Kay

when she got to her childhood home, there was no one to greet her. it wasn’t shocking, and she didn’t take offense because she knew her father wasn’t a homebody and that he made it a point to eat lunch at the same place every single weekday. she just took her suitcase to her bedroom and taken a shower to wash the plane ride and uber off of her. 

when she got out, she looked in the mirror and decided she’d spend that week trying to bulk up. she wanted to be bigger. she was too thin and she drowned in her basketball uniform. she figured that would be her excuse for being away from home all week. 

she had no intention of making this a spring break to remember. she didn’t enjoy spending copious amounts of time with her father, or walking on eggshells around her mother. the gym would be the perfect safe space. 

by the time she’d showered and braided her hair and gotten dressed and put on deodorant , she’d heard rustling from the front of her house. 

her father was home. 

she took her time on the journey from her bedroom. she eyed the pictures on the walls, tried to remember every moment that each frame encapsulated. 

she paid special attention to her senior pictures. only four years had gone by, but alot changed between seventeen and twenty-one. she’d never wear jeans that tight again, would never be caught dead in a flannel that pink. 

“you were still just a kid, then.” she didn’t hear her father creep beside her, and she didn’t register his presence until his hand was clasped on her shoulder. “you wanted to wear sweats for your photos— fully ready to die on that hill.”

paige had learned to bite the bullet since she’d went to college. her freshman year, she beat the demons of bisexuality and dipped her toe into the men's section of every online shopping site. 

it was covid, she was a baby lesbian. she was stubborn and unwilling to listen to reason. she’d freshly figured out who she was, newly solidified herself within her own identity.

college did that to you, she learned. it had a way of thrusting you into yourself and you had no choice but to deal with it. 

when she came home for christmas, her mom asked what boy broke her heart. because, of course it had to have been heartbreak that spurred such a dramatic change. it was totally unexpected for her six-foot daughter, who was away at a D1 college on a full basketball scholarship, to realize she was a lesbian who preferred to present as masculine. 

she’d overheard her dad telling his girlfriend at the time that this was another one of her things. like when she dyed her hair purple, or took up painting.

she’d heard the you haven’t found the right man speech four times in the last four years. it wasn’t one she was interested in listening to again. 

“yeah, well.” she turned to face him, “did you enjoy your lunch?”

“uh, yeah, sorry i missed you getting here.” he fixed his gaze to the front of the home, “azzi brought you something.”

paige had no idea who ‘azzi’ was, or why she felt inclined to bring her food, so she cut her eyes at her father.

“azzi?” he repeated the name like that would ignite some sort of familiarity. when he realized that it wasn’t clicking, he sighed and gave a you’re so silly smile. “my girlfriend, paige.”

paige had honestly forgotten that she was supposed to be meeting her, but something tightened in her chest at the realization. 

“oh,” she forced herself to seem neutral because neutrality was better than dread. “right.”

she followed her dad down the rest of the hallway and thought about how there was nothing more ridiculous than the fact that her fifty-something year old father still had girlfriends. 

she’d always told herself that she wouldn’t be like that. she wouldn’t have children of divorce or a plethora of exes. she wanted to get it right the first time. she wanted forever— she wanted a wife. 

the second they stepped into the kitchen, she realized that she was wrong. in actuality, there was nothing more ridiculous than the fact that her fifty-something year old dad’s girlfriend was clearly too young. 

her father never brought home ugly women, so she’d expected this woman to be beautiful, but she wasn’t just beautiful, she was attractive.

she was tall, not as tall as paige, but tall. her hair was in a tight half-bun at the top of her head, but paige could tell she had thick curls. she had warm brown skin that flushed when she turned around and saw her boyfriend and his daughter. 

“hello—hi.” she’d stuck her hand out, “i’m azzi.”

azzi had a pretty smile. she had bucked teeth that sunk into her bottom lip while she waited for paige to take her hand.

she took it, and tried not to smile back at her. her hands were warm and soft, like she’d never known discomfort in her whole life. she was the one who moved their hands in a single up and down motion. it was firm and final and when she pulled her hand away, paige never wanted to touch her again.

she turned her attention to the plastic bag on the counter that held her to-go plate. 

“paige.” she didn’t mean to sound like a dick when she introduced herself but there was no point in an enthusiastic meet-and-greet. not when she’d be doing the same thing with someone else on thanksgiving. 

when she sat down at the kitchen table, paige had to force herself to sit with her legs closed. natural instinct told her to spread out and be comfortable, but she didn't want to be told to sit like a lady, so she crossed her ankles under the table, despite the fact that she was in pajama pants and a beater and there was no chance of someone looking up her skirt. 

“your dad’s told me alot about you.” she watched paige pop the styrofoam plate open. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

paige nodded, never taking her eyes off the chicken and rice. 

something about this felt like uncharted territory. azzi wasn't following the script— her voice wasn't obnoxiously high, she wasn't fidgeting with her nerves. she was calm— too calm. she almost seemed indifferent.

luckily, her father's phone started ringing. it seemed that azzi had learned the everyone be silent until he’s done rule because she didn’t say a word. she just watched paige nibble at the food until—

“i gotta go…” of course he did. 

who would bob bueckers be if he wasn’t leaving his daughter with unfamiliar women? 

