Missed moments, made up nights…
w/c: 13k
content: angst, sexual content. I think that’s it?
California Airport— 1:00pm
Paige knows the call is going to be bad before she even answers it, because Azzi never calls three times in a row unless something already feels off, unless something has already started breaking before either of them has said it out loud..
The airport is loud in that annoying, nonstop way, people dragging suitcases, announcements echoing overhead, everyone moving cuz they have somewhere important to be, and Paige is just standing there stuck in place, staring at a screen that still says cancelled like it’s mocking her
Her phone keeps vibrating in her hand.
Azzi
Again
Paige exhales through her nose, runs a hand through her hair, and answers
“Hey babe”
She tries to make it sound normal, like nothing’s wrong yet, like she didn’t just spend the last hour trying to argue with a gate agent who does not care about her life falling apart in real time.
There’s silence on the other end, not long, but heavy enough that Paige can already picture Azzi’s expression, the way her jaw sets when she’s holding something back, the way her silence always means more than whatever she’s about to say
“Hey,” Azzi says back, but it doesn’t sound like a greeting, it sounds like she’s waiting.
Waiting for an explanation Paige hasn’t given yet.
Paige shifts her weight, already feeling defensive even though she hasn’t technically been accused of anything yet, which honestly makes it worse.
“I’m at the airport,” she starts, words coming quicker now because she knows she needs to get ahead of this, “my flight got cancelled, like fully cancelled, there’s a storm or something and everything’s delayed or overbooked, I’m trying to get on another one but it’s a mess right now”
She keeps talking because silence feels dangerous, because if she stops then Azzi gets to fill the space and Paige already knows that’s not going to go well.
“I’ve been here since the morning trying to fix it, I’m on standby for like two different flights and—”
“But you were at Coachella yesterday”
Azzi doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t interrupt loudly, she just drops it in there, calm and flat and way too precise, like she’s been holding onto that sentence and waiting for the exact moment to use it.
Paige stops pacing.
Her jaw tightens immediately
“Yeah,” she says, slower now, already irritated, “and I still had a flight booked that would’ve gotten me there on time, this isn’t like me just not planning shit, I had it handled”
There’s a pause, and it stretches just enough for Paige to feel it settling in her chest, that uncomfortable pressure that means this isn’t just about the flight anymore.
“Today is the draft, Paige”
The way Azzi says it is quiet but it lands hard, like she’s not just reminding her, she’s pointing out something bigger, something obvious that Paige somehow still managed to mess up.
Paige lets out a breath, shaking her head even though Azzi can’t see it.
“I know that,” she says, frustration slipping in now because what else is she supposed to say to that, “you think I don’t know that, like seriously?”
“Then why does it feel like you don’t”?
That one hits in a way Paige doesn’t expect, because it’s not loud, it’s not dramatic, it’s just honest in the worst way possible.
For a second Paige doesn’t answer, which almost never happens btw cuz her smart mouth always has an answer, especially when she’s wrong. she knows exactly what today is, she knows what it means, she knows how much pressure Azzi’s been under and how long she’s been working toward this exact moment.
She knows she was supposed to be there,Not just there somewhere in the crowd, but there in the way that matters, the person Azzi looks for first, the person who sees her before the cameras do, the person who’s supposed to be steady when everything else feels overwhelming.
And instead she’s stuck in an airport arguing about stupid standby lists.
“I’m trying to get there,” Paige says finally, her voice lower now but still tight, still defensive because she doesn’t know how to not be, “like what do you want me to do, teleport or something?”
Azzi lets out a short laugh, and this one isn’t even pretending to be nice anymore.
“I want you to care, Paige”
That flips something instantly.
Paige straightens, her grip tightening on her phone.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that today is the biggest day of my life,” Azzi says, and now there’s something breaking through the calm, something sharper, “and my girlfriend is stuck at an airport because she decided to go to a music festival the day before”.
Paige scoffs under her breath, disbelief mixing with frustration.
“That’s not fair and you know it,” she fires back, words coming faster now, “I planned everything, I had a flight, I didn’t plan for the airline to completely screw me over, how is that my fault”.
“Isn’t it though?”
The quiet again.
That controlled, cutting quiet.
And Paige feels heat rush up her neck
“Okay so what, you want me to control the weather too,” she snaps, starting to pace again, ignoring the looks she’s getting now, “I’ve been trying all morning to fix this, you think I want to miss this, like seriously?”
Azzi doesn’t answer right away.
And that silence says more than anything else.
Because it feels like doubt.
Like she’s not sure.
Like she doesn’t fully believe Paige.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Paige continues, pushing through it, “shit happens, flights get cancelled, it’s not like I just decided not to show up. ”
“Yeah,” Azzi says slowly, “but you’re still not here”.
For a second neither of them speaks, and everything that’s been building just sits there between them, heavy and unresolved and way too big for a phone call.
When Azzi speaks again, her voice is quieter, “Today is the biggest day of my life,” she says, slower this time, like she needs Paige to really hear it, to understand it, “and my girlfriend isn’t gonna be here… wow”.
The disappointment in her voice is worse than if she’d yelled.
It sinks in, sharp and quiet.
Paige closes her eyes for a second, jaw tight.
“You don’t know that,” she says, but there’s less bite now, less certainty
“I do,” Azzi replies immediately, no hesitation, no softening, nothing to cushion it.
And that’s what pushes Paige right back over the edge.
“Okay so now we’re doing this,” she says, her voice rising again, frustration spilling over, “now you’re just gonna act like I don’t care at all”.
“I’m not acting, I’m telling you how it feels”
“Well it feels like you’re blaming me for something I can’t control”.
“And it feels like you didn’t think this through”.
Paige lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head.
“Are you serious right now”
“Yeah, I am,” Azzi says, and now it’s all out in the open, no holding back anymore, “because I wanted you here, Paige, like actually here, not maybe, not hopefully, not depending on a standby list or whatever the hell is happening right now”
Paige’s chest tightens at that, because that part hits somewhere real, somewhere she doesn’t want to deal with in the middle of being pissed.
“I told you I’d make it,” she says, stubborn, holding her ground even if it’s cracking underneath her, “and I’m still trying to, you’re acting like I just gave up”
Azzi exhales, and this time it’s shaky
“I don’t know if you’re gonna make it”
And there it is.
The real fear underneath everything.
But it comes out wrong.
It comes out sounding like doubt.
And Paige hears it exactly like that.
“I’m trying my bad, I should’ve predicted a storm across the country, that’s on me I guess”.
On the other end, Azzi exhales.
And when she speaks again, her voice is different.
Quieter.
Not softer, just… done.
“Whatever, Paige”
That alone makes Paige’s heart race.
Because that word, that tone, it doesn’t mean the argument is over.
It means Azzi is pulling away from it,
Which is worse.
“Azzi—”
“Come or don’t,” she cuts in, not loud, not emotional, just flat in a way that feels final, “I’ll be getting drafted either way”
Paige’s grip on her phone tightens
“Azzi, that’s not—”
“If you cared, you’d be here”
And that one.
That one hits in a place Paige doesn’t even have time to process.
Because before she can respond, Before she can push back or fix it or say anything at all.
The line goes dead.
Paige pulls the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen like it might somehow undo what just happened.
Call ended
Just like that.
Her jaw tightens.
Her chest feels heavy in a way that has nothing to do with the flight anymore.
“Yeah,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head, already grabbing her bag, already moving again because standing still clearly isn’t helping anything, “okay”
But the word doesn’t mean anything,
Not really.
Because now it’s not just about getting to the draft anymore.
Now it’s about showing up after all of that.
And somehow, that feels even harder.
