#i'm always sleepy...so...i don't like school...

All your teasing was for the pure pleasure of feeling superior, was it toxic, and questionable? Yes, but that was your reason, to feel like the boss and it was easy to be the boss of Connie.

After six years of your torment, when you were both around thirteen your parents decided they were leaving for a better place for you and your brother to have better chances in life.

It wasn't a bizarre decision, your neighbor was beaten down, the streets laced with danger, the schools were barely holding themselves together, and crime rates were rising month by month. However, you and your brother didn't want to leave, you both protested for weeks, wanting your parents to cave and get rid of the decision but nothing worked, and you found yourself leaving your home of thirteen years.

“Guess you're leaving now, huh?” Connie walked up to where you were sitting, taking a seat on the concrete beside you.

“Yep.” You nodded, eyes pinned to the ground.

“Dang, who's gonna call me big head and tell me a suck at everything now?” His knee nudged yours, his sarcastic words being an attempt to cheer you up a bit.

You giggled, a smile cracking through your frown.

“I don't know, maybe one of the boys will take my place.” You tilted your head towards him and surprisingly, he looked disappointed himself.

“None of them will do it like you though.” He mumbled, locking eyes with you with a small pout on his lips.

“Nope, they won't. Can't do it like me.” You huffed out a laugh and he smiled.

“You know,” you started, “you need to stand up for yourself. I'm the only one allowed to push you around, don't let them do it. Got it?” He seemed surprised by your words, his eyes squinted in confusion for a second before he nodded.

“Got it.”

“Good.” You said with a shove of his shoulder. Yeah, you weren't going to change and maybe he liked that.

“{#}!” You moms voice rippled through the air.

“Gotta go to Virginia I guess. See you someday, ‘kay?” You stood up unwillingly, then holding out your hand for him to grab

“Yeah, someday.” He took your hand and lifted himself.

The silence fell over you two for a second, just eye contact with faint smiles tracing your lips. Hand in hand, eyes connected, and a silence that spoke for itself.

Then your mom shouted again.

With one last nod, you ran off to the truck. He watched the whole process carefully, never stepping away from his spot. He watched the car ride off, he watched you wave through the window one last time, he watched as you slowly turned back into your seat, and he watched the car fade in the distance till he couldn't see it.

Little Connie should have felt relief but he didn't, he felt like he had lost one of the only things important to him. Yeah, you were his bully but you were the only kid who actually spoke to him, even if you teased and poked at him, you were the only one he could spend time with.

So watching you ride off into the distance ached his heart in ways he had never felt before, he asked himself if it's what your heartbreaking felt like. Wondered what life would be like with you being miles and miles away from him, he couldn't bear the thought. So, he let go of the heavy feelings and ran back into his house, hoping to forget you.

When you rode out to your neighbor you couldn't help but drop one tear, just one. The only place you ever called home was vanishing right before your eyes, all your friends, your childhood home, and even Connie.

People always told you that you chose to bully Connie because you had a crush on him, you never believed it but as you felt that strange clenching feeling in your chest as you watched Connie’s face fade away told you otherwise. Maybe you did have a crush on him, is that why you chose to pick on him? To deny your feelings for him?

Even if that's what it was, it was too late.

You weren't ready to lose it all, everything you had ever known, and you were being dragged away from it. It was cruel and wrong, you spent weeks crying and begging to your parents to get that point across, trying to convince them that they couldn't take you away. It never worked, they wouldn't budge even when they saw the pain it brought you, you didn't believe their excuses, ‘it’s for the better’, ‘it’ll be good for you’. You didn't care, it was wrong and selfish, you could bet they were only doing it for their own pleasure.

That day you vowed, you’d be back one day.

—

You and your brother rode the streets of your old neighborhood, following the sound of the boisterous music blasting through the streets.

After your graduation, you and your brother arranged to visit your old neighborhood for the memories. It had been several years, both of you had finished college, both of you had jobs and were earning a good salary, which made you wonder what your old friends and family were up to.

As you rode down the street you gazed out of the window, the old corner store that was next to the liquor store, the random beaten-down old sheds, the small schools somehow still standing, your old house, your friends' houses, and Connie’s. Seeing his home, two cars still parked in front of it, made you wonder where’d he go in life. Did he take your advice, did grow a pair, what did he do all these years?

Your mind was flooded with questions, but it slowly began to drift when the music led you to a small gas station. The vibration of ‘Call Back’ by Don Toliver, pulsed through the ground. The area was lively, the constant motion of people dancing, the sounds of them chatting and singing with music lit the atmosphere.

Then you spotted him, or someone you thought was him. He was taller and lean, not short skin and bones, Connie. He had a white hood draped over his head with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, glasses with a small but noticeable tattoo under his eyes.

“Is that Connie?” You lifted to get a better look as your brother drove into the space.

“Who?” You piqued his interest.

“Standing by the door.” You pointed in his direction, and your brother's eyes darted over.

“Nah, Connie was little as fuck with a head twice his size.” He pulled the car to a stop and pushed his door open.

“Connie?!” Your brother called out to him, unable to catch his attention.

“See, not Connie.” He tried to prove.

“Hey, big head!” Connie's head lifted at the sound of your familiar voice and words, taking his earbuds out while squinting in your direction. You saw a small smile tease his lips when he got a good look at you, like he was happy to see you.

“Damn, guess it is him.” Your brother shrugged with his lips in a thin line before turning off to find his old friends and you proceeded to walk up to Connie.

“Connie?” You asked when you got in front of him.

“Yes?” He answered teasingly with a grin on his face.

“What the hell happened?” Your eyes ran over him, tattoos could be seen on his hands and on his neck, he was fit and more athletic than he ever was before.

“I don't know-” He was cut off by you pulling him into a hug, and he awkwardly stood there for a second, arms dangling on either side of you.

Noticing he wasn't hugging you back, you pulled back slightly looking up at him.

“What you forget how to hug, too cool for that?” He chuckled at your comment before wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

Feeling his muscular arms wrapped around you and his solid chest pressed against your was something unexpected that you weren't exactly mad about.

“Jesus, you used to be so little Connie!” You exclaimed as you both pulled out of the hug.

“Not anymore,” he paused for a second, eyes running over your body lustfully, “how ‘bout we catch up some mamas?” He nodded his head back and guided you to the back of the building.

—

How’d catching up turn into him hammering your insides relentlessly? You didn't know, it started with talking, then his hands were traveling up your thighs, then you were kissing, next you know, you were pinned against the wall letting him rock into you from behind.

The flesh of your ass slammed against his pelvis, with each pull back leaving trails of sticky fluids, your ass was sore from his merciless pounding and pace.

“Buena chica, así es.” He cooed in your ear, hands gripping your hips tightly as he hauled his length in and out of your opening. Your lubricated folds wrapped around his girth, the creamy barriers of your walls leaving him drenched and hard.

You felt one of his hands leave your hip and not long after you felt a slam against the meat of your ass.

Slap

The noise rippled through the air and you struggled to bite back your cries. You could feel your cilt pulsing and hole gaping, begging to be stuffed with milk.

“Con…fuuck, slow down!” You squealed in his ear, biting the corner of your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet.

“You got ma, take all of me, pretty girl.” He plowed himself deeper inside of you, his bulging tip pinned against your sensitive sweet spot. He groaned heavily in your ear, dragging himself back till you were clenching his cockhead, then slamming back into you colliding himself with your cervix.

His mushroom tip throbbed and twitched, drowned in your sappy cunt. The veins on his cock bulged, getting more sensitive each time he hammered into you.

He didn't slow down, he kept his pace merciless and full of momentum that knocked the air out of your lungs. You struggled to swallow back the whines spewing from you throat coming through your bitten lip as squeals.

Slap

Slap

Two more hard sticks the underside of your ass, the heavy fat jiggling from the clash between the meat and his hand. His heavy hits only resulted in you getting more excited and jolts through your back and pulsations in your desperate cilt.

Your tight walls embraced all of him, hugging each inch of his twitching cock, you clasped just right on the underside of his throbbing and sensitive vein of his cock causing groans to pour from his lips.

“Ordéñame, nena.” You heard his low desperate moan in your ear, and it triggered you to do exactly that.

One last clench caused him to twitch the shoot out hot loads of cum into you, stuffing you full and deep. His cream rode out of you and down onto himself, he crashed his head down onto your shoulder and panted.

Your hips jolted forward and your hole spasmed around him as you were long after. Choking on the moans that dared to spill from your lips, your juices spraying out of you and soaking both of you and the ground beneath you.

The aftermath flowed over you with pants and moans, sweat and fluid soaked clinging against each other, both disheveled and tired.

“Not so little now, am I?”

Parker has hockey practice twice a week and he finishes at 7 pm today, much to your despair. If it wasn't for it, you're day would be over at 4 pm after picking up Olivia from a little playdate with one of her friends. She's been... struggling for the past few months, so every chance she gets to do something different, you and Rafe always say yes to it, no matter how far is it, how late it can be, she's going.

So here you are now, with a sleepy Olivia on her side of the backseat and a grumpy Parker that was complaining about how one of the kids on the hockey team wouldn't pass him the puck right on time multiple times in just ten minutes. He reminds you of Rafe whenever he gets like this, he start puffing, he frowns and pulls that airy tone out of his lips when he's complaining, and he absolutely pouts. Something that Rafe always denied that he did.

The Outer Banks roads are mostly empty, it's a cold night despite the closeness of summer. The humidity is making everything ten times even harder, you feel heavier, everything's slower and the windshields aren't doing enough to keep you from going insane.

You stop at a red light, resting your arm in the window as you closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about how you have to defrost the steaks you'll have for dinner, how Parker has to be extra early at school on Friday and how Olivia enters at 9, the fact that you have to talk with Rafe about the next time you're leaving town and—

You feel a force pushing you forward, a sharp blow that definitely took the air out of your lungs, it's strong enough to feel like you almost broke your neck, your hands stopped you from face slamming the steering wheel. Then alarms, like a car has definitely been hit and it's definitely yours.