“it’s a work thing. they—” 

azzi cut him off with a raise of her palm. “it’s okay,” her smile almost seemed genuine, except her teeth were still in her mouth. “just go. me and paige can talk while i make dinner.”

paige shouldn’t care that her dad was leaving because she was supposed to be going as well. the gym was waiting for her. it didn't matter that her dad was taking the car, because she could uber… except she didn't want to go anymore.

all the more reason for her to get the hell out of there.

her dad leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to azzi’s cheek, “we’ll go shopping monday, hun,” then, he wrapped his arms around paige. “glad you're here, p.”

paige let herself enjoy the hug, she savored that moment where no one cared what she was wearing, or how she was sitting and let herself melt into her dads arms. “love you, dad.” 

she meant it.

when he walked out the door, paige turned to azzi, who was doing something in the refrigerator.

“you just ate lunch,” azzi didn't turn around. “why you already making dinner?”

still in the fridge, azzi rummaged until she pulled out a concerningly large tub of butter. 

“your father wants duck.” she brought the container to the counter. ‘i don’t know how to cook duck, so i need time for trial and error.”

that was bullshit. her father was the one to cook in all of his relationships. he didn’t trust people to do it right, and he enjoyed listening to everyone tell him how talented he was. even if azzi was a cooker, she wasn’t doing it for paige’s dad.

she wouldn’t air her out. she didn’t care enough to do that, but paige had always been intrigued by liars. perhaps it was her own form of narcissism. 

she got up from the table, the goal not being to be closer, but to know more. the bar stool was near enough for paige to see everything. she didn’t know this woman. she needed proximity to learn her tells. 

“you cook for him alot?”

azzi dug through a drawer, pulling out a rubber spatula. “not really, no.”

paige was used to over-explaining and over-achieving. azzi seemed like she was more worried about ruining a bird than talking to paige. it was weird, the feeling that she was the one trying to hard for something that wouldn’t last. 

she dug her heels into the step of the bar and tried to keep her discomfort under wraps. “why the special occasion?”

azzi shrugged, now armed with a butcher's knife. “dunno.” 

it was kind of scary, the way she was prepping and yet she didn’t even have the duck out. paige knew the knife wouldn’t be necessary until the bird was cooked, and that she shouldn’t apply the butter until the duck was stuffed. 

paige wanted to warn her. the usual willingness to let someone learn the hard way was nowhere to be found. that was scary enough for the conscious decision to let azzi learn the hard way regardless to be be made. 

paige pointed at herself, “for me?”

she thought, for a second, that she sounded like she wanted this. she worried that she sounded like she cared. which, she didn’t. she just felt a little bad. which was a sign of empathy. anyone would feel empathetic when watching a car crash. 

that’s what this was— azzi’s relationship with paige’s dad was a car crash in the making.  it would end the way they all did, except azzi was Different.

azzi shook her head, still not fucking looking at paige. she had no clue why she wanted azzi to look at her, but the disappointment in her chest was hard to ignore. 

“think i just wanted to busy myself. your dad says you’re hardly ever home when you’re home.”

she was doing it so she wouldn’t be bored, it had nothing to with paige or her father. azzi simply did not want to be bored. that was understandable. that was justifiable. paige knew nothing about the woman, but she had the feeling that she should never be bored. 

so what the fuck is she doing dating the most boring human on the planet?

it wasn’t paige’s business. she had no reason to want the answer to that question. so she nodded, once, and left her head hanging.

“yeah.” it was a small acknowledgment, enough to confirm paige’s future absence.

azzi laughed, quiet but not in a self deprecating way. like the situation was pathetic, not her need for entertainment. “so i’m going to butcher a duck.”

this is the end, paige thought. this is the end of whatever was going on here. 

she stood up and headed to the hallway, leaving the food and azzi behind.

“i’m going to the gym.”

by the time she heard, “have fun, p.” it was already too late to turn around and see if azzi looked as unbothered as she sounded

──

easter dinner was bound to be a disaster of drastic proportions. paige’s parents were those weird divorcees who got along well enough to spend the holidays together for the sake of kid. except, for the past few years, it always ended up feeling like they were only in the same room for paige’s detriment. 

not because they didn’t get along. that was never the issue. amy and bob made it a point to never argue in front of paige, as if that would have made her oblivious to their agony towards each other. no, these days, the issue was that they did not approve of paige’s Lifestyle Choices. 

when she came out as bisexual, neither of them seemed to care much. they probably thought it was one of paige’s phases, or that she’d end up with a man anyway. and then christmas 2020 happened, and they suddenly were enthralled with who paige planned to spend the rest of her life with. 

her mother had convinced her to curl her hair for the family photo instead of wearing a slickback bun. her father told her that there would be no suit because she and her mother always wore matching dresses. 

it had been nearly three years of biting her tongue— of wanting to crawl out of her skin for the sake of keeping the peace. paige knew that her parents didn’t like the way she dressed. or the way she talked, sat, and turned down male advances. 

and it wasn’t that she just rolled over and did what they wanted. it was just that trying to get them to understand that this is who she was took more than it was worth. 

