#lyrik rambles

The first time she kissed Paige, it felt like an accident— a mistake they both chose to keep making. It happened after practice, late in the evening when the gym lights hummed and everyone else had already left.

Paige had been on fire that day. She’d hit three threes in a row, drained a buzzer-beater, and all anyone could talk about was her potential — her future. But she? She was nothing but an afterthought, lingering in the sidelines, watching Paige like she was the sun and the rest of the world was just orbiting around her.

She was always in awe of Paige. The way she commanded attention on the court. The way her presence filled every room she walked into. But it wasn’t until that night, when Paige's eyes lingered just a moment too long on her during a casual conversation, that the feelings she’d been suppressing for months began to surface.

"You alright?" Paige asked, a little too casually, standing a little too close for comfort.

"Yeah," she said, voice wavering. “Just… you’re incredible out there. Seriously.”

Paige tilted her head, smirking, her gaze softening in a way that made her heart pound. "You think so?"

The question hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken tension. And before she knew it, she was pulling Paige into a kiss. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t expected. But Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, as if testing her, as if daring her to feel something more.

It felt reckless. It felt right.

But after it was over, Paige pulled away with a wink and a shrug. "You’re beautiful, you know that," she said, brushing her hands off on her shorts. “But don’t take us as anything more, then it is.”

The words stung, but she didn’t let it show. It wasn’t the first time Paige had kissed her, nor would it be the last, but neither would she be the only one to be kissed.

And that was the thing. Paige always had someone else. Always had someone on the side.

---

The girl, Whose name paige barely ever used, knew what this was. Or what it wasn’t. It wasn’t anything serious, and it wasn’t ever going to be. It was fun, in the way that college hookups are. Paige would call when she was bored, when the other girls weren’t available. And she’d come over — late at night, after another win, another adrenaline-fueled night of flashing lights and screaming fans.

The kisses, the stolen moments, they were all like a drug. Sweet and temporary, with the promise of something more lingering just beneath the surface. Paige was perfect — so perfect, it made her feel unworthy, like she was constantly reaching for something she could never have.

There were times, in the quiet of their brief moments together, when Paige would let down her guard. Her voice would soften, her smile would lose the edge of amusement, and for a second, she felt real — like the she wasn’t just another name on her roster of late-night distractions.

But those moments were rare.

And she knew it.

---

The nights blurred into one another. She would show up at paige’s place, or paige would sneak into hers. They’d talk about everything and nothing at all. The basketball games. The thing’s in their lives—though, as usual, Paige didn’t really talk about the girls. They never had names. Just bodies.

And she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know. The only thing she knew for sure was that paige didn’t need her. She was just... there.

It hurt, even if she didn’t let it show. Paige had a thousand other things on her mind. Paige had a future, but she had nothing but the moment.

---

But over time, something began to shift in her. she couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but one night, after another stolen kiss that felt more like a goodbye than an invitation, she realized the truth.

She was waiting.

Waiting for a text. Waiting for Paige to look at her like she was the only one. Waiting for Paige to choose her — just once.

But Paige had made it clear. She didn’t need her. She didn’t need anyone. She was the center of her own universe, and everyone else— especially herself were just an orbiting piece in bueckers universe.

---

That night, after yet another half-hearted kiss, she was lying next to Paige, both of them too tired to move, the moonlight casting shadows across their tangled limbs. The sound of Paige’s breathing was slow, steady, but it didn’t feel like peace. It felt like a lie.

“Paige,” she said softly, voice shaking. “What are we doing?”

Paige didn’t even blink, didn’t seem to register the question. “We’re having fun,” she muttered, her voice still heavy with sleep. “You know that.”

But she could hear the distance in her tone. The way paige never called her by name. The way she would disappear for days at a time. The way her lips would leave hers in the middle of the night without another word.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to hear the words come out, but the weight of them crushed her. “I can’t keep pretending like it’s enough.”

Paige shifted slightly, but didn’t turn toward her. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, a little dismissive. “You knew what this was. We’re just two people, having fun. Nothing more.”

She swallowed, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. She wanted to scream, to demand something more—anything more—but all she could do was pull herself from the bed, silently gathering her things. She had nothing left to give. Nothing left to lose.

When she reached the door, Paige’s voice followed her. “You know where to find me.”

But she didn’t turn back.

---

The next few weeks were a blur. She threw herself into basketball. Into the routine. Into anything that would take her mind off the feeling of empty that followed her everywhere. She thought she could drown out the hurt by focusing on the game, on everything that wasn’t Paige.

But every time she saw Paige on the court, every time their eyes met — just for a second — she felt like she was being pulled back in, and she tried to ignore it. She tried to tell herself that it was better this way. That she didn’t need Paige to feel whole.

And yet, her heart broke a little each time paige smiled at someone else, kissed someone else, or walked past her without so much as a glance.

---

It took months before she truly understood. Paige would never be hers. Paige would never choose her. And as painful as that truth was, it was the only truth that mattered.

One night, sitting alone in her room, staring at the basketball tucked in the corner, she realized something: she had been searching for validation in someone who could never give it to her. She had let her self-worth be dictated by the love of someone who didn’t even know how to love herself, let alone anyone else.

She didn’t need Paige. She never did.

But for the first time, she realized she needed to love herself. She needed to find her worth outside of someone else’s gaze. Outside of someone else’s love.

The next day, she showed up to practice, not because paige would notice, but because she deserved to be there. She played harder than she ever had before, pushing herself to be the best version of herself—not for Paige, but for her.

It hurt. It still hurt. But with each jump shot, each layup, she could feel the pain slowly unraveling. Paige was gone, but in the space she left behind, something else was growing.