What the fuck?

The reactions are almost immediate, Olivia starts crying and Parker starts asking "Mom, mom?!" As he looks around, sounding desperate after the impact. You open your eyes widely, looking back to the rearview mirror next to you and the car behind that just fucking hit you at a red light like it was a free world.

You groan and touch your neck for the sudden impact and the way your head has been moved, especially since you were momentarily relaxed before it happened, you weren't prepared for it. You feel your chest tightening as your start hearing your kids mumbling in desperation.

"Hey, hey." You try to speak firmly around all the noise. "It's okay. Mom's okay," You took a moment to look at them and check for injuries before affirming. They have their hands against the seats, like they tried to stop themselves from hitting themselves with it. They look a little pale and shaken. "You're okay." You said to yourself more than to them before taking a big breath of air, trying to release the weight in your chest. "Wait here, guys." You came out of the car with your heart hammering.

"Hey!" You screamed, entitled to be the one under stress after your car just got hit. You can't even see the person driving the other car, they're front bumper was pretty much destroyed.

You have the chance to take a look to the back of your car, the rear bumper was almost destroyed, dented inwards and the back lights were cracked. The trunk lid had been affected as well. How did this car almost cracked the rear hatch glass?

"Holy shit." The other guy said, a few years younger than you, 25 and probably with his first real car. "What—" He said in shock as if he didn't drove his car into yours. "It was a greenlight!"

You scoffed, voice immediately going high with stress and frustration. "It was not a greenlight!" When he was about to interrupt again, you cut him off. "It wasn't." You said with that authority tone of your that you tend to use with your kids.

Your kids. Ugh, shit.

"Even if it was, why the fuck would you drive like that?! It's an empty road!" You dragged your hands down your

"It was a greenlight!"

“You hit us, that's the end of it. My kids are in the car—” You said, hand gripping your phone tightly with anxiety raising inside of you.

The man interrupts again, raising his hands on the air as a sign of innocence. “Don’t even try to pin this on me. You slammed on your brakes out of nowhere.”

"I was at a red light!" You screamed again, feeling how if this doesn't start to get into an actual logical conversation, you were about to rip your throat. "What was I supposed to do, huh?"

But the guy doesn’t let up. He looks like one of those frat boys that should have finished his major so long ago but he doesn't because he simply won't pass his finals and he wants to extend the experience of having a justification to not work. “Yeah, but you stopped too fast. You weren’t paying attention. You caused this.”

Is this guy for real or are you seriously going mental? "I was already stopped. What the fuck are you talking about? My kids watched it—"

"They're kids, they don't count for witnesses."

"Oh, my God—" You said in disbelief.

"I'm calling insurance. I'm not getting charged for this bullshit—" He said, hand already flying to his phone as if he was about to call daddy for the fifth time this month to get his mess fixed.

"Yeah, call them, please." You said sarcastically as you walked back to the your own car, breathing deeply.

"Mommy, what happened?" Parker said, peaking his head out the window.

"Just an accident, sweetie. Get inside." You said as you gently guided his head inside the car again.

"The police it's on its way—" You heard the guy say, bragging as if he already won this battle.

"Police?" You heard Olivia talking, she was already out of breath as she tried not to cry too much.

Opening the car door to talk to them, you kneeled so they could see your face better. "Everything's fine, nothing's gonna happen—"

"Moooom!" She cried.

"Olivia, everything's fine—" You said, but you knew no words would help right now.

You stood up again, throat closing as you tried to calm yourself. You watched the young man, so clearly in belief that he was entitled to do whatever the hell he wanted around the island. You know these kinds of guys, they believe they own half the island just because their dad is probably a lawyer. But they don't, Rafe probably does.

Rafe.

You looked down at your phone, and almost out of instinct your fingers were already moving to search for his contact. Chest going up and down like a wheel being inflated with how fast your nerves were raising.

You only waited one tone before he answered.

"Hey." You heard, voice husky and tired, he probably just got home. "What happened? You alright?" He immediately questioned, finding your call a little odd. You never call, not anymore.

"Rafe—" You panted, a hand going up to grab your temple. "I— A fucking car just hit us, I'm with the kids—"

"I'm on my way."

Immediate, instant, like lightning. He was already on his feet the moment you called him tho, sensing that you were calling for a reason and he was sadly right. Normally he would've been happy to hear your voice, he would've taken the chance to make you nervous or get a rinse out of you just to get the stimulation and motivation he needed for the rest of the week.

But not this. You sounded so nervous, so out of breath and like you definitely needed help.

"Send me your location. I'm on my way already." He said, sharp and steady, exactly what you needed right now in this moment of instability.

You only managed to whisper a little "Okay..." Closing your eyes again for a second.

"I'm on my way." He repeated again when he heard the tone in your voice, you could hear him grabbing his keys and walking around his own house. "Okay? I'll be there in five. Don't worry."

"Okay, okay." You nodded, breathing out slowly just to get your nerves on check. He hung up a moment later. With trembling fingers, you sent him your location. It wasn't far away from his house, probably twenty minutes; knowing Rafe, he will get there in less than ten.

And he did, right at the same time with the police. He slammed the door of his own car and sprinted outside to meet you. He still had a white shirt on, now tiredly opened on the top, like he clearly just got out of work and had two moments of peace before your call.

Olivia, who was waiting inside the car in anguish, gasped the moment she saw her dad. With an agility that should have you worried at a different time, she opened the door and got out of the car.

"Daddy!" She screamed, already running to him in desperation.

"Hey, hey." He grabbed her when she ran to him, climbing up to him the moment he kneeled down to pick her up. Her cheeks were red and wet with tears, the same way yours get whenever you used to cry. He hasn't seen that image in a long time (he's sort of grateful for it, usually when you used to cry it was because of him). "Hey, princess. You're okay?" He murmured while roughly kissing the top of her head, walking over to where you are as the little kid hid her face on his neck.

Almost barking to get your attention, he called out your name. "You're okay? What happened?" He carefully rested his arm around your frame to pull you closer, searching for your eyes that were on the ground.

You looked nervous, eyes wet with anxiety like they were glasses about to break. "Yeah, this dick hit us from behind—" You gestured to the guy a few feet away from you.

"I didn't hit you, you stopped too fast!" He had the nerve to interrupt.

"Rafe, I was at a red light—" You said, feeling the need to make him believe you. You weren't crazy but you needed his assurance, to make sure that it wasn't your fault you put your kids at such risk.

"I know, I believe you—" He shook his head, touching your face with his free big and rough hand. "Don't worry about it." He murmured only for you to hear, almost unconsciously turning his body just to push Olivia's little ears away from listening, trying to give you both some kind of intimacy. Something he craves to have in any kind of mundane moment.

"You're okay, right? Not a scratch?" He asked as he looked inside the car at the same, checking on Parker, who was sitting inside with a pout and his arms around himself. "Hey, bud. It's dad, you wanna come out?" He talked with the window down.

Parker shook his head, tightening his own grip around himself as he tried to make himself smaller and avoided Rafe's eyes. "P, everything's fine, bud. No one's hurt, it's just another car." He assured the young kid.

At his father's comfort, Parker bites the inside of his cheek before he finally nodded, deciding to come out after a second when Rafe opened the door for him. Showing just how scared he was when he wrapped his arms around his waist. "Relax, kid. You're okay." He said softly, cradling both of his kids.

You look at him, the way he immediately took the charge of the situation. The way he just has this protective side to him that starts working the moment a frown appears on any of your faces, the way he cares about your kids, how he still clearly cares about you and tries to handle the situation just so you don't have to.

The image gets your chest tightening, you place a hand on it, rubbing softly the way you always do when the heartache might just be a little too much.

Two officers got closer, coming out of they're patrolman, walking over with those heavy steps that made everyone nervous. "Mr. Cameron." One of them said, recognizing Rafe.

And of course that Rafe was going to use that to his advantage. Unwrapping his free arm out of Parker and securing his grip on Olivia, he shook the officer's hand when offered. "Sir."

"What do we have here, huh?" The man asked, already taking a look over the accident.

When the police got involved, you expressed you wanted to give a report just to have an official record of the accident, also claiming that you were in a red light, already stopped for a few seconds before your car got hit.

"That's not true!" The guy, that you now know his name Brad (of course he is). "She stopped out of nowhere, she just slammed the breaks."

"That literally makes no sense! You should've slowed down earlier anyways."

"I was doing totally fine." He assured, hands resting on his hips and those stupid ass khaki bermuda shorts that were making no one a favor. "Not my fault you don't know how to drive, sweetheart." He used that cocky tone that made your blood boil. Especially because it was you against him, and the way he was making you feel so small, a feeling you're not used to, is completely crushing you.

"Who are you talking to like that, huh?" Rafe rises to his full height, stepping forward without any kid on his arms now after Parker and Olivia completely secured on his car as the adults dealt with the mess. He means to intimidate, to scare the guy into saying something wrong again.

"Alright, let's all calm down." One of the officers intervened.

The night ended with just the same amount of frustrations. Everyone came to agree that the security cameras (if there was actually any on this side of the island) to check who provoked the accident, but they encouraged to call the insurance company already just get everything started.

You wanted to snap so badly as you saw the tow truck picking up your car to go get it fixed after this Brad guy absolutely destroyed it. You sighed, covering your face with your hands in exasperation. The day was already long enough as it is and now you feel like you have a hundred pounds over your shoulders.

"Rafe, I swear I was at a red light—" You said, throat closing with anguish as you now started to doubt your own narrative. "I mean, like, I closed my eyes for like, two seconds because my head was killing me—" You stuttered.

Rafe tsked, clenching his jaw as his tongue hit his teeth. He shook his head and looked down at you. "You don't gotta explain it to me, alright? I know you don't mess around." He knows how much of a careful driver you are. The time he had to teach you how to drive (so long ago) he was utterly exasperated at how carefully you drove around.

