#wbb x reader

You had stopped being surprised by Paige Bueckers a long time ago.

Not because she was predictable. Paige was one of the least predictable people you had ever met. She could wake up calm and decide by breakfast that she was going to argue with somebody about a card game from two weeks ago. She could limp into practice after a long lift, sore and quiet, then spend the next hour talking like she had personally invented basketball. She could be sweet for exactly three minutes before saying something so obnoxious that Nika threatened to throw a towel at her head. She could make a room louder by walking into it and softer by looking at you across it.

So no, Paige herself was not predictable.

But the way she loved you was.

That had become one of the steady things in your life. As regular as the squeak of sneakers on hardwood. As familiar as the cold Connecticut mornings that made you pull your sleeves over your hands on the walk to practice. As known as the little rhythm your day had fallen into after almost four years at UConn and almost three years of Paige being yours in every way that mattered.

She texted you at 8:03.

outside.

Not good morning. Not come out. Not hurry up because we’re gonna be late, even though both of you knew she was thinking it.

Just outside.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed with one shoe on and one shoe still somewhere under your desk, hair half-fixed, hoodie bunched around your waist because you had gotten distracted looking for your charger. Your practice bag sat open on the floor, one side sagging with a pair of slides, tape, an extra shirt, and the water bottle you swore you had filled last night but had probably left empty because you were you.

You glanced at the text and smiled before you could help it.

She did this every morning she could.

Sometimes it was before class. Sometimes before breakfast. Sometimes before practice. Sometimes after a lift if your schedules split weird and she had ten minutes to spare. Same building, same athlete housing, same familiar path between your doors, close enough that Paige had turned walking you places into a habit so deeply carved into her routine that neither of you really talked about it anymore.

You found your other shoe under a sweatshirt, shoved your foot into it, and opened your door.

Paige was leaning against the wall outside, hood up, one foot crossed over the other. In one hand, she held her own drink. In the other, she held yours.

Iced matcha. Oat milk. Light ice. The sweetness level you liked. The one you had mentioned, casually, once, freshman year, before either of you had gotten together, before Paige had started looking at you like you were something she was trying not to want too obviously.

She had remembered it anyway.

She looked up when your door opened, and the lazy little grin that slid onto her face was so familiar it made your chest warm in that quiet, annoying way she always managed to pull out of you.

“You look late,” she said. She lifted your drink slightly, but when you reached for it, she pulled it back just enough to make you look at her.

You paused. “Seriously?”

Paige’s grin spread slowly. “Delivery fee.”

You stared at her.

She stared back, completely unbothered.

There were people who thought Paige had no shame, and they were mostly right, but this was different. With everyone else, Paige’s confidence was loud. With you, it was softer, still cocky but warmer, like she had learned exactly how far she could push before you rolled your eyes and gave her what she wanted anyway.

“You’re charging me now?” you asked.

“Inflation.”

“For a drink you chose to buy?”

“Service industry is hard.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet.” She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping into something sweet enough to make your stomach do that stupid little flip it still did even after all this time. “You want your matcha or not?”

You tried to hold your stare.

You lasted maybe two seconds.

Then you leaned in and kissed her.

It was meant to be quick. A small morning peck, soft and familiar, the kind you had given her a thousand times in hallways and elevators and outside locker rooms when nobody important was looking too closely. But Paige smiled against your mouth like she had won something, and that made you laugh, which made her chase the kiss for one extra second before letting you pull away.

Her eyes were still on your mouth when she handed you the cup.

“Pleasure doing business,” she murmured.

You took the matcha and gave her a look over the lid. “You’re annoying.”

You shook your head, but you were smiling, and Paige saw it. She always saw it. Her whole face shifted for half a second before she hid it by reaching for your bag.

You already had the strap over your shoulder, secure and settled, but Paige’s hand went to it without hesitation. Gentle. Automatic. Her fingers hooked under the strap near your collarbone, careful not to tug your hoodie too hard, and she lifted it slightly like she was asking without asking.

You barely paused. Just tilted your shoulder toward her so she could slide it off.

That was how normal it was.

You turned back toward your room to grab your keys, but Paige was already reaching around the doorframe, plucking them off the small hook beside your closet where you always forgot them. She held them up between two fingers, shaking them once.

“You were gonna forget.”

“I was not.”

“You literally turned around without them.”

“I was testing you.”

“I passed.”

“Barely.”

Paige made an offended sound, like the idea of barely passing anything in relation to you physically pained her. “Do not disrespect my job.”

“Your job?”

“Yeah.” She stepped back so you could lock your door, shifting your bag higher on her shoulder without thinking. “Making sure you don’t walk around this campus helpless.”

“I am not helpless.”

“You’d lose your keys in your own hand.”

“And yet I somehow survived before you.”

Paige looked at you like that was the most insulting thing you had ever said to her. “Barely.”

You laughed, and that was the thing: Paige heard it. She always heard it. Her whole face changed for half a second, pleased and soft before she covered it with attitude again, like she had not just lit up because of one small laugh in a hallway she had walked through a thousand times.

She fell into step beside you as you started down the hall.

You did not ask for your bag.

She did not offer it back.

That was just how it went.

By the time you reached the elevator, she had already pressed the button, already tugged gently at the back of your hoodie because the tag was flipped, already nudged you away from the corner where the floor was still wet from someone’s spilled water bottle.

You barely noticed any of it.

Paige noticed everything.

That was another thing people did not always understand about her. They saw the loudness first. The talking. The smirking. The ridiculous confidence that came out every time someone challenged her to anything, even if the challenge was stupid. Paige Bueckers would compete with a wall if the wall looked at her wrong. She argued calls. She argued card games. She argued rankings, music, cereal, whether or not Nika had traveled during a drill three months ago, and once, for twenty minutes, whether soup counted as a meal or a warm beverage with responsibilities.

She had opinions about everything.

Except when it came to you.

With you, she still had opinions. She just delivered them softer. Or swallowed them entirely if you gave her that look. The one she pretended did not work on her even though everybody with eyes knew it did.

The elevator doors slid open.

KK was inside, backpack hanging off one shoulder, scrolling on her phone. She looked up, eyes flicking from your drink to Paige’s hand on your bag to Paige standing half a step behind you like a bodyguard who had forgotten she was not actually employed.

KK’s mouth twitched.

“Morning,” you said.

“Morning,” KK replied, still looking at Paige. “Dang. She pick you up every day?”

Paige frowned. “Why you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you got commentary.”

KK lifted both hands. “I’m observing.”

“You’re always observing too much.”

“I’m learning the ecosystem.”

You snorted into your drink.

Paige immediately looked at you, smiling because you smiled, then caught herself and turned back to KK with a scowl that had no heat behind it. “Don’t start.”

KK looked delighted. “Oh, I’m definitely learning.”

“You’re learning how to run today,” Paige said.

“You gonna make me?”

Paige opened her mouth.

You took a sip of your matcha and said casually, “Paige, don’t bully the freshman before breakfast.”

Paige stopped.

Just like that.

Her mouth closed. Her shoulders dropped. She leaned back against the elevator wall, grumbling softly, “Wasn’t bullying.”

KK stared.

You didn’t notice, or maybe you did and chose not to say anything. That was the problem with you. You had gotten so used to Paige folding around you that half the time you treated it like weather. Like of course Paige stopped arguing when you told her to. Of course Paige carried your bag. Of course Paige slowed down if you slowed down. Of course Paige’s attention snapped to you the second you said her name.

KK, however, had not been at UConn long enough to fully absorb the sight without reacting. She looked between you and Paige.

Then she pointed at Paige’s chest.

“You just sat down.”

Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“She said don’t bully me and you just sat down.”

“I was already leaning.”

“No, you got domesticated in real time.”

You choked slightly on your matcha.

Paige stepped forward. “Bro,”

You put one hand lightly on Paige’s forearm. “P.”

Paige stopped again.

KK’s mouth fell open.

The elevator dinged.

You walked out like nothing had happened.

Paige followed immediately.

Behind you, KK whispered loudly, “This is crazy.”

Paige threw a look over her shoulder. “I heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

You laughed again, and Paige’s irritation lasted exactly half a second before it softened at the edges.

It was not that Paige did not realize how she was with you. She knew she loved you. She knew she liked being near you. She knew she got this ridiculous, embarrassing pull in her chest when you looked at her like she was your favorite person in the room. She knew she felt calmer when she had your bag on her shoulder, your drink in her hand, your knee pressed against hers under a table, your voice cutting through noise and landing directly in the part of her brain that cared about nothing else once you called for her.

She just did not think of it as unusual.

To Paige, loving you had always been active. It was doing things. Watching things. Remembering things. Carrying what you forgot. Giving you the better seat. Taking the outside of the sidewalk. Handing you your water before you asked because you always forgot to drink when you were locked in. Knowing when you were tired from the set of your mouth. Knowing when you were annoyed by the way you got quiet instead of loud. Knowing when you needed space and when you only said you needed space because you did not want to be a burden.

She had spent almost three years being your girlfriend and nearly four years knowing you, and she still felt like she was learning you.

Still felt lucky every time you let her.

Breakfast was loud, the way breakfast with the team usually was. Nika was already at a table with Azzi and Ice, talking with her hands and accusing somebody of lying about something you had missed. Aaliyah was scrolling through her phone, occasionally looking up to make a comment sharp enough to make everyone laugh. Ashlynn and KK were arguing about music. Someone had stolen someone else’s seat. Someone was definitely going to claim it was their seat even though there were no assigned seats and everyone knew it.

Paige guided you toward the table without touching your back, just hovering close enough that you could feel her. you slid into the seat you usually took, and Paige put your bag down beside your chair before sitting next to you.

Nobody acted like Paige carrying your things was breaking news.

That was just Paige with you.

Still, when Paige pushed the small container of fruit toward you before you reached for it, Nika’s eyes flicked up. When Paige took the napkin dispenser from the middle of the table and set one beside your plate, Azzi’s mouth curved like she was trying not to smile. When you got distracted answering Ice’s question and Paige quietly unwrapped your straw for you because your hands were full, KK looked at Azzi again.

Paige, for her part, seemed completely unaware she was doing anything worth noticing. She was busy talking about the shooting drill from yesterday, arguing lightly with Nika over whether or not Nika had counted one of her own makes after the buzzer.

“I’m just saying,” Paige said, leaning back in her chair with the kind of confidence that made people want to argue with her even when she was right, “if the ball’s still in your hand when the time’s done, that’s not a make.”

Nika stared at her. “It left my hand.”

“After.”

“During.”

“After.”

“You were not even looking.”

“I felt it.”

“You felt it?”

“Yeah. Spiritually.”

Nika blinked. “You are so annoying.”

“You’re mad because I’m right.”

“You are loud because you are wrong.”

Paige grinned. “I’m loud because I got a voice.”

You reached across Paige for the honey packet near her tray, and before your fingers even touched it, Paige picked it up and handed it to you.

Still arguing. Still looking at Nika. Still mid-sentence. But the honey packet was in your hand.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Paige’s voice dropped out for half a beat. She turned toward you, expression easing. “Yeah.”

Nika stopped talking. Only for a second. Then she looked at Azzi with a flat expression.

Azzi pressed her lips together.

“What?” Paige asked, noticing too late.

“Nothing,” Nika said.

“Your face says something.”

“My face says I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired when you’re losing.”

Nika shook her head, but she was smiling now. “Eat your breakfast, Paige.”

Paige looked like she might push back, so you bumped your knee lightly against hers under the table.

Paige sat back.

Picked up her fork.

Started eating.

Nika’s eyes dropped to the movement.

KK saw it too.

The table went silent for half a beat.

Then KK nearly lost it.

“Oh my god,” she said. “No way.”

Paige pointed her fork at her. “You want attention so bad.”

KK shook her head, eyes bright. “Nah, this is educational. I’ve never seen somebody go from talking crazy to trained that fast.”

“I’m not trained.”

Nika made a face. “Mmm.”

You glanced at Paige, amused. “You’re not.”

Paige immediately relaxed, like your words had settled something in her. “Thank you.”

You took another sip of matcha. “You just listen well.”

Nika gagged.

“Actually disgusting,” she said.

Paige smiled down at her plate, trying and failing not to look pleased.

That was the thing that got her teased the most. Not that she listened to you. Not even that she was softer with you. It was that she liked it. Paige, who had a comeback for every person at every table, got visibly happy when you praised her for something as simple as bringing the right drink or remembering your slides or waiting by the door.

You could ruin her with a soft “thank you.”

You never abused it. That was why it worked.

You were not demanding. You were not constantly telling her what to do. If anything, you asked less of Paige than Paige wanted you to. You carried your own weight, on and off the court. You were steady and sharp and calm in ways Paige admired even when she pretended to be too cool to say it out loud. You did not need Paige to take care of you.

That was exactly why she liked doing it.

It felt like being chosen for a job nobody else even knew existed.

By the time practice rolled around, Paige had gone through three different arguments, won two of them by volume alone, and lost the only one that mattered because you had tilted your head and said, “Let it go.”

She let it go.

Nika saw.

Nika suffered.

Practice was the one place where the softness sharpened into something else.

You and Paige had always had chemistry on the court. It was one of the first things people noticed about you as freshmen, before either of you admitted what was happening, before the late-night talks and lingering hallway moments turned into something too obvious to keep pretending around. Back then, it had been basketball first. Timing. Trust. The kind of connection that made passes look cleaner than they were because both of you were already moving before the ball left the other’s hands.

Paige knew where you wanted it.

You knew when Paige was about to cut.

She could throw a pass through traffic without looking and you would be there. You could drift to the corner half a second early and Paige would find you. You screened for her without needing the call. She slipped the ball to you in pockets that made coaches nod and teammates roll their eyes because of course.

Of course it was you two.

Of course Paige could be triple-covered and still somehow locate you.

Of course you could be running full speed and still know exactly where Paige had gone without turning your head.

The team had stopped reacting dramatically because it had been years. But KK still noticed sometimes. The newness had not worn off her yet. She would watch Paige thread a pass to you on the wing, watch you catch in rhythm and knock down the shot, watch Paige point at you with that smug little look like she had personally assisted the sun into rising.

Then KK would look at Azzi like, “Do they always do that?”

And Azzi, who had seen too much, would just nod.

That day, during a half-court drill, Nika was pressing Paige high, talking in her ear the entire time.

“You’re not getting by me.”

Paige dribbled low, grinning. “I’m already by you mentally.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You love guarding me.”

“I love humbling you.”

“You can try.”

Nika bumped her with her chest. Paige laughed, shifted her weight, eyes flicking once to the left.

You saw it.

You cut.

The pass came before Nika could turn her head.

It snapped through a narrow lane, quick and clean, landing in your hands exactly where you liked it. You rose into your shot without thinking. It dropped.

Paige’s grin went wide.

“Talk to me nice,” she told Nika.

Nika turned slowly, expression flat. “You passed.”

“And?”

“To your girlfriend.”

“And?”

“That is not humbling me. That is flirting with cardio.”

You laughed, jogging back on defense.

Paige looked entirely too proud of herself.

A few possessions later, your shoe came untied.

Later, during a pause in drills, you found yourself holding a ball under one arm, your water bottle tucked awkwardly against your side, and a towel hooked over your fingers when you looked down and realized your lace had come loose.

You made a face.

Paige was several feet away, mid-bicker with Nika again.

“I’m telling you, that was a foul.”

“It was not a foul.”

“You grabbed me.”

“I breathed near you.”

“You wish.”

“You complain so much.”

“You foul so much.”

You shifted the ball against your ribs and called, “Paige?”

Paige stopped mid-sentence.

Not gradually.

Immediately.

Nika’s mouth stayed open around whatever she had been about to say.

Paige turned. “Yeah?”

“Can you help me real quick?” you asked, polite and distracted, glancing down at your shoe. “My hands are full.”

Paige was already moving.

You did not even ask. She crossed the space between you, dropped down to one knee, and tied your shoe like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Because to her, it was.

The gym went weirdly quiet for one second.

Not fully quiet. Balls still bounced. Someone’s sneakers still squeaked. Coaches were still talking. But the pocket around you shifted, just enough for the people closest to notice Paige Bueckers, who had been arguing a foul call like she was preparing a court case, suddenly kneeling in front of you with your shoelace in her hands.

You looked down at her.

She double-knotted it.

“You gotta stop leaving them loose,” she muttered.

“You always say that.”

“Because you always do it.”

“You always fix it.”

Paige glanced up.

Bad idea.

Very bad idea.

Because you were looking at her with that small, private smile, the one that made her forget there were other people in the room. Her hands paused at your shoe, and for a second she just stared up at you, eyes soft and stupidly fond, like she could not believe this was her life.

Nika made a sound of genuine distress.

“I hate this,” she said.

KK, from somewhere behind her, whispered loudly, “She got on one knee.”

Paige snapped out of it and stood so fast she almost bumped your shoulder.

“It was untied,” she said defensively.

KK’s mouth twitched like she was physically fighting the urge to say something.

Nika made a face over her water bottle, eyes flicking from Paige to you and back again, unimpressed in the way only Nika could pull off without actually being mad.

By the time practice ended, the story had already become bigger than it was. Not because anyone was shocked, exactly, but because KK had narrated it like a sportscaster in the locker room until even Azzi told her to breathe.

“She said, ‘Paige, can you help me real quick?’” KK insisted, sitting on the bench while pulling off her shoes. “Casual. Normal, right? And Paige stopped like somebody hit pause on her whole body.”

Paige, from two lockers over, threw her towel at KK.

KK caught it and kept going. “Then she said her hands were full, pointed at the shoe, and Paige dropped. Dropped. Like we were watching a proposal video.”

“It was a shoe,” Paige said.

“It was history.”

Nika nodded grimly. “Freshman is right.”

Paige looked betrayed. “You’re encouraging her?”

“I am processing trauma.”

You sat at your locker, laughing quietly while you changed into slides. Paige heard it and turned toward you instantly, her annoyed expression easing before she even realized she was doing it.

KK pointed. “There. Again.”

Paige looked back at her. “What?”

“You heard her laugh and forgot you were mad.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You smiled.”

“People smile.”

“Not like that.”

Paige opened her mouth, then seemed to decide there was no way to win without making it worse. She turned back to her locker, mumbling something under her breath.

You leaned closer as she sat beside you to tie her own shoes.

“You’re getting cooked today,” you said softly.

Paige looked at you from under her lashes. “You enjoying it?”

“A little.”

“That’s messed up.”