THE SHED NY—7:00pm
The room shifts before anything is even said, like everyone feels it coming at the same time, conversations lowering just enough, heads turning toward the stage, anticipation building in a way that feels physical, like it’s pressing against her chest
Azzi sits a little straighter without even thinking about it, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of her dress, grounding herself in something real while everything else starts to feel like it’s moving too fast and too slow at the same time
Her heart is loud now
Not nervous exactly, not in the way people expect, because she’s been ready for this, she’s always been ready for this, but there’s still something about the moment finally arriving that hits different, something heavier layered under the excitement
And still
Even now
Her eyes drift
Just once more
Just in case
She scans the crowd again, slower this time, more deliberate, like if she just looks carefully enough she’ll find what she’s been looking for this whole time, but it’s the same blur of faces, the same movement, the same almost-recognition that never fully lands
Nothing
Or at least nothing she can hold onto
Her jaw tightens slightly as she looks forward again, forcing herself to stop, because she can’t keep doing that to herself, not right now, not when everything she’s worked for is literally seconds away
Focus
The voice in her head is sharper now.
This is your moment.
On stage, Cathy Engelbert steps forward, the room quieting in a way that feels immediate, like someone flipped a switch and pulled everyone into the same moment at once
Azzi feels it in her chest, that shift, that collective attention locking in, and suddenly there’s no more space to think about anything else, no more space to wonder, no more space to look for someone who might not even be there
This is it
Her breathing slows, just slightly, controlled, like everything she’s trained herself to do kicks in automatically
Cathy adjusts the card in her hands, smiling out at the crowd, letting the silence stretch just enough to build it up even more
And then she speaks
“With the first pick in the 2026 WNBA Draft…”
The words echo through the room, clear and sharp and heavier than they should be, like they carry everything leading up to this moment inside them
Azzi’s heartbeat stutters, then picks up again
“…the Dallas Wings select…”
Time slows in that strange, unreal way, like everything around her fades just a little at the edges, like she’s aware of everything and nothing all at once
Her name is coming
She knows it
Everyone knows it
But hearing it is different
“…Azzi Fudd, University of Connecticut.”
And there it is
For a second it doesn’t even fully register, like her brain needs an extra beat to catch up to what just happened, to process the fact that it’s real, that it’s done, that everything she’s worked for just got spoken into existence in front of an entire room
Then everything hits at once
The sound first, applause crashing over her from every direction, loud and overwhelming and real in a way that finally snaps everything into place
Her teammates are already moving, hands on her shoulders, pulling her into quick hugs, voices overlapping, excitement spilling over in a way that makes it impossible not to feel it
She’s smiling before she even realizes it, something genuine breaking through everything else, something bright and earned and hers
Number one
Dallas
It’s real
her body moving on instinct now as she turns toward the stage, toward the cameras, toward everything waiting for her on the other side of this moment
The stage feels brighter when she steps onto it, the lights hitting her just enough to blur the crowd into something less defined, something easier to ignore, and she’s grateful for that for a second because it lets her stay present, lets her lean into what this moment is supposed to be
She hears her name again, closer this time, said with pride, with certainty, and she smiles like she’s always imagined she would, like this is exactly how it was supposed to go
She shakes hands, poses for the pictures, holding up the jersey with Dallas stretched across it, cameras flashing in quick bursts that almost make everything feel like a sequence instead of a single moment
It’s loud again, but in a different way now, more focused, more centered around her, and she leans into it just enough to let it feel real
This is hers
She earned this
When she steps off to the side, the noise shifts again, less overwhelming but still constant, and that’s when things start coming back into focus piece by piece
She spots the UConn group first, all of them crowded together, phones out, recording, smiling way too big, some of them already yelling things she can’t fully make out but knows are probably annoying in the best way
Then she’s being guided again, where the interviews are happening, where everything becomes a little more structured, a little more controlled
Holly Rowe is already there, smiling, ready, professional in that way that makes it easy for Azzi to slip right into the version of herself she knows how to be in moments like this
She answers questions, talks about the moment, about the journey, about what it means, her voice steady, her smile easy, like nothing is out of place, like there isn’t anything sitting underneath all of this waiting to be dealt with
And for a second
It works
She almost forgets
Almost
Until her face shows up on the big screen behind them
And then it shifts
Because the camera angle changes, the focus widening just enough to include more of the crowd, more of the reactions, more of everything happening around her
And without even thinking about it
Azzi looks
It’s instinct
Automatic
Like her body moves before her brain can stop it
Her eyes scan quickly at first, then slower, more intentional, searching in a way she’s been trying not to all night
And then
She sees her
Off to the side, just past the main section, standing with the UConn group like she slid in late and didn’t bother fixing anything about it
White collared shirt
Black Nike vest
Clean but completely out of place, like she walked in from a different event and just decided to stay anyway
And somehow
It’s so obviously Paige
Even from a distance
Even with everything else going on
Azzi’s breath catches just slightly
Because she’s really here
Not maybe
Not almost
Actually here
Paige is looking right at her, like she’s been waiting for Azzi to find her, like she knew it would happen eventually
And when their eyes meet
Paige smiles
Not big
Not dramatic
Just that small, easy smile that feels way too familiar
Way too normal
Like nothing happened earlier
Like there isn’t still tension sitting between them that hasn’t been touched yet
Then she lifts her hand, just a little, a quick wave, casual in a way that almost feels unfair considering everything
And Azzi doesn’t even realize she’s stopped listening to the question for half a second until she feels it, that slight pause in herself, that moment where everything else fades just enough for her to feel it fully
Relief
Sharp and immediate
Followed right behind by something else
Something heavier
Because she’s still mad
Still hurt
Still holding onto the way that call ended, the way Paige didn’t get to respond, the way things were left unfinished and unresolved
And now she’s just… here.
Smiling.
Like she made it in time and that fixes everything.
Azzi blinks, forcing herself back into the moment, back into the interview, nodding slightly like she didn’t just lose her place for a second
But it’s harder now.
Because now she knows.
Paige made it.
And that changes everything.
Even if she doesn’t want it to.
Even if she’s not ready to deal with it yet
Her eyes don’t go back again.
Not immediately.
But she can feel it.
That awareness sitting at the edge of everything
Like no matter what else happens tonight, She knows exactly where Paige is.
—
By the time she steps fully off the stage, everything starts coming at her all at once again, just in a different way now, more personal, more immediate, hands reaching for her, voices overlapping, people pulling her into hugs before she can even fully register who’s who
It’s overwhelming, but in a good way.
Mostly
Her teammates are the first to get to her, loud and excited and completely unfiltered, wrapping her up in quick, tight hugs, saying things over each other that she can’t fully process but understands anyway, pride and energy and history all packed into those few seconds.
She laughs a little, breathless, letting herself fall into it just enough to not overthink anything.
Then her parents again, slower this time, steadier, her mom holding onto her for just a second longer, her dad’s hand firm on her shoulder, grounding her in a way nothing else really has tonight.
But then
She knows
Before she even turns
There’s a shift in her chest, something tightening and pulling at the same time, like her body recognizes the presence before her mind fully catches up
And when she does turn
Paige is right there
Closer now
Not across the room, not half-hidden in a crowd
Right there in front of her, like she’s always supposed to be
And for a second everything feels weirdly still
Like all the noise around them fades just enough to make this moment stand out in a way Azzi isn’t ready for
And she looks exactly like she did from a distance, which somehow makes it worse and better at the same time
Azzi’s eyes flick over it automatically, taking it in without meaning to
She really just showed up like that
And there’s a part of her, buried under everything else, that almost wants to laugh
Almost
But it doesn’t reach the surface
Because right underneath that is everything else
The call
The words
The way it ended
And the fact that she wasn’t there earlier
That she didn’t get to be the one to see her first
Didn’t get that moment
Didn’t get to share it the way she wanted to
Paige doesn’t hesitate
She steps in like there isn’t anything unresolved between them, like this is the most natural thing in the world, and wraps her arms around Azzi without giving her time to decide how she wants to react
And Azzi lets her
Because she’s not about to make a scene
Not here
Not now
So her arms come up too, slower, a little more controlled, resting against Paige’s back in a way that looks right from the outside but doesn’t fully match the way Paige is holding her
Because Paige holds on tight
Not casual
Not quick
Tight enough that Azzi feels it
Feels the intention behind it
Feels the relief in it
Her chin brushes lightly against Azzi’s shoulder as she leans in just enough to say it, her voice low but clear
“I’m so proud of you, baby.”