paige’s step family, dan and taylor, never really said much during these meetings either. they’d just passively agreed with whatever amy was saying. they never really acknowledged paige, never wanted to know things about her and always declined the game tickets paige provided. 

they didn’t feel like family— none of them did. but then again, only family could make paige feel the way she did.

but this year, easter would be something different. azzi would be there, and paige knew she’d be more focused on the Difference She Could Not Explain than her mother.

her blended family never met up at anyone’s house. they’d always opted for neutral territory— whatever restaurant was open that holiday. 

the steakhouse had been reserved for easter. it wasn’t fine dining like her father loved, and it wasn’t homey the way her mother preferred. it was casual in a way that said we’re trying to get a star without seeming like we’re trying. 

her parents always reserved the same table. it was in the back with six chairs. paige sat beside azzi, who sat beside her father. her mother, step-dad, and step-sister all sat on the other side. 

they’d done their quarterly hello’s. amy smiled when she met azzi, but paige knew her mother’s disapproval when she saw it. azzi didn’t seem bothered by the awkwardness of it all. she shook everyone’s hand and smiled without her teeth. she was quiet and contained when anyone else would have let their nerves scream over the whole building. 

when the waiter asked for their drinks, the whole table asked for ice water. except paige, who requested sweet tea with lemon slices on the side.  she quickly realized her mistake when her father sucked in a harsh breath and her mother began to wave her hand. 

 “that’s okay, she’ll just have water.” she had her usual smile on her face, completely oblivious to the look on paige’s face. 

paige didn’t speak on her annoyance, but when the waiter left, her mom leaned forward and whispered, “i don’t know why you insist on making things so hard for everyone.”

paige didn’t know why she was whispering. there was no one near them, hardly anyone in the restaurant at all. it was a holiday, everyone was at home having a home cooked meal. 

she didn’t answer her mom, hoping that she would be left alone. of course, that was just too much like right, because her father chipped in. 

“yeah paige,” he was still nose deep in the menu, as if he was going to order something different this year. “everyone got water. why would you want the waiter to make a whole different drink?”

paige knew this wasn’t worth a clapback. she also knew it was just the beginning of her parent’s nitpicking, so she put her head down and physically retreated into herself. she should have just stayed in storrs, or went to kk’s house. she didn’t know why she always voluntarily put herself through this shit—

“maybe she just wanted something sweet.”

paige’s head popped up then. it was azzi who'd spoken up, brown eyes dead set ahead of her on amy. 

she’d hardly spoken to paige the entire week she’d been there. they’d been in the same house, yet paige made sure they were worlds apart. azzi had made no effort to know paige, and yet…

amy flushed beet red. she’d never been confrontational, never pushed the line on anything besides paige. azzi didn’t let up, though. she didn’t blink until paige’s mom buried her face in the menu and asked bob how work was going. 

dinner went the way it usually did. paige learned that azzi was an ER nurse, that taylor was set to start nursing school in a few months, and bob didn’t like his new assistant. 

it was all noise to paige.

maybe she just wanted something sweet.

azzi had no reason to pipe up, but she stood up for paige. anyone else would have just minded their business. they’d have probably felt bad, but told themselves that this was between parents and their child. but azzi…

it didn’t make sense. they never talked, and the one time they did, azzi seemed as disinterested as paige was pretending to be.  

but she spoke. and paige would spend the rest of spring break thinking about how azzi’s lips pushed out the word “sweet”.

she’d been playing with her veggies when her mother addressed her again. 

“paige, sweetie,” she tapped the prongs of her fork on the table “sit up. you look like a boy.”

she broke out of her comfortable position and leaned forward so that her ribs were pressed into the table and her feet were under her chair. she didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at her mother. she just did what she was told and went back to her plate. 

still her mother continued. 

“and what’s with this outfit?” she waved her fork lazily in paige’s direction “i don’t know why you want to look like…”

paige knew what was coming. it happened every single time, and there was no way to avoid it besides re-becoming something she wasn’t. that wasn’t an option— cosplaying a girly bisexual would never be an option again. so paige just braced for impact. 

she dropped her fork and sat straight up. with her hands folded between her legs, she steeled her eyes on her mother. “like what, mom?”

“like a—” she lowered her voice, “like a lesbian.”

paige’s sighed. 

paige had never outright said i’m actually not bi, i'm a full blown ‘mo, but it didn’t take much to tell. her mother could read between the lines— everyone at that table was able to read between the fucking lines. 

“i’m just saying,” amy stabbed a piece of broccoli onto her fork, “you don’t have to broadcast it for everyone to see.”

“mom.” her monotone pitch wasn’t because she was forcing herself to not be upset, she’d just gotten bored of the same conversation every time she came home. “i’m not broadcasting anything i’m just—”

she was cut off by taylor. “you don’t have to argue all the time, paige.”

“i’m not arguing with her.” paige furrowed her brows, “i barely even said anything.”

“but you were going to,” her father chimed in now. “you know yourself, p.” 

“your mother just wants what’s best for you, paige.” dan didn’t look up from his plate when he decided to add his two cents. “making a scene all the time isn’t good for anyone.”

