#laniwrites

WHAT KIND OF person dumps their significant other on valentine's day? who has the audacity, the nerve to break someone's heart on the one day of the year purely dedicated to love?

the answer to those questions is you, shockingly.

the day seemed doomed from the beginning. you had woken up to a text from derek (the name of your now ex-boyfriend) detailing his apologies for not being able to spend the morning with you due to an early morning class. 

following the explanation and plethora of heart emojis was a screenshot of a receipt from some food delivery. you were confused at first until a third text came through. "check your front door :)" it said. 

curious though skeptical, you shrugged on a random throw blanket before making your way to your apartment's entrance. pulling open the door, there's no one there but there is a small brown bag resting on the carpeted hallway. as soon as you pick up the package, a fourth (and final, but you didn't know it then) text buzzed through.

"hope i got your order right, i love you and i'll see you at lunch ❤️"

you can't help but smile at the message, your hopeless romantic roots tugging at your heart strings. upon opening the bag, however, the smile fades quickly.

he did, in fact, not get your order right. there was a medium sized iced drink, but it was a coffee instead of your usual matcha latte. and the pastry accompanying it was a croissant. which would have been fine...except for the fact that it was a chocolate croissant. you never liked chocolate.

despite derek's mistakes, you consumed the order nonetheless, not wanting to be ungrateful. it was the thought that counts anyway...right?

before you began to spiral into insanity over little details (such as messing up your starbucks order), you decided to distract yourself by calling your best friend. clicking the contact with no hesitation, it only takes two rings for the blonde to pick up.

meanwhile, in werth training center, the aforementioned best friend had just flopped down onto the wooden floors, drained from the scrimmage their coach had just made them do. 

he explained that their shortened practice was their valentine's day gift from him which, compared to their usual practices, made it seem like he was possessed by an angel. maybe a pink valentine-themed one.

"paige," azzi calls out to her from the row of seats on the sideline, "y/n," she says simply before gently throwing the purple-encased phone to the sweaty girl. she catches it effortlessly, answering the call in a heartbeat. 

"what's up, y/n?" she opens with a smile, sitting up and settling into a criss-crossed position.

"hi, p, happy valentine's day," you reply, a smile of your own growing on your face at the sound of her voice. 

"happy valentine's," paige greets, ignoring the spark in her chest.

"are you at practice?" you ask as you discard the unfinished coffee and bread.

"yeah but we got let out early," she explains, now standing up and walking to the locker rooms, "i'm bouta shower and head back to the dorms."

"that's good," you nod, "you got any plans for today?"

"nah, i'm prolly just gonna chill in my room. watch some grey's, order wings maybe. ou that actually sounds good.."

you laugh lightly at her trailing thought, "you don't have a date or anything? i'm sure there are girls that would pay thousands."

"well, they can keep their money. spend it on getting a hobby or something," she shrugs, knowing that she could, in fact, have any girl wrapped around her finger. except for the one she actually wanted.

"please," you scoff, "don't act like you don't love their attention."

"i don't really care about...their attention," she mumbles, gathering herself a change of clothes.

"hm?" you hum, not hearing her clearly.

"nothin'," she dismisses, "what about you? is derek with you right now?"

"nope," you sigh, "he's at class."

"willingly? at eight in the morning?"

"mandatory attendance, apparently."

"that's bullshit," she scoffs, slightly angered by his lack of presence.

"it's fine, p," you insist, half-lying, "we're going out for lunch anyways so…”

"still. want me to drop by, get you some breakfast?" she offers.

"thanks, but derek doordashed me some starbucks."

"alright..." she says skeptically, as if she doesn't believe that he would care enough to do so, "he get your order right?"

"um...almost."

"wasn't even close, was he?" paige laughs.

"iced coffee and a chocolate croissant,” you breathe out.

"wow," she's almost speechless at how far off he was. almost.

"don't."

"i didn't say anything!"

"you were about to-"

"i mean, doesn't he know you don't like coffee? or chocolate?" she laughs again, shaking her head.

"it's fine-"

"i'ma stop by in a bit, alright?" she interrupts.

"what?" you ask, "i said you don’t have to.”

"you got, what?" she checks the time on her apple watch, "'bout 3 hours 'til you get ready to meet up with derek?"

"something like that, yeah."

"then i'll keep you company," she reasons, "plus you got a better tv than me."

"of course," you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

"i'ma freshen up real quick and head over, yeah?"

"yeah, okay," you give in, though your heart rate quickened slightly.

"alright, i'll see you soon."

"bye, p," you end, hanging up and going to take a shower of your own.

on the other side of the line, paige was queueing up some music in front of her locker when azzi decided to sneak up on her. 

“since when do you listen to gracie abrams and taylor swift?”

“yo, chill! damn near gave me a heart attack,” she jumps, hand on her chest in shock. azzi simply deadpans at the girl, eyebrow raised waiting for her to answer, “what? i like their songs.”

“‘in between’? ‘need’?” she reads off of the girl’s phone, “paige, these songs aren’t even officially released.”

“okay…and?”

“and…i remember someone just gushing about these songs last night,” she continues with an suggestive tone.

“oh yeah? who?” paige plays dumb.

“paige.”

“i don’t know what you’re insinuating here but-“

“spell ‘insinuating.’” the brunette dares.

“okay, azzi, where is this going?” she sighs, dropping her shoulders exasperatedly. she feels annoyance rising in her. not at her friend, specifically, but at the thought of having the same conversation they’ve had too many times before.

“tell me you’re not still into y/n.”

“the fuck? of course i’m not,” she defends instantly, but from the raise of her teammates eyebrows, she knows it wasn’t anywhere near convincing, “i promise i’m over her.”

“is that why it only takes you one second, maybe two, to answer her calls and texts? or why your face, swear to god, lights up when you see her or even just talk about her?” azzi challenges, not believing paige’s words.

“i don’t do that-“

azzi laughs, “thank god you can hoop ‘cause you’re a shit liar.”

her frustration is quick to rise, “bro, what do you want me to do? i can’t just shut it off like it was never there, alright? i tried distancing myself from her; it didn’t work. i tried talking to that one cheerleader; it didn’t work. i tried being friends with derek; guess what? it didn’t work. so now what?” paige flops onto the bench in her locker, head low as she rests her elbows on her knees.

azzi sees the defeated look on her face. she’s breathless and tired but not from the drills they just did in practice. 

“paige…” she starts, but she can’t find the words to comfort the blonde. there’s a beat of silence, a sense of helplessness lingering in the air as if it was radiating off of paige.

“you know he can’t even get her fucking breakfast order right?” she speaks up a moment later, “shit, i wouldn’t even be surprised if he gives her daisies when they go out later.”

“what’s wrong with daisies?” azzi asks, confused.

“she’s allergic,” she answers simply. 

another beat of silence. this time filled with azzi’s understanding - revelation, if you will. she knows that paige has been your best friend since elementary school. but now she knows that, to paige, you were so much more than just her best friend. paige knew you like she knew the lines painted across a basketball court. she understood you like she understood the rules of the game she was practically born to play. 

but there was always one thing she never understood about you: why did you waste your time on people who didn’t care like she did? or in simpler terms, why didn’t you ever notice her?

“paige,” the brunette says carefully, “you’re gonna destroy yourself and y/n if you keep this up. i know it’s hard to hear but you have to get over her.”

“i don’t know how,” paige whispers, as if the words themselves are physically hurting her.