With one steady arm around your shoulders, gripping you like you're about to vanish, he made you get inside his own car. The whole thing had already being dragged out long enough and he hated the somber expression on your face, so he needed to get you out of there as soon as possible before he actually combusts.

After a very quiet ride back home, the kids went running back to their respective rooms once the door was opened. They were uncharacteristically silent during the whole ride, which made your heart break in half with guilt.

Rafe closed the door behind him, helping you to get the kids things inside. He left Parker's gym bag on the floor next to the entrance. "Thanks for coming." You said softly, all the usual annoyance and banter between had been erased by the exhaustion and the spook the accident had given you. "I'm sorry I called so late, I just didn't know who else to call—" Your voice broke with stress and pressure.

For someone who's such a careful and sometimes overprotective mother, this accident is definitely getting the worst reaction out of you. You were nervous, guilty, on edge and worried after everything that happened.

"Hey, no." He quickly cut you off and in two large strides he was in front of you, holding your arms. "It's fine, alright? Don't worry." He comforted you.

"You call me, do you hear me?" He put himself at your eye level, to make sure you were listening to him and actually getting the information inside that beautiful but so aggravating brain of yours, which usually doesn't hold onto the information he gives you. "You call me." He repeated again.

"I just—" You breathed out exhausted, tears willing up in your eyes. "I don't think it was my fault. I closed my eyes for two seconds, Rafe." You said, voice full of self doubt and insecurity. "What if—" you cleared your throat. "Maybe it was at a greenlight and it was my fault—"

"No, no." Rafe's reaction was immediate, purely out of instinct, the necessity to comfort you and to ease the ache in his own chest at seeing you under such stress. "I'm sure you're right. You did nothing wrong." He knows what you're talking about, the fear that this was all caused because of you and the irresponsibility you don't have. He knows you're already punishing yourself inside of your head.

"Parker wasn't wearing his belt, because—" Your voice gave out as a sob escaped out of your lips, complelr inevitable. "He was just throwing a fit and I was so tired so I let him..." You cried in his arms, hiding your face against his chest. "What if it was my fault and..." You breathed through your fast thinking. "It could've been much worse."

"It wasn't your fault. He crashed you, okay? Greenlight or not, he should've slowed down, gone to the other lean. He had space," He sighed at the way you looked and cradled your face. "C'mon, did you see him? He doesn't know shit. I'm sure his dad paid for his license." He smirked softly, trying to get your head out of the self punishment habit.

You shrugged, showing that you didn't care how stupid the other guy was, you just know that the accident had happened and it got the kids really scared and it got your blood pressure over the roof. For now, you just limit yourself to rest your forehead against his chest, allowing yourself to have this one thing. No matter how wrong it is, no matter how your heart was doing gymnastics tricks inside your chest at the feeling of being so close to Rafe all over again.

He let out a big breath again when nothing was working. So, for a few moments, he just rubbed your back, that space underneath your shoulders that he knows that always works with you. His palm was warm against the fabric of your clothes, it was safe and comfortable. And you almost hated (you really couldn't) that it felt like it was always meant to be there.

No one had touched you, comforted you like this in so long and you know no one else will because no one knows how to do it like this. It's a Rafe thing. Something that naturally comes to him after knowing each other for longer than fifteen years already, after an entire life together.

"You call me, alright?" He said again against your ear, voice low and velveted like always. "Whenever something happens, you need help, you call me." And when you moved like you were about to talk, he interrupted again, knowing what you were about to say. "With kids or not, if something happens you gotta call me. I'll go help you."

Because you would take a step back, placing the distance where it should be put. But no, he doesn't let it happen and takes one step further when he dares to say that it doesn't apply just to anything that revolves around the twins. It also applies to you.

"That's what I'm here for." He said now, more gruffly as if he's reprimanding himself. You look up, finally picking up your head from his chest and give him the honor of seeing your eyes. Still so beautiful and so red and tired from crying and worrying so much. "I want you to call me if something happens. Okay?" He asked, grabbing your cheeks with both of his hands now.

"We got a deal?" He asked carefully, softly touching your skin as he takes the liberty of cleaning the tears that stained your skin. So delicately that you almost don't recognize him. And you can't deny that you love it. He rubs his thumbs underneath your eyes, making sure not a single tear is left in there. Not a single drop of stress and pain has to be left, he doesn't want to see it anymore.

A pause settled between you, not heavy with old wounds or the sharp edges of what was left unsaid or with old unresolved resentments that made the feelings linger. For once, it wasn’t resentment that filled the silence, nor the ache of things that didn't work. It was softer than that.

It was just... tender.

"Yeah." You whispered.

And he knows he can't take it further. No matter how much he wants to, no matter how temptingly close you are, he will never do that now. Not when you always draw the line so clearly with a permanent marker, one that couldn't be erased. So, he wouldn't do it.

He contained a devastating sigh and took a step back, finalizing the moment with one last caress on your shoulder.

"I'll come early tomorrow and take them to school." He talked again, leaving no room for argument and you don't dare to do it either. "Rest and let me know what the insurance company says, alright?"

You're left a little bit speechless at what just happened. At what didn't. You don't even know what you were expecting either.

"Yeah, okay." You said softly, watching the way he walked back to the front door, taking the little piece of sanity you had with him.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Rest, don't worry about it." He opened the door and didn't give you much chance to say anything else, almost like he stopped himself from opening his mouth too much.

You didn't breathe after the door was closed, not after a few moments passed, you did it once you heard his car going out the driveway, as if you were scared that with the way he knows you, he might as well hear the way you sigh and you can't let that happen.

He can't be conscious of the way he still brings you up to the edge of the cliff, like he makes you want to jump into the absolute and intoxicating feeling of him.

Little did you know he's doing the same. He only finally lets out the biggest sigh ever after he turns around the first corner back to his own house. He wants to let you know, wants to make you snap and be aware of just how much you still have a grip on him. How he's the one at the edge of the cliff and how you're the one holding him back by grabbing his heart. You could squeeze hard enough or let go of it at any given point and destroy him. You don't even know the effect you have on people.

And you probably don't want to know either.

Your heart does warm up with tenderness the next day when he sends you a selfie of the kids in the backseat of his car, with bright smiles and clean school uniforms on them, just fifteen minutes later after he picked them up like he promised.

He does it to comfort you, because he knows you'll be worried.

The smell of coffee and toast hit you the second you stepped into the kitchen. Scott was already seated, fully dressed, motorcycle helmet resting securely on his arm like it was a part of his body. Melissa buzzed around the kitchen in her scrubs, clearly mid-rush.

“You know,” you said, grabbing a banana off the counter and tossing it in the air, “you don’t need to have your helmet on your arm while you eat breakfast.”

Scott didn’t look up, just took another bite of toast. “It’s cool.”

“Mmhm,” you replied, leaning back against the fridge. “If it’s so cool, maybe you could use your cool points to take me to school again.”

He raised a brow, chewing. “I take you every day. Why do you act like it’s some kind of favor?”

“Because one day, you’re gonna be too cool and leave me stranded.”

“Never gonna happen,” he said through a mouthful of eggs.

Melissa passed behind him and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, then gently placed her hand on your shoulder. “Be nice to him,” she said playfully. “He’s your chauffeur and your brother this week.”

“I’m always nice to him,” you called out as she grabbed her keys.

Melissa gave you both a tired smile, already halfway out the door. “Try not to let the school burn down today. Or yourselves.”

“No promises,” you and Scott said in unison.

The motorcycle ride was smooth, the wind whipping through your hair, tugging at your clothes as you held onto Scott’s sides. The morning sun burned low on the horizon, golden and slow, and the streets of Beacon Hills rolled past in a blur of green trees and brick buildings.

When Scott parked in front of the school, it was still early. Students wandered across the lot in small groups, laughing, talking, and clinging to iced coffees. You slipped off the bike, smoothing your skirt and shaking out your hair, already sticking to your neck from the heat.

“Ugh, how is it this hot before third period?” you muttered.

“You wore boots in June,” Scott pointed out.

“Fashion before function,” you replied, brushing past him.

The two of you pushed through the front doors into the cool hallways of Beacon Hills High, the air conditioning a relief against your skin. That’s when Scott slowed beside you.

You noticed his shoulders tense.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed once, subtly, then again. “Do you smell that?”

“Um. Hormones? Teen spirit? Whatever’s in the cafeteria?”

“No. It’s—” His eyes narrowed. “Wolves.”

You blinked. “Like, new wolves?”

Scott nodded once. “Strong scent. Close. And—” He paused. “Identical.”

You frowned. “Identical? Like… twins?”

He didn’t answer. Just scanned the hall ahead.

And then you saw them.

Two tall figures walked side by side down the opposite hallway — both broad-shouldered, clean-cut, confident. Like they were born to take up space. One of them glanced your way as they passed, his eyes flicking over you with the casual ease of someone used to being looked at. You turned your head fast, cheeks warm.

“Okay,” you muttered, “you were right.”

Scott didn’t reply, but the way his jaw clenched said enough.

-

By third period, the whole school was buzzing. You, Scott, and Stiles sat at your usual table outside the science lab, sharing theories and leftover chips.

“I’m telling you,” Stiles said, eyes wide, “they’re not just new guys. They’re like... evil Abercrombie clones.”

“Clones?” you laughed.

“Have you seen them? No human has cheekbones that sharp naturally. It’s unholy.”

Scott still looked uneasy. “They’re wolves. I’m sure of it. The way they move… and that scent.”

Stiles leaned in. “Okay, but like… alphas? Betas? Omegas?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just hope they’re normal for once.”

The bell rang, and you split up for class. It wasn’t until later — just before the last period — that things got interesting again.

-

You stood at your locker, swapping out books for calculus, when you felt someone behind you.