“You make it easy.”

“I make a lot of things easy for you.”

Her voice dropped just enough that the words slipped under the noise of the locker room, warm and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip even after all this time.

You gave her a look.

Paige smiled.

There she was. Cocky again, but only because she knew she had gotten to you.

“Careful,” you said.

Her smile grew. “Or what?”

You did not answer right away. You just reached over and tugged gently at the front of her hoodie, barely enough to move her. Paige leaned in without hesitation, like her body had accepted your gravity years ago and never bothered resisting after that.

Her knee touched yours.

Her eyes dropped to your mouth.

Then Nika groaned from across the room.

“Not in the locker room.”

Paige did not look away from you. “Nobody told you to watch.”

“You are both in public.”

“You’re just jealous nobody ties your shoes.”

Nika stood up. “I’m transferring.”

Azzi, calm as ever, said, “You said that yesterday.”

“And I meant it yesterday too.”

You laughed again, pushing Paige lightly away before she could get herself in more trouble. She let you, of course. She always let you. But she stayed close enough that her knee remained pressed against yours.

That was how your day was supposed to go.

Practice. Teasing. Food. Maybe film. Maybe homework neither of you wanted to do. Paige pretending she was not going to end up in your room later, sitting on your floor while you studied, claiming she was only there because your Wi-Fi worked better even though you lived in the same building.

You had forgotten, almost completely, that your childhood friend was coming.

Not because you did not care.

Just because Storrs had a way of swallowing everything into its routine. Basketball, classes, lifts, team meals, recovery, sleep, repeat. Outside people became messages you answered late at night and calls you returned walking between buildings. Home existed, but differently. Childhood existed, but in flashes.

Then your phone buzzed while you and Paige were leaving the practice facility.

Eli: just got here Eli: this campus is confusing as hell btw Eli: if i go missing it’s uconn’s fault

You stopped walking.

Paige stopped too, because you stopped.

She did not ask why immediately. She just looked at you, then at your phone, reading your face first.

“Oh,” you said. “Eli’s here.”

Paige’s expression did something small.

Not enough for most people to notice.

You noticed.

“Today?” she asked.

“Yeah. I told you he was visiting this weekend.”

“I know.”

“You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget.”

You raised your eyebrows.

Paige shifted your bag on her shoulder. “I remembered conceptually.”

You smiled. “That means you forgot.”

“It means I remembered there was a concept of him arriving.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yet you keep me.”

She said it lightly, but there was something underneath it. A tiny searching thing she would deny if you called it out.

Eli texted again.

Eli: are you ignoring me already Eli: fame changed you

You shook your head, typing back quickly.

me: stay where you are. i’ll come get you.

Paige watched you text. She was quiet in a way that was not quite quiet. Paige had many versions of silence. There was tired silence. Thinking silence. Annoyed silence. Film-room silence, rare and usually forced. This one was the kind where she was pretending she was not curious.

You put your phone away. “He’s by the student union.”

Paige nodded.

“You coming?”

Her head snapped toward you.

You almost laughed at how fast it happened.

“You want me to?” she asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

“I mean, yeah.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Unless you had something else.”

“No.” Too fast. “I’m coming.”

You looked at her.

She looked away.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“Maybe you’re cute.”

Paige’s face changed instantly. The attitude vanished so quickly it was almost funny, replaced by that pleased, slightly bashful look she only got when praise came from you. It was not that Paige did not know she was cute. Paige had confidence for days. She knew what she looked like. She knew the effect she had. But compliments from you landed differently. They got under the armor.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay?”

“Trying to be humble.”

“You?”

“It’s new. Support me.”

You laughed again, and she smiled like she had earned something.

The walk to meet Eli took longer than it should have because Paige kept slowing whenever you got a notification, kept shifting closer whenever a group passed too near.

By the time you spotted Eli, he was standing with his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around with the slightly overwhelmed expression of someone who did not spend most of his time on a campus where everyone seemed to be either carrying a backpack, wearing athletic gear, or moving like they were late to something.

He saw you and grinned.

“There she is,” he called. “Miss Big East.”

You groaned before you even reached him. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, too humble now?”

“I was always humble.”

Eli laughed and pulled you into a hug.

It was normal.

It was childhood-normal. Easy. Familiar. The kind of hug that belonged to old photos and family barbecues and summers when you had both been shorter, louder, and convinced adulthood would feel more organized than it did. He smelled faintly like airport air and cold wind, and for a second you remembered being thirteen and racing him down a street near your old house, both of you breathless and dramatic over absolutely nothing.

Paige stood beside you, holding your bag.

She did not move. She did not interrupt. She did not look upset, exactly. But her posture shifted.

When you stepped back, you turned immediately. “Paige, this is Eli. Eli, Paige.”

Eli’s eyes moved to Paige.

Recognition hit him quickly, because of course it did. Even people who did not follow women’s basketball closely tended to know Paige, or at least knew enough to do a small double take when they realized she was standing in front of them with your practice bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Eli said, smiling. “I know who Paige is.”

Paige gave him a polite nod. “What’s up?”

Not rude.

Not warm.

Controlled.

You glanced at her.

She glanced back, and her expression softened for you immediately before she looked at Eli again.

Eli noticed.

You didn’t.

Or if you did, you filed it away with all the other Paige things that had become normal over the years.

“Good to finally meet you,” Eli said. “I’ve heard a lot.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You cut in before Paige could decide whether that was a challenge. “He means from me.”

Paige looked at you. “You talk about me?”

The question came out softer than she probably intended.

You stared at her. “Paige.”

“What?”

“You know I talk about you.”

“I mean, I assumed.”

“You assumed?”

“Was hoping.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“But you do?”

Eli looked between you with the growing expression of someone who had just realized he had walked into a conversation with its own private rules.

You shook your head, but you were smiling. “Yes, P. I talk about you.”

Paige nodded, trying to look cool and failing because the corner of her mouth kept betraying her.

“Cool,” she said.

Eli looked like he was fighting a laugh.

Paige watched the two of you go back and forth, and there it was again. That small, quiet pinch in her chest. Not jealousy in the sharp, ugly way. Not distrust. Nothing that made her doubt you.

Just awareness.

Eli knew a rhythm with you that Paige did not.

He knew how to tease you from before. He knew old versions of your expressions. He knew references she had not been there for. He knew the shape of your life before Storrs, before UConn, before Paige had learned your drink order and your favorite practice socks and the exact way your voice changed when you were trying not to laugh.

Paige did not like not knowing things about you.

She especially did not like when somebody else did.

But she stayed quiet, because it was not her place to make that your problem.

That was the thing about Paige’s jealousy. It could be loud in her head, but she had learned where the boundary was. She could be clingy. She could hover. She could make one too many jokes. She could insert herself into plans with embarrassing speed.

But she would not make you smaller to make herself feel bigger.

Eli was your friend. Your childhood friend. He had come to Storrs to see you. Paige understood that.

She just wished understanding made her less annoyed.

You spent the next hour showing Eli around the parts of campus that mattered to you. Not the formal tour version, though he joked that you were a terrible guide because half your descriptions were things like “this is where Nika yelled at someone once” and “that hallway always smells weird after games” and “Paige almost ate it on that patch of ice sophomore year.”

“I did not almost eat it,” Paige said immediately.

You looked at her. “You grabbed my sleeve and screamed.”

“I slipped.”

“You screamed.”

“It was a strategic noise.”

Eli laughed. “Strategic?”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t there.”

“No, but I can picture it.”

“She was very dramatic,” you said.

Paige pointed at you. “You promised not to bring that up.”

“I did not.”

“You did emotionally.”

“That’s not legally binding.”

“It should be.”

Eli grinned. “She always this argumentative?”

You and Paige both answered at the same time.

“Yes,” you said.

“No,” Paige said.

You looked at each other.

Paige sighed.

Eli laughed again.

The thing was, Paige did argue. Constantly. With everybody. With Nika, with KK, with Azzi when Azzi was in the mood to entertain it, with coaches under her breath when she thought they were wrong but knew better than to say too much. She argued because she cared, because she was competitive, because her brain moved fast and her mouth often got there even faster.

But with you, she folded around the edges.

The first time Eli saw it clearly was outside the dining hall.

Nika had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, because Nika had a talent for entering scenes already annoyed.

“There you are,” she said to Paige. “You still owe me.”

Paige frowned. “For what?”

“For lying.”

“I lie about a lot of things. Be specific.”

“For saying you beat me in shooting yesterday.”

“I did beat you.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“You counted one twice.”

“You missed enough that it didn’t matter.”

Nika stepped closer, hands up. “You are so—”

“Paige,” you said, barely looking away from your phone.

Paige stopped arguing.

Again.

Instantly.

She turned toward you. “Yeah?”

You held out your empty matcha cup. “Can you help throw this out?”

Paige took it from your hand before the question fully finished. “Yeah.”

She walked to the trash can.

Eli watched her go.

Nika watched Eli watching her.

Then Nika looked at you, looked at Paige, looked at Eli again, and made a face.

“See?” she said to Eli, despite the fact that nobody had asked her anything. “This is what I deal with.”

Eli blinked. “What?”

Paige returned. “Don’t talk to him.”

Nika ignored her. “All day. She talks crazy to me, then Y/N says one thing and suddenly she’s customer service.”

“I’m helpful,” Paige said.

“You are house-trained.”

Paige’s mouth dropped open. “Bro.”

You coughed around a laugh.

Paige looked at you immediately, then smiled despite herself.

Nika pointed at her own face like she was presenting evidence. “Disgusting.”

Eli was laughing now, eyes bright with the kind of amusement that made Paige want to be annoyed but also weirdly proud. Because yes, fine, maybe she was easy for you. But that was not embarrassing to her in the way everyone seemed to think it should be.

She liked being yours.

She liked when people could tell.

Not too much. Not enough to put words on it that you had not both agreed to share. But enough that people understood there was a line around you, and Paige lived somewhere inside it.

KK joined you near the entrance, looking way too excited for someone who had only caught the tail end of the conversation.

“What happened?”

Nika pointed at Paige. “Same thing that always happens.”

KK’s eyes lit up. “She folded?”

“I did not fold,” Paige said.

You looked at her.

Paige glanced at you and lowered her voice. “I didn’t.”

KK slapped Nika’s arm. “She said that quieter to Y/N.”

Nika nodded. “Different tone.”

“Y’all study me too much,” Paige said.

“You make it easy,” KK replied.

Eli leaned closer to you as Paige got pulled into another bicker with Nika and KK. “Are they always like this?”

“Yes.”

“And Paige is always like…” He trailed off, eyes flicking toward her.

You followed his gaze.

Paige was pointing at Nika, fully animated again. “You literally foul every possession and then act confused.”

Nika fired back instantly. “Because you complain every possession and then act like a victim.”

“I am a victim.”

“You are a problem.”

KK looked thrilled. “This team is so unserious.”

Paige turned toward her. “You’re part of the team.”

“I’m observing as a scholar.”

“You’re observing your way onto the line.”

You smiled, then said, “P, leave the freshman alone.”

Paige stopped. Her hand dropped. “She started it.”

Nika closed her eyes like she was in pain.

KK whispered, “That is insane.”

Eli looked at you.

You looked back at him, confused. “What?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing.”

Because to you, that was just Paige.

Your Paige.

The one who would talk back to the entire world and then hand you obedience like it was the easiest thing she had ever given anybody.

Dinner was not supposed to become a thing.

That was how it happened.

Eli, after wandering campus and pretending not to be tired from travel, rubbed a hand over his stomach and said, “I actually haven’t eaten since this morning. You wanna grab something?”

Paige answered too fast.

“We were actually going somewhere.”

You turned your head slowly.

Paige did not look at you immediately.

Eli looked between you. “Oh. My bad. Can I come along?”

There was a pause. Not long enough to be rude. Long enough for Paige’s soul to briefly leave her body.

You could see her processing it. She had inserted herself because she wanted to be included, because you were hers and she was not above being obvious about it, but now Eli had done the reasonable thing and asked to come too. Paige could not say no. It was not her place. He was not her friend, not really, but he was yours. He had come all this way. He was being nice. He had not done anything wrong except exist with childhood memories and apparently no girlfriend, which Paige had already decided was suspicious on principle even though she had not yet confirmed it.

So she swallowed whatever first response had tried to climb out of her mouth.

Then she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s fine.”

The words were polite.

Her face was not thrilled.

You smiled at her softly.

Paige caught it and looked away, jaw shifting like she was trying not to smile back because she had a reputation to maintain and was currently losing it in front of everyone.

Eli did not ask what that meant.

He was starting to understand.

You ended up at a casual spot not far from campus, the kind of place athletes drifted toward when the dining hall felt too loud or too repetitive and everyone wanted something that did not taste like it had been planned by a nutritionist with a clipboard. The evening had settled cold around Storrs, the sky dark early in that Connecticut way that always made the day feel shorter than it was. Paige walked on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking, switching places with you so smoothly that Eli noticed before you did.

You were talking about something from childhood, hands moving as you explained a story involving a bike, a hill, and Eli apparently making a terrible decision at age twelve.

Paige listened.

Mostly.

She was trying.

But every old story felt like opening a door into a room she had never been inside. You as a kid. You before UConn. You before the girl Paige met freshman year, sharp and pretty and impossible not to look at across a gym. Paige knew that version. She knew who you became under pressure. She knew how you handled bad shooting nights and sore knees and exam weeks. She knew the way you taped your fingers. She knew how you looked when you were locked in during a close game. She knew your coffee order when you were too tired for matcha. She knew your favorite hoodie, the one you denied was hers even though it had started in her closet. She knew what made you laugh now.

Eli knew what made you laugh then. That should not have bothered her.

It did anyway.

Inside the restaurant, you slid into a booth, Eli across from you. Paige sat beside you before anyone could even pretend there was another arrangement. Her thigh pressed against yours under the table. She spread the menu open with one hand, her other resting near her own knee.

You leaned slightly into her without looking, shoulder brushing hers.

She relaxed instantly.

Eli saw that too.

The conversation stayed easy at first. Food orders. Travel complaints. Eli making fun of how cold Storrs was. You telling him he was dramatic because it was not even winter yet. Paige muttering that he would not survive January, which made you laugh.

Then Eli mentioned an old nickname. It slipped out casually, like he had said it a thousand times before.

Paige’s head turned.

You groaned. “Do not call me that.”

Eli grinned. “What? It’s classic.”

“It is not classic. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s history.”

“It’s banned.”

“You can’t ban history.”

“I can ban you.”

Paige looked at you. “What nickname?”

“No.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “No?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting. I’m asking.”

“You’re starting by asking.”

“I wanna know.”

Eli smiled like he had just been handed a weapon. “You don’t know?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to him.

There was no heat, not really.

But there was something.

You felt it immediately.

Not jealousy, exactly. Something softer and more sensitive than that. Paige hated being outside of anything involving you. She would never say it that plainly, but you knew. She wanted every version of you she could get. Not to own, not to control, but to understand. To keep safe. To love properly.

You nudged her knee under the table.

She looked at you.

Your hand slipped down, quiet and easy, finding hers under the table.

Paige went still.

Then her fingers wrapped around yours.

Just like that, the sharp thing in her expression eased.

Nobody above the table needed to know.

Eli kept talking, but his gaze dipped once. Maybe he saw the movement. Maybe he only saw how Paige’s shoulders dropped the second your hand touched hers.

Either way, he did not mention it.

Your food came, and Paige immediately pushed the sauce you liked closer to your side before you reached for it. She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and put it beside your plate. When you got distracted answering one of Eli’s questions, she moved your drink away from the edge of the table because you had a habit of gesturing too much and almost knocking things over.

Eli watched all of it.

After a while, he started testing it. Not cruelly. Just curiously.

“You always take care of her like that?” he asked Paige.

You looked up, confused.

Paige did not hesitate. “Yeah.”

Your face warmed.

Eli’s eyebrows lifted, amused by the directness.

Paige shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “She forgets stuff.”

“I do not forget stuff.”

Paige looked at you.

You looked back.

She said nothing.

You frowned. “Okay, I forget some stuff.”

“You forgot your keys this morning.”

“I was testing you.”

“She says that every time,” Paige told Eli.

Eli laughed. “Sounds like her.”

Paige’s smile tightened at the edges.

There it was again.

Sounds like her.

Like he knew. Like he had known longer.

Your thumb moved over Paige’s knuckles under the table.

She inhaled quietly.

You kept talking to Eli, but your hand stayed in hers.

Paige clung to that small contact like it was a lifeline.

The night got warmer after that. Not because Paige stopped feeling strange, but because you kept choosing her in ways that did not interrupt the conversation. Your knee stayed against hers. Your hand returned to hers whenever you could. Once, when Eli was telling a story about some mutual childhood disaster, you leaned sideways and murmured, “You okay?” so softly only Paige heard.

She nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re quiet.”

“Listening.”

“To him?”

“To you.”

You looked at her then, and Paige looked right back, no joke ready, no smirk, just that open fondness she sometimes forgot to hide.

You squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back.

Eli watched you both from across the table and smiled faintly to himself.

Later, when Paige stepped away to take a call from one of the staff members about something schedule-related, Eli waited until she was out of earshot before leaning back in the booth.

“So,” he said.

You looked up from your drink. “What?”

He nodded toward the direction Paige had gone. “That’s Paige.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Obviously.”

“No, I mean…” He smiled. “That’s Paige.”

You looked down, fighting the way your mouth wanted to curve. “Yeah.”

“She’s intense.”

“She’s Paige.”

“She looks at you like you hung the moon.”

You went quiet.

That was not the kind of teasing you could swat away easily.

Eli softened a little, elbows resting on the table. “You happy?”

The question settled between you.

You looked toward the hallway where Paige had disappeared, then back at him.

“Yeah,” you said. “I am.”

He nodded. “Good.”

You stirred your straw through the ice in your cup.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise of the restaurant filled the silence: silverware, voices, the low hum of music, someone laughing too loudly near the front. It was strange, having someone from before sit across from you in the life you had built after. Strange, but not bad.

Then Eli asked, quieter, “Who is she to you?”

You did not answer right away.

Not because you did not know.

You knew exactly who Paige was to you.

She was the girl outside your door with matcha. The hand under the table. The pass before you cut. The hoodie on your chair. The person who had learned you in details so small other people would have missed them. She was cocky, impossible, soft where it counted, annoying when she wanted attention, loyal in a way that made your chest ache. She was the person who could make you roll your eyes and feel safe in the same breath.