“then make her see you,” azzi offers, “make her realize that you’re the one for her.”

“but she’s with derek, and-“

“i have a feeling derek won’t be around long,” she chuckles, “but you? i know you’ll always be there for her. she knows it, too. she just needs a little help understanding why.”

“maybe,” she sighs, “i’ll figure it out. thanks, az.”

“you’re welcome. just remember - oh what’s that one saying? shit or get off the pot? yeah, that.”

“disgusting,” paige breaks out into laughter, shaking her head and standing up from her spot on the bench.

“that’s what you are. now go shower ‘cause you stink.”

“hey!” she yells, throwing a random towel at her teammates head as she runs away with a yelp.

turning back to her locker, she picks up her phone to type out a text.

peely 🍌: hey, i can’t make it to yours, coach wants to go over some film for a while - sorry :(

y/n: no worries! tell geno i said pls have mercy

peely 🍌: u got it

peely 🍌: doordashed u sum matcha btw, should be there in a bit

y/n: aw thanks p u didnt have to

peely 🍌: dw abt it, have fun on ur date :)

with the send of the final text, paige sighs, throwing her phone into her bag and heading to the showers muttering, “why do i do this to myself?”

——

you had been waiting at the restaurant for almost an hour. that makes three awkward smiles as you tell the waitress you're just waiting for someone, two refills of an ice cold water you're only drinking to calm your nerves, and one tauntingly empty chair across from you.

you remained, of course, because you were so sure that he would come. you made up excuses for him in your head: flat tire, broken traffic light, alarm malfunction - something, anything that justified the embarrassment you were feeling right now.

your only source of enjoyment was the notes of "holy ground" by taylor swift playing softly from the speakers in the room. you found peace in the familiar song, occasionally humming along to the lyrics you know by heart.

the melody allows you to get lost in your thoughts, acting as a distraction from the situation at hand. and somehow, your mind leads you to your best friend. you think of her soft blonde hair, the way she smiles - really smiles, and your favorite memories with her.

MINNESOTA, 2020

"i dunno, i don't really like taylor swift."

"what?" you exclaim, lifting your head from paige's lap, "wow, i have failed you."

"nah, i just don't really listen to her. she's too radio for me," paige explains.

"what does that even mean?" you laugh, laying back down and resting your head on paige's legs.

"like...i feel like she makes her songs specifically for the radio. the ones i hear aren't that special."

“yeah, the ones you've heard, maybe. you just need to be introduced to the best ones," you say before getting up to fetch your earbuds from your backpack and handing them to paige. after plugging them into your phone, you hand one of the buds to paige and keep the other for yourself.

the girl beside you settles back against her headboard, placing the gaming controller she had just been using onto her nightstand. instinctively, you lean your head on her shoulder, scrolling through your playlists to find a suitable song.

after a while, you settle on “holy ground” from your playlist titled, “a romcom kind of love.” the iconic drum beat echoes in your ear, the quick lyrics sending chills across your skin. about halfway through, paige starts getting into it, even tapping on your leg lightly to the flow of the words. when the song comes to a close, she leaves her hand resting on your thigh, innocently brushing her fingers on your skin in random shapes.

“so? what did you think?” you ask, peering up at her.

“it’s good,” she states plainly, “still very radio-y, though.”

“you’re impossible,” you roll your eyes, retaking your place against her shoulder and scrolling to find another song.

this time you choose a newer production, one that technically wasn’t an official song. you had to relocate to a different app completely just to listen to it.

“bro, why are we on youtube?” paige laughs, knowing full well that you pay for spotify premium.

“it’s an unreleased song, it’s not on any streaming platforms,” you explain, “which is stupid because this is top five, for sure.”

“if it’s that good, then why didn’t she release it?”

“because she wants to torture us? i don’t know, you should ask her.”

with that, she laughs again, the sound accidentally becoming the perfect introduction for the song. the light strums of the guitar and breathy vocals flow through the wired device, immediately bringing you peace. when you reach the chorus, you can’t help but hum along to the lines, the catchiness of the words pulling you into a trance. you allow yourself to fully relax against paige, closing your eyes in serenity. as the song closes, you find it hard to open your eyes back up, the strength of slumber holding you back from moving.

“wow,” paige breathes, “you were right. that was actually really good.”

she tilts her head down at you, but is met with your silent, sleeping figure. your lips were slightly parted, a light flush on your cheeks from the comforting warmth in the girl’s bedroom. 

smiling softly, paige brushes a loose hair out of your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek affectionately. she pulls the earbuds out of your ear and her’s and takes your phone from your open hand, making sure to text your parents that you would be sleeping over and would be back first thing tomorrow. 

before plugging it in to charge and shutting it off, paige takes a mental note of the song that you had played. she locates her own phone and navigates over to spotify, creating a playlist and sending an invite for you to join as a collaborator. the first two songs she added were “holy ground” and a pirated version of “need” that took way too long to find.

finally, she gently lays you down onto her bed, making sure you were propped up against the pillows and snug under the blanket. she gets herself situated next to you, careful to leave a space out of respect for your own comfort. however, as soon as she scooted under the covers, you curled up next to her, nuzzling your face in her neck and draping an arm loosely over her stomach.

the blonde freezes, eyes wide at the feeling of your body so close to her’s. color rushes to her cheeks immediately. she can’t help but stare at you - the peaceful look on your face, the way you found comfort in close proximity rather than distance.

she has the urge to pull you closer, to hug you to her chest and tell you how much you meant to her. she restrains herself, instead settling for sleep with hopes that things will be different in her dreams. 

you were oblivious to all of this, and unfortunately for the both of you, it would remain that way for years to come.

PRESENT 

you smile sadly at the memory, a wave of nostalgia overwhelming you. you missed the moments when it was just the two of you against the world. sure, you were still each other’s ride or die, maybe now more than ever, but things have definitely shifted. paige is laser-focused on basketball, something not to be disrupted. and you were working your way up to fulfilling your dream career, making new friends (and other…connections) every day.

you knew that paige would always be your best friend and that you would always be her’s, but you were both growing. you were becoming the people you spent hours under the minnesota stars talking about, the women you aspired to be since the random thoughts became real dreams.

but there was something else. it wasn’t a feeling of loss or sadness. it wasn’t a feeling of negativity at all. it was more of a lingering idea, one that was locked away but trying to escape. it was the same feeling that coursed through you whenever you were with paige - laughing, talking, smiling, everything.

for you, it was a rare, unexplainable feeling. but to paige, she knew exactly what it was. she felt it in herself everytime you were around; even sometimes when you weren’t but simply lingering in her mind. the feeling was the root of a lot of her inner conflicts. what once was a fleeting wish had become an recurring plot point. 

all of this was unbeknownst to you, and maybe it would remain that way, but you often found yourself chasing that feeling, whatever you thought it was. you searched for it in guys like derek, wondering if, one day, someone would be able to ignite it. you tried your luck with clueless boys, god bless their hearts, but you were never successful.

you began to think. maybe it was-

“y/n!” you hear, snapping you back to reality, “i’m so sorry, i got caught up with alissa and our professor held us back after class it was-“ derek sighs, “i’m sorry.”

you look up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of sign. this has happened before - him showing up late because he “lost track of time” when he was hanging out with alissa. you’re not sure why you let it slide then or why you’re somewhat accepting the excuse now.