Not just someone walking past. Someone watching you. Standing too still.

You turned slowly.

“Sorry,” the boy said, voice smooth, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m new. I think I got lost — I have calculus next, and this place is a maze.”

He smiled.

It was one of the twins.

“I’m Aiden.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but forced yourself to smile politely. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sage.”

He reached out — not for a handshake, but to take your hand gently and kiss the back of it. His lips were soft. Bold move.

You tried not to react, tried not to laugh, or blush, or punch him. You settled on raising an eyebrow.

“Beautiful name,” he said, his eyes tracing your face. “Almost as pretty as your eyes.”

Okay. Blush.

“Are you from here?”

“Born and raised,” you said, pulling your hand back gently. “Never left.”

“That’s rare. I’ve moved around so much, I barely know where I belong anymore.”

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” you said with a little shrug.

He tilted his head. “Not now that I’m here. I didn’t know small towns came with girls like you.”

You laughed — half flattered, half unsure how to respond. “Okay. Are you flirting with me, or trying to get to calculus?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You were about to fire back when movement behind him caught your eye. Two familiar idiots — Scott and Stiles — waving at you wildly from across the hall.

“Oh, crap,” you mumbled. “I gotta go. Your class is straight down this hallway, turn right, first door on the left. Bye!”

You hurried past Aiden, heart still thudding a little faster than you liked.

-

The loft was quiet when you arrived — but it wasn’t calm.

Isaac sat on the couch, shoulders shaking, wrapped in a blanket. His face was pale, eyes wide. Peter lounged nearby, picking at invisible lint on his shirt. Derek stood with his back to you, tense, arms folded, staring out the window.

“You’re late,” Derek said without turning.

“We got caught up,” Scott replied.

“Someone got caught up,” Stiles muttered, side-eyeing you.

You smacked his arm. “You couldn’t start the Jeep.”

You stepped past the boys and moved toward Derek, lowering your voice. “It wasn’t my fault.”

He looked at you then, over his shoulder. His eyes softened and then, for just a second, he smiled at you. “No, you just delayed us twenty minutes flirting with the new guy,” Scott said behind you.

You froze. Derek’s gaze shifted. Sharpened. Smile completely gone as if it was never there.

“Flirting?” he said, voice flat.

You turned fully to face him. “He asked where his class was.”

Scott lifted a hand in mock defense. “‘I didn’t know small towns had such pretty girls.’”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” you groaned, covering your face with both hands.

Peter smirked. “You’re at a disadvantage,” he muttered to Derek, watching the tension like it was a soap opera.

Derek didn’t take the bait. He just looked at you. Not angry. Just... unreadable.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled. “I didn’t know we were supposed to come right away.”

He blinked once, and the moment passed. “Let’s get back to the point.”

NOSY

The loft was warm with late sun pouring through the huge windows, casting golden shadows across the floor. You pushed open the door with your hip, holding a bottle of peach iced tea in one hand and your phone in the other. Derek had told you to stop by earlier in the day, said something vague about “going over some things.” You knew what that meant.

Training. Again.

You liked the loft. It was always a little too quiet, a little too dark, but it smelled like old books, pine, and leather. Derek’s jacket was still draped over the back of the couch. Music played softly from an old stereo in the corner—something moody and instrumental. You walked in like you owned the place, because honestly, by now, you sort of did.

Peter was stretched across the couch like an annoying cat, one leg propped up on the armrest, flipping through some magazine you were almost certain didn’t belong to him.

“Oh, look who’s here,” Peter said without glancing up. “The sugar-powered prodigy herself.”

“Hi, Peter,” you said flatly, walking right past him.

“You’re late,” came Derek’s voice from the spiral staircase.

You looked up. He stood a few steps from the top, dressed in his usual black T-shirt and jeans, hair tousled, gaze intense. Why was he always brooding like he was posing for a Calvin Klein ad?

“I wasn’t aware we had a schedule,” you said, pulling off your jacket and dropping it onto a nearby chair.

“You said ‘around five.’ It’s five-thirty.”

“You’ll survive,” you replied, flashing him a grin.

The next hour was spent doing what you liked least: arguing.

“I’m telling you, I don’t need to learn how to fight,” you huffed, arms crossed as you stood in the open space near the kitchen. “My powers are more than enough.”

Derek paced slowly around you like he was circling prey. “While I’d love to be there every second to protect you,” he said, tone pointed, “there might come a time when I’m not.”

You rolled your eyes. “I could literally fling you through the wall with a single thought, Hale.”

“That’s cute,” Peter chimed in, still from the couch.

Derek ignored him. “You’re just learning how to use your powers. You don’t really know what you’re capable of. And that makes you vulnerable.”

You stepped forward, chin tilted high. “You’re acting like I’m helpless. Like I’m someone who needs to be babysat.”

He didn’t back away. In fact, he stepped closer. “No. I’m acting like someone who doesn’t want to watch you get hurt because you were overconfident.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but—

Bzzz bzzz.

Your phone lit up in your hand. Unknown number.

“One sec,” you muttered, walking a few paces away as Derek’s jaw flexed. He didn’t like being interrupted, and he definitely didn’t like you being interrupted.

You swiped to answer, turning your back to him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sage?”

Aiden. You straightened instinctively. “Oh. Hi, yeah.”

“I was wondering… would you want to maybe get coffee? Like, now?”

Your pulse skipped. “Now?” you repeated.

“If that’s okay.”

You hesitated. Glanced back toward Derek, who was very clearly not pretending not to listen.

“Sure,” you said, your voice a little too light. “You mean the place downtown?”

“Yeah. Ten minutes?”

“Perfect. See you there.”

You hung up slowly, face warming.

Behind you, the tension in the room had shifted dramatically. You didn’t even need supernatural senses to feel it.

“Sorry, Der,” you said, already moving toward your jacket. “I have to go.”

“Where exactly are you going?” he asked, arms folded tightly across his chest. “I thought you were staying.”

You hesitated by the door, forcing your expression into something innocent. “A friend called. Emergency. Girl stuff. But I can come back tomorrow. I promise I’ll stay the whole day.”

Derek stepped closer. Much closer. He wasn’t angry—not in the usual explosive way. But something about the way he moved made your throat dry up. He stopped just inches from you, so close you could feel the heat off his chest.

“Girls’ emergency,” he said, voice low.

“Yes,” you whispered, suddenly very aware of how small the space between you was. “Incredibly urgent.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. He stared at you like he could see straight through the lie. Your heart thudded hard in your chest, and your fingers curled slightly around the hem of your jacket.

And then—without a word—he stepped away. He didn’t look at you again. Just turned and walked toward the stairs, every muscle in his back tight.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he was already halfway up to his room.

Peter, who had watched the entire exchange like it was a soap opera, let out a delighted sigh.

“Little liar,” he said, raising his glass of water like it was champagne. “I like you even more now.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks on fire, and slammed the loft door a little harder than necessary behind you.

YOU LIAR! YOU NOSY!

The café was dimly lit and mostly empty, save for a couple of college kids in the corner and the bored barista scrolling on her phone behind the counter. Warm fairy lights framed the front windows, their golden glow washing over the small table where you sat across from Aiden.

You stirred your iced coffee absently, watching him as he talked. He was charming in a way that felt rehearsed but effective—effortless smirks, confident eye contact, just enough mystery behind his words to make it feel intentional.

“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “you don’t look like you belong in a place like Beacon Hills.”

You quirked a brow. “And what does someone like me look like?”

“Like you belong somewhere bigger. Flashier. Maybe where the coffee doesn’t taste like regret.”

You laughed softly, sipping from your straw. “It’s not that bad.”

He leaned in even closer now. “Still. You’re definitely too pretty"

You blinked at the word. “So… you’re not pretending anymore?”

He just smirked. “I think we’re past pretending.”

Your heart fluttered in a weird, confused way. You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of being flirted with by an attractive (and admittedly bold)… or the strange pit of guilt forming in your stomach.

Just as Aiden’s hand brushed against yours on the table, his head tilted slightly, eyes flicking toward your lips—about to kiss you—

The front door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“Really?” came a sharp voice.

Your head snapped up.

Derek.

In full storm mode.

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the café in seconds, stepped right between you and Aiden without so much as a glance at the table, and shoved Aiden backward with one hand against his chest.

You gasped. “Derek?!”

Aiden stumbled slightly but caught his footing, laughing as he lifted his hands. “Whoa. Easy.”

“Stay away from her,” Derek snapped, voice low and dangerous, and—

His eyes flashed red.

Aiden only smirked wider. “I wasn’t going to bite her…” he said smoothly, then added with a wink at you, “Not unless she asked to.”

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

Derek stepped forward, fists clenched, growl building in his throat.

“You can’t always protect her, Hale,” Aiden added, smug, knowing exactly what buttons he was pressing.

Derek lunged.

But before he could touch him again, you moved—instinctively, grabbing Derek’s arm from behind, pulling him back, your hands tight around his bicep.

“Derek, stop! What the hell is going on?!”

He was shaking with fury under your hands. His jaw locked, chest heaving. You’d seen him angry before—but this? This was different.

Aiden gave you a cocky little salute. “See you around, Sage.”

And with that, he sauntered out of the café, like he hadn’t just almost gotten mauled in front of the espresso machine.

You turned to Derek, still holding his arm. “What the hell was that?”

His jaw clicked. “He’s part of the alpha pack.”

You froze. “What?”

“He and his brother—they’re both part of it. They’re not just new kids. They’re dangerous. Manipulative. They’re hunting us.”

The information hit you hard—but it wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Your hand dropped from his arm slowly.

“Oh,” you said after a beat, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Well… damn. He was cute.”

Derek tensed like you’d slapped him. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing.

“You lied to me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You told me it was a girl emergency.”

