strange, stupid things in your chest. You trusted Paige in a way that felt older than attraction, older than tension, older than whatever had sparked to life tonight. You trusted her because a part of you still remembered scraped knees and stolen snacks and her tying your shoelace while calling you dramatic. You trusted her because she was Paige.

So you gave her your hand.

She took it between both of hers and rubbed warmth into your fingers. The gesture was practical. Almost innocent. Almost. Except her hands were too warm, her touch too careful, her eyes too fixed on yours.

“You still get cold easy,” she murmured.

“You still act like you’re in charge of everything.”

“I am right now.”

“You’re warming my hand, not running a country.”

“Same skill set.”

You laughed softly, and her thumb brushed over your knuckles.

The hotel doors opened behind you, voices spilling out, and you both pulled apart just before anyone could see. Your mom appeared first, smiling, coat over her arm. “There you are. We were wondering where you two went.”

“Campus tour,” Paige said easily.

Your mom looked between you, eyes bright in a way that made you deeply suspicious. “That was nice.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, glancing at you. “Real nice.”

You gave her a warning look.

She smiled like an angel. A fake one.

Everyone began organizing rides and room keys and breakfast plans for the next morning. You stood slightly apart, trying to look normal, trying not to stare at Paige while she talked to her dad. You failed twice. Maybe three times. The third time, Paige looked over and caught you.

She didn’t smirk.

That was somehow worse.

She just held your gaze for a second, eyes soft and knowing, then looked down with a small smile like she was keeping something to herself.

Your phone buzzed in your coat pocket.

You pulled it out.

A text from Paige.

paige: still got my number? you: clearly paige: good you: why paige: so next time you wanna call me hot you don’t have to wait ten years

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

Across the lobby, Paige watched you read it, her own phone loose in one hand, expression far too pleased.

You typed back.

you: next time? paige: yeah paige: unless you scared

You looked up at her.

She lifted her brows slightly.

You should not have smiled.

You did anyway.

you: goodnight paige paige: night y/n paige: dream about my jumper, not the airball

You looked at her with pure betrayal.

Paige laughed silently, shoulders shaking, and for one second it was childhood again. For one second she was still the girl who existed to bother you, to make you laugh when you were trying to be mad, to turn every ordinary moment into a competition she planned to win.

Except now your heart was racing.

Except now her eyes dropped once to your mouth before she looked away.

Except now you were standing in a hotel lobby thinking, with complete horror and no real desire to stop it:

Paige Bueckers got hot.

And worse than that—

she knew exactly what it was doing to you.

At one point, Kayla had come knocking on her stall door and asking if she was alright. To which, Paige pretended (probably unconvincingly) that she just didn’t feel well. She knew there was no way Kayla actually believed her, but she gave her the space she needed for the rest of lunch. When she’d returned, she must’ve looked as shitty as she felt, because no one questioned her. The pit in her stomach that followed her for the rest of the school day was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

She just wanted to be normal.

She was, for once, so glad that they only had practice once a week so that Paige could just go home instead of having to keep up her not-melting-down facade all day. Now that she was finally home and free from prying eyes, Paige swiftly closed the door to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed.

It still didn’t feel like hers. She missed Minnesota.

Paige felt her eyes welling up with tears. She hated that she was being so dramatic about something like this, but she couldn’t convince herself to calm down. She was at such a loss for what to do that she found herself googling “how to get over a crush”. Which was pitiful, but really, what else was she supposed to do in that situation. The results pretty much summed up to:

Go no contact. Not possible–there are 12 people in our class and we play on the same school team and AAU team. Nice try though.

Focus on their flaws. Paige knew she was putting the girl on a pedestal, but really, what flaws had she learned besides the fact that the girl was slow to warm up to you.

Redirect your energy. …Right. Time to get a fucking hobby, Paige.

She made a mental note. Maybe it was time to become an arts and crafts girl. Maybe she should start a garden. Or become a master chef. Learn to paint. Or she’d start training for a marathon. Become one of those runners that post their Strava on their Instagram story every day and run like a hundred miles a week. She found herself actually cracking up at the notion of doing any of the above, which did momentarily help her feel slightly better. God help me.

Journaling was a common self-help hobby suggestion, but she already sort of did that–she already wrote out a prayer every night before bed because, if she didn’t write them out, she’d get distracted and either forget that she was praying all together or she’d just fall asleep before she could finish. So at least she had that going for her.

The reminder brought her to reach over to her nightstand and grab her journal and the pen she always left sitting on top of it. Her little nightly journal-prayer ritual always recentered her, no matter how much she was struggling with religion at the given moment. Something about writing out all of her feelings, putting her hopes and dreams to words, and physically putting pen to paper what she was thankful for was cathartic. She always started out by listing what she was thankful for, followed by a word dump of all of her thoughts and feelings and grievances and opinions, which would then be followed by all of the things and people she wanted to pray for. 

Her stupid, shitty ballpoint PaperMate pen stopped writing halfway through her list of gratitudes, despite the fact that she could see that the ink cartridge was almost full. Which led her to scribble at the top of the page aggressively until the pen started flowing ink again. The cycle repeated at least three times while she wrote out her prayer.

Once she finished and her head was in a moderately better place, she came to the ultimate decision that she was just going to focus on herself and volleyball. Yes, Azzi was wonderful and Paige’s feelings were probably here to stay. And that sucked. But she had always believed she was put on this earth to be a setter, so that was what she was going to keep living like.

She didn’t even really want to tell Nika what she’d learned, because the thought of anyone else knowing just how down bad she still was for a straight girl who literally had a boyfriend was humiliating. However, she also knew Nika wasn’t just going to stop mentioning the girl. So she had to suck it up and tell her. She took the cowards way out and decided to text her instead of call.

Paige: she has a bf

Paige: also why tf does this school have a homecoming lol

Nika: WHAT???!!

Paige: yeah ik like it’s an all girls school it doesnt make any sense

Nika: bruh. no

Nika: boyfriend???

Incoming call from Nika Mühl. Paige immediately clicked decline.

Nika: bruh

Nika: pick up

Paige: no

Nika: bruh

Paige: i just don’t rly wanna talk abt it

Nika: are you okay??

Paige: yeah. just gunna focus on vb i think

Nika: okay well i’m always here for you if you wanna talk

Paige told her thanks and then changed the subject, asking Nika about how her own team’s season was going so far. Which was, unsurprisingly, much better than St. Anne’s. Because she went to a real school with a real coach. Paige didn’t think she’d ever reach a point in her life where she’d be jealous of someone having a coach that knew things about the sport, but here she was.

——

Wednesday, September 4th, 2024 – The Bueckers’s, Anderson, SC

Paige had gotten home from the school team’s practice a few hours ago.

Azzi had asked her about practicing together again after school on Friday and Paige had agreed. The notion filled her with dread–being around her still made her feel wrecked with a bone-deep embarrassment she couldn’t shake. But Paige had promised herself she’d focus on volleyball and she would be an idiot to pass up the opportunity to hit and set with a drill partner like her.

The past two days of school had been normal. She’d done what she’d thought was a good job compartmentalizing her emotions. Or, at least, no one else had mentioned anything about her seeming off. She still sat next to Azzi at lunch and in most of their classes and they still talked. They still fit together seamlessly on the court.

Despite all of the grief her feelings were giving her, Paige would never let anything stand in between herself and the dreams she had in her sport. Genuinely, the world would have to be ending for her to stop chasing them. It was the one thing that had been constant in her life despite all of the changes with her parents’ divorce and now the move. Volleyball was ingrained into her soul and she would do anything for it.

She hadn’t wanted to accidentally run into Azzi at the rec center today, so she was stuck making do at home. It was late, probably nine already. It was dark out. Humid. The grass was wet and it had made Paige’s shoes and the bottoms of her legs damp. There were a few lightning bugs hanging around keeping her company.

She was just standing there, practicing hitting the ball against the exterior of her house on the side of their yard. Hitting it, then receiving it, then hitting it again. Occasionally, a neighbor that was on their nightly walk would pass her. Some of them said hello. Most of them just gave her a weird look.