“um, it’s fine,” you say unsure, as if you were trying to convince yourself instead of him.

he places a wet kiss on your forehead, the feeling suddenly making you nauseous, “i’m so sorry, bubba,” you had to stop yourself from visibly grimacing at the nickname. you hated it; it was so childish, so odd, “here, happy valentine’s day.”

he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, and you instantly regret not breaking up with him sooner.

“daisies?”

“yeah, i had no idea what to get you so i just asked alissa, i hope they’re okay,” he offers with a nervous rub at the back of his neck.

“okay, um, you know what? i’m sorry, i have to go,” you stand abruptly, officially sick (not just because you felt your throat getting itchy from the flowers’ pollen).

“woah, wait what?” he asks, confused, “what’s wrong?”

“derek-” you laugh in disbelief with a shake of your head, “this isn’t working, alright? i honestly don’t think it ever was.”

“what do you mean? why?” he stutters.

“you just aren’t for me and i’m not for you. i mean, you get my very simple starbucks order completely wrong, you leave me stranded here for an hour because you were with another girl, and you don’t even care enough to get to know me.”

“i know you-“

“i’m allergic to daisies, derek. i have been since i was a kid.”

he’s speechless. the whole scene is laughable.

“y/n-“

“no, it’s okay. really,” you dismiss, “it’s better this way honestly.”

he’s silent once again, not knowing what to say to fix this. another reason for you to leave.

“i really did like you,” is what he decides on. 

you offer a small, pitiful smile, “happy valentine’s day, derek.”

and then you’re gone - out the door with tears stinging your eyes. not because you’re mourning the loss of him or because your allergies were kicking in, but because you were tired of having to search the ends of the earth to find someone who simply...cared. 

you pull your phone out of your back pocket to call an uber when you see a new text from azzi.

fudd around 🫡: how’s the date going?

y/n: waited for an hour just to get daisies shoved in my face 😀

on azzi’s side, she wears a knowing smile. paige was right. of course she was.

fudd around 🫡: is he dumb

y/n: definitely

y/n: broke up w him tho!! 😜

fudd around 🫡: omg

fudd around 🫡: are u okay? want me to pick you up?

y/n: im good im in an uber rn heading back to my apt but ty

fudd around 🫡: wanna have a girls night? im getting tired of watching aubrey practicing tiktok dances

y/n: sorry az i think im just gonna doordash sum crumbl and take a nap

fudd around 🫡: no worries, lmk if you need anything! love u bby 🫂

y/n: love u too ill see yall at the game on sunday 🫶

you sigh, though it’s interrupted by a nasty cough. you groan mentally, already hating being sick. you open the crumbl app to place an order but your plan is foiled when a notification pops up.

sorry, this location has closed early due to the holidays!

as if your day couldn’t get any worse.

meanwhile, azzi was frantically throwing on a hoodie and slipping on a pair of uggs to rush over to paige’s dorm. she almost bangs the door down upon arrival.

“bro, hello? are you insane?” the blonde asks as she opens the door.

“they broke up,” she says simply.

“who?”

azzi was wondering if paige got a concussion at practice, “are you slow? who do you think?”

and, of course, it still takes a second for the realization to come, “oh shit,” paige says finally.

“what’re you gonna do?” the brunette asks.

“um, i don’t know, do you want me to throw a party?” she says sarcastically, though she's genuinely lost.

“holy shit, paige,” she deadpans.

“what??”

“go talk to her! get her flowers, comfort her, tell her how you feel!”

paige shakes her head immediately, “no, no. i can’t, you know i can’t.”

“why not? it’s now or never, p.”

“you so dramatic.”

“i’m trying to help you! now are you gonna man up or do you need me to do all the work for you?”

“okay, i got it, damn,” the blonde muttered with a scowl.

“good,” azzi noted, beginning to walk away but not before turning to paige on last time, “don’t mess this up.”

———

you were all cuddled up in your bed - a fuzzy blanket wrapped snugly around your figure, surrounded by different stuffed animals you had collected throughout your life.

you were in the middle of a romcom marathon - "10 things i hate about you," "27 dresses," "13 going on 30," you were always attracted to movies that had numbers in the title for some reason. 

currently, you were watching andie anderson and ben barry sing a drunken version of "you're so vain" as they publicly argue about the lies their relationship was built on. pure cinema.

a small smile was growing on your face as you the scene progressed, knowing an indirect love confession was on the way. however, your peace was interrupted when you heard the ring of your doorbell. 

with furrowed eyebrows, you check your phone. no texts or calls and your fast food order was still about twenty minutes away. you peer out your window, the sun had already started to set and you assumed everyone was settled in their dorms or - ugh - coupled up with their partners elsewhere.

sighing, you roll out of bed, put on your bunny slippers, and head for the front door of your apartment. without checking the peephole, you swing the door open, expecting a delivery of some sort that you needed to sign off on.

you were wrong.

"hey."

it's paige, holding a bouquet of different colored tulips in one hand and a small gift bag in the other.

"paige? what are you doing here?"

"um," she starts nervously, "i heard about the breakup and i just wanted to come over. y'know make sure you're good and shit, so..."

you grin at her shyness, this side of paige being one that only came out around you. 

"azzi?" you ask, referring to how she found out.

"azzi."

you laugh lightly, "thank you for all this," you nod, "you really didn't have to."

"i wanted to," paige shrugs, her cheeks lightly flushed with pink.

"you wanna come in?" you ask as you step aside to let her into your apartment.

"thanks," she says, as if she hasn't been here hundreds of times before. she knows it's different this time, though. "these are for you, by the way."

she hands you the bag and flowers with her perfect smile - a sight that any girl would go to war for.

"thanks, p," you beamed, reaching inside the paper bag to find a small stuffed bunny and boxed cookie. 

you inhaled the sweet scent of the tulips and felt the softness of the miniature bunny (you could've sworn it smelled a little bit like paige's perfume). you were particularly excited about the pink box containing the sweet treat you had been craving all day.

"how did you even get this? i thought they closed early today," you question.

"there was one open on the other side of town so i just picked it up there," she expressed as if it were no big deal.

"bro," you deadpan, "the other side of town? you drove all the way over there for one cookie?"

"it's nothin', promise," she dismisses, "and you're actually sharing that with me so it's a win-win."

"right," you nod as if that was an obvious fact.

"and the tulips - i figured derek prob'ly got you some stupid shit so i got your favorites."

god, she really did know you so well.

all you have to do is nod slowly for her to understand.

"daisies?"

"daisies," you confirm.

you stare at each other for a second then simultaneously break out into laughter. 

"hey, at least he's gone now," she points out.

"yeah, thank god," you giggled.

"and you've always got me," she added.

"always," you agree before setting down the gifts and pulling the blonde into a tight hug.

she instantly relaxes against you, instinctively wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her cheek on your shoulder. you threw your arms around her neck and slightly lifted yourself on your tip-toes due to the height difference.

"thank you, paige," you mumble into her hair with the utmost sincerity.

"always, y/n," she reaffirmed in a soft whisper, "always."

still wrapped in each other's arms, paige recognizes the voices echoing from your bedroom.

"is that..." she lifts her head to eye you suspiciously.

"um...maybe..."

"you gotta start it over," she says, fully pulling out of the hug to shuffle over to your room.

"but it's already almost done!"

"don't care, wanna watch," she chimed, already flopping onto your mattress.

you shake your head with a laugh, watching her search for your remote in the mountain of throw pillows, stuffed toys, and blankets. 

you first move to place the tulips in a vase, but not before snapping a picture of its original arrangement. following that, you pick up the stuffed bunny and hold it above your bunny slippers - they're practically identical - and take a picture of that as well.