But the relationship was not only yours to hand out.

Even after almost three years, even when the team knew, even when people close to you could figure it out, you were careful with it. Not ashamed. Never ashamed. Just protective. Paige was not a headline to you. She was not gossip. She was not something you tossed casually onto a table just because someone asked.

You looked toward the hallway again.

Paige was still gone.

Then you smiled faintly.

“She’s important,” you said.

Eli studied you for a second.

Then he nodded, like he understood exactly what you were not saying.

“Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”

You did not deny it.

You did not confirm it either.

You only took a sip of your drink, still smiling down at the table like you could not quite help yourself.

Eli leaned back, satisfied. “For what it’s worth, she seems good for you.”

“She is.”

“She’s also wildly obvious.”

You laughed.

“She is not subtle,” he said.

“No,” you admitted softly. “She’s not.”

“And you don’t notice?”

You frowned. “Notice what?”

Eli stared at you.

Then he started laughing.

“What?”

“You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“She follows you around like you’ve got her on a leash.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face felt warm. “She does not.”

“She absolutely does.”

“That’s just Paige.”

“With you,” Eli said. “I’m getting the sense that is just Paige with you.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Because the easy answer was to deny it. To say Paige was like that with everyone. Helpful. Touchy. Loyal. Big-hearted beneath all the attitude.

But that was not fully true.

Paige cared about her people. She would do anything for her team. She would show up, protect, support, fight, love hard. But with you, there was a softness that had its own shape. A quiet automatic obedience that did not appear anywhere else. Paige could argue with a coach, a teammate, a ref, a wall, and herself.

But you said her name, and she stopped.

You had never really thought about how that looked from the outside.

Before you could answer, Paige came back.

Her eyes moved between you and Eli immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said.

She did not believe you. “Why you smiling like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you were talking about me.”

Eli lifted his drink. “We were.”

Paige slid into the booth beside you, suspicious. “What about me?”

You leaned toward her, shoulder brushing hers. “Good things.”

Her suspicion wavered.

“Good things?” she repeated.

You nodded.

Paige tried to hold onto the attitude, but your knee pressed into hers under the table and your fingers found her wrist. Her entire expression softened again, helplessly.

Eli watched it happen.

Then he laughed under his breath.

Paige looked at him. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep saying nothing.”

“Because it’s nothing.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “You’re annoying.”

Eli pointed at you. “She used to say that to me all the time.”

Paige’s attention snapped toward you. “Did you?”

You blinked. “Probably.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You had other annoying people before me?”

You smiled. “P, nobody is annoying like you.”

She looked pleased before she could stop herself.

Eli covered his mouth with his hand.

“You’re laughing again,” Paige said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just seeing the vision.”

“What vision?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Paige looked at you. “I don’t trust him.”

You patted her hand under the table. “Be nice.”

Paige immediately muttered, “I’m being nice.”

Eli whispered, “Leash.”

You kicked him under the table.

He laughed so hard he almost choked on his drink.

Paige looked between you again. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, but you were laughing now too.

Paige huffed, but she was smiling because you were smiling, and that was usually all it took.

By the time dinner ended, Paige had relaxed more. Not fully. She still watched Eli with that quiet competitive focus whenever he mentioned something from your childhood. She still asked too many casual questions that were not casual at all. She wanted to know how long you had known each other, when you stopped living near each other, whether he visited often, whether you two still talked a lot, whether he had a girlfriend.

That last one came out too smooth.

Too smooth meant dangerous.

“So,” Paige said, pushing fries around her plate like she did not care. “You got a girlfriend or something?”

You turned your head slowly.

Eli blinked, then smiled. “Subtle.”

Paige shrugged. “Just asking.”

“Uh, no. We broke up a few months ago.”

Paige’s hand paused.

You felt it because you were still holding it under the table.

There it was.

The clocking.

The immediate mental file opening in Paige’s head.

Single childhood friend. Knows your old nickname. Makes you laugh. Came to Storrs. Hazard level: annoying.

You squeezed her hand before she could spiral too visibly.

Paige looked at you.

You gave her the smallest smile.

She exhaled through her nose and nodded once, like fine, okay, she would behave.

“Sorry,” you told Eli. “That sucks.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “It was mutual. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Okay, maybe not fully mutual.”

You gave him a sympathetic look.

Paige, to her credit, said nothing mean.

You were proud of her.

So proud, actually, that under the table, you brushed your thumb over the inside of her wrist.

Paige’s posture changed.

A tiny shift. Barely visible.

But you felt it. The way she melted in increments, like you had found the exact place to touch to make the jealousy drain out of her. Her shoulder pressed more firmly into yours, and when you did not move away, she stayed there.

Eli saw that too.

He smiled to himself again, less teasing this time.

Something gentler.

After dinner, the three of you walked back toward campus under streetlights, the air cold enough that your breath showed faintly when you laughed. Eli told more stories. Paige listened more than she spoke, but she was not withdrawn anymore. She made comments. Teased you. Asked questions. Got offended when Eli claimed you used to be faster than you were now.

“She is faster now,” Paige said immediately.

Eli lifted his hands. “I’m just saying, at twelve—”

“At twelve she was racing you on a street. Now she’s training every day.”

You glanced at her, amused. “You sound personally offended.”

“I am.”

“On my behalf?”

“Always.”

The word came out too easy.

You looked at her.

Paige looked back, realizing after the fact what she had said. Her cheeks pinked slightly, though she would blame the cold if anyone asked.

Eli looked away politely.

You let your hand brush hers as you walked.

Paige caught it.

Just for a second, your fingers linked.

Then you let go before it became too obvious to anyone passing by.

Paige did not complain.

She just smiled at the ground.

Eventually, Eli had to head back to where he was staying. He hugged you goodbye, promised he would text in the morning, and told Paige it was good to meet her.

Paige nodded. “You too.”

Then, after a beat, she added, “For real.”

Eli seemed to understand the effort in that.

He smiled. “Take care of her.”

Paige’s expression shifted.

Not defensive.

Certain.

“I do,” she said.

Your heart did something stupid.

Eli glanced at you, then back at Paige. “Yeah. I can tell.”

When he left, the quiet that followed felt bigger than it should have.

You and Paige walked back toward the dorms side by side. For the first minute, neither of you spoke. The cold pressed in around you. Somewhere in the distance, people were laughing. A car passed, headlights sliding over the sidewalk before disappearing around the curve.

Paige had her hands in her hoodie pocket.

You had your arms crossed against the chill.

Normally, she would have said something by now. A joke. A complaint. A dramatic comment about the cold. A question she pretended was casual.

Instead, she stayed quiet.

You glanced at her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“P.”

She looked at you.

You stopped walking.

Because that still worked too.

Paige stopped immediately, turning to face you.

The streetlight caught the side of her face, softening the sharpness of her features. She looked younger like this, hood up, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes searching yours with the kind of openness she rarely gave anyone else.

“You were hovering,” you said.

Paige’s mouth twitched. “Was not.”

You gave her a look.

She held out for maybe two seconds.

Then she folded.

“A little.”

You smiled. “A little?”

“Medium.”

“P.”

She sighed. “Fine. A lot.”

Your smile widened.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Don’t look all happy.”

“I’m not happy.”

“You are.”

“Maybe I think it’s cute.”

Paige looked away quickly.

There it was again. That pleased, shy little crack in her confidence.

“You think everything I do is cute,” she muttered.

“Not everything.”

“Name one thing.”

“When you leave your socks on my floor.”

“You love that.”

“I do not.”

“You love that I’m comfortable.”

“I love you. That is different.”

Paige went quiet.

It still got her sometimes.

Even after almost three years.

Especially after almost three years.

Her eyes came back to yours, softer now. “Yeah?”

You stepped closer. “Yeah.”

The tension in her shoulders dropped.

For all her confidence, for all the attitude and cockiness and noise, Paige still looked at you sometimes like she could not believe she had gotten this. Like there was a part of her still standing in freshman year, watching you across a gym, wondering how someone could be that pretty and that good and that calm under pressure. Like some part of her was still amazed that you had chosen her back.

You reached for her sleeve, tugging her closer.

She came immediately.

Of course she did.

“You know you don’t have to compete with him, right?” you said.

Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “I wasn’t.”

“P.”

She looked down.

You waited.

The thing about Paige was she could argue with everyone else forever, but with you, silence usually worked better. You did not have to push. You just had to stay.

Finally, she said, “He knows a lot about you.”

“He knew me when we were kids.”

“Yeah.” Paige swallowed. “That’s the part.”

Your chest softened.

There it was.

Not jealousy, not really.

Want.

Paige wanted every version of you. The teammate. The girlfriend. The girl who forgot her keys. The girl who hit corner threes. The girl who got quiet when she was tired. The girl who used to race bikes down hills and apparently had an embarrassing childhood nickname she refused to share.

She wanted all of it.

Not because she felt entitled to it.

Because she loved you so much she hated the idea of missing anything.

You slid your hand down her sleeve until your fingers found hers.

“You can ask me anything, you know.”

Paige looked up. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What was the nickname?”

You groaned immediately. “No.”

“You said anything.”

“I said anything, not that.”

“That is included in anything.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I do, unfortunately.”

Paige smiled, bright and victorious. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby.”

You looked at her.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

The nickname landed soft and low, wrapped in that pleading tone she only used when she wanted something from you and knew she had a decent chance of getting it. Paige could be shameless when she wanted attention. Worse, she knew you liked it.

“Don’t baby me,” you said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Is it working?”

You stared at her.

She smiled.

You sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“But it’s working?”

“Maybe.”

She stepped closer, fingers tightening around yours. “Then tell me.”

You looked around, even though nobody was close enough to hear. “If I tell you, you can’t laugh.”

Paige’s face turned serious immediately. Too serious. Fake serious. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

“Not at you.”

“At the nickname.”

“That’s different.”

“Paige.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t laugh.”

You hesitated.

She leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on yours like this mattered more than anything else in her entire night.

So you told her.

Quietly.

Paige stared at you.

Her lips pressed together.

“Don’t,” you warned.

Her shoulders shook once.

“Paige.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You are literally laughing.”

“I’m holding it in.”

“P.”

She stopped.

Mostly.

Then she cleared her throat, face red from the effort. “It’s cute.”

“It is not cute.”

“It’s very cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re done.”

“No, wait—”

You started walking again.

Paige followed instantly, still holding your hand.

“Baby, wait.”

“No.”

“I’m serious. It’s cute.”

“You’re never allowed to say it.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You glanced at her.

She looked sincere for about half a second.

Then she said it under her breath.

You stopped.

Paige immediately tried to run.

You grabbed her sleeve, laughing despite yourself. “Paige!”

She was laughing now too, stumbling backward as you pulled her close. “I had to.”

“You promised!”

“I said it quiet.”

“That does not count.”

“It counts emotionally.”

“You are so annoying.”

“But you love me.”

“Barely.”

Paige gasped. “Barely?”

You tried to pull away, but she caught your waist gently, tugging you back in like it was instinct. Not rough. Never rough. Just enough to make you step into her space, your hands landing against the front of her hoodie.

Her face was close now.

Too close for a public sidewalk, maybe.

But not close enough for either of you to move away.

“You love me barely?” she asked, voice softer.

You looked up at her. “Maybe medium.”

“Medium?”

“Fine. A lot.”

“How much?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re needy.”

“For you? Yeah.”

That shut you up.

Paige smiled, but it was not cocky this time. It was honest. Warm. A little vulnerable around the edges.

“I am,” she said, like she had decided there was no point pretending otherwise. “I’m real needy for you.”

Your fingers curled in her hoodie.

“Everyone noticed,” you said softly.

“I don’t care.”

“You cared earlier.”

“I cared that he knew stuff I didn’t.” Paige’s thumb moved lightly at your waist. “Not that he noticed I’m obsessed with you.”

Your face warmed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am.” She leaned closer, nose brushing yours for half a second. “Still got you though.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Still don’t know how.”

Your expression softened.

Paige said it like a joke, but her eyes gave her away.

You lifted one hand to her face, thumb brushing her cheek. She went still under the touch. Completely still. Paige Bueckers, who could not stop moving most days, who bounced and shifted and talked with her whole body, froze like your hand on her face had turned the world quiet.

“You don’t have to know how,” you said. “You just have to stay.”

Her eyes searched yours.

Then she nodded once.

“I can do that.”

“I know.”

“I’m good at that.”

“You are.”

“Best thing I do, probably.”

“You play basketball pretty well too.”

Paige smiled. “Pretty well?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

You laughed, and Paige kissed you before the sound could fully leave your mouth.

It was quick, soft, familiar. A kiss that belonged to quiet sidewalks and cold nights and the kind of love that had been built over years of mornings, practices, passes, arguments, teasing, and Paige waiting outside your door with your drink in hand.

When she pulled back, she was smiling.

You tapped her chest. “Come on. It’s cold.”

Paige immediately stepped beside you.

Then, after two steps, she gently took your hand again.

You looked at her. “You’re clingy tonight.”

“I’m clingy every night.”

“True.”

“You like it.”

You did not answer.

Paige bumped your shoulder. “You like it.”

“Maybe.”

“You do.”

“P.”

She grinned. “Okay.”

And just like that, she stopped pushing.

The walk back was quiet after that, but not empty. Paige kept your hand in hers until you reached the building. She opened the door for you. Followed you inside. Pressed the elevator button before you could. Stood close enough that your shoulders touched as you waited.

When the doors opened, KK was inside again. Because apparently the universe had a sense of humor. She looked at your joined hands.

Then at Paige.

Then at you.

A slow grin spread across her face.

“Damn,” KK said. “Still on the leash?”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You got one more time.”

You squeezed Paige’s hand.

Paige shut her mouth.

KK’s grin got huge. “Oh, this is sick.”

You stepped into the elevator, laughing.

Paige followed, muttering, “I hate everybody.”

KK looked at you. “She don’t hate you.”

“No,” you said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side.

Paige looked down at you, all soft again, all helpless again, all hers and yours and gone in that way everyone could see except maybe the two of you.

“No,” Paige said quietly. “I don’t.”

KK made a gagging noise.

Paige ignored her.

You smiled.

And when the elevator doors closed, Paige was still holding your hand, still carrying your bag, still standing close enough to follow wherever you went next.

Like always.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like she had never once wanted to be anywhere else.

KK is next to you. Close. Too close if anyone was paying attention, but no one ever really does.

Her knee keeps brushing yours every time she shifts, her shoulder warm against your arm, and it’s subtle enough to pass as nothing, but you feel every second of it.

“Come here,” Sarah suddenly says, reaching over and grabbing your arm.

You barely get a chance to react before she’s pulling you forward into frame.

“Wait, no, I’m fine right here”

Too late.

Now you’re right there, squeezed between them, your face suddenly on screen, and the second you glance at the phone, you already know.

The comments are insane.

“WHO IS THAT”

“She’s so pretty”

“Tell her I said hi”

“Drop the @”

“I’m in love”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, immediately ducking your head. “No, I hate this.”

Sarah just grins wider. “They love you.”

“Yeah, they really do,” Ice adds, leaning closer to read more. “Wait! ‘ask if she’s single’—oh they’re serious.”

You groan, covering your face for a second. “Stop reading them.”

But you’re smiling, you can’t help it, even if your face is definitely warm now.

Next to you, KK goes quiet.

Not in a normal way.

You don’t look at her right away, but you feel it. The shift in her posture, the way her leg presses a little more firmly against yours, the way she’s not laughing anymore.

More comments flood in.

“KK move I need her”

“I’ll treat her right”

“She mine idc”

“ASK HER IF SHE GOT A GF”

Ice actually sits up at that. “Oh wait, that’s a good one—do you?”

You freeze for a split second.

It’s tiny, but it’s enough.

KK notices.

Sarah notices too, but she just watches, amused, like she already knows how this is about to go.

You open your mouth, about to say something vague, something safe, but then–

“She’s taken.”

KK doesn’t even hesitate.

Her voice cuts clean through everything, calm but firm enough that it lands.

The room goes quiet for half a second.

“OH???”

“BY WHO”

“WAIT WHAT”

“EXCUSE MEEE”

“KK KNOWS SOMETHING”

You turn to her so fast your shoulder bumps hers. “Seriously?”

She finally looks at you, and there’s something in her eyes that makes your stomach flip.

“What?” she shrugs. “They were doing too much.”

Sarah lets out a laugh. “You’re so obvious.”

“I’m not,” KK shoots back, but she’s already looking away again.

Ice grins. “Nah, you definitely are.”

The comments keep going, faster now, more curious, more chaotic, but KK doesn’t say anything else.

She doesn’t need to.

The rest of the live kind of drifts after that. Sarah keeps talking, Ice keeps joking, you try to act normal, but you’re hyper-aware of everything now.

Of her.

Of how close she is.

Of how she still hasn’t looked at you again.

And then finally, it ends.

Sarah drops her phone onto the couch, still laughing. “That was actually insane.”

Ice stands up, stretching. “I’m getting food, y’all want anything?”

“I’m good,” you mumble.

KK doesn’t say anything.

You don’t wait.

You reach for her wrist, quick and quiet. “Come here.”

Sarah notices, of course she does, but she just smirks and looks away like she didn’t.

KK lets you pull her down the hallway without a word.

The second you’re in your room, the door clicks shut behind you, and you turn around to face her.

“What was that?” you ask, your voice lower now, but not angry. Just… a lot.

She leans back against the door like she owns the space, like she’s completely unbothered.

“They were annoying.”

“That’s not—KK.”

You step closer, crossing your arms like that’s going to help you stay composed.

“You just told everyone I’m taken.”

“You are.”

The way she says it makes your chest tighten.

You exhale, shaking your head a little. “Yeah, but you didn’t say by who.”

Her eyes flick up to yours again, sharper now.

“I didn’t need to.”

There’s a pause.

The air shifts.

You can feel it building again, that same tension from earlier, but stronger now without the camera, without the noise.

“You got jealous,” you say quietly.

Her jaw tightens just a little.

“They were talking about you like—” she stops, exhales, then looks back at you. “I didn’t like it.”

You step closer without thinking.

“You don’t like people flirting with me?”

“No.”

It’s immediate.

Honest.

Your heart stutters a little at that.

“KK…”

She pushes off the door, closing the distance completely now, her hand finding your wrist again, then sliding up your arm slower this time, like she’s not rushing anymore.

“I don’t like them acting like you’re free,” she says, voice lower now. “Like you’re not already mine ”

“Yours?” you ask softly.