Your heart sank. “Okay—yes, I lied. I’m sorry. But you wouldn’t have let me go, and I needed to get out. It wasn’t that big of a deal—”

“Of course I wouldn’t have let you go,” he snapped. “You don’t know them. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“I’m not some helpless child, Derek.”

“No,” he said, voice quieter now, angrier in a different way. “But you’re also not invincible. And this is exactly why you need to train. You’re not ready.”

You crossed your arms, stepping away from him, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Why does it bother you so much that I missed one day of training? One day, Derek. I train every day with you. Every day. And I already said I was sorry.”

He didn’t answer, not right away.

So you pressed, squinting at him. “Wait… how did you even know where I was?”

He stiffened.

“Derek.”

Still nothing.

Your eyes widened. “You heard my call?!”

He looked vaguely toward the counter, anywhere but your face.

“You were eavesdropping! You’re a nosy wolf!”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh, it is the point!”

“You lied to me.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “You know what? I did. I lied. And you know what else? You followed me. Stalked me. So maybe we’re even.”

Derek’s silence was thunderous. His hands flexed at his sides, and you realized he was trying very hard not to say something he’d regret.

You exhaled loudly, finally letting the tension fall out of your shoulders. You didn’t want to keep fighting him. You were still confused, still trying to sort out why he was so mad.

You stepped toward the door, assuming he was taking you back to Scott’s.

But he wasn’t following.

You turned around. “Aren’t we leaving?”

“We are.”

“…To Scott’s?”

“No.”

You frowned. “Then where?”

He finally looked at you again, voice dark. “The loft.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m not leaving you alone. Not when he’s behind you like that. Not for a second.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the fierce protectiveness in his voice. The heat behind it. It wasn’t just duty. It was personal.

You swallowed hard, nodded once, and followed him out.

And the whole way to the loft, you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d gotten. How tightly he’d clenched his fists. How red his eyes had glowed the second Aiden had looked at you like that.

And somewhere inside your chest, something fluttered and ached at the same time.

PLAY PRETEND

You were at your locker, halfway through switching your calculus book for your lit folder, when it hit you—the prickling weight of someone watching you.

That sensation along the back of your neck.

You glanced over your shoulder.

The hallway was full of movement—students rushing to beat the bell—but no one was looking directly at you.

Still, you felt it.

Then the bell rang.

The crowd thinned.

And before you could even close your locker—

“Hey, stranger,” came a voice.

Aiden.

You tensed immediately. Your hand froze mid-motion on your locker door. Slowly, you turned your head. He was standing right beside you, that infuriatingly charming smile plastered across his face like nothing had ever happened.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly, trying to ignore the way your heart jumped in your chest. Not because you were happy to see him. But because, despite everything, he was still painfully attractive—and dangerously persuasive.

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re not really gonna let one little fight ruin the beautiful friendship we were building, are you?”

He leaned against the locker beside yours, his voice dropping. “We had something good, didn’t we? Maybe even more…”

Your back hit the metal behind you as he invaded your space. His presence was bold—too bold—and yet he moved like it was natural, like he already belonged there.

“Stop flirting with me,” you said, voice low and defensive. It sounded more like a plea than a demand.

But he didn’t flinch. “Don’t listen to Derek,” Aiden said, stepping even closer, his tone softening as if it would make his words easier to swallow. “Whatever he told you, whatever story he spun, it’s not the full truth. I’m not the enemy here.”

You narrowed your eyes, heart thudding a little faster. “Derek didn’t tell me anything. But your red glowing eyes and smug attitude kind of gave it away.”

He smiled. “So you know now.”

“I know enough.”

“Then you should know I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing down at your lips. “I’m here because I want to see you again. Go out with me. Just once. No lies. No Derek. Just you and me.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Why was he making it hard to say no?

You weren’t thinking about accepting—not even for a second. You knew what he was. You knew it was wrong. But still… no one had ever looked at you like this before. Like they wanted you. Like they were dying to be near you.

Your voice slipped out before you could stop it.

“Of course the first hot guy to ever ask me out turns out to be a murderous lunatic.”

His smirk faltered for just a second.

“Sorry,” you added quickly, grabbing your books. “I have to go.”

You turned and bolted down the hallway toward class, heart still pounding. You didn’t even look back.

Not even when you felt him still watching.

Your lit teacher was halfway through analyzing a paragraph from Wuthering Heights when the door slammed open.

BANG.

Every head turned.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Derek.

Standing in the doorway. Handsome. Wild. Intense.

His leather jacket shifted with the rise and fall of his chest. His jaw was locked, brows furrowed, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low, commanding.

Whispers exploded around you. Someone gasped.

“Is that Derek Hale?”

“Oh my god, why is he here?”

“Are they dating?”

“Holy shit, he’s hot.”

You sank lower into your chair, mortified. “Derek, what are you doing?!”

He didn’t answer. He was already striding toward you, ignoring your teacher’s confused protests.

“Mr. Hale—sir—this is a classroom—”

Derek didn’t even blink. He reached your desk, grabbed your hand, and pulled you out of your seat in one smooth, forceful motion.

“Derek, seriously—!” you yelped, stumbling after him.

The entire class fell silent.

He dragged you into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

“Have you completely lost your mind?!” you hissed, yanking your arm free. “You can’t just kidnap me in the middle of English!”

“Did you talk to Aiden again?” he demanded, ignoring everything.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I felt it,” he said, stepping closer. “Your heartbeat. It spiked.”

“It wasn’t even a full minute. And he came up to me. I didn’t say yes to anything.”

Derek’s jaw clenched. “But you didn’t say no.”

You stared. “Wait… were you spying on me again?!”

“I’m not spying on you, I’m watching out for you.”

You stepped back, exasperated. “You’re unbelievable—”

He cut you off with a kiss.

No warning. No hesitation.

Just fire.

His lips crashed into yours, his hands finding your waist as your back slammed lightly into the lockers. You gasped against his mouth, the noise swallowed by his kiss as your fingers shot up to his neck, tangling in his hair, holding him to you like your body had been waiting for this.

The kiss was everything—hot, possessive, desperate. Like he’d been holding back for weeks and finally snapped. His body pressed against yours, heat blooming between you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your legs shaking as his fingers gripped your hips like he wasn’t planning to let go.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless.

“What the hell was that?” you whispered, lips swollen, heart pounding like thunder in your ears.

Derek’s eyes were hooded, dark. “Don’t even think about going on that date.”

You stared at him, lips parted, dazed. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

His mouth curved into a dark smile. “Nope.”

“You’re not going to stop stalking me?”

“Definitely not.”

You laughed—nervous, breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You won’t even have the strength to get out of bed,” he growled in your ear.

Your face flushed a deep red.

You didn’t argue.

The second the door closed behind you, you were in his arms again.

Every step forward was another feverish kiss. He backed you up against the nearest wall, mouth on yours, hands lifting you effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.

You whimpered into his mouth. “You’ve been dying to do this, haven’t you?”

He growled low, biting softly at your lower lip. “You have no idea.”

Your jacket fell to the floor. His shirt joined it.

And just when he reached the bottom of the stairs—

“Oh, come on,” came Peter’s voice from the couch.

You froze.

Derek didn’t.

“Remember I live here too,” Peter muttered, rolling his eyes.

Derek didn’t even glance at him. “Get out.”

“I was here first.”

“Peter.”

You were trying to look anywhere but at Peter.

“Fine. I’ll go find something better to do than listen to you two claw each other to death.”

He vanished out the door.

Derek didn’t waste a second. His hands slid back under your thighs, lifting you again, carrying you straight up the stairs to his room like it was the only place in the world that mattered.

It's why you happened to be so annoyed by him getting out of bed this morning. The blaring of his alarm on his nightstand, followed by a rustling across his mattress and finally, cold sheets that were no longer occupied by him. Even with your eyes closed and a thick veil of sleep cloaked over your senses, you knew you were dangerously close to your own wake-up time.

Still, you grab his pillow, smush your face into it, inhale, and force yourself to fall back asleep.

You're not sure how much longer you snooze before you're woken up again — this time by the sweet cooing of your boyfriend, who's gently trying to get you up.

"Baby, y'gotta get in the shower. Gotta head to work soon."

You grunt. Steve laughs.

You feel his hand brush over your hair, pushing it back against the soft jersey pillowcase.

"You told me to do this," he says. "Said — and I quote — 'Stevie, force me into the shower tomorrow morning. My hair is disgusting and I can't go in looking like a greaseball.'"

"Don't care," you mumble with your eyes still closed. "S'warm."

"I know, sweetheart. But you'll feel so much better with a shower, I promise."

You shake your head. Slowly, you peel your eyes open, a sliver of a sleepy Steve coming into your vision. You can't help as you smile softly at the sight of his messy bedhead, a worn sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants hung around his hips.

"You shower?" You ask.

"No. I showered last night."

Your lips pull down in a pout. "Shower with me."

"Is that gonna get you out of bed?"

"Maybe."

He chuckles. "I'll go start it. Don't fall back asleep while I'm gone."

Surprisingly, you don't. Maybe it's because showering with Steve is one of your favorite things. You appreciate the intimacy of it, even if it's not inherently sexual. Skin-on-skin contact, plush kisses, pumping body wash into your hand so you can wash his back and chest — it's a practice that always makes you feel closer.

When Steve returns, he leans down to extend his hands. "C'mon," he murmurs. Even with your blurry, sleep-soaked vision, you accept his help to get up, allowing him to drag you into the warm steam of his ensuite bathroom.

The warmth already feels nice. It was warm in Steve's bed, but a toasty shower always feels better, especially in the thick of the winter season. Without having to ask him, Steve pulls your sleep shirt over your torso, followed by your sweatpants. He doesn't comment on your lack of undergarments, keeping a solid hand to your hip as he gently pulls you into the stream of water.

"Good?" he asks. You nod. Perfect, you think.

Slowly, the water starts to wake you up. Whether it be from Steve's minty body wash or the soothing pelt of the shower, you don’t know, but you certainly don’t spend time questioning it.