"dude, where the hell is your remote?" paige huffs, "you got a whole ecosystem over here, it's like mining for gold."

chuckling, you bring yourself and the bunny over to your room, grabbing the remote that rested on your bedside table.

"oh."

"aren't you supposed to have full court vision or something? eyes in the back of your head?" you tease, settling next to her.

"i do. trust," she retorted with a playful glare.

"mhm..." you hum skeptically.

"man, whatever," she scoffs, but you could tell she wasn't angry from the way she almost immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

with an airy laugh, you snuggle next to her, wrapping your arms around her torso and leaning your head on her chest, rewinding the movie to the very beginning.

------

"top ten movie of all time, for sure," paige sighs happily as the end credits roll out accompanied by a shot of the new york city skyline.

"only top ten? i'd argue top five."

"i'd put it at six," she says, "but the number five pick is reserved for 'love and basketball.'"

"what's that?"

"are you serious?" she deadpans, head snapping to look down at you. 

"uh yeah? i've never heard of it," you shrug, innocently scrolling through you instagram feed.

"oh i have failed you," she says in disbelief, "you and the basketball community."

you freeze, getting a sense of déjà vu. you're immediately taken back to your senior year of high school, when you had said the exact same thing upon finding out about paige's lack of exposure to your favorite music artist. full circle, truly.

"hellooo?" the blonde taunts, waving a hand in front of your face, "you good?"

"yeah, sorry - zoned out," you explain, "what'd you say?"

"can you hand me the remote so i can put it on?" she repeats softly.

wordlessly, you give her the device, but your mind is still caught up in another wave of nostalgia. it was the second time today that you were overwhelmed by familiarity, specifically regarding your best friend.

it got you thinking...was she really your best friend? that was always what you labeled your bond with the girl: best friends. since childhood.

but maybe there was more to it. you always believed that romantic relationships should be built on unspoken, irreplaceable understandings - the kind that had to be crafted over time, as opposed to sparked or forced overnight. you hated how you spent your early twenties in different situationships and talking stages like you were still in high school. you hated it, yes, but you now know that all of it was necessary for your better understanding, your growth.

you cared for the little things: things that mattered most but didn't warrant attention, things that became inside jokes or symbols of your relationship, things that would be remembered and saved for wedding vows. you cared for someone that knew you inside and out, backwards and forwards, upside down and rightside up.

then it hits you.

all the knowing glances, natural habits, quiet moments, embraced routines - all the things you had spent your whole life searching for - it was undeniably paige.

“hey, are you okay?” her soft voice coaxes you back to reality.

your focus should be on the movie playing on your tv, but instead it was on the light absentminded brush of paige’s fingers against your arm. it’s not enough. it’s too much.

you sit up suddenly, tucking away a loose piece of hair that had fallen in your face. you stared into the distance, your heart rate quickening the way it had around paige so many times before. now you know what that feeling is. that one feeling that you could never quite put your finger on. 

fuck.

“y/n,” you hear her voice again, this time more worried, “what’s wrong?” you hear her shuffle for the remote to pause the movie.

you struggle to find words, tears stinging your eyes. you cover your face in embarrassment, not wanting her to see your sudden breakdown.

“y/n, talk to me,” she persists. you feel her hand at the small of your back in an attempt to comfort you. when you still don’t respond, she takes your hands away from your face and into her own, a silent statement saying that she’s listening. that she cares.

finally, you speak at a low volume, “i’m scared, paige.”

“scared? of what?” she asks, immensely confused.

you were scared of what this meant for you, your friendship with the girl, everything.

in an almost inaudible whisper, “i think i’m in love with you.”

silence. no one moves. no one breathes.

“what?” her voice cracks.

“i think i’m-“ you begin to repeat, moreso for yourself than her.

“no, i heard you,” she interrupts, “but what do you mean?”

you stand up abruptly, paige following you into your living room. you’re shaking, head light as you’re overwhelmed by the realization.

“y/n, please,” she pleads, voice cracking once again. why?

“paige, i-“ you take a breath, “i’m sorry…”

“sorry? why are you sorry?”

“i don’t know what this is gonna do to our friendship or to me or you - i don’t know what to do,” you ramble as a single tear rolls onto your cheek.

“hold on for a sec,” paige interjects, stopping your pacing as she steps in front of you, hands on your shoulders steadying you, her chest heaving like it’s hard for her to breathe, “you love me?”

you sigh, a frown on your face, “yeah…i do.”

she exhales as if she had been holding her breath for ages. her hands have now moved up to the nape of your neck, ghosting over your skin carefully, “say it.”

“what?”

“say it,” she repeats, searching your eyes. her breaths are heavy - like she’s running out of oxygen and your words fill her lungs.

somehow, the two of you went from being multiple feet apart to a mere few inches apart. she’s looking down at you; you feel her eyes scan your face - eyes, lips, back to your eyes.

you hesitate, gazing into her daring blue eyes.

and then.

“i love you.”

the distance is closed. gone as if it was never there. 

the feeling of her lips on yours feels like an apology from the universe for keeping you apart for so long. the kiss is slow, delicate. it shocked you at first, your lips unmoving, but you settle into the softness of it. 

her hands move to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer while you wrap your arms around her neck. it’s familiar, mimicking the hug you two shared just a few hours earlier. you can almost feel the strong beat of her heart against your chest, and you’re sure she can feel yours. it was the feeling of two hearts falling in love.

when you pull apart after what felt like hours, your eyes remain closed, as if this is all a dream that you were scared to wake up from. you still feel paige's lips ghosting over yours. your eyes open when she speaks up.

“i’ve waited years, y/n,” she whispers, “years.”

“really?” a stupid question, honestly, but you didn’t know what else to say.

“you think i would lie about that?” she laughs, the sound infectious.

the girl pulls you into a hug, your head buried in her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“i love you,” she says with a sweet kiss to your head.

you let out a sigh of relief. it feels like a weight lifted off of your shoulder, the pit in your stomach gone. she made it all go away.

there’s still levels of uncertainty, questions to be answered, things to be established. for a moment - and only for a moment - you thought about the complications. but when you gaze up at the blonde and she smiles at you like you're her world, none of that mattered. 

the way she held you, cared for you, looked at you, kissed you - you wanted it more than everything in between.

THE BUZZER BLARED in your ears. the sound of defeat. it echoed in your head as you wiped the sweat off of your forehead. you sped through the handshake line, knowing that if you spent another second on that court, you would lose your shit on someone.

you trudged into the locker room, sighing as you threw yourself onto your chair. your teammates slowly piled in after you. everyone was tense, silent, frustrated.

it was a mix of bad calls, miscommunication, and lack of effort. tonight, notre dame just happened to be the better team. but what you hated was that they came into your house and played like they owned it. you hated how you let them.

the coach came in and gave the standard talk that came with losing to a big competitor: mistakes were made, shots were missed, plays were poorly called, all that bullshit.

you didn't wanna hear any of it. 

so you kept your head down and tried to calm down. but there was a voice in the back of your head that was telling you the loss was on you. 

when your teammates left one by one, you were the last person in the locker room, head still hanging low, shoulders tense as you slumped in your chair. 

well, you were the second to last one.

"you ready to head out?" you hear your girlfriend ask.

her backpack was slung over one shoulder as she walked into the room, curls pulled into a ponytail following her post-game shower.