“how am i making a scene, though?” paige felt exhausted, even though she knew they were just getting started. “by dressing the way i want to— in clothes i feel comfortable in?”

amy sighed, setting her fork down and looking at paige again. “it’s just inconvenient for everyone when your comfort makes everyone else uncomfortable. who do you think you are to just force this on us for all these years?”

paige reared her head back, like she was dodging a punch. and maybe she actually was, because the words found her anyway. they rippled cross her face like the impact of an actual hit, taking over her whole being and making her head fuzzy. 

she should expect shit like this. her mother had wobbled on the line of passive aggressive to flat out homophobic for years, but something about tonight hurt a little worse. it usually felt like a punch to the gut, and paige had built an endurance to that. tonight, felt like a hook to the temple. 

she was dizzy and genuinely unsure of if she had the strength to walk away from this in one piece. 

everyone kept going, kept agreeing with amy and adding their own issues with paige into the mix, but she just sat there in her chair. she didn’t speak, she didn’t defend herself, she didn’t move— she couldn’t do much of anything besides try and keep her eyes from closing. 

if they closed, then paige would be crying.

she heard one voice through all of it. 

azzi. 

she was making an effort, paige assumed, but she was ultimately unsuccessful. even she wasn’t strong enough to cut through all the tension that spread over the table. she’d been saying paige’s dad’s name. over and over— like he was going to listen to her. he didn't listen though, no one ever did. so, azzi huffed out a tight line of air and sat back in her seat. 

paige guessed that this would be her leave— this conversation would be the reason she left. she’d probably say it was because she felt bad for paige, when in reality she was just leaving like everyone else. she’d make paige her scapegoat just like the rest of them. 

she was an idiot for thinking azzi would be anything different.

──

the next day, paige woke up before the sun and drove her dad’s car to the gym. her father was still asleep, as was azzi. she just left. her head was still hurting from the night before, her face still felt hot with embarrassment and tears. 

 she was leaving that night and she planned to stay away from her house until it was time to get her suitcases. she’d uber to the airport. she wasn’t telling anyone bye, or announcing her exit in any way, shape or form. 

somehow, someway, paige had lost her edge. she nearly lost herself at dinner, which was something that she didn’t let happen. she’d forged herself into steel years ago, and every time she prepared to return home, she hardened herself even more.

at dinner, she felt shame force itself into her gut and take her over. she’d known what the difference was, the only thing that had changed from the usual was the fact that she seemingly had someone in her corner. 

azzi. 

she was on paige’s side, which was new. but more than that, azzi had only known the version of paige that was built. she hadn’t known the version that had to be erased to get there. 

her mother had ripped that paige out and left her on the table for the vultures to get, and azzi had seen it. azzi watched as everyone picked paige apart and poked at her skeleton. there was nothing that could be done to come back from that. 

this woman— who wouldn’t even there for another three months— had seen paige. an outsider had seen it all. 

when this ended, she’d walk around with the knowledge that paige wasn’t steel. she’d know forever that there wasn’t a non-chalant bone in her body, and she almost cried when her mom hurt her feelings. 

paige left the gym praying that azzi went with her father to lunch. she couldn’t look at her.

when she got home, no one was there. it was a blessing. truly. she didn't stop in the kitchen, or look at the photos in the hallway. she beelined for her room, determined to be out of the house before azzi and her father got back. 

her bedroom door was closed. she didn’t close it when she left, which meant someone had been in her room. paige thought the cleaning lady probably left it open, even though she always told her dad to remind her that paige could clean her own room.

bob never cared to remember shit like that. he never cared to remember anything. 

only, he might have remembered this time. her room was just as she left it. her desk chair was still facing away from the desk, her duffel bag was still in the middle of the room and her bed was still unmade with the dent of her body molded in the mattress. 

but there was a bag. a single gift bag with no label on it. it was brown— not like a paper bag but something expensive that shined when paige turned the light on. there was no bow attached, no card tied to it’s handles. just a brown gift back placed dead center on the bench before her bed.

paige didn’t open it right away. she just stood there staring at it, like something would climb out of it on its own. she wondered who put it there and what was in it. bob was never one for spontaneous presents— he didn’t pay enough attention for shit like that. her mom wouldn’t be over their spat yet, so it wasn’t her. paige was pretty sure taylor and dan hated her, so not them either. 

there was azzi. over the past week, there had been azzi. but she didn’t know paige. paige didn’t even know if azzi liked her. so why would she get her a gift? but then again, why would azzi defend her?

the possibility jumpstarted paige’s anticipation enough for her to snatch the bag up and rip the ribbons that tied it shut. 

it was clothes, maybe three items. they were folded and stacked in the bag. on top of the top item, though there was a receipt. paige grabbed that first. 

POLO RALPH LAUREN ran across the top of the paper in big, bold letters. it was an expensive gift. too expensive for an ER nurse in minnesota. and there were multiple items, so paige decided it definitely wasn’t azzi. 

but then she looked at the bottom, where the card information and signature would have been and there it was. 