The words land soft
Too soft
And that’s what makes it worse
Because Azzi wants to react to that, wants to let it mean what it usually means, wants to fall into it the way she normally would
But everything from earlier is still sitting there, untouched, unresolved, too fresh to ignore
So she doesn’t say anything
She just pulls back after a second, just enough to create space again, her hands dropping from Paige’s back as she gives her a small smile that looks right, looks normal, looks like nothing is wrong
Even though it doesn’t feel like that at all
Paige’s expression flickers for half a second, something quick and almost unnoticeable passing through her eyes, like she felt the difference too, like she expected something more and didn’t get it
But Azzi doesn’t stay in that moment long enough to deal with it
She turns slightly, already being pulled into another hug, another congratulations, another voice telling her how proud they are, and she leans into it, lets it carry her forward so she doesn’t have to stop and think about what just happened
Or what didn’t.
It keeps moving like that for a minute, a blur of faces and hands and smiles, everything blending together in a way that makes it easier to avoid the one thing she doesn’t want to sit with yet.
Until a voice cuts through it
“Can we get a picture of you two?”
Azzi pauses
Just slightly
Because she knows exactly who they mean without having to ask
There’s a small shift beside her as Paige steps back in, close again, like she never fully left in the first place
And Azzi turns toward her, smile already in place again, practiced, easy, giving the cameras exactly what they want
Paige’s hand comes to her back naturally, like it always does, steady and familiar, fingers resting just at her waist in a way that would normally ground her instantly
Azzi’s hand mirrors it almost automatically, resting against Paige’s back, the contact brief at first and then settling just enough to look right for the picture
The camera flashes
Once
Twice
And through all of it, she keeps the smile in place, keeps everything exactly how it needs to look
Even if it doesn’t feel like that at all.
The next stretch of time barely feels like it belongs to her.
Everything starts moving faster after that, or maybe she just loses track of it, because one interview turns into another and then another, each one slightly different but also exactly the same, questions about the moment, about the journey, about what it means to go number one, about Dallas, about the future, about everything she has worked for wrapped into clean, polished answers that she knows how to give without even thinking anymore.
She nods at the right times, smiles when she is supposed to, laughs lightly when something calls for it, her voice steady and controlled in a way that makes it seem effortless, like none of this is overwhelming, like she is completely grounded in every second of it.
From the outside, it probably looks perfect.
Inside, it feels like she is slightly out of sync with herself, like she is watching it happen just a fraction of a second behind, because part of her attention keeps drifting somewhere else no matter how hard she tries to stay present.
She catches glimpses of people in between questions, familiar faces passing through her line of sight, flashes of movement, flashes of reactions, but none of it really sticks long enough to matter, because she does not get the chance to stop moving, does not get the chance to settle into anything real.
And she does not get the chance to go back to Paige.
That part lingers more than she expects.
Not in a loud way, not enough to pull her completely out of what she is doing, but just enough to sit in the background of everything, like a thought she keeps pushing aside and it keeps finding its way back anyway.
She tells herself it is fine, that this is how tonight is supposed to go, that there will be time later, that this is bigger than one conversation or one moment that did not go the way she wanted it to.
She tells herself she is not going to let an argument ruin this.
Not tonight.
Not this night.
By the time the interviews finally start to slow down, it does not feel like a clean ending, it just kind of tapers off, like someone gradually turned the volume down on everything instead of cutting it completely.
Her smile lingers out of habit for a second longer than it needs to before it softens into something more natural, something a little more tired, and she exhales quietly as she steps back, rolling her shoulders slightly like she is finally allowed to feel the weight of everything that just happened.
That is when it really settles in.
She got drafted.
Number one.
Dallas.
It is real in a way that feels heavier now that there is a pause, now that she is not actively talking about it, now that she has a second to actually exist inside it instead of performing around it.
And almost immediately, her mind shifts again.
Back to Paige.
The memory of that hug comes back first, the way it felt just slightly off, the way Paige held on tighter than she did, the way the words sounded softer than she was ready for, and the way she did not respond, did not give anything back except a smile that was easier than honesty in that moment.
She presses her lips together slightly, glancing off to the side without fully turning her head, like she might catch another glimpse of her without making it obvious that she is looking.
She does not.
And that should make it easier to ignore.
It does not.
Because now that things are slowing down, now that she is not being pulled in ten different directions at once, there is more space to think about it, more space to feel the fact that she actually misses her, which is annoying considering she is still mad, still holding onto everything from earlier, still not ready to just let it go like it did not happen.
But she also knows herself well enough to recognize what is underneath that.
She does not want to end the night like this.
Not after everything.
Not after a day that is supposed to mean this much.
The thought settles in slowly but firmly, not dramatic, not sudden, just clear in a way that makes it hard to ignore.
She is not going to ruin this.
Whatever is going on between them can wait a few hours.
It can wait until they are somewhere private, somewhere real, somewhere that is not filled with cameras and people and expectations.
Tonight is supposed to be good.
And she wants it to be good with Paige.
The realization lands just as someone nearby mentions the after party, casual, like it has been obvious this whole time, like everyone already knows where they are supposed to go next and what the night is turning into.
Azzi blinks slightly, the shift catching her off guard for a second, because it feels like the night just started and somehow it is already moving into something else.
She glances around, picking up on the change in energy, people starting to move with more direction now, conversations shifting, groups forming and breaking apart as the next part of the night takes shape.
Already?
It does not feel like enough time has passed.
It does not feel like she has had a second to just be.
But there is no pause built into nights like this.
Everything keeps moving whether she is ready for it or not.
So she adjusts.
Of course she does.
Someone hands her a garment bag, and she takes it automatically, thanking them without really thinking about it, already shifting into the next version of herself that the night requires.
The change happens quickly, almost rushed, tucked away in a private space
just a transition point between one moment and the next.
She exhales as she reaches for the zipper, fingers steady even though her mind is still catching up, still processing everything that has already happened and everything that is about to.
Her draft outfit comes off carefully, set aside with more intention than the moment allows, because even in a rush she cannot bring herself to treat it like it does not matter.
But the night is not over.
Not even close.
She changes into something new, something meant for movement, for noise, for a space that will be louder and less controlled than the one she is leaving behind, and when she catches her reflection for a second, it almost feels like looking at a different version of herself.
Same night.
Different energy.
Her hand pauses for just a second as she adjusts the last detail, her expression settling into something more neutral, more composed, like she is bracing herself for whatever comes next.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, without her fully acknowledging it yet, there is one thought that lingers stronger than the rest.
She is going to find Paige.
And this time
They are not going to let this night go to waste.
—
They are not going to let this night go to waste.
That’s what she told herself not even ten minutes ago, standing in front of a mirror, fixing something that didn’t even need fixing, convincing herself that she could just push everything down for a few hours and deal with it later like a normal person.
Yeah.
That lasts about five seconds.
Because the second she steps into after party her eyes land on Paige automatically. Paige isn’t hard to find.
She never is.
She’s off to the side, leaning back like she belongs anywhere she stands without needing to prove it, still in that same white collared shirt and black Nike vest. But there’s girls. Too close. Not just standing near her, but leaning in, bodies angled toward Paige trying to pull her attention in laughing at things that probably aren’t even that funny, brushing against her arm.
One of them says something and leans in even closer, and Paige tilts her head slightly to hear her better, smiling, relaxed, completely at ease like this is normal, like she’s not doing anything wrong because technically she isn’t.
And that’s what does it.
That’s what flips something in Azzi’s chest so fast it almost catches her off guard.
Because Paige isn’t shutting it down.