"you go ahead," you mutter, gaze locked onto the phone in your lap that played the entire game mistake by mistake.

"i'm your ride, bruh, how're you gonna get back to the dorms?" she asks.

"i'll walk," you shrug, "i need the fresh air anyway."

"nah, you're not walking by yourself in the middle of the night."

"ju, it's literally only eight o'clock."

"i don't care, i'm dropping you off, let's go," she insists, pulling you from your seat.

you stand, but look her dead in the eyes, "no, you're not. i'm walking."

"man, what's your problem?" she snaps suddenly, "is it the loss?"

"no shit," you deadpan.

"we all got our asses kicked, y/n," she says, voice sharp, "this ain't on you."

"isn't it?" you push, "i was fucking up all game, couldn't get out of my head, told coach to keep me on the floor even though i knew i shouldn't have been."

"so? we all make mistakes, that's why we're here," juju's voice is softer now despite your charged words.

"not me," you say, "i'm here to win."

"the season just started, y/n, you gotta chill and trust the process."

"whatever," you scoff, turning away from her, "you can go now. i'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"fuck that, i'm still giving you a ride back," juju laughs humorlessly.

"just leave me alone, damn!" you snap suddenly.

juju stares at your back, surprised by your outburst. but she can't disguise her sudden attraction. she shouldn't find your anger hot, but she can't help it.

"nah," she shakes her head, dropping her bag and walking over to you.

"ju, drop it," you insist, still not turning to look her in the eye.

"i could," she starts, coming up behind you and placing her hands on your waist, "but you're so sexy when you're all pissed off like this."

you freeze when you feel her lips ghost your neck with her words.

"seriously, juju?"

"dead serious."

"i'm not in the mood right now-"

"c'mon, baby, lemme get you right," she whispers in your ear as she unzips your red trojan jacket, exposing your black sports bra, "you needa relax."

"no, i need to watch film-"

"save that for tomorrow," she cuts you off, kissing the spot just below your ear, "i'm sorry for how the team played tonight, i know how much you wanted to get that win. you gonna lemme apologize to you?"

all it takes is one wordless nod from you for her to stop holding back. 

"sit down, mama," she says, pushing you onto your chair.

she kisses you deeply, towering over you as you feel all your anger fall away like it was never there. your lips move against hers eagerly, chasing the taste of her.

the brunette smirks into the kiss before looking into your eyes, silently asking if you were okay.

"please," you whisper.

"i gotchu, ma," she mutters as she sinks to her knees.

slowly, she pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, groaning at the sight of your arousal. you whimper softly at the cold air.

"i know, i know," she says, kissing your thighs softly before finally placing her mouth on you.

"oh fuck," you sigh at the feeling of her tongue lapping you up.

"damn, you taste so good," she mumbles, pushing herself further into your cunt, "i always gotta get you mad to get you this wet or what?"

"ju, please- shit!" you gasp as she suddenly inserts one of her fingers, pushing it deep inside you as you squirm in the chair.

"tight as fuck for me, huh?" she says, tongue still licking through your folds as her finger moves quickly in and out of your hole.

"fuck, baby, you're gonna make me cum," you whine, moans falling from your lips nonstop as you grind against her.

"yeah? you gonna give it to me?" she eggs you on, adding a second finger, "i'ma get you there, trust."

you groan as her fingers brush against the sensitive walls of your cunt, pounding against that special spot. you yelp, immediately covering your mouth to mask the sound.

"loud as hell," juju mutters under her breath, "gonna get us caught. that what you want?"

"no- oh my god-" your protest is cut off by another moan as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, "baby, i'm cumming- fuck-"

"there you go," juju coaxes, fingers still buried in your pussy as she lifts her head, watching you come undone. your head is thrown back, hair falling behind you in messy waves. your chest heaves, nipples hard beneath your thin sports bra. the brunette would be lying if she said she wasn't soaked just from getting you off.

she eases her fingers out but lowers her head once again, drinking you up and making you whimper at the overstimulation.

"fuck, juju," you breathe out, moving your arm to cover your face in embarrassment.

"what?" the girl laughs as she stands up, "you were tense as fuck and i wasn't about to let you walk back all pissed off and shit."

"you're freaked out," you shake your head, standing up from your seat to shrug your jacket back on.

"c'mon, ma, you know i don't play about you," she nudges you playfully as you swing your backpack over your shoulder.

"are you just saying that because you want me to get you back at your dorm?" you glare at her as you both walk out of the locker room.

"nah," she shakes her head, "but if you're down..."

"freak ass."

"PAIGE, I'M SERIOUS," you protest as you try to continue writing on your notecard.

"what?" she asks with fake cluelessness, "i'm not doing anything."

you sighed as her hands kept moving under your shirt. at first, she offered to massage the knots out of your tense shoulders. but then her hands began to wander once she found out that you weren't wearing a bra.

"i need to finish these cards, p," you say again, but her fingers still brush against your now-hard nipples.

"go ahead," she mumbles, moving to kiss your neck slowly.

you huff, dropping your pen onto your desk, "i can't work if you keep teasing me like this."

but when she pinches one of your nipples, you can't help but let out a small whimper.

she smirks at the sound, "if you don't like me teasing then why are you moaning?"

you exhale shakily as her hands begin to knead your full breasts, fully palming you beneath your thin pajama shirt.

"lemme taste you, ma," she whispers in your ear, "please."

"five minutes," you insist, but you know you already lost by giving in to her.

"i only need two," she smiles before kissing you on the lips softly.

lips still connected, she pulls you out of your chair and onto your bed. you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress, sitting at the edge.

breaking the kiss, paige lowers herself onto her knees, pulling your shorts and underwear down as well.

"damn, you're wet as fuck," she breathes out, "all that complaining but this pussy's soaked for me."

"paige, please," you plead.

"i know, mama, i gotchu."

with that, she's swiping her tongue through your folds eagerly, eliciting a loud moan from you. your hips are already bucking against her face, but her hands on your thighs keep you pinned to the bed.

"fuck, just like that," you say, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe steadily.

"mmm, you like that? you like how i eat this pussy, baby?"

"yes, fuck," you moan, back arching as you grind on her tongue, "so good. so fucking good."

your moans urge her to work faster, her tongue moving swiftly over your clit, teasing your hole every now and then. your moans are loud enough to warrant a noise complaint from your neighbors.

soon enough, your cunt pulses, cum covering your girlfriend's face as you release on her tongue.

"paige-"

she hums against your pussy, hands still keeping you in front of her as she licks up your arousal, the action sending shivers up your spine.

when she finally lifts her head, she stands up, tall frame towering over you, "you good?"

you laugh at her sudden casualness, "i'm good. thank you, baby."

"my girl," she smirks as she kisses you deeply, hand bracing your jaw.

you sigh happily into the kiss, melting against her lips.

"and to think you were turning me down for some dumbass notecards..."

DECEMBER 2024

THE WORLD SLOWED to a stop. everything seemed to go quiet for a moment. just for a moment. and then.