“Want me to wash you?”

You nod, mumbling out a “yes please”, and he smiles boyishly, like he already knew what your answer would be before you said it. He takes your body wash and squeezes some into his hand before gently shuffling you under the water. He takes his time rubbing it into your skin, moving across your back and down to your chest and arms, over your legs and hips. Gratitude blooms deeply into your chest — for all of the hot and heavy moments between you and Steve, there are just as many soft and sweet ones.

He rinses you, then shampoos and conditions your hair. When you first started dating, you weren’t convinced Steve could learn your hair care routine, but you should’ve known better. He spends most of his morning styling his own hair, anyway.

When he’s finished, he gently pats your bum, making you smile cheekily. He wraps his arms around you and presses you into his chest, and you swear, you’ve never felt so whole before.

“I love you,” you murmur with your lips against the base of his throat. “Thank you.”

there was no reason for it. you had slept well–all ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in the warmth of paige’s side of the bed, wrapped in her arms from behind as she breathed deeply in an even rhythm. there wasn’t a dream that thinned your sleep, nor was the temperature of the room anything but exactly how you liked it. the fan was still running the highest setting in the corner–even though paige was not the greatest fan of sleeping with a fan, but she would do anything you asked if it meant that your stress was taken away. 

yet, there was already a nauseating pit in your stomach when your eyes slowly blinked open on that breezy saturday morning. the air was brisk from the approaching winter, yet it was warm enough that the grass was a dying green rather than a blinding white. the sun was hanging in the sky with not a single cloud to be seen, shining rays into the window through the curtains that were supposed to block those out. paige would always complain about it, but you honestly didn’t mind it. it help your circadian rhythm stay in a healthy state. she had yet to change them like she said she would when she would grumble about the early morning sun hitting her eyelids, and you had to wonder if it was for your sake that she hadn’t. 

it was funny that she hadn’t yet too, because you only slept in her room on the nights before a game to help settle your nerves. it wasn’t because of the differences in your sleep environment preferences, though. it was mostly so you had time to miss each other. being on the same athletic team with the same friends at the same school in the same dorm building meant you rarely had time apart, so finding a balance was something that you both felt was important. especially when you considered that you had to prepare for life after college, where there was the possibility that you two would be across the country–or even across the ocean–from each other for long periods of time without any break to see each other.

usually sleeping in her room did wonders for your pre-game anxiety, but this time, you just couldn’t shake it. you had the deeply unsettling feeling that something would go horribly wrong during the game, but you didn’t know what. just the feeling that something wasn’t right. 

the feeling still didn’t go away when paige stirred, either. not when her arms tightened around your waist to pull your back closer against your body, not when she sighed against the back of your neck in content, or when her fingers started tracing delicate circles into the skin of your stomach. it should’ve been comforting, but it did nothing to settle you.

“good morning, sleepy head,” she whispered sleepily into your hair, though her voice sounded like she was about to drift off yet again. 

“good morning,” you said back. though, your voice must’ve been shaky, or unsure, or something, because her hand stopped tracing circles like she could tell something was wrong. that was something about paige that you truly did understand–how well she could read you even with the simplest of sentences. sometimes it felt like she could tell that you were upset based on the way you blinked your eyes. maybe she could, you didn’t know, and you would never complain because it felt nice to finally be known. 

her hand gently pushed on your stomach to turn you onto your back as she propped herself up with her other arm to get a proper look at your face. her brows were pulled together just slightly in confusion, but her expression was otherwise neutral. her strikingly blue eyes were a pool of concern as her gaze travelled over your own features to gauge how she could solve the problem. she was good at that–solving your problems whenever she possibly could. even something as simple as filling your water bottle when it was empty. 

“you okay?” she asked softly, her hand coming up to push the stray hairs off your forehead with her thumb. 

the tender tone of her voice was something you could never grow tired of. it was specifically reserved for you, you had decided. it was something that no one else got the privilege to hear–unless they were around the two of you together, of course. however, you didn’t even notice until someone else brought it up to you. you could imagine you did something similar, so it never crossed your mind before.

“yeah,” you murmured back, “just nervous about the game tonight.”

it wasn’t entirely a lie, so you leaned up to press your lips against hers in a chaste kiss to avoid any further questioning. her lips were slightly chapped from the lack of hydration during her slumber, and the fact that she had a bad habit of picking the skin when nervous, but you didn’t mind. despite her expression clearly reading that she wasn’t entirely convinced, she seemed to pick up on the fact that you didn’t want to elaborate, and decided not to push. 

she leaned down to softly press her lips against the tip of your nose, then again on your cheek, grazing them over your skin in a line down to your neck to finally part her mouth just slightly for a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point, the another. it drove you crazy in a way that you had not previously intended with your own kiss, but you could hardly complain. how could you? surely it should be considered a felony to reject paige bueckers. 

“bet i could make you feel better,” she broke her kisses to whisper against your skin, adding a low chuckle to the end. the feeling was enough to send electric waves throughout your entire body,

her hand moved from your hair to cup your jaw, her thumb gently stroking over your cheekbone like you were something delicately sacred that she was scared to break. your hands rested against the skin of her back underneath her oversized t-shirt from some random youth tournament she was a celebrity spectator at. it was absent-minded touch, though, as your mind was becoming increasingly more flooded with the thoughts of arousal swirling around. 

“paige,” you sighed, but didn’t try to stop her. it was only half of a warning, more so hesitation due to the important day ahead of you. not that she really cared, anyway.

as expected, she just hummed in response, not doing anything to halt her movements. instead, she slid her hand down from your jaw to cup your breast through your shirt–her old hopkins shirt–and circled her thumb slowly through the fabric. there was no denying that she had absolutely zero intentions to stop based on the way her hips gently shifted to slowly roll forward to grind against your hip, not enough to find any friction, but enough for you to tell that she was growing increasingly wet in her pajama pants. 

paige couldn’t lie, she was fighting every urge in her mind and body to not sink her teeth into your neck to leave a possessive bruise on your skin, so she could make sure everyone knew that you were hers. but it wasn’t a good choice to make on the day of a game, not when your coaches cared about the appearance of you all as public figures, not just basketball students on campus. it would be a particularly detrimental punishment for her, considering the coaching staff was aware of the nature of your relationship (even if them finding out was a complete accident). 

instead, she dragged her mouth further down your neck and hiked your shirt up with one hand to expose your breasts so she could leave one there–where no one, but her, would see it. you sighed again at the feeling of her teeth sinking into your skin, tangling a hand in her blonde locks at the back of her head. a soft moan escaped her own lips when you tugged on her hair.

“lemme take care of you, baby,” she practically whined, lifting her head to look you in the eyes after leaving a successful bruise in the shape of her mouth.

she didn’t wait for an answer before she was pushing herself back up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss–one far more sensual and sloppy than the previous ones. one that showed how badly she wanted you, to make you feel good. that she would do anything to see you come right now and she wouldn’t stop thinking about it until she got what she wanted–and she knew that you would give it to her. her legs slowly moved to straddle one of your thighs so that she could grind against you, furthering her argument for why you should let her.  

“please,” she tried again with a whisper into your mouth, “you know i gotchu, just let me–”

she cut herself off to stop the movement of her hips to cup you through your pants, putting pressure but not moving her fingers to feel the pulsating heat through your pants. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was that the feeling still hadn’t gone away and you felt like you were only half-present in the moment. it should’ve been long gone by now, but it was still sitting deep and giving you the urge to expel whatever was left from dinner last night from your stomach.

still, you couldn’t help but buck your hips up into her hand at the feeling of her warm palm at your center. she smiled knowingly–because she knew she was getting what she wanted. not that she really had to wonder if she would, though, because really, you weren’t planning on telling her no in the first place, and she definitely knew that too. 

“shit,” you whined. “just fuck me, paige.”

without any hesitation, she adjusted her hand so she could circle her thumb over your clit, buying herself time while still giving you what you asked for as she slid her body down until her face was hovering over where you wanted it most–where she wanted to be the most. she placed quick, open-mouth kisses as she travelled; though, she paused to give extra attention to your nipples. her mouth wrapped around one, her tongue swirling around it, gently sucking, swirling her tongue around it again, and repeating on the other breast. then, she settled into a comfortable position on her stomach, a giddy grin tugging at her lips and a sparkle in her eyes in anticipation.

paige kissed your entrance through the fabric of your pants once, feeling the way you were pulsing against her lips and making you whimper quietly. the quick gesture gave you insight on how happy she was to be between your thighs. she then ran her tongue slowly up your center until she stopped at your clit, placing another quick peck there too. it felt good, though you clearly weren’t feeling as patient as she was, because you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pants to begin pulling them down.

“hey,” she said abruptly yet gently, putting her hands over yours, “be patient. i want to take my time.” 

you rolled your eyes at her, “i don’t make you wait like this.” 

a comically loud laugh sounded from her mouth at the untrue statement. it was your specialty to slow everything down and make her wait until she was squirming below you to get you to just give her what she wants. it was a mirror of her basketball play, the way she would slow down the game to set up a cohesive play rather than driving to the basket. you were just doing the same thing–not wanting to rush and make a mistake. you would hold her hips down and worship her body for hours, letting her reach her peak without letting her down, just to watch the way she would become desperate for it. 

it’s not like she could complain, though. she always got it, even if it was delayed. delayed, but never denied, you suppose.

“that’s funny. you’re a real jokester,” she replied with a fond smile, though she betrayed her–clearly false–sense of control by hooking her fingers in the waistband and basically ripping your pants off your legs.

she was very patient in all other aspects of life, just not this one. 

“that must be why you’re with me,” you mumbled absentmindedly. it wasn’t meant to be a snarky reply, really, mostly because you weren’t even sure if you were saying it in your head or out loud until you were halfway through your sentence. 