She’s just there, laughing, letting it happen, responding in that easy way she always does, like everything is light and nothing matters enough to take seriously.
Like this doesn’t matter.
Like they don’t matter.
Azzi feels the shift immediately, sharp and uncomfortable, something tightening in her chest that she tries to ignore for about half a second before it pushes right back.
Her jaw sets slightly as she watches just a little longer than she should, eyes catching every small detail she wishes she didn’t notice, the way Paige leans in just enough, the way she smiles, the way she doesn’t step back.
And that’s it.
Fuck this night, fuck solving shit, to hell with letting this night go to waste, and fuck Paige Bueckers.
Because why should she be the one trying.
Why should she be the one holding it together when Paige is over there acting like nothing happened.
Like they didn’t just argue hours ago.
Like there isn’t still something sitting between them that hasn’t been dealt with.
Azzi looks away quickly, almost like she’s snapping herself out of it, like she refuses to stand there and keep watching something that’s only making it worse.
Her heart is beating a little faster now, not from the music, not from the crowd, but from that sudden rush of irritation she can’t shake.
“Fuck all that.”
She’s not doing this.
She’s not walking over there.
She’s not interrupting, not inserting herself into whatever that is, not giving Paige the satisfaction of knowing it’s getting to her.
If Paige wants to stand there and entertain that, she can.
Azzi’s not about to chase after her.
So she doesn’t.
She turns away fully this time, letting the crowd pull her in the opposite direction, slipping into conversations she doesn’t really care about but participates in anyway, smiling when she needs to, responding just enough to keep things moving.
It becomes automatic.
Talk, laugh, move on.
Repeat.
Anything to keep herself occupied.
Anything to not look back over there.
But she still knows.
She knows where Paige is without checking, knows when she moves, knows when the energy shifts around her, like some part of her refuses to fully disconnect no matter how hard she tries.
And when Paige gets closer at one point, just passing through, not even stopping yet, Azzi feels it instantly, that familiar presence that usually pulls her in without thinking.
This time she shuts it down.
She turns slightly, just enough, keeps her focus locked on the person in front of her, nodding like she’s fully invested in whatever they’re saying, like nothing else exists in that moment.
Like Paige doesn’t exist in that moment.
She keeps that up the entire night.
Every time there’s a chance for eye contact, for a conversation, for anything that might force them to actually deal with what’s going on, Azzi avoids it cleanly, slipping away just enough to make it look natural.
No scene.
No confrontation.
Nothing obvious.
She doesn’t look at her, doesn’t talk to her, doesn’t give her anything.
Because right now, being mad feels easier than walking over there.
And risking that she actually cares more than she wants to admit.
—
Paige’s Pov
Paige knows she messed up bad because Azzi won’t even look at her.
It started back at The Shed, the second Paige slipped in late, still catching her breath, still trying to make herself smaller than she actually is so she didn’t pull focus, because that was the whole point of everything she did today.
She knew what tonight was supposed to be.
She knew how big it was, how much it meant, how long Azzi had been working toward that exact moment, and the last thing Paige wanted was to walk in and accidentally make it about anything other than her.
Because she knows how people are.
She knows how fast things shift, how quickly attention turns, how fans start talking, how one picture or one clip can turn into something else entirely.
If she showed up dressed like she usually does, styled, noticeable, matching the energy of the night, it wouldn’t stay about Azzi for long.
It would turn into something else.
Something about them.
Or worse, something about Paige.
And she wasn’t about to let that happen.
So she kept it simple.
She didn’t care that it made her look like a waiter.
If anything, that was the point.
Let them laugh.
Let her teammates say whatever they want.
As long as Azzi got her moment exactly how she deserved it, Paige was good with that.
And she made it.
Barely, but she made it.
She saw it happen.
Saw her name get called, saw her walk up there
Just that.
Just her.
And then she hugged Azzi.
“I’m so proud of you, baby”, because she was, because she is, because that part was never complicated.
but she didn’t say anything back.
Just pulled away, smiled like everything was fine, and moved on.
That’s when Paige knew.
Nothing about this was fine.
Now they’re here.
And it’s starting to piss her off.
And Paige gets it.
She does.
She knows she messed up the timing, knows she wasn’t there when she was supposed to be, knows that mattered more than anything else tonight.
But she still showed up.
Paige exhales slowly, dragging a hand through her hair as she leans back slightly, trying to play it off, trying to look like she’s just here, just part of the night like everyone else.
That’s when the girls show up.
Not surprising.
It happens all the time.
They slide into the space around her like it’s natural, conversations starting easily, laughter coming quick, one of them stepping just a little closer than necessary, asking something that Paige barely registers because her attention is still somewhere else.
Normally, she wouldn’t think twice about it.
She’d respond the same way she always does, relaxed, easy, not taking any of it seriously.
And she does.
At first.
She laughs lightly, says something back, keeps it casual, nothing that actually means anything.
But then—
She sees Azzi.
Walking in.
And more importantly, she sees the exact second Azzi sees her.
It’s quick.
Barely there.
But Paige catches it.
The way Azzi’s eyes land, the way they linger just long enough to take everything in, the girls, the space between them.
And something in Paige shifts immediately.
Because if ignoring her is the game now, then fine.
She can play too.
A small smirk pulls at her lips before she even fully thinks it through, subtle enough that no one else would notice, but it’s there, sitting just under the surface as she turns her attention back to the girls in front of her.
Maybe this will work.
Maybe if Azzi sees it, really sees it, she’ll finally drop whatever this is and come over here and say something instead of pretending Paige doesn’t exist.
Because that’s what Paige actually wants.
Not this distance.
Not this silence.
Not whatever weird tension they’re sitting in right now.
She wants it to be normal again.
Wants Azzi to look at her the way she usually does, talk to her like nothing is off, like they’re still them and not whatever this is supposed to be.
So yeah.
If it takes a little jealousy to get there.
If it takes pushing just enough to get a reaction.
Paige’s fine with that.
But her eyes flick back once.
Just once.
Checking.
Waiting.
Because at the end of the day
She doesn’t actually care about any of this
She just wants Azzi to come over
And finally talk to her.
But the second Paige looked back, Azzi was gone.
Oh come on
Her eyes wandered the place trying to see where the brunette went and then sees her, talking and laughing with others.
“I’m so fucked,” she mutters under her breath.
Because yeah.
She knows exactly what this is now.
Azzi saw her.
Saw everything.
And instead of coming over, instead of saying something, instead of even giving her a look that meant anything—
She dipped.
And now she’s over there acting completely fine, like she didn’t just clock the whole situation and decide she wasn’t entertaining it.
Which means the plan backfired.
Badly.
Paige straightens slightly, running a hand over the back of her neck as she looks back up again, eyes landing on Azzi whether she wants them to or not.
Now it’s not just waiting for Azzi to come to her.
Now it’s knowing she won’t.
And that sits weird in her chest, heavier than she expected, because for a second she really thought it would work, thought Azzi would get a little jealous, get a little annoyed, come over and finally say something instead of playing this whole silent game.
But Azzi’s not doing that.
She’s doing the opposite.
She’s acting like she doesn’t care at all.
And that’s worse.
Way worse.
Paige shifts her weight slightly, barely paying attention to whatever the girl next to her is saying now, nodding at the wrong time, giving a half answer that doesn’t even make sense because her focus is completely somewhere else again.
Because now she’s stuck between two options she doesn’t like.
Either she keeps standing here, playing it off, pretending she’s unbothered and letting Azzi do whatever she’s doing over there.
Or she goes over there herself.
Which feels a little too close to losing.
Her jaw tightens slightly at that thought, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for her to feel it.
Because this wasn’t supposed to turn into that.
She wasn’t trying to start something.
She just wanted Azzi to talk to her.
—
Azzi’s pov
It happens fast.
Not planned, not some big dramatic lead-up, just one of those moments where the timing finally lines up whether they’re ready for it or not.