Truthfully, she wasn’t actually doing anything productive. Just working muscle memory and staying volleyball fit, since Chris wasn’t giving her much to work with in practice. She’d already done plyometrics and lift before practice. But she wanted to do more.

Her hands stung from how many times they’d slapped the ball against the siding. Her left knee had already started to ache—but that was normal. Ignorable. A small price to pay if she wanted to become great one day.

She was honestly surprised her dad waited as long as he did to go out and get her to stop. He usually hated the noise of the volleyball slapping against the side of the house. Said it was like nails on a chalkboard. She didn’t blame him.

She felt her dad’s eyes on her when he walked outside, but she wasn’t really in the mood to talk. She just wanted to let volleyball keep her head clear. It was good for that.

“Paige.”

“Hm?” She kept hitting the ball, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead and following the ball’s trajectory.

“Paige,” he tried again, walking up and grabbing the ball in between reps.

She sighed, defeated. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, moving grass around with the toe of her shoe. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her.

“Why don’t you come inside? Your dinner’s getting cold.”

“Sorry. I’ll be in in a few,” she muttered.

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, a concerned look in his eyes. “You sure you’re alright?”

She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Just school stuff.”

“Okay,” he said, gently. “Always here if you ever want to talk.”

She knew that. He loved her unconditionally and she was very grateful. But they had never had the talk-about-your-feelings type of father-daughter relationship. She’s not sure what she’d say. Where she’d even start.

“Thanks.”

He looked at her for a few more moments before he handed her back her ball, gave her a small smile, and turned to walk back inside.

She didn’t continue hitting. Just sat there, like she was stuck in some cutscene, staring off into space trying to collect her thoughts. Her stomach growled, which she decided to take as a sign to stop fucking around and go eat dinner like a functional human being.

The house was quiet when she walked in. A lone takeout bag was left on the counter, pasta and a small side salad from some Italian place in the area she hadn’t heard of before. Her dad must’ve already gone up to bed.

She grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and tied it around her knee. Popped a couple Advil. Her body throbbed in that satisfying way it always did when she’d put in a good day of workouts and practices as she sat down to eat.

Her pasta was, in fact, cold. As she was finishing up eating, Drew came downstairs.

“Paigey,” he exclaimed as he tugged on her arm. “Can we go get shakes?”

Paige felt herself soften. He always seemed to find her when she needed a pick-me-up.

“Sure,” she answered, getting up from her stool, grabbing her keys and wallet as she walked towards the front door. “C’mon.”

He cheered, speed walking to catch up with her as he followed her out the door. He tugged on her shirt as he walked next to her. “I really wanna try the orange push-up one. My friend at school told me it tastes like sherbert.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

——

Thursday, September 5th, 2024 – Chesterton Academy, Greenville, SC

South Carolina even looked hot. Even though it was September, nothing had cooled off. Everything looked like it was edited to have the saturation turned up. She’d finally successfully bargained to get normal seat privileges off of grounds that it made no sense for someone five-foot-eleven to be in the tiny middle seat when Ava was four-foot-nothing. Which did mean she couldn’t see Azzi’s face from the seat situated directly behind her, but it was a tradeoff her knees really appreciated.

Their second away game was in Greenville. It was a little under an hour of a drive and Virginia still played country music the entire time.

Greenville was much, much larger than Pendleton. Chesterton Academy was much larger than St. Anne’s–which wasn’t hard to do, but still. It meant their volleyball team would probably be better than the last one they faced in their last away game. It was right on the outskirts of the city. 

The gym was decently large, but the stands didn’t have that many people in them–just the friends and family of the players. She could feel eyes on her the second she stepped into the room. A few girls on the other team were staring straight at her, giggling to each other, clearly talking about her. One even pointed at her.

She felt herself flush at the attention. She still hadn’t gotten used to people knowing who she was and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

She took a deep breath to recenter herself. Just focus on the game.

Azzi must’ve noticed her reaction to the looks. She bumped her shoulder as they moved to walk onto the court for warmups. “Someone’s popular.”

She flushed even harder. “Shut up.”

Azzi let out a small laugh as they started stretching. Paige pointedly looked anywhere except at the girl while they warmed up. Stupid high knees and butt kicks. Not helpful.

Her pulse thrummed in anticipation the way it always did before a match. Chris was actually on time for once and had already started rambling on about “togetherness” and “connectivity”. Surely if they just all started meditating right now and breathed at the same time, they’d win the set. Blegh. She’d rather just coach the team herself.

They were still playing a 6-2 lineup with Marissa and Paige both setting, which was truly just so unfortunate. The game looked hopeful at the very beginning, when Paige served and no one could receive it and all was right with the world. It took them five tries (and four points for St. Anne’s) for them to finally receive her serve and begin an actual rally. Unfortunately, that meant that Paige wouldn’t serve next, which meant that the ball wouldn’t make it over the net and Chesterton would get the point. And then they’d serve again–aiming for someone who couldn’t receive (Marissa). Then someone who sucked at serving would flub again, and the cycle would repeat. It really was just so irritating.

Surprising no one, they lost. Azzi and Paige had both played great, but there’s only so much two people could do in a game of six. No one else besides them and Kayla could get a serve across the net. The other team, unfortunately for them, did know how to do basic serving and receiving.

After the game, once Chris had finished giving them his extremely unhelpful closing remarks, a few of the girls from the other team walked up to Paige.

“Hey, um, sorry, could we maybe have a picture?” one of them–the brunette with the braid that had aimed all of her serves and hits at Marissa–asked.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Paige offered a smile, going to stand by them as one of their moms reached out her phone to get a picture. She put her arms around them politely and smiled for the picture before turning back to them.

“Good game today, you guys were great.”

They started making small talk about the game, the other brunette (with the ponytail) having a lot of nice things to say about her sets. The compliments made her feel slightly better about their loss. Slightly. 

“Paige!” Azzi called at her from across the gym. Their team was ready to leave and start the drive home.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Paige said, waving goodbye to the girls with a polite smile. “Nice meeting you guys!”

Paige jogged over to Azzi, who’d already grabbed Paige’s bag from the bench. She grabbed it from her, their hands brushing lightly. “Thanks.”

“Yep.”

——

Friday, September 20th, 2024 – Anderson Mall, Anderson, SC

“Can I just not go?” Paige asked Nika, having just completed searching through her third department store. Dillard’s was dead to her. If she had to spend one more second trying on dresses with crappy Millenial music blaring on the speakers in the stale dressing rooms, she was going to vomit.

“Bro, the dance is literally tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Paige whined.

“And didn’t you tell Kayla you’d drive her?”

“Uuugh.”

Nika was right and she hated it.

She was on facetime with her as she was looking for a dress that fit the St. Anne’s dress code requirements. She was convinced they simply didn’t make homecoming dresses that fit the laundry list of requirements. Paige’s least favorite rule was that you had to wear a dress–no suits or pantsuits or rompers allowed. But that requirement wasn’t shocking. However, said dress had to be longer than your fingertips, it couldn’t be strapless, it couldn’t have a plunging neckline, and it had to cover the back. No slits, no sheer. It also couldn’t be too tight. God forbid teenage girls showed the general shape of their bodies. Horrifying. Might as well be a straight shot to Hell.

Paige had been wandering around the mall like a depressed chicken with its head cut off looking at dresses for several hours already and she hadn’t found a single one that fit the requirements, much less fit her and looked good on her and was within her budget.

At the very least, the ridiculousness of it was momentarily distracting her from her wallowing.

“Why don’t you try a Windsor? Do they have one of those there?”

“Dunno. I’ll look.”

She stood off to the side and googled the store. There were a few in South Carolina. None within an hour drive. “None that I can make it to before they close,” she groaned. “Are you sure I can’t just skip it?”

“Yes,” Nika insisted. “This is literally your first dance because you’ve been playing volleyball every other time. And who knows if you’ll get another chance after this either.”

“Stop making sense.”

“Not until you stop being a weasel.”