Her eyes flicker.

“Yeah.”

You don’t realize how close you are until your breath mixes with hers.

“You could’ve just said it,” you murmur.

“No,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “This isn’t for them.”

Your chest tightens at that.

“For me?”

Her hand comes up to your jaw, fingers warm, steady.

“For me,” she repeats.

And then she kisses you.

It’s immediate, like she’s been holding back the entire time and finally doesn’t have to. Her hand stays at your jaw, guiding you closer, while your hands grab onto her hoodie, pulling her in like you need her just as much.

It’s not rushed, but it’s intense, every second deliberate, like she’s making a point without saying a word.

You melt into it, stepping forward until she has to adjust, one hand sliding to your waist to keep you there.

When you finally pull back, it’s only for a second, your forehead resting against hers, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“Still think I was doing too much?” she murmurs.

You let out a small laugh, even though your heart’s still racing. “Yeah. A little.”

She smiles, just barely.

But her grip on you tightens.

“Don’t care.”

And then she kisses you again, slower this time, but just as sure, like she’s not proving anything anymore.

—⁠☆

A few days later and you find yourself in the front step of her apartment, clutching your laptop in one hand along with your phone while the other's holding your iced matcha. You clicked the doorbell, waiting for her to open. "What's taking her so fuckin long? It's so hot out here" Groaning, you took a sip of your macha before the doors to her apartment opened. You were welcomed by Paige, her hair was up, unusually so. It was in a low bun, she was still wearing her purple rimmed glasses that gave her those googly eyes, and she's in gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. She has a thin, silver chain adorning her neck while her pointer finger has a plain ring.

"Come in" Her voice was stern, direct and firm, the type of tone that takes over the locomotion of your body and makes it so whatever it wants. You stepped in, leaving your UGGs by the door as you entered. "look at that, you still have some respect left in ya" Paige chuckled, making you snap your head to look at her.

"I'm raised in a respectable household, thank you very much." Rolling your eyes at her, she only hummed and went straight to her kitchen that's connected to the living room. Her apartment was well... Paige. It screamed Paige. She has fucking planets for lights, glow in the dark stars stuck to her ceiling, a literal skeletal system model beside her t.v that's just conveniently playing some documentary on a dinosaur you can't even pronounce the name of.

"you cannot be deadass..." You rolled your eyes, huffing as you sat on the gray couch, the only thing that's normal in this house. "what?" Paige raised a brow, drinking her water as she leaned on the counter. "You have adult money and You're spending it on these dumbass things? Really, Paige?" It was fascinating how this girl's mind works, she's so... geeked.

"oh please, you have adult money and you spend it on overpriced coffee along with that overpriced phone case that, no offense, looks like a pussy" She snapped back, pointing at your pink, Rhode phone case. "Excuse you?!" Exclaiming, you tried to hold your laugh, but you gotta admit that it kinda resembles it.

Not long after, Paige sat on the opposite end of the couch, her own laptop resting on her lap and already laser focused on the task. "Our topic's about tyrannosaurus rex, how vicious it was and why it's gotta go." Paige said, monotone and quick. You didn't like that. "What the hell? You didn't even ask me if I agree with that topic, you can't just do that!" Paige shot you a look, that made your mouth immediately shut, a frown on your face.

"it's not like you're doing anything for this research, anyway." She calmly said back, still looking you dead in the eyes. "So just shut up and let me do my job, alright? You're only here for documentation purposes, I didn't want to be partners with you, either" She started. "Just cooperate and act busy when I'm taking pictures." She added.

And so you did, laying on her carpet floor, scrolling on her Netflix and watching movies while she worked her butt off in the paper. About two hours passed and you couldn't take it anymore, you plopped yourself down beside her, peeking on her laptop, making her click her tongue.

"can you not?" Paige said but your eyes were already the screen, articles after videos and photos of the said dinosaur were pulled up making your head spin. "You are a nerd" You chuckled before looking directly into Paige's eyes. "Never said I wasn't" she said before shoving you away from her laptop. You didn't let up and kept annoying her.

"you're always doing... Whatever the hell this is, nerd stuff" Paige hummed, waiting for you to get to your point. "I don't fucking know? I'm starting to think you don't even watch porn because all you watch are these!" You pointed at her laptop screen as if accusing it of something criminal, the images of a T-Rex looking back right at you.

Paige shook her head, chuckling, her fingers tapped on the side of the couch as if she was contemplating about something. "I do watch porn, I'll have you know that." There was a brief smirk on her lips when she saw the shock on your face, eyes wide, lips slightly parted and your cheeks were reddening. "I-i doubt you!" Huffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, just enough to give your tits a nice push and Paige didn't miss that, another subtle smirk.

"yes I do, I'mma nerd, not a saint." She shrugged her shoulders like she's too cool for you and it ticks you off, this cannot be the same girl that stutters during presentations. "Oh yeah? Well, name three porn sites" Challenging her, your body shifted a little closer to where she was sitting, thighs brushing against each other.

"I don't do porn sites" Her answer was direct, no bullshit, just straight to the point. "What?" Confusion etched on your face, head tilted and eyebrows raised. What the hell does she mean she doesn't do porn sites? "I use only fans and pay pretty girls for their pussy" She elaborated. You choked, like, really choked. You didn't expect her to say something so vulgar, a part of your mind was wondering if this was actually calculus geek Paige you were talking to or was she passed by an... I don't know? A fuck boy, perchance?

"Are you being serious?" You asked, looking at her in surprise, but also, it was funny how honest she was. Letting out a chuckle, you love even closer, looking into her eyes intently as your thighs once again touched. "Dead serious" Paige confirmed, her eyes roaming your sitting figure beside her. "Wait- pussy? You're like... like lesbo?" You asked, oblivious and flustered as you started at her face, trying to read her neutral expression but it's hard when she's so nonchalant.

"Isn't it obvious?" Paige scoffed, setting her laptop aside before she turned her body to face yours. "And I heard you're super straight, my instincts say otherwise." She confidently said, she sounded so certain, so sure that you're not straight. "Of course I am!" Your voice cracked slightly, looking away, cheeks reddening under her watchful gaze. "I-i'm straight... I like boys..." You mumbled like an affirmation, almost like you're convincing yourself instead of Paige.

"Oh yeah? Never searched lesbian porn your whole life?" She smirked, head tilted in a taunting gesture, her arms crossed lazily. God you hate this woman so fucking much, how is she always so confident about everything? The words that left her mouth sounded so calculated and sure. "I... I have- BUT I was just curious! I'm not a fucking lesbian pervert like you!" You huffed, turning away from her. You could feel your cheeks burning, embarrassment eating you alive. I can't believe I just confessed that I watch lesbian porn to this nerd. The silence was deafening but you could hear her shifting on her seat.

Paige stood up from the couch, making her way over and standing in front of you, a cocky grin on her face as she looked down at your face. Flushed, a pout, a frown, she knows that all too well. You're in denial and she finds your struggle funny, entertaining, even. "How about I help you confirm that, hm?" You thought you misheard her, maybe you're having audible hallucination. "What did you say?" You asked, looking at her now, serious, gaze unwavering.

"I said, I'll help you confirm if you're really straight." Is this bitch crazy? Did she just offer that? To you? "I don't need your help, I'm very comfortable with my sexuality, thank you" You sarcastically said, rolling your eyes at her for the nth time today earning you another chuckle. "What? Scared you'll like it and switch sides, queen bee?" She's taunting you now, just straight up provoking you. "Shut the fuck up, I already told you I'm straight! I like boys!" Paige was laughing now, like actually laughing, shaking her head in amusement. "I mean it! And how the hell are you gonna help me confirm it anyway?!"

"Let me fuck you." Silence. You blinked once, twice, your breath hitched and the tension was palpable. You wanted to laugh, brush it off as nothing, but you could see that Paige is serious. Serious about proving her point right, of proving that you're not straight, serious about fucking you. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words but nothing would come out. Paige was still looking at you, waiting for your answer with her arms crossed. Fuck she's making you nervous.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked away before speaking. "H-how would that prove anything?" You want to sound strong and firm but your voice cracked and Paige caught on that. "See if you like it, I'll fuck you dumb and you'll tell me how you like it." She casually said as if she's not proposing about railing you. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone at University. I know you have a reputation to uphold" Cocky. She was so damn cocky with that stupid smile on her pretty face. You were contemplating, biting your lips in thought because you swear on everything you're straight but why the fuck is this nerd making you question your own sexuality?

You sighed, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. "Fine... b-but this is our secret, okay?!" Blushing, you shyly stared at her, waiting for a reply, for her to say something. Anything. "Deal"

—⁠☆

it was supposed to be a meet up for the project that's worth half your grades, but here you are, sitting on Paige's lap while she's sat by the edge of her bed, big hands cradling your hips and caressing your skin. "you've never been with a girl?" Her voice was a hush whisper, you nodded, moaning softly as you felt her kisses on the side of your neck. One of her hands moved from your hips to the buttons of your blouse, long fingers unbuttoning them with practiced ease, her nails light scratching the skin of your chest and stomach. Paige smiled against your neck, a hum leaving her throat. "I'm gonna break your mind so good, you'll never talk shit about me in class" She chuckled, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. "Because every time you look at me, all you'd remember was tonight."

Her movements were calculated, she's moving with purpose, fingers tracing your clothed tits, gently toying with your nipples, causing them to harden. She smiled at the sight, her hands crawling to your back, tracing patterns on it while she busied her tongue with your nipples, still covered with your lace bra. "P-paige..." You moaned, fingers tangling with her blonde locks as you pushed her head snug against your chest. "Shh, calm down, mama, I gotchu" she chuckled before flicking her tongue on your nipple, sucking gently that caused you to throw your head back.

"You're so vocal, angel" Paige whispered as her mouth detached from your breasts, keeping eye contact. "Mhm, I know... I-im noisy during sex" You shyly confessed, looking at her for any sign of turn offs, but she only smirked and crashed her lips on yours. Her tongue tracing your lips, asking for entrance which you gave with a moan, feeling her tongue explore the insides of your mouth was heaven. You've been missing out on this your whole life? Fuck.

Paige pulled away gently, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, she hissed softly as she took off her glasses. It shouldn't be that hot, no, but God it made you so wet. She threw her glasses somewhere on the carpet floor, you heard it thump as it hit the ground. She was getting impatient yet Paige was still considering that it is your first time with a woman so she's taking it slow. Carefully, she laid you on her bed, kissing you again before her lips went lower to your neck, chest, her fingers unclasping your bra in a swift click and not long after, joining her glasses on the floor.

Her kisses went even lower now, down to your stomach that made your back arch. It's embarrassing how you're already a moaning mess just from kisses, but the way Paige does it is so intimate and you can't help it. "Please..." Your voice was weak, soft, you're desperate. "What was that, pretty girl?" Paige asked while she slips you panties down, leaving your skirt on. Your fingers gripped the sheets, whining at her slow teasing. "Just touch me already, god damnit"

Paige smirked, hooking your thighs over her shoulders, she took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. "Fuck" she groaned, eyes closing shut at the smell of your sweet wetness. She placed a kiss on your clit before spreading your folds with her pointer and middle finger. She gave your core a long lick, from your entrance to your clit as a satisfied hum left her throat, savoring your taste of your wetness.

She was gentle, her tongue lazily lapping up your cunt, thumb caressing some circles on your thighs while she ate you out. "You like that, princess?" She whispered against you, making your body quiver. You nodded, raking your fingers through her blonde hair as you pushed her face further into your heat. "Y-yes... Fuck, Paige don't stop" And she didn't, Paige spent a good ten minutes between your legs, tongue flicking your clit before thrusting it inside you and whenever you're about to come, she'd pull away.

"Please please please, 'm cumming... im gonna- Fuck" another whine was torn from your mouth as she pulled away just when you're about to cum. "Not yet" was all she said before spitting on your cunt, her saliva dripping from your clit, kissing your entrance, then on the sheets beneath you. It was so erotic, so fucking sexy.

"Want you to cum on my cock, princess" Paige said, climbing out of bed and to her drawer. She took her sweatpants off along with her boxers and you couldn't help but ogle. She chuckled at her, grabbing her strap from her drawer and wearing it before returning to bed with a bottle of lube. "I'm gonna fuck you nice and slow, get you to squirt on me like no other boys can, yeah?" She opened the lube, squeezing the cold liquid over your already dripping wet pussy before she stroked herself with it.

"Ready?" She didn't wait for your answer, just gave your clit three taps with the head of her cock before pushing it in. Three inches in, your back arches, moaning loudly as you felt the curve of her shaft prodding your sensitive spot. Five inches in, Paige pushed it carefully, making sure you felt every vein and every inch of her.

"S-so big..." You bit your lips, so turned on by the sight of her. This nerd, this loser, pushing her way in your cunt like she owns the hole. It was hard to believe that it really was her because if you told yourself three days ago that Paige Bueckers would have you on her bed, sprawled, pussy red and full of her, you'd laugh it off.

"I know, angel, two more inches" Paige whispered, thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of flesh as she pushed her way in. Seven whole inches, Paige Bueckers has downed seven inches of cock in you and that thought alone was enough to make your head spin and vision blur. She started to roll her hips,dick massaging your walls so deliciously that you couldn't help but tremble under her body. "You're so fucking pretty... If only you weren't mean to me." She whispered,dragging the strap out all the way but leaving the tip in.

"Apologize for being a bitch and maybe I'd let you cum" she punctuated her words with a sharp thrust, walls clamping around her as she knocked the air out of your lungs. "Fuck!" You moaned, thighs already trembling from the amount of edging Paige has put you through, you're just desperate in need of release.

"I-im sorry-" you whimpered, almost sounding like a sob from how frustrated you are, you needed it so damn much. Paige only smirked, her pace starting to pick up, the tip consistently kissing your cervix. "What was that?" She taunted, mouth attaching to your hardened nipple as she started to actually fuck you now.

"I-i said! I'm... I'm S-sorry!" You cried, body shaking and arching against hers. Her pace was punishing, like she's trying to prove a point, and she is. "Yeah? You think that's gonna cut it after years of bullying, whore?" She laughed like you're stupid, ramming your cunt with her cock, completely destroying you.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry- I won't do it a-again! Please please just let me cum... Just p-please Paige" you sobbed, nails scratching her back while she buried herself deep into your pillowy pussy. "You mean that? You're gonna be a good girl, bitch?" You nodded early, desperate for release and her approval. "I-i promise... I'm so sorry- please, a-ahh fuck fuck!" You could feel it and she can too, your walls were gripping her like a vice and that's more than enough satisfaction for her.

"Cum on me" that's all it took, your mind went blank, tears rolling down your cheeks as a chocked moan left your throat as well as your drool by the side of your lips. You looked perfect, just like how Paige envisioned it in her head when she was crushing on you.

"Thank you thank you thank you" you chanted repeatedly like a mantra as you came and squirted all over her cock and stomach, cunt sucking her in, creating a white ring on the base of her strap. "Shit..." Paige whistled, smiling down at her work before giving your forehead a kiss.

That day you learned a lot of things — that t-rex's have binocular visions, that there are other galaxies in the milky way, that anime wasn't so bad to watch... but most importantly — is that you learned that you aren't straight. All in courtesy of Paige Madison Bueckers.

HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL ANGELS, I hope y'all liked this one AND OMG??? I did not expect this fic to be this fucking long holy shit 😭 but as always, feedbacks r appreciated and y'all stay cute 😜 💋 xoxo kyriaki 🪽

🔖list

paige couldn’t stop thinking about you.

she hasn’t seen you all week. not really. not because she didn’t want to. god, she wanted to. only a couple texts here and there. not a lot. half-hearted. nothing like before. and every time she thought about reaching out, her thumbs would hover over the screen, typing and deleting the same shit over and over again.

she figures you’ll probably get upset about the fact that she doesn’t reach out. she knows it’s her fault, really. 

but, lately, she’s been getting stuck in her head. what if you regret it? what if she messed it all up? what if you don’t even wanna talk to her anymore? 

it’d been days since you kissed her, and her mind hadn’t shut off since. she could still feel you. your hands on her neck, the way your fingers played with her hair. the warmth of your thigh under her palm. the way you whispered against her mouth. god, she couldn’t stop thinking about your lips. the way you tasted. the way they moved against hers. she kept replaying it. over and over and over. the way your bottom lip trembled just slightly before you kissed her back. the way gasped when she kissed you a little deeper. the way you let out that tiny, shaky moan against her mouth. 

she hadn’t been sleeping right. laid up in bed every night, eyes wide open, heart racing, thinking of all the things she probably should’ve said.

she kept checking her phone like a damn addict—hoping for a text. anything.

but you don’t say much.

and deep down, she knew she was supposed to say something first. you’d kissed her, trusted her, asked her to show you something you had little experience in.

but all paige had done since then… was freeze. she didn’t know what to say when she wanted to text you. 

everything afterwards felt off.

her routine didn’t feel like her anymore. her days felt too long. her nights too short. food didn’t hit the same. music didn’t sound right. even the gym—basketball—felt too damn loud. or sometimes, too damn empty. she really couldn’t get you out of her mind. no matter how many times she told herself to lock in, to just shake it all off… you were everywhere. in the back of her thoughts during drills. in the corners of her dreams when she managed to sleep. on the tip of her tongue when she opened her phone, just to stare at your name without sending anything.

her body ached for you, and she hated that it sounded that dramatic—but it was the truth. because it wasn’t just the fact that you kissed her. that you let her kiss you. 

it was you. and your lips. your mouth. how you touched her, like you weren’t totally sure what you were doing but trusted her to guide you through it anyway. how you leaned into her kiss, moaned against her mouth, desperate, like you wanted her to keep going but didn’t know how to ask. that moment played on a loop in her head. every time she tried to move on, her mind constantly dragged her back to it. and now, after tasting you—after finally having just a piece of what she’d wanted for so long—she couldn’t go back to pretending she was okay with being just friends.

and honestly, paige used to handle it fine. she’s been doing it for years. 

in the beginning, she thought it was just a little crush. nothing serious. just something that’ll go away eventually. 

and you were pretty. gorgeous. that was part was easy. she used to sit next to you on purpose, just close enough to smell whatever perfume you wore, and maybe ask you for a pen just so that you’d look at her and roll your eyes before digging through your back even though she already had a pen. 

so yeah, okay. maybe she stared too long sometimes. maybe she looked at your lips more than she should’ve. maybe she started thinking about you when she was supposed to be focused on film or practice or literally anything else.

but it was just a crush. right?

yeah, well… it didn’t go away.

and when you kissed her, everything she’d been trying to hold back all came rushing up. 

now, she needed more.

at practice, she was more distracted than she’d ever been. she thinks about you while she’s in the locker room, thinks about you while she zones out in team huddles, thinks about you while chewing her lip raw while coach ran down the plan during practice. 

but there are only three sentences in her mind that repeats over and over and over… i miss her. i need her. i want her again.

paige wanted to tell you how she felt. god, she wanted to so bad.

it sat in her mind, begging to come out every time she thought about you—which was all the time. but every time she even thought about texting you, calling you, seeing you again—she froze.

what would she even say? everything sounded stupid in her head. too much. she didn’t know if it was just a kiss for you. maybe just an experiment. a thank you, even.

and the thought of that—of it meaning less to you than it did to her—it made her sick.

because it meant everything to her.