"make room in the trophy case, penn state, you're bringing home another title!"

your teammates collapse around you as you all fall to the floor, tears blurring your eyes as your heart beats out of your chest.

you're damn near sobbing when you finally rise to your feet. screams of joy fill your ears as the white confetti falls gracefully from the ceiling—an scene painted for champions.

when you're handed the trophy, you lift it over you head proudly, showing it off for the world to see. this was the goal all season. and it was sitting in the palms of your hands.

after going through the handshake line and commending the louisville cardinals on their work and effort, you jump around with your team once again out of pure excitement. you receive your customized shirt and hat, putting them on and wearing them with your brightest smile.

the rest of your team was having fun playing in the confetti as if it were snow when you notice that people were finally being let onto the court. you spot your teammates' family members and friends, but the minute you see her, you're dropping everything to run into her arms.

she stood there with a smile so big that her cheeks turned pink and all you could do was wrap your arms around her as tight as you could.

"my national champion," paige greeted as she kissed your head sweetly.

all you could do was cry into her shoulder, your hands slightly bunching up the shirt she wore, "i did it, paige."

"you did it, baby," she echoed, pulling you to her tighter, "and i'm so fucking proud of you. so fucking proud of you. you did that shit like it was just a practice scrimmage."

"no, i really didn't," you laugh against her, referring to how hard you fought in the game.

"bro, thirty-five kills. do you know how insane that is? how insane you are?" she says with a smile as she pulls out of the hug and holds your head in her hands.

"okay, it's a little bit insane," you laugh again, but you can't help the way a few tears roll down your cheeks.

"a little bit? baby, you are the most talented, dedicated, inspiring person i know. when i see you out on that floor doing your thing, it's like watching history being rewritten. you are an unstoppable force and you are incredible and i love you so much," she rambles, wiping the tears from your face without breaking eye contact once.

"i love you, too, paige," you say, pulling her into a kiss.

your lips melt against hers as her hands find your waist. the scene is something straight out of a movie, the world watching it unfold right in front of their eyes.

suddenly you hear you teammates shout in a chorus of "aww"s, the sound making you break from paige as you giggle at their dramatics. the second you pull back, every single one of them is running over to you and paige, throwing handfuls of confetti in your direction.

you try to shield yourself from the attack, burying your face in paige's chest. when you pull back, you stare at her lovingly while picking out loose confetti from her hair.

"y'know...all this championship talk is pretty inspiring," paige says lowly with a smirk.

"oh yeah? you wanna run it back for me in april?"

"you know i do, baby," she nods with a cocky furrow of her eyebrows like it's the most obvious fact.

"matching trophies does sound pretty nice, doesn't it?" you nod along with her, smile growing at the thought.

"real nice," she agrees, "but you gotta be there when it happens."

"what? you wanna fly me out or something?" you tease.

"first class seat good enough for you?" she winks. you swear you could melt right there in the arena.

you giggle as she pulls you into another kiss, this one holding something much more than pride: a promise.

APRIL 2025

"it's an even dozen for geno auriemma and connecticut, the final page in the book of bueckers is title number twelve for uconn!"

you're screaming so loud you think you might rip your throat out. you rush down the stairs alongside your sister (your plus one) as you follow security onto the court. family members and close friends of the team swarm the girls.

you spot that familiar blonde head of hair bobbing up and down as she jumps excitedly with her teammates. when she settles down, you see her head swivel around quickly, as if she were searching for something.

when she spots you, she weaves through the large crowd as quickly as she can, eager to hold you close. you grin as she reaches you, bear hugging you so strongly that you both nearly tip over.

"my national champion!" you exclaim as happy tears prick your eyes.

you feel her arms squeeze you tighter, her face buried in your neck as her head rests on your shoulder. you rub her back lovingly while she cries out of gratitude.

"i'm so fucking proud of you, paige, do you know that?" you ask, pulling out of the hug to hold her head in your hands the way she did to you so many months ago, "you were incredible out there, seriously. the epitome of a leader. a true husky. you did it, baby."

"i did it," she nods as her smile grows, "thank you for being here, i probably would've had a panic attack if you weren't."

you laugh as your thumb brushes off the tears on her face, "you couldn't keep me away with a restraining order," you joke before she pulls you into a kiss.

cheers erupt around you, giving you massive deja vu. you hear cameras flash and teammates whoop as she pulls you closer to her.

when you finally pull away, you're still smiling, "i love you so much."

"i love you too. more than you know," paige responds, placing her championship hat on your head, "my natty twin."

"matching trophies 'nd shit," you continue with a smirk.

"matching rings, too," she adds, with a wink that leaves you feeling like she's talking about more than just championship rings.

"paige-" you start skeptically.

"relaaax, i'm not proposing or nothing. not yet anyway," she says, "but natty rings are a good start."

"paige! interview! now!" you hear her teammate, azzi fudd, scream over the booming voices of the buzzing crowd.

"damnit," she curses, dropping her head onto your shoulder defeatedly and letting out a big sigh, "ima be right back so we can flick up. don't leave, alright?"

"i'm right here," you smile before returning her hat with a quick peck on her lips as she runs off.

as you watch her do her post-game coverage with andraya carter, you think back on how tough it’s been for you two in terms of your athletic journeys. between countless injuries and struggles with mental health, the two of you have no doubt had hard careers.

despite this, you stuck by each other’s sides and made sure that, whatever you faced, you would get through it together. all the ups and downs, the wins and losses, the accomplishments and challenges—neither of you endured them alone.

you were so grateful for paige. everything she has taught you and showed you helped change who you are as an athlete and a person. she left an imprint on your heart that would never fade away. you could only hope that paige felt the same about you.

you’re pulled out of your trance when paige comes into your vision, kissing you on the cheek and pulling you over to where the trophy was being passed around. it was all so surreal.

national champions. together.

*chapters at the bottom*

JORDAN ELISE BELMONTE

she/her, filipino-american, unlabeled

- born and raised in los angeles, california

- located, still, in los angeles, california

- sings sometimes

- finsta warrior

- legally blind

- would die for tess (her corgi…and the burlesque icon said corgi is named after)

PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS

she/her, american, lesbian

- born and raised in minneapolis, minnesota

- located in dallas, texas

- hoops sometimes

- ipad kid

- mirror selfie taker

- would argue the sky is green until you think she’s right

MASTERLIST

prologue

one

two

three

four

five

…

epilogue

EXTRAS

playlist

AUGUST 2025

JORDAN BELMONTE

“Shit.”

The entire contents of my purse is laid out on my coffee table. Lip liner, AirPods, hand lotion, spare contacts. No house key.

I sit back in my chair, the wheels moving me back a few inches. I stare at the wall in front of me and mentally retrace my steps.

Last night, I left my house to get dinner. In-N-Out, naturally. But I remember seeing my key in my bag when I was putting my card away.

Okay. After In-N-Out, I stopped by CVS to restock on gum. Paid in cash, didn’t even have to open my purse.

But JuJu asked me to get her a snack. I dropped said snack off at her house. I ended up hanging out at her house.

“My key’s at her fucking house,” I sigh to myself, still frozen in my chair.

I reach over to the console table, grabbing my phone with a heavy arm. I quickly search my contacts and call the girl currently in possession of my key. The phone rings a couple times before the line picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ju…” I start.

“Hey, Jordan…” JuJu echoes skeptically.

“So, I may or may not have forgotten my house key at your place. Allegedly,” I say, spinning myself back and forth in my chair.

“Allegedly,” she repeats, “Jordan, I thought you been home.”

“I have been home,” I reply, grabbing my coffee off the table, “My home away from home, if you will.”

The call is silent for a moment. I sip my latte, waiting for Ju to talk. My producer brought it in when she came in earlier, the lack of ice serving as evidence of the time passed.

“Jordan,” she says finally.

“JuJu,” I echo.