“among other things,” she agreed, then playfully blew cold air onto your clit. 

her mouth wrapping around the bud quickly replaced the sensation though, a loud moan vibrating through your body to prove how satisfied she was with finally being able to taste you after waiting so long. ignoring the fact that you two had fucked for hours before going to bed last night (because why wouldn’t you if you’re sleeping in the same bed? but you digress). 

her calloused hands wrapped around your thighs to settle them where she wanted them with your skin pressing against her cheeks, letting you engulf her fully in the warmth of your body. and it was to give her something to hold onto, eyelids dropping closed at the familiar taste. there was something so hot about the fact that you weren’t even fully undressed and that she was fully clothed as she ate your pussy with pure desperation to please you. or maybe to please herself. or maybe both. probably both. paige was a self-proclaimed munch(per the urban dictionary definition, anyway)and she was not embarrassed about it in the slightest.

you let your hands travel to grip her hair to give you something to hold onto, though it was more for her sake than your own. she loved when you pulled her hair, which at first, you thought was insane because she was normally so tender-headed that she would whine when you braided her hair. not only that, but you were also holding it back, away from her face, so she could concentrate without anything getting in her way. 

her tongue dragged through your folds torturously slow to savor the taste for later–for when she needed a little motivation to get through a task, and she could remind herself that she would be coming home to do this very same thing after it was completed. that was enough to get her to do anything–like anything. she knows she would commit some crimes just to taste you. it would be cruel to deprive her of it.

“feels s’ good,” you moaned quietly. despite the pleasure clouding your mind and keeping you from thinking about anything but her, you still had half a mind to keep quiet so as not to disturb her roommates. you wanted to stay in their good graces because knowing you two had sex was something entirely different than hearing it, obviously, and you didn’t want your sleepover privileges to be revoked.

she couldn’t even bring herself to think of a reply as she swirled her tongue in circles on your pulsing clit, but her hips rolled forward on their own accord to chase some friction to show her appreciation. she was too engrossed in your body, enjoying herself far too much to even think about making words right now. your body reacted harshly to the feeling, like it was the first time you had felt her mouth on you, by your abdomen clenching roughly. you knew she would think about it with a smug smirk on her face later, something about how she was the best at eating pussy, but you tried not to think about that. you let her relish in the satisfaction, sometimes. but more often than not, you challenged her on that. only because she just had to prove her point by showing you, of course.

usually she would add a finger or two by now, but she seemed to be allowing her mouth to speak for itself. instead of shoving a finger deep inside you, she thrusted her tongue instead to drink your arousal like it was her favorite beverage. maybe it secretly was, you didn’t know. as quickly as it began, she just as quickly returned her tongue to flick over your clit at a tantalizing speed. 

“jesus christ–fuck,” you moaned, but it was just slightly strangled. your back arched off the bed in surprise, fingers damn near trying to pull her face away from you by her hair from the speed. it was so good and so much all at once, and you practically had to strain yourself to keep your hips from thrusting up into her face.

“nuh-uh,” she hummed against you, shaking her head to make a point. her eyes flew open to make eye contact with you, and you noticed her pupils were blown wide from lust. “he’s not here. say my name, not his.”

paige’s claiming words sent a rush of heat to your abdomen that tipped you closer over the edge, making you buck your hips up into her face without permission. she couldn’t smile at the reaction yet, though, not when you still hadn’t done what she asked. it was a little hypocritical; she loved to do the opposite of what you asked too, but it was frustrating when you were the one doing it. it was funny when she did.

“say my name, baby,” she demanded, finally releasing her grip on one of your thighs to push two fingers inside you, but the slow pace of her fingers was a torturous contrast to the pace of her tongue–or maybe it was delicious. your mind was reeling over every word that you could possibly use, but the overstimulating mix of emotions was leaving your brain too jumbled to pick just one. usually, it would be a reward, but this felt more like it had punishment wrapped into it. her other hand pressed the tips of her fingers hard enough that you almost thought there would be bruises, but you knew better than that. “tell me who this pussy belongs to. i’m the one making you feel like this, not him.”

honestly, it was a little comedic that her jealousy was shining through in this moment, but more than that, it was downright hot how she wanted you all to herself like that. that even merely uttering someone else’s name was too much for her, because you were hers. not that it was ever a question, either. it was obvious that she had some jealous tendencies in general, but it really came to the forefront of her mind when she was fucking you.

“always been yours, paige,” you put emphasis on her name to further your point. if you were a little more coherent, you probably would’ve made some snarky comment, but you didn’t have enough brain power for that right now. “always–shit–always will be."

“that’s right,” she moaned in agreement, then curled her fingers in the way she knew you liked to hit the spot that made your toes curl. her own hips were grinding against nothing, pussy clenching around air, and thighs pressing themselves together to feel something. “keep talkin’ to me, mama. tell me how good i’m doin’. you know i love hearin’ it.”

it took a moment for your brain to catch up with the words coming from her mouth, but they finally did when she wrapped her lips around your clit to suck–not hard, but enough to make you moan loudly and your hips to grind your pussy against her face–snapping you back into reality. you bit your lip to quiet yourself for all but a second until you remembered what she said. 

“i wish you could see how good you look while you eat me out like this,” you said breathlessly. the quiet volume wasn’t even purposeful either, and it felt loud in your ears, but your brain was clearly off in some other world from the pure pleasure giving you false signals. “so fucking perfect.”

she hummed in satisfaction, working her tongue over you just like she knew how to for you to reach an orgasm–like she had been doing for almost four years now. that number felt too good to be true, honestly, and you were just happy to be here–to still be here. paige was adored by many, and it truly meant the world that her eyes stayed on you through it all. 

“fuck, just like that,” you moaned breathily. your hips tilted up and paused mid-air to chase the feeling, stilling in that position to prepare for your approaching orgasm as you hopelessly clenched around her fingers. “gonna come for you.”

but to be honest, paige didn’t need you to voice this aloud. she knew you inside and out at this point. she knew when you were going to come by even the slightest quiver in your breathing, so she had been singing a steady hum against you before you could even finish your thought, rubbing her fingertips over the spongy spot inside you.

you had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you clenched hard through the climax, trying to make up for the fact that her roommates had definitely heard the one moan that had been just a little too loud. still, even though she found it extremely hot when you let a loud moan slip, she thought it was even hotter when you tried to keep yourself quiet. something about feeling too good to contain yourself, she had said one time late at night. your eyes rolled to the back of your head so hard that it hurt, too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the pain.

“that’s it,” she cooed, pulling her mouth away from you to watch in fascination the way her fingers became coated with your orgasm as she thrusted them in and out slowly. “keep her talkin’ to me. show me how good i am to you.”

her words had silenced your moans, but you couldn’t move your hand off your mouth from the pure intensity of the orgasm. every time was better than the last, you swear. you don’t know how anyone gets bored with their partners, but you suppose that not everyone has someone like paige giving them head like it was her full-time job every night. you felt bad for those who didn’t have an eater like her–truly, you felt the deepest sympathy you possibly could.

she slowly, maybe even a little reluctantly, pulled her fingers out and rested her cheek against your thigh, allowing you to come down from possibly the best morning sex to date as she gauged your reaction. she didn’t bother wiping them off before she moved her hands to gently hold your hips and trace circles with her thumbs as you tried to catch your breath. her gaze was drowning in fondness–a look of love and mesmerization that was so deep that it was hard to believe it was directed towards you. 

her cheeks were a flushed pink, eyes glassy, lips a little shiny and tinted red as she ran her tongue over them to collect any lingering taste of you, and her hair was a mess on top of her head from where your hands were settled. it was a beautiful sight to see her like this, truly, and a feeling you couldn’t quite pin down to a single word panged in your chest when you thought about how you were the only one who got the privilege of seeing her like this. 

she was quietly breathing fast with her lips slightly parted, like she was subtly trying to catch her breath without bringing your attention to it. a small smile rose to your lips without realizing, as you ran a hand through her hair to smooth it out and make it look a little more presentable (well, make it not so obvious that you just had sex, at least).

“give me a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, “then i’ll get you.” 

she shook her head with a playful smile, then sat up to lean forward and hover over you, propping herself up by resting one hand on the pillow next to your head. shockingly, because she had literally just said no, her hand dipped into her own pants. though, it was only in there for a few seconds to circle her own orgasm-coated entrance with two fingers before she was pulling it out again. she brought her fingers to your lips, and without a second thought, you wrapped them around her fingers to suck gently. they were slick with the familiar taste of her–her arousal, her orgasm–telling you that she had come in her pants just from licking your pussy.

your head bobbed like you were an expert, dragging an exaggerated moan from the back of your throat. you kept your eyes locked on hers, though she wasn’t maintaining eye contact. she was carefully watching the way your lips stretched around them, her mouth becoming dry from the way it was dropped open.

“careful,” she mumbled in quiet fascination, swallowing thickly, “if you keep doing that, imma have to fuck you again.”

you pulled off with an obscene pop, making a scene out of licking your lips and wiping your mouth with your thumb like you had just tasted the most delicious meal in the world. “promise?” 

she sighed and rolled her eyes with an amused smile. her elbow bent to allow her to lean down and give you a soft peck on the lips, then she dropped her entire body weight onto you to bury her face in your neck. mind you, the same spot that had gotten you into this in the first place. not that you could complain, not really, but if she wanted to stop, perhaps she could have picked somewhere better. still, you wrapped your arms around her back, tightening and tensing your arms to hold her down, and tangled your ankles with hers.

“i do. lemme get a nap in first, though. gotta replenish my stamina,” she whispered gently, though sleep was already soaking through her voice. she lifted her arms to rest on the pillow around your head, boxing you in.

“girl, you’ve only been awake for, like, twenty minutes,” you giggled. 