͏✶

you didn’t think much of the dress you chose to wear for tonight. it was a simple summer dress, the kind of thing you forgot you even had until you started rifling through your closet in a panic. it’s pretty but you weren’t really trying to impress anyone. you just didn’t want to look like you rolled out of bed. you kept telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal—it’s just a movie—but still, you checked the mirror three times. adjusted the hem. made sure the zipper was up all the way. fixed your hair, then undid it and fixed it again.

you told yourself it wasn’t because you were nervous.

you told yourself it wasn’t because of paige.

matt had been texting you all day—mostly sweet stuff. he was nice. respectful. he asked about your favorite movie snacks, said he’d pick you up a little early because he didn’t want to miss the trailers, and even texted you about hitting some off-campus college after to spend more time together. 

you stared at that last message for a second longer than you meant to. you didn’t reply right away. you didn’t know why your stomach twisted when you imagined going.

but you forced a small smile at your reflection, smoothed the fabric over your hips, and told yourself again—it’s just a movie. you repeated it in your head while slipping on your heels.

you’d go, sit beside matt, eat some popcorn, maybe laugh at the cheesy previews, maybe chat during the slow parts. just hang out. just… watch a movie. maybe kiss him.

your chest tightened at the thought. and suddenly it wasn’t matt’s face you saw in the dark theater, leaning in beside you.

it was paige. 

you closed your eyes for a second, but it didn’t help. you could still feel her. you weren’t even touching her anymore, but your body remembered all of it. every detail.

then, you opened your eyes slowly, blinking hard at your reflection. 

just a movie, you whispered to yourself again.

your phone buzzed just as you grabbed your bag. you weren’t expecting anything—maybe matt, saying he was outside, maybe riley checking in. but when you glanced down at the screen, it felt like your heart stopped for a second.

paige: if matt says some dumb shit or makes you uncomfortable or whatever just call me or sumn.

you stared at it, fingers hovering over your screen, unsure what to even say back.

paige was thinking about you.

you lips curl into a soft smile, before replying back. 

you: i’ll call if i need you 

you put your phone away after you sent that message.

the air was cool as matt pulled up outside your dorm, his car parked just in front of the building as he waited. you grabbed your bag, smoothing your dress one last time before sliding into the passenger seat. he greeted you with a warm smile, eyes bright and a little nervous like he wanted everything to be perfect tonight.

throughout the ride, matt was respectful—more than you expected. he kept the conversation light, complimenting you.

“you look really pretty tonight,” he said once. or “that dress really suits you.”

you nodded, forcing a small smile, trying to match his charm, but inside you felt a bit awkward—like you were pretending to be someone who could just go on a date without a million thoughts swirling around your head. the care radio played softly in the back as you both talked about the movie and what you liked, what you were hoping to see, the snacks you planned to grab. matt was a good listener, genuinely interested, but you couldn’t help but feel… unsure. 

when you arrived at the theater, you both found your seats, getting comfortable in the dark. your hands folded neatly in your lap, legs crossed at the ankles, pretending to be at ease.

matt really was nice. thoughtful. his arm rested politely on the shared armrest, close but not touching. every now and then, he’d lean over to whisper something light and you’d smile, nod, let out a soft laugh. he was sweet. polite. exactly the kind of guy people said you should give a chance. he told you that you looked beautiful when he saw you, and he meant it. 

but still… was this really what you wanted?

you sat there beside him, staring ahead, and couldn’t shake the feeling blooming in your chest. like something was missing.

and about halfway through the movie, you felt it—a soft nudge against your hand. you blinked, glancing down. matt’s fingers brushed yours again, hesitant at first, then bolder, letting them settle lightly against the back of your hand like he was testing the waters.

you froze. not out of fear. not because you felt unsafe. but because something about it felt wrong. off.

you tried to stare ahead at the screen. and then, slowly, like it had been planned all night, matt leaned in. you felt his eyes on you. your profile, your mouth. your stomach flipped. not in the same way she made you feel. he was staring at your lips like he’d been waiting for the right moment, and this was it. he tilted his head slightly, and you turned toward him totally out of instinct—eyes wide, not knowing what to say, how to stop it, or if you even should—

and then his lips were on yours.

they were soft, warm, slightly chapped. not rough. not bad…

just… not right.

you kissed him back—barely. more like a twitch of habit than an actual effort. your mind blanked. your hands stayed frozen in your lap. your chest stayed still. 

no spark. no rush.

nothing.

it was awkward. 

and he was trying, being gentle, respectful, careful… but suddenly, your mind was somewhere else.

suddenly, you were back in paige’s dorm, with her fingers resting on the soft skin of your thigh, her mouth coaxing yours open like she’d dreamed about it a thousand times before.

you pulled back first, blinking fast, trying to smile as you reached for the popcorn again like nothing happened.

and matt gave a quiet laugh, sheepish. “sorry, was that okay?”

you nodded automatically.

nothing else happened after that. he didn’t try to kiss you again. he didn’t reach for your hand. he just sank back into his seat. you sat there in silence, eyes on the screen but mind anywhere else as your heart beat too loud in your chest. 

when the movie ended, matt stood up and stretched, put on half of a smile and you followed him out of the theater. 

he asked if you still wanted to head to the party. and you said yes, even though you weren’t sure why. the word left your mouth before you really thought it through, honestly. and he smiled, nodded, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets like it was exactly what he hoped you’d say.

you told yourself maybe it’d be better—less awkward—with other people around. maybe being surrounded by music, chatter, and movement ease the tension. 

you trailed beside him through the lot, your heels clicking against the pavement, the cool air nipping at your arms. you were already dreading the moment it’d be just the two of you again, standing by his car or in the front of your dorm at the end of the night—bracing for the part where you’d have to let him down easy. tell him he’s a great guy. that you’re just not feeling it. that it wasn’t about him.

and no matter how nice matt was, no matter how well he treated you—he wasn’t the one you wanted to feel that way about.

͏✶

paige hadn’t even planned on going to the party.

she’d already half-decided on staying in, crawling into bed, watching grey’s anatomy for the millionth time, and maybe passing out before midnight if her mind would let her. it wasn’t like she didn’t want to be around people… it was just that everything felt kind of dull lately. muted. like no matter how loud the music or how packed the house would be, her brain would still be playing that same memory over and over.

you. your lips.

and she was trying. god, she was trying to get over it.

but now the whole team was going—just another athlete from uconn’s birthday party in one of those big houses just off campus. music, drinks, people from all over the university, the kind of party where no one ever really remembered who invited who.

at first, paige waved it off. said she was going to stay in when when azzi asked if she was going, and again when kk tried to bribe her with her tru fru in the fridge. 

but by the time she was alone in her room, the silence got too loud. and already just a minute alone, she was already thinking about you.

was it going well? were you still out with matt? did he kiss you? did you let him?

“fuck,” she muttered under her breath and sat up, rubbing her hands down her face. 

maybe a party wasn’t such a bad idea after all. at least there’d be noise. people. drinks. a distraction. anything to pull her out of her head for a couple hours. 

so she got dressed. nothing too much—some baggy pants, a clean black hoodie, her chain around her neck. she tied her hair up messily, threw on her sneakers, and left before she could change her mind.

the party was already alive when paige got there. music boomed from speakers too big for the living room, bodies packed wall to wall, red solo cups in every hand.

she stepped inside and felt it all hit her at once.

but she didn’t hesitate.

she spotted azzi and kk first—leaned up by the kitchen counter with aubrey and ice, already halfway into their second drinks, talking with some guys from the track team. azzi waved her over instantly, eyes lighting up as she yelled paige’s name through the noise.

“hey! you finally made it.”

paige grinned, playing it off like she wasn’t two seconds away from bailing earlier. 

“you thought i was gon’ let y’all have fun without me?” she said, slipping into the circle, dapping up ice and throwing her arm around kk’s shoulder.

“look at you tryna act like you weren’t just in your bed watchin’ greys,” ice teased, already laughing.

paige rolled her eyes, smirking. “first of all, grey’s anatomy is peak. put some respect on meredith’s name.”

they cracked up, and just like that, paige settled into room. she kept the energy up, laughing, talking shit, hyping up her girls, taking playful shots at aubrey’s outfit, nodding her head and doing the little shoulder bounce when a song she liked came on.

but no matter how much time she spent here, paige couldn’t stop checking her phone. she kept it in her pocket, fingers brushing against it every few minutes like muscle memory to pull it out and glance at the screen—just to see nothing. she shoves it back. tries to focus. laughs at something dumb kk said. nodding along to azzi’s story about some freshman trying to flirt with her after class.

but her hand always drifted back. she didn’t even realize how often she was doing it until aubrey gave her a look and nudged her playfully.

“you waiting on a text or something?”

paige forced a half-smile, eyes back on her screen. still nothing from you. just a couple random notifications—snapchat from someone she didn’t care about, an instagram tag, but nothing that made her excited the way your name would.

“nah,” she lied. “just checkin’ the time.”

but it was late now. later than she thought it’d get without hearing from you.

she just… wondered if you were okay.

if you were having fun. if he was being good to you. if he said something stupid, or tried to touch you, or kissed you when you didn’t want him to.

she hated how easily her brain jumped to those things. hated how it made her chest feel tight and itchy, like she had to dosomething even though she couldn’t.

you weren’t hers.

but thirty minutes later, just as paige was halfway through sipping a cup of shirley temple that azzi shoved into her hand, she saw you. 

you walked in through the front door with matt beside you, his hand sliding smooth around your waist and paige—she froze.

the cup hovered midair for a second before she blinked, slowly lowering it. her friends kept talking around her, but their voices blurred and faded away instantly the linger she looked at you. 

you hadn’t seen her yet. but she saw everything.

she saw the way you hesitated the moment you stepped further into the house, eyes darting around like you weren’t sure where to stand, or who to greet first. she saw the way matt leaned in to say something close to your ear, the way you tilted your head politely and nodded, but didn’t smile the way you normally did when something made you laugh.

but god—you looked so good.

paige couldn’t stop staring. she told herself to look away. just once. just for a second. but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

that sundress on you—fuck.

it was soft, a color that made your skin glow under the dim party lights, and it moved when you walked, swaying around your thighs. it hugged you in the right places, loose in others. your hair was done, your lip gloss shimmered under those tacky party lights, and your arms were crossed loosely in front of you. 

she had to drop her eyes for a second, tongue swiping over her bottom lip, jaw tight. she gripped the cup in her hand as if she could stop herself from imagining how your waist would feel in her hands.

because matt’s hand was there now. on you.

and it made her sick.

paige felt heat crawl up the back of her neck. jealousy wasn’t even the right word. it was something worse. something bitter. because matt wasn’t even doing anything wrong. not really. he was just… holding you like you were a trophy. like you were some prize he’d earned just by asking. like he knew every guy in the room would be looking and that was the whole point.

and you looked beautiful and uncomfortable all at the same time. paige saw it in the slight downturn of your mouth. the way you shifted in his hold, fingers fiddling with the strap of your bag.

she knew that face. she read you.

you weren’t having fun. you were pretending.

and then—you found her.

your eyes met hers and paige went still, all the bitterness on her face melted. completely gone. she straightened up slightly, tilting her head, raising her eyebrows to say hi silently.

then, she mouthed, “you okay?”

your mouth curled into the softest smile. not a big one, but paige saw it.

you nodded.

she returned it with a smaller smile.

then, paige watched matt lean in toward you as he said something near your ear. she saw the way your body tilted away slightly, your shoulder pulling back, your smile going a little stiff.

matt left you after that, saying something with a crooked smile before disappearing through the crowd, headed toward the kitchen. 

and unfortunately, that was where paige had already parked herself—leaned up against the counter with some of her teammates, her friends, trying her best to stay out the way, out the conversation, out of everything before she did something dumb.

she minded her business. she really did. sipped her drink, stared down at her phone, played it cool. 

until one of matt’s friends walked up next to him.

they dapped each other up and started talking sports, class, exams, who was pulling who this weekend—nothing she cared about.

she didn’t mean to hear the next part, but she did.

“yo,” one of his friends said, patting his back, “that girl you came with… she’s hot as fuck, man. you hit it yet?”

and matt—he fucking laughed. laughed like it was funny. like it was just a matter of time. 

he leaned his elbow onto the counter, lifted his drink to his lips, and said, “not yet… working on it, though. i think she likes all that romantic shit.”

like you were a job to finish. like you were just some easy bet.

paige didn’t even realize how fast her face dropped.

she stared at matt for a second, silent, clenching her jaw hard, her fingers curling tighter around her cup. she blinked once. then twice.

then she set her drink down on the counter and walked away.

her eyes scanned the room until she found you again. she found standing by group next to your friend riley, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

you didn’t see her coming.

but paige was already pushing through the bodies, not even hearing her name when kk—was it kk? or azzi? or aubrey? she doesn’t know—called for her across the room. her hands were still shaking a little as she walked. she didn’t know what she was going to say. didn’t even care. she just needed to get to you. all she knew was that you didn’t deserve to be talked about like that. not by him. not by anybody.

you didn’t even seen her coming. 

one second, you were standing there half-listening to a conversation you weren’t really part of—and the next, paige was there, standing close.

you blinked, a little startled, heart skipping. then, paige leaned in, just enough that only you could hear her.

“can i talk to you for a sec?” she asked. 

her brows were slightly pulled together you felt your heartbeat tick up, and slowly, you nodded.

“… yeah,” you said, looking at her a little confused. 

paige didn’t smile. she just nodded once and gently reached for your wrist as she tilted her head toward the hallway.

and you followed without question.

paige led you down some hallway, away from the crowd. the hallway lights were dim, flickering slightly from a shitty bulb overhead, but she still looked nervous under it.

you leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, heart still fluttering as you looked at her. and paige just stood there for a second, hands stuffed into the front pocket of her hoodie, jaw clenched, staring at the floor before she finally spoke.

“i—” she started, but her voice cracked. she cleared her throat, looked up at you. “i saw matt in the kitchen. he was… he said—“

she stopped and looked at you. would this hurt your feelings if she told you?

your furrowed your brows together as you waited. but paige just swallowed the lump in your throat, shook her head a little like she was trying to talk herself down.

you blinked. “he what?”

“i don’t wanna piss you off,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “i just—i just wanted to check on you.”

you stared at her. “you pulled me aside for that?”

paige flinched a little at your tone. she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“you haven’t talked to me all week. this is the second time, paige,” you snapped at her, trying not to raise your voice. “i haven’t seen you, i barely even hear from you, and now you wanna show up and act like you care?”

“i do care.” paige winced and shook her head. “i wasn’t tryin to be like that, ma, i just—”

“then, why’d you disappear?”

paige couldn’t answer. she had it in her head, but saying it aloud was… different. she didn’t know how to say i’ve been losing my mind over you. or i want you so bad, it’s messing with my head.

she looked cornered. guilty. her lips parted, but the words didn’t come fast enough.

you shook your head, heart beating fast as you turned away. “forget it, paige.”

“wait—”

but you were already walking towards the door to the bathroom in the hallway and before paige could follow—the door shut right in her face.

she stood there, blinking. stunned.

then, she reached for the handle and tried to twist it open. locked. fuck.

“(y/n), open the door.”

she tried the handle again.

“c’mon… please.”

but you didn’t answer.

paige let out a long sigh and leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against the door. after a moment, she stepped backwards, dragging a hand down her face, then leaned her back against the wall across from the door… and waited.

she didn’t care who walked past, who saw her, who might start whispering about how bueckers looked all spaced out and weird in the hallway.

she was gonna wait.

her friends were probably wondering where she was by now. azzi had texted her a little while ago, but paige hadn’t checked her phone. she hadn’t even moved from the spot since you slammed the door. not one step.

ten minutes passed. at least, she thought it was ten. it felt longer. way longer.

her long legs stretched out in front of her and her fingers tugged at the strings of her hoodie over and over, just to keep herself busy. to keep from knocking again. she didn’t want to push. but god, she hated how long it was taking. not because she was impatient—but because she was scared that she’d really blown it.

but then, the door clicked softly, opening just a crack.

paige’s eyes snapped toward it. for a second, she didn’t move, unsure if she imagined it. but then the door eased open another inch, and she could finally see you. she stood up straighter instantly, her back pulling off the wall, her feet taking a few steps closer. 

you blinked at her, cheeks tinted pink as you murmured, “i… i need help with my zipper… it got stuck.”

paige stared for half a second longer, her brows raised in surprise, lips parting just slightly.

then she nodded, almost too quickly.

“y-yeah, yeah—i got you.”

she followed as you opened the door just enough for her to slip inside, stepping into the bathroom with you and quietly closing the door behind her. the bathroom was small. 

you stood in front of the mirror, not looking at her, just reaching up to gather your hair and move it to one side, exposing the line of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your spine.

the zipper sat halfway down your back, caught just where the fabric curved around your waist. your dress gaped slightly on your back, exposing the lace trim of your black bra underneath—

paige froze for half a second. she swallowed hard, eyes dragging up the length of your back, then back down again.

her fingers twitched at her sides.

“paige,” you said, bringing her back to reality. 

you watch her through the mirror. her eyes met yours through the reflection and you notice the way she clenches her jaw before stepping forward slowly. 