CUSTOMER: Azzi Fudd

************1857

azzi fudd. 

azzi had gotten the gift. for paige. 

paige dropped the receipt and dug the clothes out of the bag. the top item was heavy and thick. it was meant for cold weather. it was a deep red quarter button sweater. cable-knit. it felt expensive and intentional in paige’s hands. it was a men’s sweater, too. a women’s top would have a curve in the waist, and it would have been lighter. 

the second item was a pair of black pants. fancy— slacks or something like that.  the fabric wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t rough either. it was textured and smooth. these were made for men, too. the pockets were big. 

in the bottom of the bag, there was a package of briefs. a five pack of ralph lauren briefs.

there was no note, no explanation for why azzi had purchased men’s winter clothes for paige. the fact that she’d purchased anything for paige was deserved an explanation. but there was nothing. 

just clothes and a gift receipt.

FOURTH OF JULY WEEKEND

as expected, paige’s dad wasn’t home when she got there. he was at lunch, same place as usual. paige wasn’t excited to see him, anyway. she wanted a shower and a nap and then to eat so that she wouldn’t have to leave her bedroom until the next day.

but, unexpectedly, someone was sitting on the living room couch with their back to the door. paige didn’t have to see their face to know who it was. she didn’t even have to open the door and enter the house to know. those curls were imprinted on her brain. 

her hair was half up-half down, the top secured to the base of her head with a white claw clip. her hair looked soft, moisturized by something too cultured for paige and her midwestern whiteness to know the name of. 

several deep breaths were needed before paige could open the door, but when the lock finally turned, azzi turned her head slowly, like there was no urgency to know who it was. 

she smiled the same way she did when she and paige first met, with her two front teeth pushing into her bottom lip. she had make-up on, a deep pink lined her lips while a lighter one covered the totality of her mouth. her lashes were longer— long enough to reach just under her brow bone. 

“you’re here.” azzi didn’t sound the way she did during spring break. she sounded relieved, almost. she’d been expecting paige. “your dad is having lunch, but he gave me a list.”

obviously, paige was missing something. she didn’t even have the brainwidth to try and figure it out. she was lost looking at azzi’s mouth as she spoke. her mouth and her perfect fucking teeth.

“uh…  list for—” she blinked out of her trance. “list for what?”

“for the barbecue?” azzi sounded like this was something paige was supposed to know. “amy's barbecue at the park tomorrow?”

paige felt her whole body kind of reset at the mention of her mother. it all came back to her. easter dinner. azzi’s gift. 

she didn't think azzi would even be a topic of conversation anymore, but here she was. 

“oh,” paige dropped her duffel at the entrance. “right.”

azzi stood from the couch and turned so she was facing paige completely. “do you need to do anything before we go or are you ready?”

“uh, nah.” paige looked around like a task would magically appear out of thin air. “we can go.”

azzi said nothing else. she just walked around the couch, grabbed her purse off the hook and opened the front door. on the way to the car, paige trailed behind her, watching the way her body moved with every step. 

she had a silk shirt on with no sleeves and an open back that showcased the muscles on her back like waves rippling under the skin. her jeans weren’t baggy, but they were loose like they were hanging off of the woman’s hips. 

azzi drove without the use of GPS. the drive wasn’t long, maybe 10 minutes. mitski sang about eggshells crumbling, and paige tried not to side-eye azzi. 

she felt an uncomfortable calmness in azzi’s car. she didn’t think twice about pushing the seat back so she could slouch and spread her legs. she wasn’t scared to have her phone laying her lap, or to keep her hair in it’s bun. with azzi, she didn’t have to have blonde waves cascading down her back, or perfect posture.

it was quiet besides the music, but not tense. that was the problem. paige wanted to talk— to converse and bond. she had questions, but something told her that conversation with azzi was dangerous for her.

the grocery store was busy, crawling with last minute shoppers grabbing hot dog buns and beers. paige and azzi were not those people. apparently, paige’s dad had left azzi with a list— written sloppily on what used to be an envelope.

paige was pushing the basket but azzi was leading. with one hand gripping the front of the cart, she guided them around. it was all going rather quickly. there was no pausing for long amounts of time, running her eyes over the shelves trying to decide what was needed. bob and his neuroticism had everything on the list specified down to the brand.

azzi pulled paige throughout the store, turning her head every now and then. she’d look at paige with raised brows and her chin tucked into her collarbone, and paige would nod, silently answering whatever question azzi was trying to ask.

they went like that until every item had been retrieved. it felt routine, like they’d done this every weekend.

unsurprisingly, the lines were filled and checkout would take longer than the actual shopping. that uncomfortable calmness was back.

“can i ask you something?” paige starting talking out of no where, causing azzi’s head to whip around so fast it looked like it hurt.

she was so fucking pretty. too pretty for bob— too pretty for anyone. no one would notice the things that paige noticed, they wouldn’t pay as much attention as she did. maybe that was the problem. maybe it was why azzi had barely spoken to paige that day, despite them having been together for over forty-five minutes.

either way, paige didn’t want silence anymore. she wanted to make the uncomfortable calmness a conversation.

azzi smiled her real smile. “yes.”

“that gift— the clothes,” paige looked for the rest of her question in azzi’s face and found nothing. “why’d you do that?”