“and i spent nineteen of those fuckin’ the shit out of my girl–it’s hard work,” she mumbled so quietly that if it wasn’t for her mouth being so close to your ear, you definitely wouldn’t have heard it. “but you feel better, right? because you don’t need to be anxious about the game tonight when you’re the best player in the nation.”

and despite finding some relief from her mouth being on you, her words quickly had the feeling in your gut returning. you weren’t sure if it would’ve come back to you if you hadn’t said anything, but there was nothing you could do about it now. especially because it was the same intensity as before. everything in you telling you to just stay in bed today, to not go anywhere, but it wasn’t one of those days where this was possible.

it was game day. 

you tried to choke down the hard lump in your throat, masking it with a nervous chuckle that you could only hope she read as amusement instead. “i thought that was you?” 

“nope,” she replied definitely. whether or not she could tell that the feeling was back and swirling in your stomach was unclear, but she didn’t mention it. her body language remained calm too, her slow heartbeat contrasting your own somewhat fast rhythm. you just hoped she was chalking it up to post-sex recovery rather than nerves.

“if we go stat line for stat line–” you attempted to argue teasingly, but she quickly cut you off.

“i’on care what that shit says,” she started, tightening her arms around your head to pull you impossibly closer to her. you felt her eyelashes tickle the skin of your jaw, her forehead just barely grazing your cheekbone. “i say you’re the best. i’m always right.”

“but objectively…”

her head snapped up to look you in the eyes with a soft glare to drive her point home and show that she wasn’t playing around. “bruh, quit using big words to prove me wrong. what i say is facts,” she said, her tone stern but still fairly quiet and gentle.

you knew by now that it was damn near impossible to convince paige of anything as long as she was so sure that she was right, so you just rolled your eyes with a small shake of your head. it wasn’t a gesture to show disagreement, but rather accepting defeat.

she let her head fall down, though this time she adjusted her body so that she could rest her head next to yours on the pillow, and tightened her arms to pull you closer again. “are you gonna cuddle me or keep talking shit about my wife?”

“i’m not even talking shit,” you replied, your eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and amusement. though, you began running your fingers up and down her back, letting your fingers curl every once and while to gently graze your short nails over her skin. you felt her body release the tension she had been holding and relax from the touch. 

you’d be lying if you said that you were shocked at hearing her call you her wife. that was her favorite bit to maintain, especially when someone on the team was making fun of you for literally anything, from stuttering a word to tripping during practice. she would always step in and jokingly be protective, like they were genuinely being rude, and you honestly found it hilarious how dedicated she was to the role. 

she didn’t reply, though. you couldn’t tell if it was because she was sleepy or if she just didn’t feel like continuing the conversation. you suppose it didn’t really matter either way, but it gave you a little hint when she exhaled deeply in content. her body shifted just slightly, clearly trying to get comfortable so she could fall back asleep for a little bit. 

“i love you,” she mumbled, delicately pressing her lips against your cheek. “you’re gonna have an amazing game, ’kay? career high points, type shit. then, imma lay down in this bed and let you do whatever you want to me–fuck me so good with the strap i won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

“i love you too, but weren’t you gonna do that anyway?” you pointed out.

she lifted her arm to playfully press her pointer finger to your lips and softly shush you, though her finger was slightly too far to the side since she wasn’t watching her movements. “that don’t matter. just take the w.” 

the lights of gampel pavilion were familiar and inviting, and should’ve been a comfort to you. you had walked into this arena so many times over the last four years. yet, today, it just felt unsettling–unnerving. like something was even more off than morning. everything in you was screaming to run home, to call in sick or fake an injury for the game, but you did your best to shrug it off your shoulders. it was probably just anxiety about the season. it was your last one after all, so you had a lot to prove. you weren't the kind to run from competition, even with the reputation that villanova had built for being dirty defenders. 

the game was what you would’ve expected–too many whistles, too much heat from everyone on the floor, geno running up and down the line like he was trying to win a race. the amount of times you had picked a teammate off the floor seemed to be double what it would be against any other team, and you weren’t going to lie that it didn’t frustrate you–even if you were winning. 

there were many times where you just wanted to elbow your defender to the ground because they were stuck against you like velcro, reaching in and not being called for it, but you managed to keep your composure. you were good at that–not letting your feelings seep through the cracks during gameplay. you were definitely alone in that, though, because several of your teammates had to be separated from someone on the opposing team in fear of it getting too heated. and not only the opposing team either, but the referees who clearly had money on villanova winning this game.

it was a little amusing too, you had to admit. you loved watching games where the players would get negative, but it wasn’t that fun when you were on the court with them. more often than not, it meant you had to involve yourself, so you it was only funny in certain occasions. this particular game was not one of them. 

not when the score had been within, at most, six points for the entire game, the lead trading back and forth consistently. 

it wasn’t very funny when paige was obviously frustrated, either. she was usually the rock of the team in the middle of the game. her natural, calm leadership was enough to keep everyone’s mind aligned where it needed to be, because she was able to slow down to make that happen. today, though, she was getting caught up in her emotions, and you were almost convinced she would have a technical by the end.

the buzzer indicating that the mid-third quarter timeout had ended rang through the arena without mercy. you swallowed in nervous anticipation, wiping your hands on your shorts to rid of any lingering moisture before the ref handed you the ball to throw it in. when the whistle blew, you only held it over your head for a second before you were hurling the ball toward sarah near the baseline. she caught it with ease and turned to pass it out to someone at the wing to create a play, but was quickly locked up by two defenders who were doing everything in their power to both keep her from shooting it and passing it to someone who could. 

unfortunately one of them was able to get their hands on the ball to slap it away toward one of her teammates, sending you all toward their end of the court. the player who caught it drove it all the way down the court, though kk managed to stop her in her tracks when they got inside the three-point line. unwilling to try for a blocking foul, the player passed it over to one of her teammates who was standing in the corner for a three, but paige managed to steal the pass before it was completed. 

without a second thought, you were sprinting down the court and leaving the girl you were defending in the dust. as expected, you heard paige call your name once you were nearing the three-point line as she passed you the ball from the other side of the court to make the drive. you barely turned your head to catch it, able to touch it with just one hand to get control over it. you could feel your defender hot on your heels, so you mentally prepared yourself for the and one opportunity, trying not to let it show on your face too much. 

your foot began to leave the wood of the court like it always did, ball in hand, ready to make a layup, before you felt the force of your defender's body against you at an unexpected speed. you could barely register the new warmth against your side before you felt yourself falling. though, you weren’t going straight down like usual, instead, you felt yourself going sideways. when you finally hit the ground behind the hoop, your foot was unsteady beneath you, and you weren’t able to stabilize yourself long enough to keep your body from falling backwards. before you knew it, the loud sound of the back of your skull colliding with an empty metal chair was ringing through the arena. 

paige watched as you made impact with the chair, her shock freezing her in place at the free throw line as the entire arena suddenly became silent. maybe there were a few gasps, but otherwise, everyone had gone quiet in anticipation. your eyes closed just a moment after the contact, and your body fell limp onto the wood. she didn’t know how long it took for the swarm of people to encircle you in panic, because all she could do was stand with her eyes wide and her jaw clenched so hard, it was a wonder how she wasn’t breaking any teeth. 

there were people yelling from every direction, but the words were muffled by the loud rushing in her ears caused by the panic. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to move. oh god, she needed to make sure you were okay, but she felt frozen in time–like everyone else was moving forward without her. the sinking feeling that something was wrong was settling deep in her own stomach just as it did to yours this morning, though hers was probably one hundred times worse now that she had seen your anxiety manifest itself.

there were a million thoughts running through her mind about how she should’ve taken you seriously as she watched the trainers stabilize your cervical spine, then checked your airway and shone a flashlight into your eyes to check for a serious brain injury. the student trainers stood around them and you to keep everyone back, telling them to go back to their benches and not to crowd you, so when the ambulance arrived, there was plenty of room for them to work.

only about a minute passed before your eyes were slowly blinking open again, though, the trainers immediately asked you questions to gauge how serious this injury was. you glanced around a few times with just your eyes, clearly disoriented, and tried to blink hard to make sense of the situation. kk approached paige with determination not to show any of the emotions she was feeling, resting a hand on her arm to push her toward the team’s bench.

“it’ll be okay, p,” she said gently. mostly because she didn’t really know what to say that would be comforting, but also didn’t say much else because she didn’t know that it would be okay–she couldn’t promise that. and she knew empty promises were not helpful for paige in such a traumatizing situation like this one.

paige didn’t hear her, though, so she didn’t budge. well she did, but not really, not enough for her brain to register what the words meant. all she heard was that kk was speaking to her in an eerily calm tone for the situation. the blood rushing through her ears was too loud to even pretend she was understanding. her eyes were trained on you, watching as you stared at the trainer like they had three heads while they spoke to you.

“paige,” kk tried again, more stern this time. though, her voice was still subtly unstable, trying to mask it for the sake of the team, because being panicked wouldn’t help anyone right now. 

paige’s body felt like it was burning past 1000 degrees fahrenheit–like the sun was directly burning her skin with no ozone layer to protect it from the harsh rays. the sound of your bone making contact with the metal was on a torturously continuous loop in her mind. it made her stomach drop so far she wasn’t even sure it was in her body anymore, really. too busy trying to get away from the rising heat.

still, she followed the direction of the force being administered by kk’s hand, though she wasn’t even entirely sure her feet were actually moving. too stunned, too focused on what she had just witnessed, to even care about actually controlling her limbs.

she had arrived at their bench so quickly it felt like she had teleported, but she couldn’t even think about that either as her butt made contact with the white cushions. her eyes were staring at the floor, unfocused, so she didn’t know that they looked wild to anyone else witnessing this. the familiar sensation of drool was collecting in the back of her throat, spilling into her mouth, and coating her teeth to protect themselves.

“i’m gonna be sick,” she mumbled to no one in particular. her voice was so quiet it was honestly shocking that anyone even heard her, but she supposed that the silence from shock washing over the entire arena helped her there.