“sorry.”

her hand hovered for a second before she finally let her fingers graze the cool of the zipper. she let out a breath and brought her other hand up to steady the fabric, eyes focusing on your back, lips parted slightly as she tried to tug it gently. 

but her hands were shaking. just a little. 

paige tugged the zipper up slowly, and when it reached the top, she didn’t step away. she just stood there, eyes fixed on the back of your neck.

your hair was still swept to the side, skin exposed. her gaze lingered there for a moment, and then she looked up at the back of your head, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your shoulder and then back down. to your dress. to the way it hugged your body.

her hand moved before she could stop herself, her fingers trailing down softly along the center of your back, following the shape of the zipper. she felt the curve of your spine beneath her fingertips.

and when her hand reached the small of your back, paige let it rest there for a second—her palm flat, sliding to hold your waist gently. 

“i like this,” she murmured.

you still didn’t turn around.

she could see your eyes in the mirror, a little wider now, a little softer. you blinked slowly, your lips parting like you were going to say something, but nothing came out.

paige was losing her goddamn mind.

she blinked, her thumb gently rubbing a circle into the dress, fully letting her large hands rest on your waist. she shouldn’t be touching you like this, not when she still didn’t know what you wanted, but she couldn’t help it. 

she couldn’t stop looking at you. 

then, she leaned in. just a little. and her voice dropped again, barely above a whisper.

“you look really good tonight.”

your breath hitched—paige almost didn’t notice. 

and then finally, you turned around slowly. and paige’s hand dropped to her side like it didn’t know what to do now. you looked up at her and she swallowed hard, trying to so hard to fight the urge to just… close the gap.

“…i’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking into your eyes. “for earlier. for this whole week.”

and for a second, you forgot where you were—forgot about the party still going on just outside the door, about matt, and everything else outside this room.

all you could focus on was her.

paige stood in front of you, taller by just enough that you had to tilt your head back a little to meet her eyes. and you always liked that. you always liked how tall she was. more than you probably should’ve.

“i missed you,” you tell her. 

paige licks her lips again, “me too.”

you stared at her, your eyes searching hers, trying to figure out what she was thinking. 

and then, you asked, “what did matt say?”

her breath caught in her throat, her shoulders tensed, and for a second, she looked like she might lie again. like she might protect you from it. but then she inhaled sharply, her eyes dropping to the floor, and she let out a breath through her nose, clearly frustrated.

she shook her head gently.

“he’s a douche bag,” she muttered finally, glancing away from you. 

the way her jaw clenched again said enough.

the way she didn’t want to look at you when she said it.

she wanted to say what he actually said. she wanted to say how she nearly lost it right there in the kitchen. she wanted to say she hated seeing you with him, hated the thought of his hands anywhere near you.

she furrows her eyebrows before looking directly into your eyes again.

“he doesn’t talk about you like he should,” she added. “like you’re some fuckin’ checkbox on a list.”

her stomach still twisted just saying that much. because it didn’t matter how polite matt was to your face. paige knew the second she heard him speak behind your back—he wasn’t worth one second of your time.

“i wasn’t gonna tell you. not like that. i didn’t… wanna make you feel like shit.”

another pause.

“but i also didn’t wanna let you stand there thinking he was some nice guy. you deserve better than that. way better.”

she was standing so close now, you didn’t even notice when she took a step closer.

“you deserve somebody who looks at you like…”

she stopped herself.

you could feel your heart thudding under your ribs, louder now. paige stared at you, throat moving as she swallowed.

“like i look at you,” she finally said, eyes darting down to your lips.

you stared at her.

then, to her surprise, your fingers found her hand, slipping between hers, intertwining your fingers. paige looked down and a slow smile tugs at the corners of her lips. 

“you’re an idiot, you know,” you say, shaking your head with a small smile, your eyes soft as you watch paige’s face.

she doesn’t miss a beat—she nods her head immediately, obediently and a little sheepish, her grin spreading wide enough to light up the whole room.

“i know,” she mumbles, eyes locked on your soft lips.

her fingers tighten around yours just a little as she takes one more final step closer to you, trapping you between her and the bathroom counter. 

paige’s eyes flickered back up to yours, before whispering, “did you kiss him tonight?”

you looked away for a moment, swallowing hard.

“yeah,” you admitted softly. “i did.”

you can clearly see paige clench her jaw when you said it, but she didn’t say anything else—just waited for you to keep going.

“but… it didn’t feel like—” the heat spread all over your cheeks, blushing hard as she stared at you. “it didn’t feel like when you kissed me.”

paige’s lips curved up even more. it was the kind of smirk that started in one corner of her mouth and made its way up like she couldn’t hold it back even if she tried. she was getting cocky. you could tell. the kind of cocky that came from hearing exactly what she wanted to hear.

“yeah?” she said, a little smug, eyes dropping again to your lips, then back up. “that right?”

you rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your mouth. her free hand brushes gently against your hip. 

“could’ve told you that. ain’t no way he kiss you better than me.”

you smiled at how smug she was being. 

then, you noticed it before paige did—the way her face kept inching closer to yours, just a little bit at a time, with each passing second. and you could feel it. her soft breath on your lips. it sends a shiver down your spine. you could see it clear as day in her eyes—the way they darkened with want, the slight part of her lips. 

she wanted to kiss you. 

your eyes flicked up to hers, catching that glimpse of need swirling behind her gaze. the way her pupils dilated ever so slightly, the way she licked her her lips. the way her hand slides a little lower on your hip to pull you closer, pressing your front against hers.

paige was so close now. closer than she had any business being. 

you could tell she was trying to talk herself out of it—trying to be smart, respectful, hold back like she always did around you.

you feel her breath against your lips as she asks, “can i?”

her eyes didn’t leave yours. she didn’t lean in all the way. she waited. paige didn’t move. not even a twitch. she was frozen in that quiet anticipation, standing still like she was afraid the smallest shift might scare you off.

you saw it in the way she looked at you. how much she wanted you. how much she was trying not to take anything from you.

she wasn’t trying to rush into it, even though she wants to. as if kissing you again was a privilege. 

your throat felt tight, and you nodded before you even realized you were doing it.

“please…” you breathed.

paige’s lips parted slightly, her eyes searching your face like she needed to make absolutely sure. 

she smiled. and then, slowly, she leaned in.

her forehead brushed yours first like she still couldn’t believe this was real. for a second, she just stayed there, nose nudging yours, her hand sliding up to the small of your back, holding you in place, your body pressing against hers. you could feel her breath fan across your lips, and when she finally tilted her head just enough for her mouth to meet yours—

she kissed you. 

and you melted into it.

paige kissed you slow. so slow it almost didn’t feel real at first. her lips barely brushed yours as if she was giving you the chance to change your mind. her mouth pressed into yours again, deeper this time. soft. deliberate. her other hand found your jaw, cradling your face gently, her thumb brushing your cheek.

and her lips… god. her lips were everything.

pillowy and warm and just the tiniest bit chapped like she’d been chewing on them nervously all night. they moved slowly with yours. her nose bumped yours a little, and then, she smiled into the kiss, just barely, smiling like she couldn’t believe she had you this close again.

your arms lifted until they wrapped loosely around her neck, fingers brushing the stray hairs at the nape of her neck, right beneath her bun, and her body reacted before her mind even caught up. her breath hitched. her hand gripped your waist tighter. she kissed you deeper then, her lips parting just a little more, her mouth moving against yours like she couldn’t hold back anymore.

you pulled back just a little—barely an inch—to catch your breath, lips parted, chest rising and falling as your fingers still rested gently behind paige’s neck.

and before you could even fully take a breath, paige was already chasing your mouth. 

her lips followed yours instinctively. desperately. her mouth brushed yours again, a little clumsy this time. her hand on your waist tightened just the slightest bit. 

her nose bumped yours as she whispered breathlessly, “mm-mm, don’t pull away, ma.”

your lips were barely apart when she kissed you again, but this time, she moved faster. needier. rougher. deeper. her mouth opened just slightly against yours, and her tongue slipped in, moaning softly as she tasted you. like she was afraid it might be the only chance she’d get. and you kissed her right back. didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. your lips opened for her like it was natural. like you’d been waiting for her to get brave enough to do it.

and when you moaned into her lips—paige feels like she’s losing her mind. 

your hands at the back of her neck gripped just a little tighter, pulling her in, and paige let out a breathy noise against your mouth. a sound she didn’t even mean to make.

she kissed you like she couldn’t stop. like she didn’t want to stop.

your lips were so damn warm, soft, and addictive in a way that made her head spin. every tilt of your head, every breathy sound you made, every slow drag of your lips over hers just pulled her in deeper.

then, you pulled away again, breathing hard, lips tingling and slick from the kiss. your eyes fluttered open, barely able to think, let alone speak—and before you could say anything, paige was already moving, leaning in slow, her breath grazing your cheek, and then you felt the soft press of her mouth against the line of your jaw.

one kiss. then another. then another, lower, just under your ear. 

her hand flattened at your waist as her body pressed closer until you could feel every inch of her against you, still trapping you between her body and the cool edge of the bathroom counter.

it made your knees feel weak.

outside the door, you could still hear the muffled music pounding through the walls, but it all felt far away. like none of it mattered. because paige’s lips were moving down your neck now, brushing that sensitive spot just beneath your jaw, her mouth open just enough to let her tongue flick gently against your skin.

you gasped, your hands clutching the fabric of her shirt, and she smiled against your throat, smug breath fanning across the wet spot she left behind.

“mm,” she hummed, “you smell so fuckin’ good.”

paige kept kissing your neck, her lips moving over the curve of your throat like she needed to taste every inch of you. your jaw dropped open as you breathed out, eyes fluttering shut, your head tilting just slightly to give her more space.

and paige felt it. the way your breath hitched.

the way your fingers dug into her shoulders, holding on to her. the way your chest rose against hers like you couldn’t get enough air. she groaned low against your neck just thinking about it. 

“fuck,” she muttered under her breath. 

and then, you felt her hand sliding down your side, past your waist, then back behind you, her fingers gripping fabric of your dress. you gasped when you felt her hand bunch it up, inch by inch, pulling the hem higher and higher. her palm smoothed over the back of your thigh, fingers spread wide, grazing the top curve of your ass and—

“paige,” you breathed out, voice soft but firm, your heart racing, “paige… wait—”

you pulled back just a little, your hands pressing gently to paige’s chest, and the second you did, she froze.

her lips hovered by your jaw, parted and flushed pink as her breath came out shaky. she looked at you, eyes half lidded, blinking slow like she was trying to process what was happening, her pupils blown, lips slick and swollen. she looked drunk on you. high on your skin. your taste. your breath. your lips.

paige let out the softest sound, a little whine, as her brows knit together, a little frustrated. her lips parted again like she wanted to argue, to beg you for just one more minute, one more kiss, one more second of being that close.

but she didn’t.

instead, she exhaled hard through her nose and dropped her forehead gently against your shoulder, her hands now resting at your waist, loosening her grip. 

“i like kissing you,” she murmured, her lips brushing your collarbone. 

the party was still loud outside. muffled bass thumped through the floor beneath your feet, and someone laughed down the hall. but all of that felt so far away.

she turned her head just slightly, nose brushing your neck again, “been thinkin’ about it since that night.”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still on your hips, thumbs brushing slow over the fabric before her eyes found yours. 

“can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” she said.

you reached up slowly, your hands trembling just a little as they cupped paige’s face, fingers settling along the sharp line of her jaw beneath your palms. your thumbs brushed over her cheeks, soft against the slight roughness of her skin. paige’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch as you held her face. 

“i’ve been thinking about you too.”

paige’s eyes slowly opened, dazed as she looked st you—like she couldn’t quite believe you were really there, really saying those words. god, she feels like she’s dreaming. fuck, she’s been dreaming about this for years. 

then, she let out a soft breath and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. her tongue darted out quickly to wet her bottom lip, that nervous little habit you’d come to recognize whenever she was trying to hold herself together. 

without breaking eye contact, her hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. then, her fingers slid lower, sliding over the curve of your hips before cupping your ass with her hands. you felt the breath hitch as paige’s hands gripped you tighter. her lips hovered near yours, her eyes drinking you in, wanting more, needing more. 

“my roommate’s… out of town this weekend,” you said. 

her eyes darted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, her fingers flexing slightly against you, not sure if she’d heard you right. 

you felt the heat rise in your cheeks and tried to glance down, away from her eyes, but her hand on your lower back pulled you gently forward again.

“yeah?” she asked.

you nodded. 

and paige smiled.

then, her forehead dropped to yours, breath brushing your lips.

“you tryna tell me somethin’, ma?” she murmured.

you nodded.

her thumb brushed along your waist and she leaned in to kiss you again—just once. and when she pulled back, barely, her voice dipped into a whisper again, lips brushing against yours. 

“you wanna get outta here?”

͏✶

the walk back to your dorm was a blur.

you don’t really remember most of it—just the way paige held your hand the entire time, her thumb brushing soft circles against your knuckles.

paige didn’t say anything when you fumbled for your keys, just stepped in close behind you as you reached for the door.

her breath was warm against your neck.

and then, her hands. they slid around your waist, pulling you back gently, and her mouth found your jaw before you even registered it, soft lips pressing open kisses along your skin, trailing toward your ear, your neck, to your jaw again and again and… 

you gasped, your keys trembling in your hand.

“p-paige—”

“shhh,” she mumbled into your skin, already kissing lower. “just keep goin’. i got you.”

you barely got the key in the door. your fingers shook from how close she was, how her body pressed firm and slow against your back, her hands smoothing over your hips like she needed to feel every inch of you.

you tried to unlock it. you really tried—

but paige kissed your neck again, a little harder this time, nipping your skin with her teeth, and you moaned before you could stop yourself.

“fuck,” she whispered, “i could listen to that all night.”

finally, the lock clicked. 

you pushed the door open and she followed you in, still kissing you, turning you around with her big hands to lean down and kiss your lips. you stumbled inside and she kicked the door closed with her foot. her mouth never left yours.

and soon, her hands were already at the hem of her hoodie, yanking it up over her head in one swift motion.

you broke the kiss for just a second, lips parted and dazed as you watched her—her chest rising fast beneath the tight black tank top clinging to her, her hair messily loosened from the bun it had been in, some strands sticking to her forehead.

she looked wrecked already.

and god, she hadn’t even started.

she dropped the hoodie to the floor and before you could say a word, she was on you again—her hands finding your waist, then your back, then your thighs, like she didn’t know where to touch first, just that she had to. you kissed her back just as hungrily, the momentum sending you backward until the backs of your knees hit your bed.

she pulled back just enough to breathe, her lips swollen and her eyes dragging over your face like she couldn’t believe that you were real. that she was hovering over you. kissing you. in your bed. 

“take this off for me, baby.”

paige’s hands were already moving, sliding around your waist, fingers dragging down your spine until they found the zipper for the second time tonight. you stood still in front of her, chest rising fast, lips parted from where she’d just kissed. and then you felt her pull the zipper down. inch by inch.

her fingertips grazed your bare skin as the fabric loosened around your body, and the way she touched you sent heat rushing up your neck.

her eyes never left you as she lowered it. the air feels cool across your skin as the dress gave way, sliding down your shoulders, slipping over your hips, and pooling silently at your feet.

paige froze when she looked at you. completely still.

her eyes dragged over every inch of you like it was the first time she’d ever really seen you.

she didn’t say anything for a second. just let her eyes trail down the curve of your neck, your chest, the lace of your bra, the lines of your waist, your thighs.

you loved how she looked at you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” she stepped in close again, her palms finding your hips. 

your voice barely made it out. soft, breathy, your heart thudding so loud you swore she could hear it.

“paige, i… i don’t really know how to—”

paige leaned in, her hand coming up gently to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin so softly it made your stomach twist.

“i know, ma,” she murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth before you could say another word. then again, lower—your jaw. your neck.

she looked up at you as her thumb stroked your cheek.

“i’ll take care of you,” she says, smiling. “you don’t gotta worry about a thing.”

then she stepped even closer, her nose brushing yours, lips ghosting over your mouth.

“imma take my time. imma treat you real good. you trust me, right?”

you nod and she pecks your lips.

“tell me, mama.”

you reach up and wrap your arms loosely over her shoulders as she leans down, her hands still on your hips.

“i trust you.”

paige smiled again. 

her lips still trail over yours, then down your jaw. when she kissed the side of your neck this time, it was slower. less hungry. more… intentional.

“tell me if you wanna to stop,” she told you. “say the word, and i’ll stop. for real.”

you shake your head, “i want you, paige.”

you didn’t want her to stop.

so you leaned up just enough, your hand sliding into her hair, messy and a little loose, almost falling out of her bun. 

you kissed her first this time.

and paige melted into it.

for moment, she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes searching your face like she needed to  make sure you were sure again. and when she saw the way you were looking at her—her breath caught in her throat. 

she leaned down, kissed you slow once more, then gently guided you back, laying you down across your bed. she was gentle. like she was lucky just to touch you.

you sank into the mattress, heart pounding as paige hovered above you. her hand brushes lightly over your side, watching your eyes, then she sat up. 

without a word, she reached for the hem of her black tank top and pulled it over her head, revealing her sports bra, the muscles in her arms flexing as she did. she tossed the shirt aside, then brought her hands to the button of her jeans. 

you watched, barely breathing, as she popped it open. slid the zipper down. slowly. 

and eased the denim down her hips.

she watched your eyes as she undressed, making sure you were watching her. you see her smirk, a soft chuckle leaving her lips when she sees you roll your eyes at how smug she’s being right now. 

soon enough, she stepped out of them, now left in just her boxers and her bra.

god—she was beautiful. tall. lean. strong.

“still okay?” she asked. 

“yeah,” you nodded. barely a whisper. “i want you.”

and paige smiled softly, a little crooked, “aight then.”

she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. 

paige hovered above you, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips, her hands planted on either side of your head like she was caging you in. 

she looked down at you—laid out beneath her in nothing but that fucking black lace, the same one she’d gotten a glimpse of in the bathroom, the one she hadn’t stopped thinking about since—fuck.

it was like the air had been knocked clean out of her chest.

her eyes dragged over every inch of you. the rise of your chest. the curve of your stomach. the way your thighs pressed together nervously, your fingers twitching against the sheets.

her mouth parted, lips still swollen and glistening.

“goddamn,” she whispered, voice barely there.

she ran a hand over her face and licked her lips, like she was trying to wake herself up.

her eyes dropped again, slowly tracing every detail—how the lace hugged your curves, the way your skin looked in the dim light of your room. 

how absolutely perfect you looked beneath her.

she shook her head like she couldn’t believe it.