“you deserve it.” it came out like it was the obvious answer. like azzi and paige weren't virtual strangers, and they had the kind of relationship where they gave each other random gifts for the simple fact that they deserved it.

it was absurd.

paige blinked. “what?”

azzi just looked at paige not angrily or annoyed, but with a tenderness that paige wasn't familiar with. “you deserve to feel comfortable in whatever you wear. your clothes don’t make me uncomfortable— they shouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable.”

“oh.”

something about hearing those words, while azzi was looking at her like that, had paige at a loss for words.

she stared at azzi, who despite knowing nothing about paige, was capable of saying the one thing paige thought she’d never hear. she was an ocean of beautiful confusion, and suddenly, paige wanted to drown in her.

azzi kept her eyes on paige. she didn't push paige for a response, didn't say anything at all. she just kept fucking looking.

what was paige supposed to say? what could she say that wouldn’t make her seem like she’d been silently begging for this since she was nineteen?

the answer was nothing. this conversation had to end for the sake of paige’s pride.

she shook her head and tried to put some bass in her voice to counteract the softness that was flooding her. she failed miserably.

“why winter clothes?” her voice came out more choked and grovel-ly than prideful and indifferent.

she’d tried to sound like she didn't care, like she still had no skin in the game and nothing to lose. but she knew the look on her face said she had everything to lose. she just hoped that it didn't also say she was considering losing it in azzi.

the difference in azzi was becoming abundantly clear. it was sickening and it made paige’s head spin in the best way.

she watched azzi close her eyes and open them again. it wasn’t a blink. it was something slower and more intentional than that.

“bob told me about the christmas photo situation that happened a few years ago.” that smile stretched across azzi’s face once again. “i want you to like what you wear in the picture this year.”

of course he did. of course he’d told her about one the most embarrassing moments of paige’s life. he’d probably brought it up in casual conversation, too. it probably wasn’t that big of a deal to him. actually, paige knew it wasn’t. nothing was that big of a deal to her father.

azzi had got those clothes because she felt bad for paige. and if it was anyone else, paige would have gotten pissed off. she’d have demanded that azzi take the clothes back, and told her that she didn’t need her sympathy.

but something in paige lit up. something bloomed at the concept of having this woman’s sympathy. she could have just minded her business. she could have been like everyone else and pretended not to see what was going on between paige and her parents. but she didn’t.

she’d wear that outfit for christmas this year. she’d wear it all— down to the fucking briefs. she’d argue with her father and tell her mother to go to fucking hell, because azzi wanted her to like what she wore in the photo this year.

azzi was moving. it took four steps for her to get around the basket but she took another one anyway. she and paige were nearly chest-to-chest. “did they fit?”

paige almost didn’t hear a word she said. she was too busy watching azzi’s mouth as it moved. she thought she could feel the wind when azzi blinked. she was painfully aware of everything about the woman in front of her.

“huh?” paige felt hot, like her whole body was beet red with heat. she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide the way her fingers were practically twitching. “sorry i— what was your question?”

she wanted to touch. to tug at one of the curls that laid over azzi’s shoulder. she wanted to smear that pink across azzi’s mouth and kiss the mess away.

azzi didn’t seem to mind that paige was acting like she’d never experienced human interaction. she just shook her head and told paige it was okay before asking her question again.

“i asked if the clothes fit. the ones i got you.”

paige tried the clothes on as soon as she got to storrs. she’d stared at herself in the mirror and tried to figure out the soonest occasion that called for an outfit like that. she’d worn all 5 pairs of the briefs, some of them twice.

“oh, yeah.” she nodded. “yeah, they fit.”

azzi stepped even closer, forcing eye contact with paige. “you didn’t have to return anything?”

paige couldn't take eyes off of azzi’s. she didn't move away from her— she didn't want to.

“nothing.” she spoke lowly, like she wanted no one but azzi to hear her.

“that’s good.” azzi’s teeth poked into her bottom lip. “and you like them?”

paige wanted to laugh. what a ridiculous, basically rhetorical question.

“i love them.” she stood on her tippy toes and rocked back down onto her heels. she just needed movement, otherwise she’d physically jump out of her own body. “thank you.”

azzi kept smiling for a second before she spoke. “anytime, p.”

with that, azzi turned and pushed the basket. they still had a while before it was their turn, but paige was thankful for the separation.

the pull she was feeling towards azzi was beginning to to escalate. it started the second they met, and the proximity was only making it worse.

paige wanted to feel azzi. she needed to know the root of all that tenderness. she needed to know where the softness originated. then, maybe she’d know why she felt so drawn to her. maybe she’d be able to stop herself from doing something colossally stupid.