“Have you been in the studio since you left my place?” she asks, strangely calm.

“…Allegedly.”

“Bro,” JuJu sighs, “You left at midnight!”

“Was it midnight?” I ask, casually stirring my drink with my straw.

“You’ve been in the studio for eight hours.”

I can almost see the deadpan on her face.

“Damn, guess so,” I shrug.

“That can’t be healthy, Jordan.”

“I took a nap at like 2, I’m chill,” I argue, “But I would really like to go home and take a shower. Do you think I can pick up my key real quick?”

She sighs, but answers anyway, “I’m actually ‘bouta head out, but I can drop it off?”

“You sure? It’s kinda out of the way,” I ask.

“Nah, it’s cool,” she says, “I’m with a friend right now and we were gonna get something to eat anyway.”

“Okay, as long as it’s not a hassle. You have my location, yeah?”

“Yeah, I got it,” JuJu confirms. Her voice seems farther away when she speaks again, “Paige, can you pass me that key on the counter? We gotta make a stop real quick.”

“Judea, do you have a girl over?” I ask bluntly, my eyebrows furrowed at the sound of the unfamiliar name.

“Ew, bro, no,” she says immediately, “Paige got a game at Crypto tonight so she asked to hangout for a bit.”

I’m still confused, so I ask again, “Who’s Paige?”

“Paige Bueckers,” she replies. I hear the sound of a door closing in the background before JuJu’s voice is quiet again, “Is it locked?”

I make out another voice, even more distant than JuJu’s, “Yeah, it’s good.”

“The white girl from UConn?” I ask for more clarity. I remember the name from when I last watched one of Ju’s games on TV.

“Yeah,” JuJu confirms with a quick laugh, “Aight, I’m ‘bouta head down to my car, but I’ll be there in, like twenty.”

“Okay, thanks Ju,” I say.

The call ends with a quick See you from JuJu. I toss my phone on the couch and spin my way back to the console table. The various knobs, dials, and buttons confuse me more than the acronyms labelling all of them, but my attention is on the stack of papers next to them.

It might be old school of me to write my shit with pen and paper, but I genuinely can’t focus on a single task when I’m on my phone. Plus, they make for great teasers in my photo dumps.

When I pick up my pen, a black Muji 0.5mm ballpoint I got on my last trip to Singapore, all I can do is tap the point against the spiral of my matching Muji notebook.

Writing has never been easy for me. Part of that might come from my lack of understanding my own emotions, but I digress.

Most of this session was about layering vocals and playing with harmonies for my next singles. I have a few more months to worry about the rest of the album.

Writing can wait. Singing is more fun anyway.

So I get my ass back in the booth and continue playing with harmonies. It’s a little harder when I’m the only one in the studio, having to go back on forth between the booth and monitor, but she multitasks.

I’ve added two more harmony layers and a few random adlibs when my phone starts ringing.

My phone is on Do Not Disturb, so I’m surprised to see JuJu’s contact on my screen instead of my parents or brother. She puts my thoughts to rest when I pick up the call.

“I called you three times.”

“Oh, my bad,” I say, smiling, “I was on-“

“Yeah, I know you were on DND,” JuJu cuts me off, “We’re outside, you wanna let us in?”

“Do I?” I smirk. I make my way out of the studio toward the main door anyway.

“Jordan, it’s fucking hot, open the door,” she snaps dramatically. Her voice carries through the frosted glass door, as well as a casual laugh from who I assume is Paige.

I swing the door open, but Ju’s back is turned to me. Paige, facing my direction, looks up from her phone. I smile when we make eye contact, nodding my head at her quickly. She reciprocates the action before looking to JuJu, who is looking around at the neighboring buildings.

I hang up the call and pat her firmly on the shoulder, “Door’s open, diva.”

“Finally,” she rolls her eyes at me, “This is Paige, by the way. Paige, this is Jordan.”

“Nice to meet you, Paige,” I smile again, I move to shake her hand, but she daps me up instead. Not sure if she realized it but I reciprocate nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she grins, “I like your stuff.”

“Thanks,” I say, nodding for them to follow me into the building, “You’re a rookie in the W, right?”

My back is turned to the two athletes, but I look back every now and then to make sure they haven’t gotten lost. Good thing the walk is short.

“Yeah, I play for Dallas,” she confirms.

I hold back a laugh, “The Wings? Yikes.”

JuJu snorts, “That’s what I’m sayin’.”

“I thought so, too, but we got potential. Trust,” she defends.

I nod wordlessly, not wanting to press too much. I scan my keycard to get back into my studio, holding the door open for the others.

“Wow, what a mess,” JuJu says sarcastically, though I don't catch her teasing tone.

“Stop,” I say shyly, “I’ve been locked in, I barely had time to keep it clean.”

“Jordan, I was kidding,” she laughs, plopping onto the couch, “This ain’t even close to a mess.”

I look around the room: my almost-empty coffee sitting on the table with small water droplets running down the sides onto the wood, my notebook and pen sitting on one of the armchairs, my purse next to it. Looks like a mess to me.

“Could be cleaner,” I declare.

Paige laughs from her spot on the other armchair, “You’d hate JuJu’s car.”

I laugh and mutter, “And do.”

“Not too much, y’all,” JuJu cuts in, “I do what I can.”

“You can do better,” I say, sitting at the console table to quickly save the track changes I made.

“Just rude,” JuJu mutters, leaning back and going on her phone.

“You working on something new?” Paige asks curiously.

I spin around once I text my manager to let her know I’m leaving the studio, “Yeah, just a new single. Label’s pushing for two in two months.”

“Two in two is crazy,” JuJu speaks up, still looking at her phone.

I turn to her, “Well, now you know why I practically live in here.”

“Oh, speaking of live…” JuJu remembers, “Here’s your key.”

She digs in the front pocket of her jeans, handing me the small metal key.

“Thank you,” I say, “I remembered to bring my gum but not my key.”

“Your mind, not mine,” JuJu shrugs, going back to her phone.

When I turn away from her, I see Paige has gotten up from her chair and is now walking around the studio looking at what little decoration I have.

She stops at a large framed picture of me and my family, hanging next to the sound booth door.

“Is that what’s-his-name from the Dolphins?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, following her over, “That’s Elijah.”

“He your boyfriend?” she asks innocently, though the question alone is enough to make my stomach sick. And enough to make JuJu laugh louder than the crowd’s at Galen.

“Hell no,” I shut her down immediately, “That's my older brother.”

“Shit, my bad,” Paige’s eyes widen, “I didn't know.”

“I’m fucking dead,” JuJu manages to get out, doubled over laughing.

“You’re laughing real hard for someone who’s technically unemployed right now,” I say to the younger girl.

Her laughter dies down, but she’s still smiling, “I’m not unemployed. Talk to my agent.”

“I really didn’t know,” Paige says again, “I ain’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured her with a shake of my head, “You’re not the first person to not put two-and-two together.”

“Aye, Paige, we gotta get going soon if you still wanna get to Crypto early,” JuJu speaks up, rising from her seat on the couch.

“Aight,” she nods, patting her sweatpant pockets to make sure she has all her stuff, “Hey, it was great meeting you.”

“You too, Paige,” I smile up at her, “Good luck at your game tonight.”

“Thanks,” she smiles back, “I’ll see you around?”

“Hopefully, yeah,” I say, walking the two of them out the building.

I turn my attention to JuJu, “Ju, are we still on for lunch on Monday?”