Paige didn’t dignify that with a response. “Back to JCPenney’s I go, I guess.”

JCPenney’s was a ridiculously popular place considering the fact that it was five fifteen in the afternoon on a Friday. There were people everywhere. Paige kept getting weird looks as she drug herself up and down the homecoming dress aisle (which was a little pitiful). The whole masc lesbian vibe was probably throwing everyone off with the dress shopping. Which just served to make Paige even more pissed at her situation, because why the fuck was she homecoming dress shopping.

There were only two dresses she could find that would fly in St. Anne’s: a light blue one and a green one. The green one was a weird shade that resembled vomit, so the blue dress it was. She’d checked out right before the store closed at eight.

It was fine. As far as dresses went. She still didn’t really want to go. But, whatever. She’d suck it up.

——

Saturday, September 21st, 2024 – Dolce Vita Italian Bistro and Pizza, Anderson, SC

Paige felt her heartbeat quicken and anxiety curled in her gut as she tried to take a deep breath. Fuck.

As she parked in the parking lot, she could see all of the other girls gathered by the fountain, smiling and giggling. Azzi’s boyfriend was there. She could see him. She tried not to look at him for too long, lest she actually throw up in her mouth.

Kayla was watching her from where she sat in the passenger seat. Paige pretended she didn’t notice as she gathered her things and got out of the car.

Time to get this over with.

Paige was wearing the tiniest heels on the planet and she still almost rolled her ankle on the first step she took when she got out of the car. She felt like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. Awww, look at Paigey taking her first steps! God help her.

Azzi’s sweet face lit up when she saw her, bringing her in for a hug once she got close enough. Paige felt sick. She hugged her back, plastering as believable of a smile as she could on her face.

She took turns hugging the rest of the girls, everyone exchanging happy coos over each other’s dresses and hair and makeup.

All Paige could think was that Azzi was beautiful. So, so breathtakingly beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. Jealousy thrummed through her veins and she hated it.

She was wearing the most gorgeous sparkly pink dress with white sandals and a little white clutch bag. Her hair was in a gorgeous updo, in a fancy bun with two soft strands out in the front to frame her face. She had her makeup done, and it made her eyes look even more beautiful. Her nails were done with french tips that matched her dress. She had such a bright, happy smile on her face, her eyes crinkling with laughter. Paige didn’t know what to do with herself in her presence. There were so many emotions welling up in her chest and she didn’t have a say in any of them.

She couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room any longer when the stupid boy standing next to her reached a hand out, introducing himself. “I’m Christian.”

Christian. Like the religion. What a ridiculous name.

“Paige. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Azzi wasn’t even wearing heels and she was still maybe half an inch taller than the guy. She wanted to tell herself to stop being so miserable and vain–maybe Baptist was super sweet and a great boyfriend, what does she know–but she couldn’t help it.

Christian looked like your typical guy. That’s all Paige could really say to describe him. White guy, brown hair, brown eyes. Decently fit looking, but standing next to Azzi made him look skinnier. He was wearing slightly poorly fitting dress pants with a button up and pink tie that matched Azzi’s dress. Azzi’s corsage had pink flowers on it. It was clear that they’d coordinated about it.

Only one of the other girls had a date. Military family girl had brought a military boy (biologically un-related). He seemed fine. Buzz cut and maybe a little disturbed looking, but fine. 

“Alright, let's get situated for pictures!” one of the moms said, all smiles.

They started lining up for your stereotypical school dance photos. Paige and Azzi ended up standing next to each other in the back for all of the group ones, since they were the two tallest. Which meant that Paige got to put her arm around her waist and feel Azzi’s arm around hers in return. It had her reeling.

After they got group pictures, they got their two couple pictures. Watching the boy put his arms around her waist had her feeling nauseous, but she couldn’t look away. They both looked so happy. She was smiling so brightly, eyes crinkling. Paige felt like she couldn’t move.

After their couple pictures were done, Azzi talked to him for a few more minutes while some friends got pictures together. Paige hadn’t planned on getting any. She definitely wasn’t going to be posting any pictures of herself in a dress on her Instagram, that’s for sure.

But, after a few moments, Azzi walked over to Paige and grabbed onto her wrist, dragging her over towards the area in front of the fountain. “C’mon, I wanna get a picture of us.”

Paige’s skin burned where she touched her. “Okay,” she choked out.

She felt exceedingly awkward as they posed for a handful of pictures. Being able to put her hand around her waist was truly a surreal feeling that she wished she’d never gotten the chance to feel. This was doing exactly what Dr. Google had said not to do when she’d asked how to get over a crush. Whatever. Consequences be damned.

After pictures had finished, they walked over to the Italian restaurant for their dinner reservation. She’s not sure what the reaction of the hostess would’ve been if they’d told her that she was actually seating their entire grade minus Marissa. Who was invited–they weren’t mean like that. She just chose not to show up.

The restaurant was decently fancy. Probably what one would expect for dinner before a high school Homecoming. Given that it was a Saturday afternoon, it was incredibly crowded and almost too loud to hear the person next to you speak. Paige ended up, predictably, sitting between Azzi and Kayla. Azzi’s stupid boyfriend was on her other side. Paige was also, unfortunately, sitting across from Veronica and her military boyfriend. 

She didn’t even really feel like talking because she was already so overstimulated. It was so loud, and seeing Azzi lean over to her side to hear her boyfriend as he spoke burned.

Military boyfriend guy, however, apparently had great hearing. He kept inserting himself into conversations around him to loudly “play the devil’s advocate”. It was obnoxious.

She didn’t want to be rude, but if she kept sitting there in silence trying not to wince at how loud it was and trying to ignore Azzi and her boyfriend touching shoulders in her peripheral vision, she thought she might actually start crying. So she pulled out her phone (from her handbag, not her pocket, since she didn’t have pockets).

Paige: help

Paige: we’re at dinner and i’m dying

Nika’s response came in the form of a game of 8-ball, which brought a smile to her face. Typical. 

After a few minutes of sending 8-ball back and forth (Paige was playing stripes and was absolutely wiping the floor with her), Azzi leaned over to her. “Whatcha doing?”

She titled her phone over so Azzi could see. “Winning.”

“Wait, I wanna play.” Azzi pulled out her own phone from her little white handbag that was hanging on the back of her chair.

Paige found herself smiling, giddy, as they started their own game of 8-ball. Paige was the first to go after Azzi broke the center, getting one ball into its pocket before horrifically missing her next shot and sending the white ball into a pocket instead. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi laughed at her when she watched the replay, then continued to get not one, not two, not three, but four balls in. Making Paige look exceptionally awful.

“Damn,” Paige said as she watched the replay, Azzi smiling smugly.

Paige then continued to miss her next three shot attempts. Azzi won.

“That was a fluke,” Paige insisted. “Again.”

She sent another game. Lo and behold, Azzi won again. And was so, so smug about it. Paige wanted to be butthurt about it, but instead she found herself actually giddy at getting to make the girl smile.

They went back and forth until their food finally arrived, signaling that they needed to put their phones away to eat.

Once dinner was over, Paige and Kayla drove to St. Anne’s. Kayla was kind enough to complain about military boyfriend the whole time and pointedly did not mention Azzi’s boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named. Paige was very grateful.

The St. Anne’s lunchroom had been poorly converted into a dance venue. There were a few disco balls and streamers taped to the ceiling and there were a few dispensers of punch, sweet tea, and lemonade. The tables had all been pushed to the side in the corner to give them a “dancefloor”. The music was violently shuffling between KidzBop and that one really specific brand of Christian pop music.

Paige would bet $100 that it was someone’s older sibling who had been paid to be the DJ. Every time they played a song that got everyone dancing and excited, they immediately changed it to something else. It was bizarre.

Paige had enjoyed making fun of the dance in her own mind for about a solid two minutes before the first slow song was played, and then everything stopped being funny. Azzi and Christian were right in front of her swaying gently to the music, her hands around his neck and his hands sitting snugly on her waist. She was gazing into his eyes sweetly, them both talking quietly. Paige wanted that to be her so badly that it ached.