──

paige didn’t mean to get so drunk. 

really. 

she’d planned to go to the fourth of july party and take a few shots, maybe share a joint with some high school friends. she planned to have a good night— that’s the whole reason she went to the party. she didn’t want to be around her family. she just wanted one good fucking day in her hometown.

but of course, she never got anything she wanted. 

her dad made her tell her mom that she wasn’t going to the barbecue. he said he didn’t want to be the one to deal with her mouth, even though amy had never so much as given bob a dirty look. but paige called anyway, deciding that if worst came to worst, she could always hang up the phone and go about her night

her mother was pissed, but not like she was at dinner. her mom was angry in that i know you’re not coming, so i’m gonna make you hurt kind of way. 

paige didn’t hang up, she sat there curled in a ball with the phone to her ear and listened to her mother berate her. her fingers popped around her duvet, her eyes salted her pillows with tears as she listened. 

paige felt that small crack in her chest expand just a little bit more. she felt so… wide. so open and empty. 

she went to that party wanting to be full. so she drank more than she’d planned to. she danced until she couldn’t breathe. she flirted with the same girl all night.

the girl was pretty. paige never got her name, but she was short and her smile was bright. she left without telling paige bye, though. not that paige minded, she was too busy knocking back bombpop flavored jungle juice and chasing it with  red, white & blue jello shots.

by the time her uber came, paige had given herself a field sobriety test and failed miserably. she couldn’t walk in a straight line, she couldn’t even say the alphabet in the original order, much less backwards, and she poked herself in the eye while trying to touch her finger to her nose. 

she was drunk. beautifully, undeniably wasted. 

she asked the uber driver if she could roll her window down, and the man said sure and asked her not to throw up in his back seat. 

the car ride made her sick. the fresh-air did nothing to calm the nausea swirling in her belly or the burning in her chest. she felt her head get light and then heavy and then light again. her eyelids felt too heavy to keep them open for the entire ride.

she didn’t realize she’d gotten home until the driver banged on the seat in front of her. her eyes popped open and she flew forward, causing her head to feel like it was going to fall off her shoulders. it took her a second and more than three deep breaths to be ready to get out of the car, and when she did, she nearly fell.

paige wasn’t a sloppy drunk. she’d never been one to black-out, or make mistakes she could blame on alcohol. but tonight, she felt like she wasn't gonna make it into the house.

she wasn't even enjoying her drunk anymore. she was so hot, so heavy and so fucking tired.

the front door was unlocked, which she was grateful for because she couldn't remember which pocket her keys were in. she tried to be quiet, but her foot dragged over the doorstep, which made her begin to fall.

she didn't fall, thankfully. azzi caught her. tall, beautiful, Different azzi with her strong hands caught paige and pulled her back on solid ground. she moved paige’s body with ease, grabbing her just below the shoulders and guiding her back up right.

for a moment, paige could do nothing but stand there with azzi’s hands on her arms gripping them like she was scared to let go. her eyes were wide. her usually styled curls were piled on top of her head in a frizzy bun.

paige was too drunk for azzi to be wearing the pajamas that she was wearing. it was a pink— soft pink that almost looked white— camisole dress. it was so short, stopping way before azzi’s knees with a shallow v neck.

paige felt her mouth begin to water, and she didn’t know if it was because of azzi, or because she was about to projectile vomit. she couldn’t act on either one. she couldn’t drool over azzi and she couldn’t ruin this fucking dress.

she was already hot and azzi’s hands on her weren't helping but she wanted azzi to keep touching her. to always feel the heat of her palms.

“you’re up.” it was supposed to come out like a question, but paige was more focused on trying to actually say the words than her tone of voice.

azzi nodded, flexing her fingers around the meat of paige’s arms. “i was waiting for you.”

paige nodded, meaning to say something about what azzi said, but the movement made her dizzy and the reason her mouth started water became clear.

“i’m gonna be sick.” she jumped backwards for the sake of azzi’s dress.

azzi took a step forward, placing her hand on paige’s back. “let’s go to the bathroom.” she stepped to  the side of her.  “c’mon, p let’s go to the bathroom.”

paige didn’t nod again, but she took a slow step forward. she’d have gone wherever azzi took her because she didn’t have it in her to think about whether things were ideas or bad.

Sober Paige would have avoided close proximity to azzi, but Drunk Paige told herself she could handle it— that she’d much rather be guided off a cliff by azzi, than stumble to the bathroom alone. so, she just walked and turned three corners, not remembering if that was really the path to her bathroom.

azzi guided her the whole way with the softest press between the shoulder blades. she kept a hand on paige’s hip, steering her for every turn and keeping her up right. her grip wasn’t hard and she didn’t seem annoyed but there was firmness in her thumbs that made paige try a little harder to not knock into the walls.

azzi didn’t let paige go until they made it to the bathroom, and even then, she helped her sit on the toilet lid before closing the door and turning the light on. 

it seemed like azzi knew what it was like to be drunk and blinded by bright lights, because she didn't tirn the big light on. she opted for the lights on paige’s mirror, which filled bathroom with a warm orange glow. 

paige leaned against the tank of the toilet, trying her absolute hardest to keep her head from falling back. “i think i have alcohol poisoning.”

azzi was at the counter, pulling something out from under the sink. “do you feel hot or cold?”

paige watched from the toilet as azzi rummaged through the bathroom. she didn’t know what she was doing, she just looked so sure. like everything she was doing had a purpose. 

“hot.” paige blinked. “really fucking hot.”

azzi turned the sink on with a deep sigh, “you don’t have alcohol poisoning. people who have alcohol poisoning feel hypothermic.” 

she was relieved, paige noticed. her shoulders relaxed when she said it. 

paige followed her every movement, catching the way her nightdress clung to her body. paige was a fan, so she said so. 