“so gorgeous, baby,” she murmured, leaning down again, her lips dragging over your neck. “so fuckin’ fine.“

paige kissed lower—her mouth pressed soft, lingering kisses across your chest, your shoulders, the valley of your breasts, a hand coming up to cup them and squeezing softly before sliding down to your waist once more. her fingers traced along the side of your hips, thumb slipping just under the lace of your panties, and she groaned against your skin, her breath hot.

“this what you wore under that dress?” she asked. 

she kissed you again—even lower this time, just above your stomach. and you nodded, cheeks pink, and she grinned against your skin, her teeth catching your hipbone gently.

“you wore this for him?”

you opened your mouth to explain, to say no, but paige looked up at you then, eyes locked with yours. desperate. possessive.

she leaned up again, her hand sliding up your side, over the curve of your ribs until she reached your bra strap. she toyed with it a second, then whispered—

“nah. you wore this for me.”

you couldn’t even argue.

“right, baby?” she murmured, her thumbs playing with the waistband of your panties. “tell me who you wore it for.”

you could barely breathe, let alone speak.

your chest rose and fell under her, every inch of your skin burning where she touched, where she looked. her body was so close, heat radiating off of her like fire, and god, her voice was doing something to you you didn’t have words for. her hand stayed right there on your hip, fingers slipping under the lace edge again, teasing you. her eyes stayed locked on yours, waiting, mouth parted. 

“you.” you swallowed, lips barely moving when you whispered, “i wore this for you, paige.”

paige smiles, her cheeks burning more than ever as she moves to bury her face into your neck, hiding the blush fanning over her skin. 

when she lifts her head up, her lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time. her hand slid up your thigh, her body lowering to press more firmly against yours. 

you whimpered into her mouth, wrapping your legs loosely around her waist without thinking, pulling her in closer, needing more. she gasped at that, hips rolling slow against yours once, once, and her whole body stiffened like she couldn’t take it.

she kissed down your neck again, right against your skin. her hands a quick to pull that bra off of you, desperate to feel your tits in her hands. she squeezes them lightly, dragging her lips over the soft flesh, smiling at the feeling of your hard nipples under the pads of her thumbs. you whimper quietly as she gently wraps her lips around one of your nipples and sucks, licking them softly as her hand toys with the other. she switches when she felt like it, giving each nipple equal attention, kissing and marking your skin.

she kisses you down the valley of breasts again, giving each of your boobs a gentle squeeze, before making her way down to your stomach, where she meets the waistband of your lace panties again. paige does well to tease you, skipping the fabric and traveling lower. she kissed the inside of your thigh, slowly, savoring the way your body responded—how you tensed and softened at the same time. how your hand reached blindly for her shoulder. 

she kissed higher. then higher.

her breath hot. her lips soft and maddeningly slow.

her fingers spread along your thighs, thumbs brushing upward toward your hips. 

she wanted you to feel safe. wanted you to feel everything.

soon enough, paige finally pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere behind her. her eyes never moved away from your body, watching as you squeezed your thighs together, shyly looking at her, you eyes half-lidded. you laid there, bare, hair fanned out on the mattress, over the sheets of your bed, waiting for her…

paige’s knees nearly gives out. her cheeks burning as she stares, her hands absentmindedly reaching to put her hands on your thighs, gently nudging them open.

“spread your legs, mama,” she says, mouth parted, almost as if she was drooling. “lemme see you.”

“paige…” you whimper softly.

“swear, imma make feel you so good.”

there’s a soft shuffling of the sheets as paige urges your thighs apart with her big hands, settling herself onto the bed. with her head between your legs. mouth practically watering. big blue eyes locked onto that perfect pussy of yours. she smirks when she sees how wet you are. fuck, you drive her crazy. she slicks a finger between your folds and hums, leaning closer, nudging her nose against your clit. 

when her mouth finally met where you needed her most, your back arched. your and paige—god, she moaned when she tasted you. her tongue moved slow at first. learning you. she was taking her time. wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. like she just wanted to worship you. you whimpered, your hand flying to her blonde hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as her mouth moved against you, licking deeper, firmer, then softer again, teasing.

“p-paige, hah--!”

paige groaned into you, your moans only feeding her ambitions, gripping your thighs tighter, and when you gasped and your hips bucked gently, she held you down with one strong arm, never letting up. and you could barely think. she was relentless. so tender. so focused. like she’d been dreaming about this exact moment. she has been, actually. she’s dreamt about having you in her bed. legs spread open. body writhing. screaming her name. leaking all over her sheets. 

“you taste so fuckin’ good,” she whispered against you, her mouth still working between your legs. 

your eyes fluttered shut, head falling back against the pillow, thighs shaking. and when paige covers your entire clit with her mouth and just sucks hard—you can’t help but moan her name out all over again. 

she fucks you slow, her mouth and tongue watering as she eats you out, absolutely obsessed with the way you roll your eyes back in pure ecstasy, your soft thighs closing in around your head, trapping her there. 

paige thinks she’s in heaven. fuck, she could die happy right now. her face buried and tongue buried deep into your pussy. sucking. slicking. slurping. you taste so fucking good. 

and you were already close--god, how long has it been? you could barely breathe. every sound slipping from your lips was soft. desperate. with your hips moving against her mouth without even realizing it. and paige groaned again. she loved that. every time you moaned, every twitch, every whimper—she needed more of it. she fucked you deeper, licked faster, her mouth dragging over your most sensitive spot in a way that made you cry out.

she wanted you to fall apart.

“you close, ma?” 

you only moaned in response. 

paige smiles. her eyes fluttered open for a second, catching your face twisted in pleasure, and she swore under her breath before closing them again, diving back in.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, baby,” she mumbled against your cunt. “just like that. lemme hear you.”

your legs tightened around her shoulders, your hands still tangled in her hair, and she didn’t stop—god, she didn’t even slow down. she licked you through every sound you gave her.

you were close. she could feel it. you could feel it.

and fuck—she was close, too. paige has never felt anything like this before. but, it’s so hot watching you come undone. her whines against your pussy turn into fervent moans and groans, absentmindedly grinding her hips into your bed as she continues to fuck you faster with her mouth. paige feels so fucking good. you taste so. fucking. good.

“f-fuck yes--(y/n)—“

and then you’re cumming right on her tongue.

but paige keeps her head buried between your thighs, her mouth relentless as she fucks you more through your orgasm. your hands flew to paige’s head without thinking—fingers tangling tight in her blonde hair, not sure if you wanted to push her away or pull her closer. you gasped, back arching off the bed as you let out a choked sound. your fingers tightened, tugging gently, but paige didn’t budge. she just groaned, moaning into your slick cunt, eyes half-lidded as she continued to eat you out. 

god, paige was practically drunk on you. as if this was more pleasure for her than it was for you.

“paige—fuck, paige—wait—” you gasped, trying to speak through the stimulation.

you moan her name again, already nearing your second orgasm. you can feel her strong, big hands clinging onto your thighs, keeping you open, pushing you down onto the bed in case you even think about trying to push her away. but she just slurps. and slurps. everything is just so sloppy. so lewd. she laps at your cunt, her hips needily grinding into the mattress at the mere thought of you cumming again. 

she held you through it, her mouth never leaving you, her arms never loosening, like she needed to feel every single second of you breaking apart in her hands.

she didn’t lift her head.

she didn’t even pretend to stop.

before you know it, you practically gush onto her face, crying her name out once again. 

and while you came on her tongue, her hips jolted forward on instinct, her boxers sticking damp against her skin, and then—

a low groan tore from her throat, muffled into your skin, her mouth still on you as she cums in her boxers, untouched. paige clung to your thighs, her fingers digging in slightly, her body rocking forward once, then twice.  she shakes slightly, resting her forehead against your lower stomach as she catches her breath. she could feel how wet and how hard she came. 

her face stayed pressed against your skin, breath shaky, heart pounding, teeth sinking into her lip as she tried to collect herself.

you were breathless. completely spent. your chest rising and falling fast. she didn’t say anything at first. with your body still buzzing, you blinked up at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling slowly as you tried to breathe. 

“hah--fuck, i…” paige pants quietly. 

“paige,” you breathed, “d-did you just…”

her whole body stiffened.

you watched as her back rose with a deep breath and then stuttered when she exhaled. she turned her face slowly, pressing it into your stomach to hide, her arms tightening around you in embarrassment.

her voice came out muffled, “y-yeah.”

you blinked, your mouth parting slightly in awe. 

and then—god, she groaned into your skin, clearly mortified, clearly red as hell even if you couldn’t even see her full face.

“fuck, don’t make it a thing,” she mumbled shyly into your belly. “i didn’t mean to… i wasn’t—”

she stopped for a second.

“you just… sounded so fuckin’ good. i couldn’t help it.”

your heart fluttered. 

then you smiled and reached down, your fingers gently threading through her hair, feeling the damp warmth of her cheek against your stomach.

“paige…” you whispered.

her cheeks were so red. flushed all the way up to her ears, lips parted, her breathing still shallow like her body hadn’t come down yet. strands of her hair clung to her forehead, lips swollen, and her lashes fluttered as she finally met your eyes.

“come here.”

paige obeys immediately. 

she kisses you along the way, dragging her lips across your skin. she just kissed the inside of your thigh, soft and slow. then again. then she pressed her lips higher, just above your hipbone, her hand brushing gently up your side.  her mouth trailed along your stomach in a line of soft kisses,

she took her time.

soon, her lips found your ribs, the underside of your breast, your nipple, the dip beneath your collarbone. and when she finally reached your mouth again, she hovered for a second, her nose brushing yours. 

your eyes opened slowly, just enough to see her looking down at you like you. 

not a word left your lips as she watched you smile softly. 

you just leaned up and kissed her, slow, and she melted into it immediately, sighing into your mouth like she’d been waiting all her life for it.

and immediately, your breath hitched.

because you could taste it. yourself. on her. 

the heat in your cheeks spread quickly. you felt it the second your tongue slipped against hers. 

paige groaned quietly into the kiss when she felt your body react, her hand slipping to the side of your neck, holding you there gently. like she couldn’t stand the space between you. she kissed you deeper. slower. and you kissed her back. you wrapped your arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer, your fingers sliding over the tight muscles in her back, feeling her breath stutter against your lips as you parted your mouth for her again.

her lips were so soft. warm. still a little swollen. and the taste of you on her tongue was intoxicating. you whimpered softly without meaning to, and she pulled back just an inch, barely enough to speak, her forehead resting against yours.

then, without warning, she just… blurted it out. 

“can i take you out?” 

you blinked up at her. once. twice. before your brows lifted in surprise, heart skipping hard in your chest.

“what?” you whispered, almost laughing, partly stunned, like maybe you’d misheard.

like maybe she didn’t really just say that with her body still pressed to yours, both of you naked in your bed.

but she nodded. serious. face still flushed. 

“like… on a real date,” she said. “like dinner. or… whatever you want.”

she swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes scanning all over your face for any sign of doubt.

“you’re seriously asking me that… right now?”

“well… i’ve been wantin’ to ask. i just…” she smiled a little, sheepish. “kinda figured maybe i should do it after i made you cum first.”

your jaw dropped. 

and all you could manage, through the haze of disbelief and the tiredness through your body, was--

“you… are so annoying.”

paige blinked.

then grinned. wide. mischievous.

“c’mon,” she laughed, burying her face into your neck, her body shaking as she clung to you and laughed. “don’t play me like that—i was tryna be romantic.”

“that was romantic?” you deadpanned, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“pretty sure,” she muttered, voice muffled against your skin. “i made you cum so hard you forgot how to say yes. that’s gotta count for something.”

you rolled your eyes, cheeks burning as you smacked her shoulder lightly.

“paige!”

“what?” she grinned, finally lifting her head, eyes shining, face flushed and soft with affection.

you rolled your eyes again, but your hand moved and stayed in her hair, your thumb idly brushing the edge of her ear. dazed at the feeling of your touch, paige leaned in again, pressing the gentlest kiss to your collarbone, then your shoulder, then the corner of your mouth.

“i meant it, though,” she said quietly. “about the date.”

“yeah, i know,” you say, smiling softly, noticing how nervous she’s gotten all of sudden. 

paige looked at you. really looked this time. it was dark in your room, but she could see your face clearly. her smile lingered, but it faltered slightly around the edges. and then her eyes dropped to your lips, then your collarbone, then back to your eyes again like she couldn’t settle.

“i really like you.”

she swallowed hard. like the words tasted too big in her mouth. like they’d been sitting there for years and this was the only way they’d come out. 

“i have for a long time,” she admitted. her voiced cracked the tiniest bit. she smiled again, but it was nervous. “i didn’t know how to say it before. or if i should. or if you’d wanna hear it. but… i do. i really… really like you.”

her thumb brushed your hip gently, her body still pressing against yours, scared you’d pull away.

you didn’t say anything at first.

you couldn’t. you just looked at the pink dusted across her cheeks, the way her lashes fluttere, the way her mouth twitched at the corners like she was trying to smile through the panic.

paige bueckers, who was usually so calm. so goofy. poised… looked terrified with you.

“paige,” you whispered, barely getting her name out.

her eyes moved up to meet yours, and for a second she looked like she regretted everything she just said. like she wanted to pull the words right out of the air and take them back.

you shook your head slowly, blinking back the sudden heat behind your eyes.

“why didn’t you ever tell me?”

she gave a weak, breathless laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

“shit, i don’t know,” she said, shaking her head softly, eyes dropping again. “i honestly didn’t think you’d even consider me. and i didn’t wanna mess up what we had, too, so...”

she paused before speaking again. 

“but when i kissed you that night, i… fuck, i couldn’t stop thinkin about you.”

immediately, you reached for her slowly, cradling her face in your hands, thumbs brushing over her hot cheeks.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you admitted. 

paige’s lips curved up into a crooked smile. she let out a small huff through her nose, her forehead resting against yours. 

she couldn’t believe this was real.

then she pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a hand moving to your waist, her thumb brushing gently over your skin. she couldn’t stop touching you even if she tried.

“so…” she mumbled, lips twitching up into another grin. “you’ll go on that date with me?”

you roll your eyes first, but you could see it on her face that she was trying to play it cool, trying not to seem too eager, too in her feelings. but she was. she wanted this. wanted you. and not just like this.

she wanted more.

“yeah,” you nodded. “i’ll go on that date with you.”

paige beamed, practically glowing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“bet.”

you barely had time to breathe before she kissed you again. gentle. smiling against your mouth like she couldn’t help it. in truth, she really felt like her heart was overflowing and kissing you was the only way to keep it from spilling out everywhere. you kissed her back, laughing a little through your nose when she nosed at your cheek afterward, all soft and affectionate, like her whole body had relaxed for the first time in weeks.

you though about the party. how you left matt without even saying goodbye to him. paige pulled you out of the door before you could even look at him. she didn’t want you to look. but she spotted him back in the kitchen as she walked you out. gave him a glare as she pulled you through the party, a hand low on your waist, pulling you close to her body, making sure he saw.

and god, did it make her feel good. 

“you really are annoying,” you mumbled again, your fingers sliding through her hair at the nape of her neck.

“mhm,” she murmured, mouth moving against your jaw. “you already said that.”

her lips traced a lazy path down your jaw, then dipped to your neck, pressing gentle kisses and licks that made your skin shiver. her mouth found your collarbone next, sucking softly, stealing your focus a little more as she marked up your neck with light bruises. 

“i meant it,” you said, suddenly shaky. 

“i know, baby.”

finally, breath hitching in your throat, you whispered, “paige…”

but she only hummed in response, her lips continuing to explore your delicate skin. her lips pressed against your skin again.

you tried again, little more desperate now, “p-paige…”

but she just smiled against your skin, humming like she was saying i hear you, even if she had no plans to stop.

her hands slid up your sides, warm palms trailing, fingers dragging lightly along your ribs, and your whole body shivered. you felt her nose brush your neck, and her mouth found the spot just below your ear.

another kiss. slower. then another. and another.

you tried to speak again. tried to say something, anything—but your breath stuttered again the moment her mouth opened just a little against your neck, her tongue tasting the edge of your pulse, where your skin was sensitive.

“paige,” you exhaled, almost scolding, but it came out as a whisper.

“mm?” she hummed. 

her lips never leave your skin. your fingers curled gripping her shoulders. you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say anymore. your head tilted back without even thinking, inviting her in, chasing the feeling of her mouth. she kept kissing you. lazily. hungrily. like she had all the time in the world and none at all. you felt her tongue graze your neck, felt her hand slide up the back of your thigh again. 

you felt dazed. as if she were kissing the thoughts right out of you. as if she’d made up her mind that she was going to kiss every single inch of you until you couldn’t think straight.

and fuck, it was working.

“i wanna fuck you again,” she confessed quietly against your neck. 

“please,” you whispered, almost too quiet for her to hear. “don’t stop.”

you feel her smile against your skin. 

and just like that—she was yours. and you were hers.

for real this time. no more pretending.

just… you. and her.

finally.

SCENARIO ONE:

Juju sat perched on the barstool that sat next to her kitchen island, her eyes flicked back to the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was currently 12:56 am. You were out with some friends to celebrate one of their birthdays.

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was you told Juju you’d be back before 12.

Now Juju trusted you, she never had no reason not to, but she did want you safe and in the house before she went to sleep. She hated falling asleep without knowing you were there.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the faint jingle of keys cut through the quietness of the apartment. The door cracked open a few seconds later and Juju saw you standing there. She felt her body physically relax.

A soft smile makes its way onto your face as you spotted her sitting there, before you made your way over to her. You were a little woozy, the drinks finally catching up to you. Juju watched you approach, her facial expression caught somewhere between concern and quiet annoyance.

“Hi baby,” your voice comes out a little slurred as you wrap your arms around her neck. You feel her hands settle onto your hips as she pulls her slightly closer, steadying you, between her legs.

“Why you ain’t text me?” She asked, voice low but firm. “You said you’d be back at 12.” She looks down at you. You looked up at her, the tone of her voice hitting harder than you expected. Your smile slowly shrunk into a small frown.

“Are you mad at me?” The few drinks you had were starting to get to you as you feel a wave of sadness shoot through you.

Juju’s face softened as she sighed. Her thumbs brushing slow circles against your sides before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Nah,” her voice was gentle as she talked. “I’m not mad. Just let me know next time, okay? People out here be weird. I just wanna know you’re okay.”

You nod faintly before leaning back into the warmth of her body, your eyes growing heavy as the silence grows.

Juju slid off the stool carefully, keeping her arm around you as she turned you both towards the hallway.

“Cmon, you’re going to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” you mumbled, dragging your feet just a little as she guided you along.