When she rested her head on his shoulder halfway through the dance, Paige swore she almost threw up right then and there. Everything suddenly became too much for her to handle.

She quickly excused herself to go grab a cup of punch.

After she grabbed her drink and the song had changed, she just stood there leaning up against the wall in the corner of the room, swirling around her punch, trying to steady her breathing while also maintaining the appearance of someone who was not at all affected by anything ever. She knew it was unlike her to be standing alone on the sidelines, but she couldn’t force herself to enjoy anything about the dance. She wanted so badly for her brain to just let go. The same thoughts were swirling around in her head: She has a boyfriend. She’s straight. There’s the closure you prayed for, handed to you on a silver platter. You can stop feeling like this now. Please, God, let me stop feeling like this. 

That line of thought led her to feel like she was going to actually throw up. She needed to get out before she did something stupid like vomit all over her shoes.

She sought out Kayla, getting ready to leave. She found her across the room dancing with a few other girls from their class. Paige made a beeline for her and touched her shoulder to get her attention, pulling her aside, hands shaking.

“Hey, I think Imma head out. Do you wanna come with, or is there someone else that could drive you home?”

Kayla stared at her for a second, reaching out a hand to grab onto Paige’s elbow. “You good?”

Paige hated being asked that. It always made her want to cry. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she muttered, “Yeah.”

“I’m always here if you need anything,” she said, kindly. “I should be okay to find a ride if you want to head out.”

“Thanks.” Paige turned to head out, grabbing her keys from her bag.

Paige walked out of the room without saying goodbye to anyone else, just heading to her car where she could be sad without anyone else catching on. It was embarrassing enough that Kayla clearly had her figured out. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if one of the other girls found out, or, God forbid, Azzi found out.

Once she got to her car, Paige found herself begging. God, please. Please take these feelings away if they aren’t meant for me. Or please just stop it from hurting so much if you’re asking me to wait. Please.

She hated that she was crying. She felt ridiculous. She’d thought she’d gotten a handle on her feelings and was doing better, but having seen Azzi with her boyfriend in person had taken her ten steps backwards. She just wanted the feelings gone–they were getting too much for her to handle. She just wanted to be normal.

It took her far longer than she’d like to admit to be okay enough to drive home.

Hello all! I still have shit in my lungs, but this is the best I've felt in days! Physically at least (still severely depressed 🤪) Anywho, I didn't proofread this, but I hope you love it anyway!! xx Elle

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On Monday morning, Azzi found herself taking a little more care in choosing her outfit for the day. Most of her favorites were too much for days where the temperature hit ninety by noon. There were other dresses that were pretty, but she didn’t want to just be pretty today – she wanted to be memorable.

She chose a soft pink, pleated, plaid skirt and an eggshell button up. The baby pink cardigan and white ballet flats tied her outfit together. It was a simple outfit, one that she had a million variations of, but the skirt landed a few inches above her knees. It was the shortest she owned, and it highlighted her long legs.

She curls the ends of her long hair and gathered them all into a tight, high ponytail. A satin bow was wrapped around her locks, knotted perfectly at the back of her head. She smoothed her hair back one more time and frowned.

She wasn’t enough – she just needed…more

Azzi applied an extra layer of mascara, making her lashes look even longer. A few extra swipes of blush. Mixing together two different shades of lip gloss to add more shine.

She tried to convince herself that she just wanted to feel extra pretty today. But she knew the real reason – the sessions started today.

She’d been wanting Paige to just look at her since field day in Mrs. Johnson’s class ten years ago. But she was never loud enough, never magnetic enough to bring the blonde into her orbit.

These sessions were going to be the only opportunities for her to show Paige who she really was.

Guilt flooded her body.

Her father had just spent two hours lecturing his congregation about submission – submitting to God, submitting to men, submitting to fathers and husbands.

And Azzi wasn’t submitting.

Sure, it looked like she was being the same, obedient girl she always was. She did read her Bible and pray this morning, like she did every morning. And if they were at her house, Azzi’s outfit would have been praised by the whole congregation.

But she wasn’t submitting to them, and she was surely not submitting to her father.

Her dad would want her to primp herself every morning to impress her boyfriend, not for her high school’s star receiver.

But her dad wouldn’t accept her for who she was, who she loved, and he never would.

Azzi shook herself out her disappointing spiral and grabbed her backpack. It was much heavier than normal, carrying her own work, as well as the assignments Paige needed to work on.

She grabbed her typical breakfast of strawberries and cottage cheese, grabbed a granola bar, before walking outside.

Today was going to be a great day, she could feel it.

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Jacob Gibson was a pain in Paige’s ass. He never knew how to shut the fuck up. Sometimes, he teased Paige and Tash about being trans because both of them were taller than him. Other times, it was about having a faster 40 time during summer training when she had the stomach flu. Today, he wouldn’t shut up about Friday’s game.

Everyone was heading back to the locker room after practice when he started again.

“Coach only calls routes for Bueckers because he wants the support from all the other libtards in the county.”

Paige rolled her eyes, sick of his rambling.

“If I got half the opportunities she got, that game wouldn’t have been half as close as it was.”

Multiple teammates scoffed loudly at his idiocy.

“That catch should’ve been called back. Should’ve been offensive pass interference. That bitch pushed off.”

Outside of a couple of their teammates, the team ignored his rants. They’d never had a teammate who complained about the play that won them the game, but they all digressed.

But Paige was fed up. Natasha tried to grab the back of her practice jersey, but it was slick with sweat. The blonde was able to slip away and deliver a firm push to his back.

“I’m the bitch? You only got rid of your defender twice all game.” Paige pushed again once he turned around. “I might be a bitch, but it’s crazy that you get outplayed by a bitch every day.” She smirked.

Before Jacob could come back at her, Tash was in between them, pulling Paige away. “Chill, P. He’s not worth it.”

Her temper flared as she looked at his smug face, but she’d have to put T out of the way to get back to him, and she respected her friend too much to do that.

Instead, she yanked away from the shorter woman’s grip and stalked out of the locker room.

She walked out to Natasha’s truck, agitation still coursing through her body.

Who the fuck did Jacob think he was? He is better than me. He is a harder worker. He’s just an ignorant piece of shit. A little boy who –

And that is what made her halt in place. Because that’s what it was.

He was a boy. Something that Paige would never be. Something she never wanted to be.

But that’s why he was allowed to be less than mediocre and still have a starting spot.

“Paige,” she heard a voice call. “You gotta stop letting him get you riled up like that, man.” Natasha looked weary – she was sick and tired of having to step in between the two receivers, always going at it about something.

“Nah, bruh,” Paige huffed in reply. “He always chirping bout something. Wish he would just shut the fuck up for two seconds.”

Tash held back a chuckle. “P, you know why he’s doing it. He’s just insecure.”

“That’s not my fucking problem, bro,” she rolled her eyes. “If he wanted to be better than me, he could just work harder. Like he expects everything to just be handed to him without doing none of the work. I grind my ass off every single day to make sure I’m the best.”

“And nobody’s denying that, Paige. But letting him get you out of character makes it look like you’re just as immature as him.” T brought a hand to her shoulder, forcing eye contact. “Everyone who matters already knows you’re better than him. Start acting like it.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Tash was right. Blowing up in the locker room wasn’t a good look for someone who was supposed to be a leader. She didn’t want to ruin the offers she’d gotten by letting anybody get under her skin. No one was worth that.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sassed, turning towards the passenger door. “I’ll be better tomorrow. Can we stop by Torchy’s? I’m starving.”

“Um, no. You got something you need to do first. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Paige groaned loudly. “Bro, I’m not apologizing to him. He doesn’t even deserve it.”

“That’s not –” Tash paused. “Wait, did you really forget?” At Paige’s blank stare, she continued. “Your tutoring!” She exclaimed.

Fuck. Coach was gonna kill her if she didn’t fix her grades, and she wasn’t gonna be able to do that without a tutor.

Paige broke out into a dead sprint, taking the locker rooms to get back into the main hallways.