“Yeah, you wanna carpool?” she asks as they both step out onto the sidewalk.

“I’ll pick you up,” I nod, moving to hug her goodbye.

“Aight, I’ll see you,” she says in the hug.

“See you,” I echo.

When I pull away, I wave to the two athletes as a final parting, making sure they make it to the back parking lot safely before heading back inside.

Walking back into my studio, I make sure to pack all of my belongings this time and shut all the equipment off before heading out to make my own way home.

I queue some songs for the ride home before checking Instagram for any important updates. I was about to switch onto my spam account to DM a friend when I got a new notification on my main.

paigebueckers has started following you

I smile softly at the banner, then click on it and locate her own profile. To no surprise, most of her cover posts were basketball or brand promotions. I click on her second-most recent post: a photo dump from the national championship game. My smile widens when I see the song she chose was one of my own.

I go back to her main page, hitting the Follow Back button before shutting off my phone and sticking it in the mount on my dash.

PAIGE BUECKERS

“Yo, you’re easy.”

“What?” I ask, head whipping to look at JuJu in the driver’s seat.

“You met her for all of five minutes and you’re stalking her Insta.”

“So? Doesn't mean I want her or anything. She’s chill,” I explain. And I truly mean it. I liked talking to her.

JuJu laughs, “I’m jus sayin’. I actually don’t even know if she likes girls like that.”

“Bro, chill, I’m not into her,” I say calmly, shutting off my phone and dropping it in my lap. Though JuJu’s comment does make me curious. “She don’t swing that way?”

“See, you fuckin-“ her own laughter cuts her off.

“I’m just curious!”

When she catches her breath, she speaks up again, “I mean, I don’t know. We never really talk about that stuff.”

“Well what do you guys talk about? Actually, no, how do you even know her?”

“Our parents know each other. We grew up in the same area. Didn’t go to school together, though. But she's technically a Trojan now, actually”

“She go to school?” I ask.

“Online classes. Security stuff, I think. She tryna get her BM.”

“Uh, what’s that mean?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck.

“Bachelor of Music, Paige.”

“Oh damn,” I say, pleasantly surprised, “She smart like that?”

“You just wanna know everything about her, huh?” JuJu grins, her eyes still on the road.

“Aight, never mind then,” I mumble, crossing my arms—dramatically, if I’m being honest.

“If you really wanna get to know her, though,” JuJu says, “Real shit, just talk to her. As a friend. Don’t be on that weird shit, like stalking her posts from three years ago.”

“God forbid a girl’s curious, damn,” I scoff, “But I meant what I said. I don’t like her like that, I really do just wanna be her friend.”

“You got it,” JuJu laughs lightly, “When do you fly back to Dallas?”

“First thing tomorrow,” I answer.

“Damn, I was gonna say you should come with us for lunch Monday.”

“Nah, ion't wanna be a leech. It’s all good.”

“She might come to the game tonight, actually,” she says after a beat.

“For real? Why didn’t she just say so?”

“She don’t even know if she wanna come. But she knows I’ma be out, so if she’s bored at home she’ll prolly call me.”

I hum in thought before speaking again, cautiously, “…Are you into her?”

“Hell no!” JuJu immediately denies, “That’s my homegirl. She’s like an older sister to me.”

“Just asking…” I mutter, picking my phone back up. Instagram is still open from when I followed Jordan. To my surprise, my notifications tell me that she followed me back.

“Here she go,” JuJu jokes.

I groan, “I’m not into her!”

- it all started with a knee sprain

- some vet that loved to play dirty wanted to foul but ended up pushing her on the ground and landing right on her leg

- so here's where you come in

- the first session was interesting to say the least

- it was just after the incident when she was urged back to the recovery rooms for examination

- you asked her the routine questions, watched the play back, developed a diagnosis

- all while she was practically drooling staring at you

- kid you not, this girl couldnt take her eyes off you

- you were icing her knee—focused and determined (as you should be)

- she spoke up, "you always this gentle with your patients or am i just special?"

- your expression remained unchanged, "i treat all flirts with ice"

- "you think i'm a flirt?" she smirked

- you rolled your eyes wordlessly and pulled the wrap tighter before walking away with a glare

- paige hissed, then smirked, "worth it."

- by the third session, she was fully hooked

- she was clearly healed enough to use resistance bands on her own, but she insisted that you have to help her

- she let the band snap out of place just so you would readjust it

- "my bad," she said for the second time in five minutes, "need you to fix it again...preferably while you tell me about your favorite first date spot."

- you exhaled sharply, "you're very committed to this act."

- "not an act," she insisted, eyes locked on you, "just gotta trust the process."

- day four:

- when she walked in, she grabbed a nearby massage gun and pretended it was a mic

- "so...what's it like working with someone as attractive and talented as paige bueckers?" she teased, holding the piece of equipment out to you for the bit

- "wouldn't know," you said simply, still focused on the paperwork in front of you, "she's never on my table. where she's supposed to be."

- "ouch, maybe i do need more ice."

- "you do need ice, but you know that's not why," you said unimpressed

- she followed behind as you walked over to one of the recovery beds, watching as you gathered your supplies

- she plopped onto the bed, eyes still on you, "seriously though...if i weren't your patient, would you say yes?"

- "it's unethical, bueckers," you said coolly. your tone was even as you began taping her knee

- "but it ain't in the rule book," she pointed out

- "like you read rules books."

- "for you i did," she said proudly, puffing her chest out dramatically, "that has to count for something, right? maybe a date this friday?"

- "please," you scoffed, "the only thing i've seen you willingly read was the flavor label on a gatorade bottle."

- later that night, your phone buzzed with a text from the girl

- "do i get less time in the ice bath if i think my pt is hot?"

- then a second text right after

- "kidding. kinda. but also not. coffee after friday's session?"

- you left her on read

- but you'd be lying if you said the texts didn't make you smile

- the next day held the next session: another opportunity for paige to shoot her shot

- you were checking her flexibility, guiding her through her recurring knee tensions

- "does this hurt?" you asked

- "only when you ignore my texts," she said with a small fake pout

- "you're getting more bold each session," you shook your head, "more delusional."

- "i'm recovering. mentally...physically...romantically," she droned on teasingly

- and then the next session...

- she missed the laundry bin. again.

- "you have two functioning legs, bueckers, use them," you glare at her as pick up her towel for the third time

- "but it's so much sexier when you do it," she smiles

- you throw the towel back at her, making her laugh lightly

- "okay, okay—but admit it, i'm growing on you."

- "like mold."

- "sexy mold," she wiggled her eyebrows jokingly

- "you're disgusting," you mutter as you walk back to your computer

- "okay i'm sorry, can i make it up to you? over fro-yo? this friday?"

- "still no," you called out

- "one day," paige declared, "i'm wearing you down!"

- finally: the friday morning session.

- she's rolling out her quads with the foam cylinder, groaning way too dramatically

- "this is torture. you enjoy this, don't you?"

- "a little," you admit with a small smile as you clean off a nearby table

- paige pauses her stretch, glancing at you from her mat, "you know what would really help with my recovery?"

- you stop your motions with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at the blonde

- "a fro-yo date. tonight. with my favorite pt," she says confidently

- you scoff with a humorless laugh

- she looks up at you, voice softer now, "no games. i like you. you make all this easier."

- there's a beat of silence. then your lips twitch into the smallest smile

- "...pick me up at six."

- she stands up too fast out of excitement. winces from the sharp pain, "worth it. so worth it."