Juju let out a small huff, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“I am,” she replied. “So we going to bed.”

You sighed, already knowing there was no winning this one. Letting yourself lean into her hold once again, you followed her down the hall, her body warm and steady as she got you both settled in for the night.

SCENARIO TWO

The desert sun is beaming down on your back as you stand beside Juju, your hand laced with hers.

In your other hand, you held Jazzy's phone, continuously clicking the white button that was on the screen as she posed.

“Wait! Last one,” Jazzy said as she pulled Sienna in the picture, posing with her. You let out a small laugh at the girl before snapping the picture and handing her phone back.

"These are so cute," The girl exclaimed after receiving her phone back. "Thank you so much!" Jazzy placed a quick little peck on your cheek before hurrying off with Sienna.

You smiled and shook your head before turning back to your girlfriend, expecting to see her beautiful smile but instead you saw the somewhat irritated look that took over her face.

Your smile slightly dropped from your face as you turned your body towards her. "Ju, what's wrong?" Your voice somewhat raspy from all of the screaming song lyrics earlier.

"Nothing," Her eyes drifting past you as she looks at whatever's behind you. You huff as you look at her, knowing she's not telling the truth.

"Baby, it's not nothing. What's wrong?" Your arms come up to wrap around her neck, forcing her to look down at you.

"I don't like you letting people be on you like that." The sentence comes out so quickly, you're not even sure if you heard it correctly. When you finally register what she said, you have to fight back a laugh.

"Who? Jazzy?"

She cuts her eyes at you as she hears the slight giggle leave your mouth. “Am I laughing?” Her tone makes me look at her again before shaking my head to say no, biting back my smile.

“I know Jazzy doesn’t swing like that,” Juju looks away for a brief second before bringing her attention back to you. “But you’re still my girl.” Her arm came up to wrap around your waist.

“Don’t let nobody be on you like that. Touching and kissing up on you like that.” She said as she wraps her arm around me, kissing my forehead.

You looked up at her, smile forming on your glossed lips.

You’re awake before the sun, not because you want to be, but because someone is whisper-yelling your name from the hallway.

“Mama,” Jelly stage-whispers, which is just yelling with intention. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

You roll onto your side, eyes half-open, just in time to see her small silhouette in the doorway. Her blonde hair sticks up in three different directions, clutching her favorite stuffed animal (some unidentifiable creature that used to be a bunny before years of love).

“What’s wrong?” you murmur, arms already opening.

She waddles toward you and climbs onto the bed like she’s scaling a mountain. “No sleep,” she says seriously.

Behind her, Dax appears, already fully awake, vibrating with energy. He’s tall (too tall for almost eight) and somehow managed to outgrow the pajama pants you bought him two months ago. He’s dribbling an imaginary basketball, whispering play-by-play commentary under his breath.

Paige leans against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching all of it with a soft, tired smile she doesn’t realize she’s wearing.

“Good morning,” she says.

Dax grins. “Mom, can we go outside later? I want to practice crossovers. Coach said-”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “It’s six in the morning.”

“So?” he says, like this is the dumbest question she’s ever asked.

Jelly, meanwhile, has burrowed into your chest, fingers fisted in your shirt. “Mama,” she says again, content now that she’s found her spot.

Paige watches that too. Always does.

She doesn’t say anything, but you see it: the way her shoulders tense just slightly, the way her smile falters for a fraction of a second before she smooths it out. You’ve learned her tells over the years, learned them through college games and injuries and press conferences and pregnancies and late-night conversations whispered into pillows.

Paige Bueckers is an incredible mom.

She just doesn’t always believe it.

Your first pregnancy with Dax hit when Paige was at the absolute peak of her career. Endorsements, travel, expectations stacking higher and higher. She was home less. Tired more. Still attentive, still loving, but stretched thinner than she liked to admit.

She knew what to do.

From the moment Dax wrapped his tiny fingers around hers, Paige was locked in. He became her little shadow. He learned to crawl by chasing after her shoes. His first word was something dangerously close to “ball.” By the time he was four, he could name more NBA/WNBA players than most adults.

They were best friends in a way that made you smile. Inside jokes, secret handshakes, hours spent watching game film together while you pretended not to notice Paige explaining defensive schemes to a preschooler.

Dax adored her, and Paige soaked it up like proof she was doing something right.

Jelly was different from the start.

Angelica (Jelly) Bueckers was born during a strange, liminal time in Paige’s career when she was already great, already known, but still hungry, still climbing. She was terrified she’d miss something important. Terrified she’d be gone too much, that she wouldn’t know what to do.

You carried Jelly slower than Dax. Heavier. More aware of everything that could go wrong. Paige hovered when she could, hands always on your back, your stomach, your shoulders. When she couldn’t be there, she called, left you voice memos she recorded in empty locker rooms.

Jelly came into the world screaming like she had somewhere else to be.

She never stopped moving after that.

She learned to walk early, then immediately decided walking was for losers and took off running. The apartment became a hazard zone with coffee tables, corners, anything she could climb. By the time she was eighteen months, you and Paige were touring houses with yards because Jelly needed space to sprint like her life depended on it.

That’s how you ended up here.

A big house, huge backyard, grass worn down in uneven patches from little feet and basketball drills and Paige chasing both kids until she pretends she’s out of breath just to make them laugh.

Jelly loves Paige.

She just loves you differently.

You’re comfort. You’re the one who knows which cup she wants, how she likes her blanket folded, which song calms her down when she’s spiraling. Paige is excitement - games, noise, energy, the parent who riles her up and then hands her back to you when she crashes.

Paige knows this.

Some days, it eats at her.

Later that afternoon, Paige sits on the back steps with Dax, a basketball between them. He’s chattering a mile a minute, demonstrating a move he learned from watching highlights. Paige nods, engaged, correcting his footwork with gentle taps.

You’re inside with Jelly, who is mid-tantrum because you gave her the wrong snack.

“No,” she says for the fifth time, tears welling dramatically. “Mama. No.”

You crouch in front of her. “This is the snack you asked for.”

“No,” she insists, even though you both know she does want it.

From the doorway, Paige watches.

She doesn’t interrupt, rarely does when it comes to Jelly and you. She lets you handle it, even when it hurts a little to feel unnecessary.

Later, after both kids are finally asleep, Paige sits at the kitchen table, staring into nothing.

“You ever feel like,” she starts, then stops.

You wait.

She exhales. “Like I’m failing her.”

Your chest tightens. You move closer, resting your hands over hers. “Who?”

“Jelly,” she says immediately. “I mean... both of them, sometimes. But Jelly especially. She doesn’t want me the way she wants you.”

“She’s three,” you say gently. “She wants comfort.”

Paige nods, jaw tight. “I know. I just-” She shakes her head. “I’m gone so much. What if she grows up and I’m just… background noise?”

You squeeze her hands. “Paige. She’s going to grow up thinking her mom is the coolest person alive.”

Paige laughs weakly. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say. “Right now, I’m the safe place. You’re the fun one. One day she’s going to realize you’re the one who taught her how to be brave.”

Paige looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes soft in a way the world never sees.

“You’re really good at this,” she says quietly.

“At being a mom?”

“At being… us,” she says.

You smile. “So are you.”

Down the hall, Jelly sighs in her sleep. Dax mutters something about basketball dreams. The house settles.

The car ride home is quiet in a way that makes your chest ache.

Dax sits in the backseat, slumped low, hoodie pulled over his head even though it’s not cold. His basketball bag is wedged at his feet, zipper still half open, a stray sock hanging out like it gave up trying. Normally, he’d be talking - replaying drills, complaining about refs, asking if Paige saw his text about a move he nailed in warmups.

Today, nothing.

You glance at him in the rearview mirror. His jaw is tight, eyes are glossy, fixed on the window like he’s daring himself to blink.

“How was practice?” you ask gently, even though you already know.

He shrugs. “Fine.”

It’s the flattest word in the English language.

You pull out of the parking lot, waiting. Eight-year-olds can only hold it in for so long. Sure enough, two minutes pass. Then three. Then-

“I didn’t get first string,” he says suddenly, voice cracking despite his best effort to keep it steady.

Your heart sinks. “Oh, buddy.”

“They put Tyler in,” he continues, words tumbling out now that the dam’s broken. “Coach said it’s not permanent and that I just need to keep working but I already work hard. I do extra drills. I listen. I don’t mess around like some of the other kids.”

His voice wobbles, and he presses his sleeve hard against his eyes, furious with himself for it.

You signal and pull over into a quiet side street, putting the car in park. You twist in your seat to face him. “Dax,” you say softly. “Not getting first string doesn’t mean you’re bad.”

“Yes it does,” he snaps, then immediately looks guilty. “Sorry. I just-” He swallows. “I wanted Mom to see.”

That’s the part that gets you.

Paige is in another state tonight. Away game. You’d FaceTimed her before practice, her already in team gear, telling Dax she was proud of him no matter what. You can picture her now - all locked in, no idea her son is unraveling over a gym rotation chart.

“I know,” you say quietly. “She’ll still be proud.”

He shakes his head hard. “You don’t get it.”

You reach back and rest a hand on his knee. “Help me get it.”

He hesitates, then blurts, “She’s really good at basketball. Like, really good. What if I’m not?”

The question hangs there, heavy and unfair and too big for an eight-year-old to carry.

You open your mouth, ready to reassure him, to tell him all the right things but before you can, he sniffles and adds, voice barely above a whisper, “I just want Mom.”

That stops you cold.

You don’t take it personally. You know this moment belongs to Paige. You pull your phone out without another word.

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s call her.”

Paige answers on the third ring, breathless. “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”

She’s still in uniform, hair damp, locker room noise echoing behind her. You angle the phone so Dax can see her.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at her, lips pressed together, eyes shiny.

Paige’s expression changes instantly.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Ducky?”

He winces. “Don’t call me that.”

She smiles, gentle. “Mm. That’s how I know it’s bad.”

She looks at you. You mouth, first string. Paige nods, jaw setting with quiet understanding.

“Hang on,” she says, already moving. “Let me step out.”

You watch her weave through the locker room, push open a door into a hallway. The noise fades and she props the phone up somewhere and crouches so she’s eye-level with the screen.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me everything.”

Dax takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t get first string and Coach said it’s fine but I think he’s just saying that, and Tyler’s not even better than me, he just... louder. And I practiced really hard and-” His voice breaks. “What if I’m just not good?”

Paige doesn’t interrupt, lets him get it all out, nodding along, eyes locked on his like nothing else in the world exists.

When he finally runs out of words, she speaks.

“Hey,” she says gently. “Do you know who Michael Jordan is?”

Dax sniffles. “Yeah, obviously.”

Paige smiles. “Did you know he got cut from his high school basketball team?”

Your eyebrows lift slightly. This was the story everyone heard in elementary and middle school, the one that plays at every assembly. Even though it’s not entirely true, everyone believed it as a kid. It’s like a rite of passage.

Dax’s eyes widen. “He did?”

“Yep,” Paige says, solemn. “Didn’t make the team. Went home. Cried. Thought he wasn’t good enough.”

Dax leans closer to the phone, hooked.

“And then,” Paige continues, “you know what he did?”

“What?”

“He worked. Every single day. He practiced harder than everyone else. And he became Michael Jordan.”

Dax is quiet for a moment, absorbing this. “So… getting cut doesn’t mean you’re bad?”

“No,” Paige says firmly. “It means you’re being challenged.”

He frowns. “But what if I never get first string?”

Paige tilts her head. “Then you keep showing up, keep loving the game. And one day, you look back and realize this was just a step, not the whole story.”

He picks at a loose thread on his hoodie. “It still sucks.”

She laughs softly. “Yeah. It really does.”

That honesty seems to help more than anything. He exhales, shoulders relaxing just a little.

Paige watches Dax through the screen for a second longer than she needs to. He’s still hunched, shoulders pulled inward like he’s trying to make himself smaller. She recognizes it instantly. She’s worn that posture before.

“Hey,” she says, quieter now. “Can I tell you something?”

Dax shrugs. “Okay.”

She takes a breath. You can see it - this isn’t a canned speech. This is her choosing honesty.

“When I was in college,” she starts, “I was playing the best basketball of my life. Like… everything was clicking. I felt like I was on top of the world, I was number one in the country.”

Dax’s eyes flicker up.

“And then,” Paige continues, “I hurt my knee. Bad. ACL. Doctors, surgeries, months where I couldn’t even run.”

Dax frowns. “That’s the big one, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “The really big one.”

He swallows. “Were you scared?”

Paige nods immediately. “Terrified.”

She leans closer to the phone, voice steady but raw. “I thought it was over. I really did. I thought, that’s it, that was my chance and I blew it. I watched my team play without me, watched other people get better while I was stuck doing exercises that felt stupid and slow.”

Dax picks at the string on his hoodie again. “Did you cry?”

She smiles sadly. “A lot. Like… a lot.”

That earns the tiniest ghost of a smile from him.

“And you know what the worst part was?” she adds. “It wasn’t the pain. It was the voice in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough anymore.”

Dax looks up fully now. “The voice that says mean stuff?”

“Exactly that one,” Paige says. “The one that lies.”

She lets that sit for a second.

“But I kept working,” she says. “Even when it sucked. Even when I didn’t believe it would matter. And now” she shrugs lightly. “I’m playing in the WNBA. People call me one of the best.”

Dax’s eyes widen. “Yeah. You are.”

Paige’s smile softens. “And that didn’t happen because everything went perfectly. It happened because things went wrong and I didn’t quit.”

He thinks about that, chewing on the inside of his cheek the way he does when he’s processing something big.

“So,” he says slowly, “not getting first string doesn’t mean it’s over.”

“No,” Paige says firmly. “It means you’re in the middle of it.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath since the gym.

“And Dax,” she adds, voice warming. “You’re my kid. I know how you work. I’ve seen you practice in the backyard until you’re drenched in sweat. I’ve seen you mess up and try again instead of giving up.”

She grins. “That’s not luck. That’s you.”

He nods slowly. “Okay.”

She smiles. “And hey.”

“What?”

“You’re still my favorite basketball buddy.”

He groans. “Mom.”

She grins. “Sorry. My tall, dramatic, very good-at-basketball Ducky.”

“I hate that name,” he mutters.

She laughs. “Sure you do.”

You watch him the whole time. How his breathing evens out, how the weight seems to lift just enough for him to sit up straighter.

“I love you,” Paige says softly.

“Love you too,” he replies, quieter now.

She looks at you. “Thank you.”

You smile. “Always.”

The call ends. Dax leans back in his seat, exhausted but calmer.

After a minute, he says, “Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we practice later?”

You glance at the basketball bag, then back at him. “Yeah,” you say. “We can.”

He nods, finally letting his eyes close as the car starts moving again.

The house is loud in a good way.

It smells like grilled food and sunscreen and the faint sweetness of whatever dessert someone brought without telling you what it was. Music hums low through the speakers Paige set up in the backyard, people are everywhere, clustered around the grill, stretched out on patio chairs, leaning against the fence.

This is the first big thing you’ve hosted here. A housewarming, technically, though it’s really just an excuse for Paige’s teammates to come over and see the place and eat too much food. They’ve taken to the house like they belong in it - shoes kicked off by the door, laughter echoing down the hallway.

Jelly is in heaven.

She’s darting between people, ponytail bouncing, cheeks flushed from excitement. She loves Paige’s teammates - her “aunts,” as Dax calls them. They scoop her up, spin her around, let her steal food off their plates. She giggles loudly, and for a while everything is perfect.

Dax is outside with a basketball, of course. A small group has formed around him, cheering dramatically every time he makes a shot. He’s eating it up, chest puffed out, basking in the attention.

Paige stands near you, drink in hand, watching it all with a soft expression she doesn’t bother hiding.

“Look at this,” she says quietly. “We did this.”

You smile. “We really did.”

It happens fast.

One second, Jelly is laughing, being passed from arm to arm, her voice bright and high. The next, there’s a sharp change in pitch - a cry that cuts through the noise like a siren.

You and Paige both turn at the same time.

Jelly stands in the middle of the yard, hands clenched at her sides, face crumpling as tears spill over. One of Paige’s teammates crouches in front of her, concern written all over her face, but Jelly steps back, shaking her head violently.

Paige follows a step behind you, brows drawn together. “Jelly? What’s wrong?”

For a split second, it seems like she might come to you. She looks in your direction, eyes searching.

Then-

“Mommy!”

The word is loud. Desperate, broken in half by a sob.

Paige freezes for exactly one heartbeat.

Then she’s moving.

She crosses the yard in long, fast strides, not running but close, urgency radiating off her. You stop short instinctively, watching as Paige drops to her knees in front of Jelly.

“I’m here,” Paige says immediately, voice low and steady. “I’ve got you.”

Jelly launches herself forward, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt like she’s afraid Paige might disappear if she loosens her grip. Her face presses into Paige’s shoulder, sobs hitching and wet and unrestrained.

Paige gathers her up without hesitation, one arm under her legs, the other secure around her back. She stands, rocking gently, murmuring nonsense words and reassurances into Jelly’s hair.

You see it then - the way Paige’s body softens, the way she tucks Jelly in close like it’s muscle memory.

“It’s okay,” Paige whispers. “Too loud? Too much? I know. I know.”

Jelly clings tighter, sniffling, her little hands fisted in Paige’s hoodie.

Around you, the noise dips, people pretending not to stare but watching anyway. Someone turns the music down a notch. The moment is quiet in a way that feels intimate.

Paige doesn’t rush it, doesn’t try to pass Jelly off, just holds her, swaying slowly until the sobs ease into hiccupping breaths.

Eventually, Paige carries her back over to you and sinks down onto the outdoor couch beside you. Jelly stays glued to her, cheek pressed against Paige’s chest, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

Paige adjusts her grip, settling Jelly more comfortably, one hand rubbing slow circles into her back.

“Well,” Paige murmurs, attempting casual, “guess I’m trapped.”

You smile, heart full. “Looks like it.”

Paige glances at you, something tentative in her expression. “I mean... she just-”

You cut her off gently. “She knows I’m here.”

Paige searches your face.

“She just wanted her mommy,” you add, smiling softly. “That’s all.”

Paige’s lips curve into a small, almost disbelieving smile. It’s subtle, but you see it. The way her shoulders relax, the way she exhales like she’s been holding something in all along.

Jelly sighs, finally calm, still clinging but peaceful now.

Paige presses a kiss to the top of her head, eyes shining just a little.

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