It took her a few minutes, but she made it. But the lights were dimmed – there was no one there.

She looked to the ceiling, eyes welling with tears. God, she’d ruined everything.

Then, she saw it. A small glow at the other end of the massive room. She couldn’t see it’s source from her position outside of the library, but she hoped and prayed it was Azzi Fudd.

She pulled the door open gently, not wanting to frighten the girl.

She stepped further into the space, and at the back of the library was her new tutor. She was sitting criss crossed on the floor, which seemed a bit odd to Paige, but who was she to judge. What was even weirded was the girl using the flashlight on her phone to shine a light on the book cradled in her lap.

Paige steeled herself, gathering the courage and willpower to head over to the girl and get started.

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The sound of the media center door closing broke Azzi’s attention on her reading.

She’d been reading – and translating – Tartuffe for her AP French class. It was a fun project – each student got to pick a piece of classical French literature and do a presentation on it. The project was worth thirty percent of her nine weeks grade, and it wasn’t due for another five weeks, but Azzi wasn’t one to put off assignments. Besides, it was a good way to pass the time as she waited for a certain someone to show up for her tutoring sessions.

From her splendid relationship with Jacob, Azzi knew that football practice ended around six on Mondays because they had to watch film before they went on the field. So Azzi set up the table for tutoring at 5:45.

Fifteen minutes later, the table was organized into four sections. The first was for English – two copies of The Great Gatsby were stacked on top of an empty notebook, one that would be just for Paige. They would be talking about literary elements and the layers they added to the plot of the novel. The next was for liberal arts. The first half of the course was dedicated to financial literacy, so Azzi wanted to make sure that Paige understood all of the variables on the formula sheet, and which formula should be used for certain problems. For economics, they only needed to talk about supply, demand, and what could make them fluctuate. Spanish was the final course they’d be working on. She printed out a practice Spanish 1 final she’d made for a client last year – she and Paige would work through it throughout the week, so Azzi could see what she did and did not understand.

For class, she’d already printed the syllabus and highlighted important information – blue for English, pink for math, purple for Spanish, yellow for economics and government, and green would be for chemistry. There was also a list of all of her missing work.

She knew it was a lot for just one day, but she would rather be over prepared than run out of material and look like she didn’t know how to do her job. She was ready for Paige.

But then it was 6:15 and Paige wasn’t there.

Then 6:30. She thought that maybe she just took really long showers after practice.

At 6:45, Azzi decided to get a head start on her own work. Maybe the football player had a meeting with her coach after, needed to go over extra film or something.

When seven rolled around, Azzi promised that she’d wait until 7:30 before getting on her bike and going home. She didn’t know why she thought that Paige would actually want to work with a know it all, goodie two shoes.

Then, at 7:28, when the sky had turned to cotton candy, a throat cleared.

At the entrance to the library was Paige Bueckers. She stood tall in navy sweats and a plain white t-shirt. Azzi could see the places where the water from her hair soaked into the fabric. It wasn’t often that people saw Paige with her hair down – it was almost always in a flawless bun, but Azzi thought she looked beautiful.

She felt her face start to heat at the thought, and immediately told her brain to calm down, desperate to cool off before Paige got to the table.

Azzi didn’t say anything – couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t embarrass her – as the blonde walked towards her.

When she finally made it over, Azzi peered up at her, forcing her teeth to stay clenched so her jaw didn’t drop. She saw blue eyes beneath furrowed brows, eyes that weren’t looking at her, but at the book in her lap instead.

“You’re reading French?” She questioned incredously.

Azzi couldn’t do anything to stop the heat that rushed to her cheeks. “Oh, um yeah. I wanted to work on one of my assignments while I waited,” she smiled softly.

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Paige watched the girl stand and pull out a chair at the table.

Of course Azzi Fudd knew French and knew Spanish enough to tutor someone. Part of Paige envied the girl for having access to the resources needed to speak multiple languages, but more than anything, she hater how pretentious and stuck up she probably was.

Instead of voicing her disdain, the blonde swallowed her comments. Instead, she sat in her own chair.

She saw the papers and books on the table as she approached Azzi, but she wasn’t expecting…this.

The material was separated by subject. Paige could see all of the handouts her teachers had provided as well as printouts with all of the assignments she hadn’t turned in. And the list wasn’t that bad yet, but it was only the fourth week of school.

“You…did all this?” Paige’s voice was airy and full of shock.

She could see Azzi playing with her ponytail nervously. “Well, I spent all of Saturday reading through your syllabi and figuring out the most important topics. Then, I emailed your teachers to get the missing work list. Mrs. Pacheco is being difficult though, so I don’t have the list for chemistry yet. And after I knew that, I just needed to put together some material for us to work on during our sessions.”

Paige forced her face to stay neutral. “You did all of this in one weekend?”

“Yes, I wanted to be prepared.”

Paige was confused. Azzi Fudd, the perfect girl next door, goodie, little church girl had spent her entire weekend to prepare to help her, and she was an hour and a half late for their session.

“You know that’s not normal, right?” Shit, that came out wrong. God, she felt like such a bitch.

Azzi’s smile faltered a bit. “Oh.”

“Why did you do all this?” She asked, trying to fix the joy she’d broken.

Big brown eyes entranced her as Azzi tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? You need the help, and I can help you.”

Then she smiled.

It wasn’t big or anything, but for some reason, Paige knew she wanted to see it again.

“Besides, you’re supposed to be the first girl to get a football scholarship from a big school. We can’t have you missing out on an opportunity like that.” Azzi finished sweetly.

The blonde almost choked on her spit.

For someone homophobic, Azzi seemed really supportive of a girl doing “boy” things.

“Well, thanks. I really appreciate you being willing to help me.”

The tutor visibly perked up before turning back to the organized papers on the table. She frowned a bit before turning back to Paige. “Well, we only have half an hour before we have to be off campus. So maybe we can start with math?”

Paige was shaking her head before she could stop herself. “I don’t think there’s a single math concept that I’ll be able to understand in under thirty minutes.”

Instead of choosing something else, Azzi just stacked the papers from the other classes, small smile still painted across her lips. She slid the math packet over to the footballer. “I have a trick for this. Just trust me.”

The blonde shrugged. Azzi had a good reputation for a reason – it was time to see if she was as good as everyone said.

Azzi moved her chair a little closer to Paige’s. “So how much do you understand about simple versus compound interest?”

“Um, I think interest is like a percentage of what’s added or subtracted to something.” Paige’s cheeks colored. She knew it was more complicated than that, but she had no clue how to explain it. “But that’s probably wrong.”

“No, no!” Azzi beamed. “That’s right! There are just different types of interest, but you’re totally right about the basics.”

Paige’s chest puffed out a bit at the praise. She’d practically been floating through classes, so, even though it wasn’t a big deal, she was proud of getting that one right.

“So simple interest is exactly like it sounds – simple. With that, the interest, I, is just your principal, P, or original value, times the interest rate, r, in decimal form, times the length of time, t, in years.” Azzi wrote as she spoke, making each variable a different color. Paige wasn’t even sure where she pulled the notecard from – it seemed to just appear.

The brunette pointed to the first problem. “So the way these problems are worded can be a little tricky, but once you have a good system, it’ll be super easy!”

At Azzi’s pause, Paige figured she was supposed to read the question. “Charlie borrowed $350 from Liza. He has to pay the money back in 2 years, paying 8% in interest. How much money will Charlie pay?”

“Okay, so what do you think the principal is?”

“He borrowed 350, so I think that would be the principal, right?”

Azzi beamed again, “Excellent!” She underlined the number with the same blue she’d used to write the P on the formula notecard.

“Then, 8% would be the interest rate, so that would be 0.08, then the time is two because he’s paying her back in 2 years, right?” Paige questioned, hoping she said everything correctly.

“Exactly,” Azzi smiled again. “And you told me you weren’t gonna be able to get it. And it’s only been five minutes!” She paused, sliding her calculator over to the blonde. “Now, I want you to solve for the interest.”

Paige plugged the numbers in. Then she cleared the calculator and did it once more to make she it was right. “Is it 56?”