Azzi is halfway through another conversation she’s barely paying attention to, nodding along to something someone is saying, when she feels it again.
That shift.
That presence.
Closer this time.
Before she can move, before she can slip out of it like she has been all night, there’s a hand around her wrist, not rough but firm enough to stop her from walking away like nothing’s happening.
Paige.
Of course it is.
Azzi’s breath catches for half a second, more out of instinct than surprise, because she knew this was coming eventually, knew Paige wasn’t going to let the whole night pass without saying something.
She just didn’t expect it to feel like this.
Paige pulls her just slightly out of the main flow of the crowd, not completely hidden, but enough to create a pocket of space where the noise dulls just a little, where everything feels closer, more direct.
Not private.
But not fully public either.
Azzi turns toward her slowly, already knowing what she’s going to see before she even fully looks.
Paige’s expression isn’t relaxed anymore.
There’s something sharper there now, something frustrated, something that’s been building all night finally pushing to the surface.
“What the fuck is up with you?”
It comes out low, controlled, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it, the kind that doesn’t come from nothing, the kind that’s been sitting there waiting for the right moment to land.
For a second, Azzi doesn’t answer.
Not because she doesn’t have anything to say.
She has too much to say.
That’s the problem.
Her eyes flick past Paige for just a second, and that’s when she notices it.
Cameras.
Not right on them, but close enough, angled just enough, people watching just enough for it to matter.
Of course.
Of course this is the moment it happens.
she smiles.
Like nothing is wrong.
Paige’s grip is still there, still holding onto her wrist, not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep her from just walking away again, and Azzi can feel the tension in it, the frustration, the need for an answer that she’s not about to give right here.
Not like this.
Not in front of everyone.
She shifts slightly, just enough to loosen the hold without making it obvious, her hand sliding free in a way that looks natural if anyone is paying attention.
Her smile doesn’t drop.
Doesn’t even falter.
She leans in just a little, close enough that her voice stays between them even with everything going on around them.
“We’ll talk at the hotel.”
It sounds calm.
Too calm.
Like this isn’t anything serious.
Like she’s not actively choosing to shut this down right now.
Paige doesn’t move immediately.
For half a second, she just looks at her, like she’s trying to read past the smile, past the tone, past the way Azzi is handling this so cleanly it almost feels unfair.
Azzi holds the eye contact just long enough to make it convincing, just long enough to make it seem like everything is under control, like this conversation is already handled.
Then she pulls back slightly.
Still smiling.
Still composed.
And then she walks away.
From the outside, it looked clean. But Paige and Azzi knew better.
Because now it’s not just tension sitting between them anymore.
Now it’s waiting.
For what happens when they finally get to the hotel room.
And there’s no one around to interrupt it.
Hotel room
Azzi slips her shoes off by the door, barely looking back, already moving further into the apartment like she’s trying to outrun the conversation before it even starts.
Paige stands there for half a second, watching her, jaw tight, patience already thin from everything that’s been building all night, from being ignored, from being shut down, from that fake smile.
“Are you serious right now?”
Her voice cuts through the space sharp and immediate, not loud yet but close, like she’s already halfway there.
Azzi doesn’t stop.
“I’m tired, Paige,” she says, not turning around, her tone flat like that should be enough, like that should end it. “I just want to go to sleep.”
And that—
That’s what sets Paige off.
“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Paige snaps, pushing off the door and following after her, the frustration finally spilling over. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ignore me the entire night, pull that shit at the party, and then come home and act like you’re just gonna go to sleep like nothing happened.”
Azzi finally turns then, quick, like that hit a nerve exactly where it was supposed to, her expression tight, controlled but barely.
“I didn’t pull anything,” she shoots back, her voice sharper now, the calm from earlier gone. “You’re the one who came up to me in the middle of a crowded room and decided that was the time to start something.”
Paige lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through her hair as she paces a step closer.
“Start something? Azzi, are you hearing yourself right now? I’ve been trying to talk to you all fucking night and you keep dodging me like I did something insane. For God fucking sake you’re acting like I cheating on you or sum, I was a bit late Jeez i still made it before your name got called I don’t get what the big deal is.
“I wanted you to see me first, before everyone else, before the cameras, before all of it. I was there for yours wasn’t I? Was I late to yours? When it was your draft I was there with you the whole fucking day!”
Paige’s expression shifts, just slightly, something real breaking through the anger for a second.
“I still made it,” she says, softer but still defensive, like she needs that to count for something.
“Yeah, you made it,” Azzi says, nodding once, but there’s no softness in it. “After everything already started. After it already mattered.”
Silence hits again, but this time it’s sharper, heavier, both of them standing there with too much left unsaid and no easy way to say it.
Paige exhales hard, shaking her head.
“You’re being overdramatic,” she says finally, and the second the words leave her mouth, she knows they hit wrong.
Azzi’s expression changes immediately.
“Overdramatic?” she repeats, slow, like she’s making sure she heard that right.
Paige runs a hand over her face, already irritated, already too deep into it to backtrack properly.
“You know what I mean,” she says, her tone still edged. “you’re acting like I completely ruined your night over something I couldn’t control.”
Azzi lets out a short laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it.
“You don’t get to decide how I feel about it,” she says, her voice low but sharp. “And you definitely don’t get to call me overdramatic because I actually cared that you were supposed to be there.”
Paige opens her mouth to respond, then stops, clearly frustrated, clearly not wanting to drop it but also not getting anywhere.
“Whatever,” she mutters finally, stepping back slightly, her hands dropping to her sides. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Good,” Azzi shoots back immediately. “Then don’t.”
Paige lets out another breath, shaking her head again like she’s trying to physically get rid of the frustration sitting in her chest.
“I’ll just sleep on the couch.”
It comes out quick, almost like a challenge, like she wants a reaction even if she won’t admit it.
Azzi doesn’t hesitate.
“By all means.”
Flat.
Cold.
No pushback.
No stopping her.
Paige stands there for a second longer, like she’s expecting something else, like she’s waiting for Azzi to change her mind, to say something, to not let it end like that.
She doesn’t.
Azzi just turns away again, walking toward her room without another word, like the conversation is over, like there’s nothing left to say tonight.
And Paige is left standing there, frustrated, tired, still pissed, but underneath all of that—
Something else.
Something that feels a little too close to regret.
2:00 am (Paige’s pov)
Paige is stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling like it’s going to give her an answer if she looks at it long enough, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other hanging off the side like she just gave up halfway through getting comfortable.
She hasn’t moved in at least twenty minutes.
Hasn’t even tried to sleep again.
Because every time she closes her eyes, it just replays.
The argument.
The look on Azzi’s face.
The way her voice changed when she said she wanted Paige there first, before everything, before the cameras, before the moment stopped being just hers.
Paige exhales slowly, dragging her hand down her face, letting it rest there for a second like she’s trying to physically push the thoughts away.
“Yeah… I fucked that up.”
It’s quiet, barely above a whisper, but saying it out loud makes it settle differently.
Because she did.
Not on purpose, not in some careless way, but that doesn’t really matter now, does it.
From Azzi’s side of it, none of the effort, none of the stress, none of the last-minute everything changes the fact that she wasn’t there when she was supposed to be.
Paige shifts slightly on the couch, turning her head toward the hallway without fully meaning to, like her body already knows where her mind is going.
Toward her.
Because no matter how annoyed she was earlier, no matter how frustrated she got at being ignored, it never really sat right.
She knows Azzi.
Knows how she gets when something actually matters to her, how she doesn’t always say everything directly but you can feel it anyway, sitting right under the surface.
And tonight mattered.
A lot.
Paige swallows slightly, her jaw tightening just a bit as another thought slides in, one she’s been trying not to sit with too long.
The party.
Those girls.
She huffs out a quiet breath, shaking her head slightly against the couch cushion.
“Yeah, that didn’t help either. You’re so fucking dumb why can’t you use the same iq you have in basketball you dumbass.” she says like she’s scolding herself.