“Perfect job, Paige. But when you look back at the question, does it make sense for 56 to be the final answer?”

Paige reread the question three times before coming up with the answer, “It can’t be 56 because they’re asking for how much he’ll pay her back. And if he borrowed $350, he can’t just give her back 56.”

Azzi moved the notecard closer to Paige. “You’re right, and that’s because 56 is just the interest. To figure out the future value, or A, we have to add the principal and the interest.” She said, writing A = P + I beneath the previous formula.

“Oh, so he pays back $406, right? Because it’d be 350 plus 56.” Paige said, writing the interest and future value equations on her homework.

When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige looked up, scared that she got it wrong. But instead, she saw Azzi sitting up, spine straight and pride clear on her face. “Very good. How about you work on the next two, just to make sure you’ve got a good understanding of simple interest.”

It took Paige five minutes to finish the problems, constantly looking at the formulas to make sure she was doing them right. She had no interest in getting something wrong and having to start over.

After Azzi checked over her work, she pulled out a fresh notecard.

“Okay, compound interest can be kind of tricky, but focus on my tips. So, think of compounding like practicing. Think of the person that works on catches and getting stronger and more coordinated once a week. Now think of someone who do extra work three times a week, and someone who does more every day. It may not make a big difference in a week, or even a month, but over a year? There will be clear differences in all three players, right?”

Paige nodded, appreciating the sports metaphor. “Obviously the one who did extra work every day will have a much bigger advantage because they got in a lot more reps.”

“So that’s what compounding is. You’ll she an ‘n’ in the compound interest formula, and that stands for how many times something is compounded every year. So the higher the n is, the more the interest is. Does that make sense?”

The wheels were turning in Paige’s head, typing the abstract concept of compound interest to something she understood well. “I think so. So, like something that’s compounded weekly would end up having more interest than if something was only compounded monthly. Because there are 52 weeks in a year, but only 12 months.” She looked up, “Is that the right way to look at it?”

Azzi’s doe eyes shined with pride. “That’s exactly the right way to look at it, Paige.”

An alarm broke their eye contact. “Damn, it’s late,” Paige commented, looking at her watch with furrowed brows. “We probably need to be heading out.”

“Yes,” Azzi started, scrambling to collect the materials. She handed the first page of the Spanish practice test and a copy of The Great Gatsby to the blonde. “If you have time, I’d really appreciate it if you could read the first chapter, so we can have a discussion tomorrow. And then I made a Spanish 1 crash course last year, so working on it throughout the week will help me know how I can help you.”

Paige raised her brows at the unofficial homework she’d been given. She didn’t want to do any of it, but if doing extra work was gonna get her to pass, she was more than fine with doing it.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Paige. I think you did a great job today,” she said, slipping her backpack on. “Will six be an okay time?”

“That should be fine,” Paige nodded. “I may be a little late after practice – not like today though, I forgot, and that was my fault.”

Azzi shooed away her excuse, “No worries. I get schedules changing. I’m just happy you showed up.”

The two walked to the front of the school in comfortable silence, not even passing a custodian on their trek.

Tash’s pickup truck was waiting out front – Paige continued straight ahead, while Azzi veered off towards the bike rack.

“Your parents aren’t here?” She questioned.

Azzi looked down at her feet, “No, they’re in Pennsylvania, I think. They travel a lot.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “Have a good night, Paige,” she called sweetly.

Paige looked over her shoulder at the girl unlocking her shiny, pink bicycle. “You, too Azzi.”

As she climbed into the truck, Tash was waiting with a toothy smile. “Soooo, how was your first session with the brainiac?”

“She’s kinda weird. She was reading French – like a regular book in French – like it was just a completely normal thing to do,” she held back a giggle at how outrageous it seemed.

Natasha scoffed, “I didn’t ask you about Azzi. I asked you how tutoring was.”

“Everything is color-coded, T,” Paige grumbled.

Tash looked impressed, “Good. You could use some order. But did she help you with anything? Are you gonna go back?”

“I kinda don’t have a choice,” she paused. “But yeah. I understand the interest thing, and I think I’m gonna show up on time tomorrow.”

Paige let Natasha clown her until they pulled up at her house. She was content to look at the way the trees blurred during the drive and think about the dark-haired girl who had agreed to help her.

Sure, Azzi Fudd was still a good, little church girl who wanted to be a perfect angel. And sure, she was only tutoring Paige because Coach asked her. And sure, she probably thought Paige was going to hell for her sexuality, even though she was nice about football earlier.

But maybe, just maybe, this tutoring thing would work out.

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Azzi was giddy the entire way home.

Not only had she talked to Paige Bueckers without embarrassing her, but the other girl actually seemed interested in what Azzi was saying.

And sure, maybe it was mainly a bunch of stuff she needed to pass her classes, but she actually asked Azzi questions about speaking multiple languages.

There was nothing that could bring the girl down on her cycle home.

Not even the sweat that trailed down her forehead since she refused to remove her cardigan.

Not even the text from Jake where he complained about not being able to see her because she was more focused on “stupid losers” than their relationship.

Even when she opened the door to her empty house.

Even when her footsteps echoed on the cold marble floors.

Even when she cooked steak and rice to make homemade chipotle bowls.

There was nothing that could dim her mood because her crush saw her today.

For thirty minutes, Paige saw Azzi for who she was.

The smile stayed on her face all night.

And she knew it could only get better from here.

paige was mad at azzi.

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

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

paige pulled the blanket up and waited. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"mean," paige murmured.

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

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

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

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

“like, eight or nine-ish.”

“hmm.”

“it’ll be fun,” paige said. 

“hmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

paige smiled to herself.

so it didn't start this morning.

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

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

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

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

azzi turned around. “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that was fine too.

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

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

so actually, none of it was that bad.

but it actually started two hours ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that was when paige was mad at azzi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then azzi fell asleep.

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

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

paige watched her for another moment before getting up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and paige had a problem, a very specific compulsion that had chased her ever since she’d known azzi. which was that azzi asleep produced in her an almost overwhelming urge to do several things all at once—press her mouth to her cheek, bite her ear very gently, squeeze her nose, kiss the corner of her jaw, wake her up just to look at her properly, to have azzi look at her. because she loved the way azzi looked at her. and she wanted to do all of these things but she did none of them, because she had years of practice at this point and enough self control to not wake up her girlfriend just to bite her ear. 

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

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

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

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

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

paige flipped her off.

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

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

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

Azzi could already feel the regret creeping out of her skin before the plane had fully stopped moving.

Cape Cod Gateway Airport looked tired in the flat gray light. It mirrored Azzi’s current feelings and life.

When she stepped outside the airport, the air greeted her with dampness that stuck to skin and clothing despite the absence of rain.

June apparently meant nothing here. A similarity they have in common. She meant nothing to the world and everyone right now. Apparently.

Temporary. Azzi reminded herself as she let reality sink in.

She would only be here until she could find her footing again. For how long? She didn’t know.

For now, she found her name on a sign that was handwritten poorly. It looked like a third grader made it.

The boy holding it barely looked a day older than seventeen though, definitely not in third grade. Maybe he had his younger sister or brother write her name.

Azzi sighed as she read the squiggled DR. AZZI FUDD again before approaching the teenager.

He stood awkwardly beside an aging red pickup truck. His blond curls sticking beneath a dark green beanie while his slim figure was swallowed by an oversized black Nike hoodie. One of his hands gripped the cardboard sign lazily.

Azzi wondered how much he was getting paid to pick her up from the airport.

When he saw her walking toward him with her suitcase in tow, he straightened immediately.

“Hi! Are you Dr. Azzi Fudd?” His voice cracked a little when he said her name.

“That’s me.” Azzi pointed at his sign. “Are you my ride?”

“Yeah. Dr. Collier asked me to pick you up.”

“Are you even allowed to drive that thing?” Azzi nudged her head toward the old Dodge Power Ram. It was probably a 1985 model, Azzi guessed. She didn’t know much about cars as she knew about sharks, but her grandfather had a fair collection. Growing up, he used to show her some photos of vintage cars from magazines.

“I do! I just got my license three months ago.” The young boy smiled brightly, glancing at Azzi’s pink suitcase. “I can go ahead and load it on the truck for you.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks —?”

“Charlie.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

The drive went smoother than what Azzi expected. Charlie was a decent driver. So, she relaxed.

She had never been to this side of the country. She pressed her forehead lightly against the cool window glass and noticed that the farther they drove, the less familiar everything became. Charlie was talking nonstop, trying to fill the silence. She could tell he was trying to make her comfortable, even for only a little while.

He was explaining things about what to expect in town.

Where to eat.

What day the drive-in movie theater would play some really good classic movies.

How the fishermen preferred their local beer brands over imported ones like Guiness or Heineken.

And how to avoid Mrs. Murray’s crochet store down Mabrey Street. He mentioned something about her hating everyone because she was born to just hate everyone. She liked cats, though. That was probably the only positive aspect of the old grumpy lady.

Azzi didn’t mean to shut off the rest of what Charlie said, but she was tired. Her layovers in San Francisco and Philadelphia felt endless and had worn her down.

All she wanted was to sleep for the rest of the day. Or the whole week, if she could.

“Grams is going to make her signature burger for you.”

“Wait, what?” That made Azzi blink and look at Charlie.

“Did the mention of food save you from going into coma?”

“Oh, you got jokes?” Azzi glared, before placing her head back on the window. “I gotta admit though, food sounds good right now.”

“You’ll love her burger!” Charlie said enthusiastically, fingers drumming nonstop on the wheel.

“She knows me?”

“Of course!” He glanced at her before making a turn. “Everybody heard about you.”

That surprised her enough that she looked at him twice after he mentioned it casually.

“Sounds like I’m the saving grace you’ve all been waiting.” Azzi sighed.

The last thing she wanted was attention.

One of the reasons why she accepted this job was because of how small and isolated this research facility was.

The Auriemma Marine Center sat near the far end of Taurasi Point, a small working harbor town on the outer curve of Cape Cod. The town was known less for tourism and more for commercial fishing. The location was one thing Azzi approved of. It looked withdrawn from the rest of Cape Cod.

The research facility was also not grand. It was understaffed, underfunded, and barely functional. If not for her situation, she wouldn’t even know this marine center existed.

So, yes, working with less people at the other end of the country where no one knew her was what tempted her to accept the job offer.

But now, it seemed she was some kind of a local celebrity with people outside the research center knowing who she was.

That was not a good start.

Charlie noticed her discomfort and explained. “Don’t worry, it’s just that everyone working at the marine center regularly eats at the restaurant. I guess they’re just excited to have a new person joining their team.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You can ask Dr. Collier yourself if you don’t believe me. She and I are tight!”

Azzi raised her eyebrows at Charlie, not knowing if she would like to know what he meant.

“It’s just I do some errands for her or for the center whenever extra help is needed.” Charlie smiled at her before stopping the engine. “I don’t mind though. The extra dollars I get will help me buy a small sailing boat. Then, Paige can teach me how to sail it!”

Azzi didn’t notice they had already arrived and were parked outside an aging restaurant overlooking the harbor, its windows glowing dimly against the gray afternoon. It looked worn and rugged by years of ocean wind and salt. Its sign which survived all rain and storms hung crooked.

Husky on Board

But she noticed the name Charlie mentioned.

Paige.

She made a mental note to ask Charlie about Paige, and as to why his eyes sparkled with excitement just by mentioning her name.

It wasn’t love. He was too young for that. It was more of admiration. Like he sort of saw this Paige as his hero.

Interesting.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

The burger was, in fact, great.

If Azzi could wipe that smug grin off Charlie’s face, she would’ve done it with the burger’s patty. He had that annoying I told you so look, and it irritated her how badly she had been underestimating everything about this town. And his Grams’ burger.

Well, not her new coworkers. She already had an idea they would be loud and rowdy.

Azzi met three of them while dining at Husky on Board. Automatically, they knew who she was, and they directly approached her the moment they saw her sitting by the window.

They all looked young, like fresh graduates. Or were they still interning?

They were also chatty, to the point that they sat on Azzi’s table and asked her a bunch of questions. She almost didn’t finish her meal, but she was so hungry, she kept taking bites between answers. She didn’t want them to think she was rude.

But her patience was running very thin.

When could she go to her accommodation and rest?

“After you meet the big boss, we should drive up to Orleans and catch this local band. Their lead singer is seriously hot! Like, ungodly hot!” Kelis excitedly suggested. She looked the youngest out of the three.

“Easy, Guppy! Let her breathe on her first day!” Ines tossed a fry at Kelis. She had an innocent face and a light accent.

“I told you not to call me that! It’s Big Fish to all of you!” Kelis wrinkled her nose at them.

"It’s alright, but I’ll take a rain check on it. I think I have a lot of things to catch up with Dr. Collier today.” Azzi said.

“Phee wouldn’t mind.” Kelis mumbled. She seemed drawn to Azzi.

Before Azzi could respond, the restaurant door burst open and a young woman in an Auriemma Marine Center gray polo shirt hurried in, eyes darting all over the restaurant, scanning all the faces.

Azzi heard the three young researchers gulp loudly upon seeing her.

“Oh crap!” Ice, the tallest of the three, attempted to duck down. It was futile when they were all spotted.

“You! You! And you! Back to work now!” The young woman barked while weaving between tables toward them. Her thick eyebrows looked like they could use some lunch break of their own. She had that intimidating aura, and Azzi didn’t know if she should also hide from this woman.

“Jeez, KP! Chill! You’re making us look bad in front of Dr. Fudd.” Kelis pointed at Azzi.

Again, the last thing Azzi wanted was attention.

So much for keeping things low-key.

“You’re Dr. Fudd?” The young woman asked, calming down a little.

“Uh, yeah?” Azzi squeaked out.

“Okay, great! You’re needed there too! Let’s go! Chop chop!” Without waiting for any of them to answer, she spun around and marched out the door.

“Sorry about that, KP is just being overdramatic.” Ines stood first and dusted off some crumbs on her shirt.

“KP?” Azzi blinked.

“Kelsey Plum. She’s our wrangler.” Ice explained.

“And that’s why you’re all afraid of her.” Azzi laughed. “I’d be probably hide too, but I think I got enough muscles in me to fend off Ms. Hot-headed wrangler.”

“Please don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll demand an arm-wrestling match immediately.” Kelis looked horrified with the possibility.

The three of them waited for Azzi who was still sitting on the table.

“We can walk you inside and escort you to Phee.” Ines offered.

Being around other people still felt unnatural for Azzi. She had isolated herself for the past year that even meeting her new coworkers seemed foreign. She had forgotten the basics of casual talking and being social.

Oh, well. At least she wouldn’t be wandering alone on her first day.

Where was the harm in tagging along?

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

The official meeting turned out to be less formal than what Azzi expected.

She was brought into a small office where she met Dr. Sue Bird, the head researcher in the Auriemma Marine Center — AKA the big boss — and Dr. Napheesa Collier, the lead scientist who headed the shark tagging and rescue program.

“Welcome to Taurasi Point, Dr. Fudd.” Sue smiled behind her desk. “I hope its grim skies didn’t affect your first day. We should be getting clear skies for the next couple of days.”

“Your weather here is absolutely fine, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“But I bet you missed your California sun.” Sue grinned.

Azzi didn’t think so. Over the past year, she spent her time in her lonely midcentury house in Los Angeles self-wallowing. So, no, she did not miss anything outside of her house. Not even the beautiful sunny California weather which she used to love growing up.

But she nodded, for the sake of it. “Only a little.”

“Well, I hope you’ll get used to our moody weather here in Cape Cod. We need you and your expertise to help us out.” Sue had that warm, motherly smile.

The old and rusty marine center could collapse around her, and she would probably still look calm.

“We’re happy to have you here, Dr. Fudd. I know it’s not much, but we built a solid foundation, and we do have a pretty good team out there. Albeit young, but pretty good.” Phee chimed in.