Because she knows.
Azzi didn’t say anything about it, didn’t bring it up, didn’t even look at her long enough to make it obvious.
But Paige knows.
She saw the way her eyes landed, the way she looked and then looked away, the way she shut down instead of saying something.
That wasn’t nothing.
And Paige made it worse.
Not because she cared about those girls, she doesn’t, not even a little, but because she wanted a reaction, wanted Azzi to finally come over and say something, wanted to break whatever weird distance they were stuck in.
And instead it just pushed her further away.
Paige lets her head fall back again, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended her.
“Smart,” she mutters, dry, almost annoyed at herself.
Because now Azzi’s in the other room.
Mad.
Probably still thinking about everything.
And Paige is out here on the couch, wide awake, knowing she’s the reason for most of it.
She shifts again, sitting up this time, elbows resting on her knees as she leans forward slightly, running her hands together like she’s trying to get rid of the restless energy sitting under her skin.
She should just leave it.
Let her sleep.
Talk in the morning when everything isn’t so raw.
That would be the smart thing to do.
That would be the logical thing to do.
She lasts maybe ten more seconds before that thought falls apart.
Because she knows Azzi.
And if she’s quiet in there right now, that doesn’t mean she’s fine.
It probably means the opposite.
Paige’s head tilts slightly, her focus shifting without her even realizing it, listening to the silence like she’s trying to catch something hidden inside it.
And then—
A sound.
Soft.
Barely there.
A sniffle.
Paige freezes.
For half a second, she doesn’t move, like her brain needs time to process what she just heard, like maybe she imagined it, maybe it was something else, maybe—
Another one.
Quieter.
And her chest drops instantly.
“Fuck.”
She’s already moving before the word fully leaves her mouth, pushing off the couch so fast it barely makes a sound, her feet hitting the floor as she crosses the space in a few quick steps, all the hesitation from earlier completely gone.
She reaches the door in seconds, not even bothering to knock, her hand already on the handle as she pushes it open just enough to slip inside.
The room is dim, the only light coming from somewhere faint, barely outlining the space, but it’s enough.
Enough for her to see her.
Azzi’s curled slightly on the bed, facing away from the door, shoulders drawn in like she’s trying to make herself smaller, like if she just stays still enough she won’t fall apart completely.
And even from here, Paige can tell.
She’s trying not to cry.
Trying to keep it quiet.
Trying to hold it in like no one’s supposed to see this part.
Paige’s chest tightens immediately, something sharp and heavy hitting all at once, guilt and concern and something softer underneath it that pushes everything else aside.
Because she’s not supposed to look like that.
Not tonight.
Not after everything.
For a second, Paige just stands there, taking it in, like the sight of her like this caught her off guard more than anything else tonight.
And then she steps closer.
Slower this time.
Careful.
Like she’s approaching something fragile she doesn’t want to break any further.
“Az…”
The mattress dips slightly as she climbs onto the bed, the movement gentle but noticeable, and for a second she hesitates, watching Azzi’s back rise and fall unevenly, hearing the quiet effort she’s putting into keeping herself together.
Paige reaches for her anyway.
Her hand finds Azzi’s shoulder first, warm and familiar, sliding gently as she pulls her closer, not forcing it, just guiding her until Azzi turns enough to fall into her.
And then she really pulls her in.
Both arms wrapping around her, firm and steady, one hand pressing softly against her back while the other comes up to cradle the back of her head, guiding it down until Azzi’s face is tucked against her chest.
Right where she always ends up.
Right where she belongs.
For a second, Azzi holds it together.
Just a second.
And then she breaks.
It’s quiet at first, like she’s still trying to keep it contained, but it doesn’t last, her shoulders shaking slightly as everything she’s been holding in all night finally spills out, her hands gripping at Paige’s shirt like she needs something solid to hold onto.
Paige tightens her hold immediately, instinctively, her chin resting against the top of Azzi’s head as she pulls her even closer.
“Hey, hey… I got you,” she murmurs, her voice low and soft. “You’re okay, baby, I got you.”
this is where they always end up no matter how bad it gets.
“I’m sorry,” Paige says after a second, the words coming out quieter now, more real. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Azzi shakes her head slightly against her chest, her voice breaking when she finally manages to speak.
“No, I’m sorry,” she says, pulling in a shaky breath. “I was being dramatic, I made it a bigger deal than it needed to be, I just—”
“No.”
Paige cuts her off immediately, her hand coming up to tilt Azzi’s head just enough so she can look at her, even in the dim light.
“Don’t do that,” she says, her voice firm now, not harsh but certain. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that.”
Azzi blinks at her, still teary, still a little shaky, clearly not expecting that.
“You were right,” Paige continues, softer now but just as serious. “You were completely right. I should’ve been there, like actually there, when it started. I know how much that meant to you, and I hate that I missed it.”
She exhales slightly, her thumb brushing lightly under Azzi’s eye, catching what she can of the tears.
“And then I made it worse,” she adds, a small, almost frustrated laugh slipping out. “Standing there with those girls like that was gonna fix anything. That was stupid.”
Azzi lets out a quiet breath at that, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she leans back into Paige again, not fully pulling away this time.
“I just wanted you there,” she admits, her voice softer now, less defensive, more honest. “Like before everything started. I had this whole thing planned in my head and it just… didn’t go like that.”
Paige nods slightly, her hand still resting against her back, steady, grounding.
“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry I messed that up for you.”
There’s a pause after that, not uncomfortable this time, just… calmer, like the tension that’s been sitting between them all night is finally starting to loosen.
And then Azzi lets out a small, almost embarrassed laugh against her chest.
“I even bought a special lingerie just for tonight.”
she mutters, like she’s debating whether she should’ve said it at all.
Paige blinks, then lets out a soft laugh, the tension breaking just a little more.
“Of course you did,” she says, shaking her head slightly, her voice lighter now.
Azzi groans quietly, hiding her face again.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing,” Paige says, even though she clearly is, just a little. “I mean, I am, but not like that.”
She shifts slightly, pulling her closer again, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the top of her head.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she murmurs. “I promise.”
Azzi huffs quietly, but there’s no real attitude behind it now, just tiredness settling in where everything else used to be.
“I’m too exhausted for any of that right now,” she says, her voice already softer, slower. “My feet actually hurt so bad, those heels were a mistake.”
Paige lets out another quiet laugh at that, her hand moving down to rub lightly along Azzi’s back.
“Yeah, I could’ve told you that,” she says.
Azzi doesn’t respond.
Not right away.
Because somewhere in the middle of that sentence, somewhere between the exhaustion and the comfort and finally letting everything go, she just… stops.
Her breathing evens out, her grip loosens slightly, her body settling fully against Paige like she doesn’t have the energy to hold herself up anymore.
She falls asleep right there.
Still tucked against her.
Still holding onto her.
Paige goes still for a second when she realizes, her hand pausing slightly against her back before continuing again, slower now, more absent, like she doesn’t want to disturb her.
She looks down at her, the faint light catching just enough to make everything softer, calmer, like the version of Azzi she knows best is finally back.
And something in her chest settles with it.
“Yeah,” she murmurs quietly, more to herself than anything. “I’ll fix it.”
Her arm tightens just slightly around her, careful, protective.
And this time.
She actually lets herself sleep too.
The next morning (Azzi’s pov)
The first thing Azzi notices when she wakes up is the cold empty space beside her, and for a second she just lays there, eyes half-open, trying to place it.
Because for a moment it feels wrong.
Like she missed something.
Her hand drifts slightly across the mattress, like she expects to find Paige there anyway, like maybe she just shifted or got up for a second, but there’s nothing except the faint imprint where she used to be.
Azzi frowns slightly, still waking up, still caught somewhere between sleep and reality.
And then she smells it, eggs and coffee and Something sweet underneath it all that she can’t fully place yet but knows instantly isn’t random.
Her brows lift just slightly, confusion easing into something softer as she blinks herself fully awake, pushing herself up slowly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Okay…” she mutters quietly, more to herself than anything.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed, standing up, still a little slow, still feeling the leftover exhaustion from last night sitting in her body.
Before she makes her way to the door her eyes land on the shopping bag and remembers the lingerie she got.
For a second she just looks at it, and then something shifts in her expression, something softer, almost amused, like a memory clicking back into place.
“Oh my God,” she breathes out quietly, a small smile pulling at her lips.
Because she remembers.
What it was for.
What she had planned.
What the night was supposed to look like before everything went sideways.
Her fingers curl slightly as she stands there for a second longer, then she lets out a quiet breath, shaking her head just a little.
And instead of walking out—
She turns back.
A few minutes later, she’s standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the robe around her, making sure it covers just enough, her hair still a little messy from sleep, her expression softer now, lighter.
She takes one last look at herself, then turns and heads out.
The smell hits stronger the second she steps into the kitchen.
And the sight of it—
She actually pauses.
The table is set.
Not perfectly, not like something out of a movie, but clearly thought out, plates, food, coffee already poured, flowers sitting in the middle, balloons everywhere and more flowers.
And Paige—
Paige is standing by the oven, pulling out a tray with a look on her face that already says she’s about to complain about something.
Azzi just stands there for a second, taking it all in, that warm feeling in her chest growing, spreading, settling in a way that makes everything from last night feel further away.
She notices the effort.
Every part of it.
And it means everything.
Paige turns slightly, setting the tray down, already shaking her head.
“Yeah, I’m never making these again,” she says immediately, not even realizing Azzi’s there yet. “Who the hell decided cottage cheese belonged in cookies, because that’s actually criminal.”
Azzi lets out a quiet laugh, the sound slipping out before she can stop it.
Paige looks up at that.
Sees her.
And something in her expression shifts instantly.
“Hey—”
She doesn’t even get the word out fully before Azzi starts walking toward her.
Slow at first.
Then not so much.
Paige’s still mid-rant, already continuing like she didn’t just get interrupted.
“I’m serious, they smell weird, they look weird, I don’t even think—”
Azzi cuts her off.
Completely.
Her hands come up, sliding around the back of Paige’s neck as she pulls her in and kisses her.
Paige freezes for half a second, clearly not expecting it, and then everything else just drops.
The rant.
The thought.
Her hands move automatically, finding Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer like there was never any distance to begin with.
The kiss deepens slightly
Paige's hands tighten on Azzi's waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of the robe. Azzi makes a quiet sound against her mouth, something between a sigh and a hum. Her fingers slide up into Paige's hair, tangling gently at the nape of her neck, tugging just enough to tilt Paige's head slightly, changing the angle, deepening the kiss even more. her tongue brushing against Paige's lower lip in a way that's deliberate, teasing, like she's reminding Paige exactly who she's kissing.
Paige exhales sharply through her nose, her grip shifting, one hand sliding up Azzi's back, the other dropping lower, fingers grazing the curve of her hip through the robe. She can feel Azzi's heartbeat, or maybe that's her own, they're so close it's hard to tell anymore.
"You're distracting me," Paige murmurs against her lips, but there's no complaint in it, just breathless recognition.
Azzi pulls back just enough to look at her, close enough that their foreheads are almost touching, her eyes darker now, warmer, still a little puffy from crying last night but somehow more beautiful because of it.
"Good," she says softly, her voice low, almost a whisper. "You deserve to be distracted."
And then she kisses her again.
Harder this time.
More certain.
Her teeth graze Paige's lower lip, just barely, just enough to make Paige's stomach tighten, and then she soothes it with her tongue, slow, deliberate, like she has all the time in the world now. Paige makes a sound she didn't mean to make, something low in her throat, and Azzi smiles against her mouth at that, small and satisfied, like she's keeping score.
When they finally pull back, it’s not far.
Not enough to break it completely.
Azzi’s hands are still wrapped around her neck.
Paige’s hands are still firm at her waist.
Close enough that their breaths still mix.
Paige exhales softly, a small smile pulling at her lips as she looks at her.
“So…” she murmurs, voice quieter now but still carrying that teasing edge. “How does it feel being a Dallas Wing and being with an amazing girlfriend and teammate like me?”
Azzi’s lips twitch, her expression shifting just enough to match the tone.
“Oh, I’m dreading it already,” she says, completely straight-faced.
Paige recoils slightly, hand coming up to her chest in fake offense.
“Ouch, bro. That’s crazy.”
Azzi laughs softly at that, but instead of pulling away, she just pulls her back in again.
Another kiss.
Shorter this time.
But just as intentional.
Paige kisses her back immediately, but there’s a flicker of confusion when Azzi doesn’t stop there.
Because she starts moving.
Guiding them backward.
Still kissing her.
Still holding onto her.
Paige stumbles slightly with it, trying to keep up, a quiet laugh slipping through the kiss.
“Wait—” she mumbles against her lips. “Babe, let’s at least—”
Azzi doesn’t let her finish.
She kisses her again.
And keeps moving.
Back into the room.
The door closes behind them with a soft click, and Paige barely registers it before she’s being pushed gently onto the bed, the movement smooth but confident enough to make her blink in surprise.
Azzi stands over her for half a second.
Then reaches up.
Lets the robe fall.
And Paige forgets what she was about to say entirely.
"Is this—"
"Yeah," Azzi says, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she doesn't look away, doesn't hide. "The lingerie."
Paige swallows.
"You're wearing it right now."
It's not a question, but Azzi nods anyway, her teeth catching her lower lip briefly.
"For you," she adds quietly. "I mean... I bought it for last night. For after. But..."
"You're trying to kill me," Paige says, her voice rougher now, her eyes not leaving Azzi’s perfect body.
"You started it," she says. "With the flowers. And the balloons. And the cottage cheese cookies."
Paige groans, dropping her head back against the mattress.
"Don't bring up the cookies right now."
"Why? You don't want to think about cottage cheese while you're—"
Paige doesn't give Azzi a second more to respond hands gripping Azzi's waist firmly, pulling her flush against her chest. Azzi's breath hitches, eyes widening, but she doesn't pull away—her hands hover uncertainly before settling on Paige's arms. 'P, wait—' Azzi starts, voice soft, but Paige cuts her off again.
“ Nah, no waiting. I promised I'd make it up to you”
Her fingers dig into Azzi's hips, steering her back toward the bed with unyielding pressure. Azzi stumbles slightly, a mix of surprise and heat flushing her cheeks, but she lets Paige lead, submissive under the weight of that promise.
Paige pushes her down onto the mattress, not rough but insistent, climbing over her to straddle her thighs. Azzi's legs part instinctively, giving Paige space, her body arching up just a fraction. Paige's hands pin Azzi's shoulders, holding her in place as she leans down, capturing her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss—tongue thrusting in, claiming every inch. Azzi moans into it, soft and yielding, her fingers clutching at Paige's shirt.
“Hands above your head,”Paige orders, breaking the kiss with a nip to Azzi's lower lip. Azzi hesitates, biting her lip, but obeys, stretching her arms up, wrists crossing like an offering. Paige smirks, satisfied, grabbing the robe's belt from the floor and looping it around Azzi's wrists, tying them loosely to the headboard—not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough to remind her who's in control. “Good girl. Stay just like that. Let me show you how sorry I am.”
Azzi squirms, a whine escaping. “P.. stop teasing, I need you.”
Paige chuckles, low and teasing, her hands roaming down to take the lingerie fully, trailing nails over her bare skin, scraping lightly over her collarbone, down to her tits. She cups one, thumb flicking the hard nipple, then pinches it sharp enough to make Azzi gasp and arch.
“Lemme get you right baby,” Paige says as she lowers her head, mouth latching onto the other nipple. She sucks hard, tongue swirling, teeth grazing the sensitive place.