Azzi thought of the three ladies she met in the restaurant. Young, indeed. And not to mention, full of energy.

“We’re not going to lie, you surprised us. We had to do a double take on the name written in the application form.” Sue added.

Azzi surprised herself too when she submitted it. Not that she would admit that in front of them.

“Well, I gotta ask, Dr. Fudd. What made you consider applying to a small marine facility in the end of nowhere?” Phee asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of judgmental.

“The opportunity was just there.” Azzi said with a shrug that she hoped it looked casual.

Neither Sue nor Phee looked convinced.

But they didn’t push it. They moved on to the logistics of her lodging.

Phee explained Azzi would be staying in one of the apartments near the town center, above a row of local shops and within a fifteen-minute walk from the marine center. And if she needed a ride, Phee had already told Charlie to give Azzi his number after he dropped her off tonight.

So, this was what the teenage boy had meant earlier. Him doing stuff for Phee and the marine center.

Azzi wasn’t used to relying on people anymore, so she didn’t know if she would ever need Charlie and his number, but she said her thanks.

“You being here is a big help to us. Summer is around the corner and if we blink, shark calls will be coming in nonstop.” Sue said, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you get a lot of calls?” Azzi asked.

This set up was not uncommon or unheard of, but Azzi only had a few experience shark tagging in a place where sightings seemed woven into daily life.

Of course, she did her research on how Auriemma Marine Center operates before accepting the position. She knew they wouldn’t be doing something major or wouldn’t be running massive expeditions out at sea.

Still, it felt strange and a little surreal that she ended up here.

She felt like she went back to grad school, interning in a huge marine center in Alaska, only to do minimal but tiring work.

The difference, though, was that it had all the gear and supply, and a working air conditioning system.

“It’s not overly done, but tourists tend to panic.” Phee explained, lazily playing with a pen between her fingers. She looked relaxed, but there were that authority and talent hidden beneath her easy smile.

Azzi had a feeling that they would get along well.

“As you can see, we don’t have those fancy tools and amenities, but we do have the minds of hardworking young people. You don’t get to underestimate them because they will prove you wrong.” Phee continued, there was still her warm smile, but Azzi could hear the subtle warning. She was protective of her team.

“I met a few of them in the restaurant across the street. They really are a lovely bunch.”

“That they are!” Sue laughed. “They give me headaches most of the time, but you should see how their minds collectively work.”

“And that is why we’re so excited to have you join us, Dr. Fudd.” Phee extended her hand for a shake. “Welcome to Auriemma Marine Center.”

“Thank you.” Azzi shook her hand.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a loooooong day.” Nika groaned, leaning back against the smooth fiberglass rail while the boat rocked gently in the marina.

Paige snorted beside her and held out the hip flask again. The cheap whiskey was already warm from passing between them.

Nika took another burn of it, grimacin as it slid down her throat before handing it back. Somewhere across the docks, halyards clicked against aluminum masts in uneven little rhythms.

Paige tipped the flask toward her in a lazy salute before taking a swallow of her own. Both of them were sitting in the salt air with their knees bumping every time the boat rocked.

“You excited to meet the new marine biologist tomorrow?” Nika looked up at the dark skies. If she squinted enough, she could see some stars trying to break out from the evening clouds.

“Meh.” Paige shrugged. “I just hope Sue is not making me babysit her.”

“What do you mean by that? I bet she’s old enough to tie her shoelaces, P.”

“Have you read her credentials?” Paige turned to ber best friend slowly, eyebrows raised.

“No! But I know she’s a hot shot prodigy or something.” Nika glared back. “Plus, the nerd kids won’t shut up about her. So, that says a lot.”

“Exactly!” Paige pointed the flask at Nika. “People like that always come in thinking they know better than everyone because they studied at some fancy science school and spent years in huge marine research companies or whatever.”

“You got a beef with her or something?”

Paige took another sip before muttering. “All I’m saying is that the second she starts acting all high and mighty and treats me like I’m one of her interns, I’ll toss her out of my boat, and she can swim back to the marine center.”

“Dr. Bird and Dr. Collier will toss you before you toss the new girl.” Nika laughed.

Paige elbowed her best friend before laughing alongside. “This whiskey is getting us good.”

“I feel like we’re gonna get a bad hangover tomorrow.”

“I can already hear Phee screaming in my ear.” Paige sighed.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

It was barely fifteen past five in the morning when Azzi walked into the Auriemma Marin Center, hugging her old UCSC hoodie. Her backpack hung on one shoulder. This really felt like being back in university.

The place was already busy despite the hour. A few staff members were already moving with coffee cups in hand. They never missed to greet her a warm ‘Good morning, Dr. Fudd’ and Kelis even volunteered to lead her to her desk.

The desk was plain and mostly bare. She could probably throw a few pens or notebooks on it, but that was about it. She didn’t see the point in decorating it when she wasn’t planning to stay long.

Temporary. Azzi sighed, reminding herself as she got ready to start her first working day.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

Azzi didn’t notice that it had already been two hours she was clicking on her laptop. The coffee Ines made for her sat untouched at the corner of her desk. She had a bad habit of forgetting everything else when she concentrated. Food and drinks included.

It was time for a break.

Her thoughts of getting a proper breakfast across the street disappeared when someone opened the door loudly and came marching into the marine center.

She was painfully enthusiastic at around seven in the morning.

“Rise and shine, little fish nerds!” The woman exclaimed, making Azzi's coworkers groan in unison.

They didn’t pay attention to her, though. But Azzi had the misfortune of making an eye contact with the newcomer.

“Well, what do we have here? The new little fish nerd!”

Azzi caught a thick European accent she couldn’t quite place.

“You must be the infamous Dr. Fudd.” A hand was shoved into Azzi’s direction. “I’m Nika.”

Before Azzi could take Nika’s hand, she was pushed aside and Azzi found herself face to face with Dr. Collier.

"Muhl, behave. We need Dr. Fudd, and we need her today." Phee said. "Azzi, we need to map feeding grounds along the coast. We're trackign possible feeding activities near Monomoy. Something's keeping them in the same area longer than usual. Come with me."

Azzi barely had time to answer before Phee was already dragging her to Ines' workstation.

She was greeted with two glowing monitors which displayed rows of acoustic detections, timestamps, and coastal maps cluttered with colored tracking markers. There were sticky notes on the side of the monitor frames as well.

"What do we have here?" Azzi asked Ines.

"There are multiple tagged sharks pinging repeatedly from the same stretch of water near Monomoy Island." Ines pointed the location on one of her screens. "You can see the colored tracking points crowded one section and the same receiver stations kept lighting up over and over again."

"We need to deploy and retrieve the data. That's what's Nika is here for." Phee gestured to Nika who made a salute.

"First mate, Nika Muhl! At your service!"

"First mate, huh?" Azzi raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"As you can see, we're not OCEARCH or something, but we do have a decent boat crew when we go out there." Phee explained.

"Speaking of crew, my fearless captain awaits." Nika grinned, directly at Azzi.

"Paige is already here?" Kelsey walked into the group.

"Oh yes! And I can't wait for Paige to meet the new little fish nerd." Nika's grin turned downright dangerous.

Azzi already didn't trust that smile, because she refused to admit that name haunted her the first time she heard it yesterday.

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The retrieval crew — consisted of Phee, Ines, Kelsey, Azzi, and Nika —headed down to the marine center’s private dock.

Azzi gripped her take-out sandwich as she heard the gulls screaming nearby. She should have eaten it before coming down. But she was kind of excited and nervous for her first mission with this team.

As they followed Phee, Azzi noticed how peaceful the morning sky looked. The early sunlight barely touched the water.

Her gaze tracked along the dock to the vessel moored at the end. It looked old but solid. As they came closer, she read the name R/V Hangover at the sides. She could also see the boat had been modified to fit their research work. It had been retrofitted for shark tagging and other things the marine center did.

Azzi’s eyes continued to scan the vessel, landing on a blonde figure leaning against the upper deck railing with an unimpressed look.

Oh.