Paige presses her thigh down between Azzi's legs, grinding just enough to tease without relief.
“Oh god, P—yes” Her hips twitch up, seeking contact but Paige pushes it back down. “Not yet. Beg for it if you want more.” Paige pulls back, watching Azzi's face flush deeper, her bound hands tugging futilely at the tie.
Azzi bites her lip, eyes pleading.
“please Paige... touch me. I need you”
The words come out small, and Paige's core tightens at the sound. She slides lower, hands hooking under Azzi's knees to spread her wide, exposing her fully—pussy glistening, clit swollen and begging.
Paige's fingers trace her inner thighs first, slow and deliberate, building the ache.
“Look at you, so wet already. All for me?' Azzi nods frantically, hips lifting. “Yes,I've been wanting this since yesterday.”
Paige rewards her with a single finger along her slit, parting the folds, circling her clit lightly before dipping just the tip inside. Azzi whimpers, thighs trembling. “More—please, deeper.”
Paige obliges but on her terms—thrusting two fingers in slow, curling them against Azzi's walls, finding that spot that makes her cry out. Her thumb presses her clit, rubbing firm circles, the wet squelch of Azzi's arousal filling the room.
“Take it, babe. This is me making it right.” Paige pumps faster, free hand pinning Azzi's hip down to stop her from chasing too hard. her face contorted in pleasure—mouth open, breaths ragged.
“Paige—fuck, I'm close. Don't stop.”Azzi's voice breaks pleas turning desperate. Paige leans in, lips at her neck, sucking a mark high enough to show. “Cum for me then. Show me you forgive me.”
She adds a third finger, stretching her, thrusting deep and rough, thumb flicking her clit hard. Azzi shatters, pussy clenching tight around Paige's fingers, juices coating her hand as she rides the waves, back arching off the bed. “Yes—P! Oh shit, yes!”Her cries echo, body shaking, bound wrists straining.
Paige doesn't stop immediately, drawing it out with slower strokes until Azzi slumps, panting. She pulls her fingers free, slick and shiny, and brings them to Azzi's mouth. “Taste how good you are.”Azzi parts her lips obediently,eyes locked on Paige's with that hazy look. Paige watches, arousal throbbing between her own legs, then unties the belt, rubbing Azzi's wrists gently. “Flip over. Ass up.”
Azzi nods, still catching her breath, rolling onto her stomach with a soft whimper. She pushes up onto her knees, arching her backHer face presses into the pillow, arms stretched out in front, fully surrendered.
Paige stands from the bed, her own sweatpants hanging low on her hips, pussy aching and damp against her boxers. She glances at Azzi's trembling form, smirking at how eagerly she's obeying.
“Stay right there, don't move,” Paige commands, voice firm as she steps over to her duffel bag by the nightstand. She unzips it quick, digging past clothes and toiletries until her fingers close around the strap.
Paige pulls it out, strips off her sweats and boxers in one go, kicking them aside and steps into the harness, buckling it tight around her hips and thighs, the base of the dildo pressing snug against her clit with every adjustment.
She tugs the straps secure, the weight of the cock settling heavy between her legs, ready to thrust. Glancing back, she sees Azzi peeking over her shoulder, eyes widening at the sight, a fresh flush creeping up her neck. “You brought that? For me?” Azzi asks, voice small and needy, ass moving back n forth slightly in anticipation.
“Knew I'd need to fuck you proper to make up for last night,” Paige replies, climbing back onto the bed. She kneels behind Azzi, hands gripping her hips to pull her back, aligning the tip of the strap-on with Azzi's dripping entrance. The silicone head nudges her folds, slicking up immediately from Azzi's arousal. Paige teases it there, sliding up and down her slit, bumping her clit on each pass. Azzi moans, pushing back desperate. “Please, P—put it in. I want it so bad.”
Paige slaps her ass cheek hard, leaving a red handprint that makes Azzi yelp and clench. “Beg nicer. Tell me how much you need my cock.” Azzi bites the pillow, then lifts her head.
“Fuck me with it, Paige. Stretch my pussy—make me cum on your dick. I'm yours.” The words hit Paige like fire, her own clit pulsing against the base as she grips Azzi's waist tighter.
With one smooth thrust, Paige sinks halfway in, Azzi's walls gripping tight around the intrusion. Azzi cries out, fingers clawing the sheets. “Oh shit— p it’s big!” Paige pauses, letting her adjust, then rocks her hips forward, burying the rest inch by inch until her pelvis slaps against Azzi's ass, fully sheathed. The pressure on Paige's clit makes her groan low, already chasing her own build.
Paige starts slow, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the wet sounds of Azzi's pussy taking the cock filling the room. Azzi's tits sway with each thrust, nipples dragging against the mattress. “Harder—yes, like that,” Azzi gasps greedy, rocking back to meet her. Paige obliges, pace picking up, hips snapping forward with force, the harness rubbing her clit relentlessly. She reaches around, fingers finding Azzi's swollen clit, rubbing fast circles to match the rhythm.
“Your pussy's sucking me in so good. Taking it all for me,” Paige pants as she pounds deeper, the curve of the dildo hitting Azzi's g-spot on every stroke. Azzi's moans turn to screams, body jolting forward with the impacts. “P—I'm gonna cum again! Don't stop”
Paige spanks her other cheek, alternating the slaps to keep the sting fresh, skin blooming pink under her palm.
Paige leans over her back, chest pressing against Azzi's spine, one hand tangling in her hair to yank her head up. “Cum on my cock then. Squeeze it tight.” She thrusts erratic now, chasing her own edge, fingers pinching Azzi's clit. Azzi let’s go agai, pussy clamping down hard on the silicone, juices squirting out around the base as she wails, thighs shaking uncontrollably. The clench pushes Paige over too—her clit grinding against the harness sends sparks through her, orgasm ripping free with a guttural moan, hips stuttering as she rides it out buried deep.
They collapse together, Paige easing the strap out slow, both panting heavy. She unbuckles the harness quick, tossing it aside to wrap arms around Azzi from behind, kissing her shoulder. “You good? That make up for it?”Azzi turns her head, lips finding Paige's in a lazy kiss.
Azzi lets out a quiet laugh at that, the sound lazy, warm, her head tilting back just enough to meet Paige halfway.
“Maybe,” she says, teasing, even though there’s no real edge left in it.
She turns slightly in Paige’s arms, just enough to face her, her lips finding Paige’s in a slower kiss this time, not rushed, not trying to prove anything, just… there.
Paige hums softly against her, her hand sliding up Azzi’s arm, fingers tracing absent patterns like she’s grounding herself in the moment.
“I’m serious though,” Paige adds after a second, her forehead resting lightly against Azzi’s.
“I really am sorry,” she says, softer this time.
Azzi doesn’t pull away.
She just reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together.
“I know.”
And she does.
Paige presses another soft kiss to her shoulder, lingering just a little longer, like she’s still making up for it in small ways.
They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, everything finally feeling… right again.
And then—
Paige groans quietly, letting her head drop back against the pillow.
“Damn,” she mutters. “The breakfast is probably cold now. All that hard work, gone.”
Azzi lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she shifts slightly to look at her.
“You’re actually upset about the cottage cheese cookies?”
“I’m upset about everything,” Paige says dramatically, turning her head to look at her. “I cooked, I decorated, I emotionally matured, and this is the thanks I get.”
“Do I hear complaining beuckers?”
“Nah I’d do it again.”
Azzi rolls her eyes at that but she’s still smiling, still close, still not moving away.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “We can reheat it.”
Paige raises an eyebrow.
“You’re really about to make me eat those cookies.”
“Yes.”
“That’s messed up.”
Azzi just kisses her again, quick and easy this time, like the conversation doesn’t even matter.
And Paige doesn’t complain after that.
Not really.
Because she’s smiling too.
And everything feels okay again.
“Officially a wing.” Paige says.
“Offcally a wing.” Azz repeats.
The end