“i like your dress.” inside thoughts were no longer inside thoughts, apparently.

azzi turned and smiled, still messing with things on the counter.

“pink is like,” paige paused to swallow the sour taste in her mouth. “your color.”

azzi smiled again and moved so she was standing in front of paige. “it’s my favorite.” then, she pressed something cold and wet against paige’s chest.

any other person would have jumped back at the unexpected contact, but paige leaned in. it was a nearly painful contrast— the heat of her body versus the coolness of the rag. she felt her face get even hotter and she knew that whatever was spreading in her chest wasn’t because of the rag— it was because of the woman holding it.

paige craned her neck so she could look at azzi’s face instead of her chest. she was too close— closer than she’d ever been before. she was dizzy and nauseous but she’d pretend she wasn’t if it meant she could keep looking.

azzi had waited up for her. it was the middle of the night, and azzi had waited up for paige. she didn’t think twice about helping her and she didn’t seem annoyed, she wasn’t rushing the process. she was just standing there, giving paige whatever she needed.

“you’re so soft.” the beauty of being drunk was that you didn’t care about the repercussions of your words. paige couldn’t even remember why being around azzi was a bad idea anymore. 

there was no facade or distancing. there was just nearness and cold water trickling down her shirt. 

“everything is soft like,” paige reached up and touched her own head. “like your hair is so fucking soft and your hands— i love your hands. i saw them when you were trying to make the duck.”

azzi let out a laugh and paige beamed. she really liked when azzi smiled and she loved even more when azzi smiled at her.

“and your smile is soft. when you smile your teeth go into your lip and it looks like someone’s laying on a pillow.”

paige wanted to lay on that pillow. she’d give anything to lay on that fucking pillow.

paige blinked and swallowed that taste again before speaking. “you have soft eyes and your voice is so— yeugh.”

paige interrupted herself with a gag. the taste she’d been trying to swallow had crept it’s way back up her throat. she slapped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her watery eyes shut. it took a minute for her to to shove it back down, but when she opened her eyes again, she was face-to-face with a kneeling azzi.

she put her hand on paige’s shoulder and pulled. “let’s get on the floor.”

paige’s body stiffened at the idea of vomiting in front of azzi. she shook her head and tried to pull it together “no, i’m—” she gagged again, and she decided there was no escaping it. “okay.”

she let azzi nudge her to her knees. the tile was cold and it bit into her knees and paige was becoming more and more overwhelmed by the second.

she slid her hair over her shoulder and leaned over the toilet and forced herself to gag. she just wanted to get over with. she wanted to be done.

but she couldn't throw up. no matter how much she retched, nothing happened. it was humiliating and paige was so dizzy and her stomach was still bubbling.

she didn’t mean to start crying, but the tears began to fall and all she could do was rest her head on her arm, which was laying on the toilet seat.

she felt a hand— azzi’s hand— on her back. she didn't move it, but she didn't have to. it was doing it’s job.

she leaned in so her mouth was beside paige’s war. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

paige wanted to cry even harder. azzi had never called her anything but her name, and sudden switch up was an even harder shock to her system.

“i can’t.” she whined. “it won’t come up. i almost yacked all over you and now i can’t.”

none of this was supposed to happen. she was supposed to get tipsy, come home, sleep, and leave the next morning. but things never happened the way paige wanted them to.

“that’s okay.” azzi cooed. “do you need help?”

paige didn't know how azzi was supposed to help in this situation, but she’d have done anything for this to be over, so she nodded and groaned into her elbow.

“okay,” azzi patted paige’s back twice and pulled her so that she was sitting up. “i need you to lean over the toilet an— no not right now. in just a second, i need you to wait just a second, okay?”

paige pushed her hair out of her face and nodded. she was still wet with tears and she felt her bottom lip shaking from trying to keep it together.

“good.” azzi held onto paige’s shoulders and rubbed her thumbs along the sides of her neck. “i need you to lean over the toilet and i’m gonna put my fingers down your throat so you can throw up. is that okay?” paige nodded again. “alright, now lean over.”

she did as she was told, of course. turning to face the toilet again, paige braced her hands on the seat. azzi scooped all of her hair up into her fist and held it at the base of her neck.

“good. now open up for me, sweetheart.”

paige’s whole body locked up. she was too drunk for shit like that, too intoxicated to stop her mind from wandering. but then, azzi tapped two fingers on her chin and her mouth popped open.

she didn't do it hard— she was never rough with the way she moved. azzi slid her fingers into paige’s mouth quickly but gently.  she went all the way back, her knuckles brushing against the roof of paige’s mouth. she reached all the way down paige’s throat, waiting for her gag before ripping them out. 

paige burned as she emptied herself into the toilet. her eyes burned, her throat burned, her cheeks burned. everything was hot and violent. it burned until she was done, and even then, her body sat at a simmer. 

she gasped over the toilet bowl, huffing and puffing and wiping at her face like it would clean her up. she felt awful and gross to the point that a shower might not have helped. 

azzi pushed her through it all. she rubbed at her back, patted it at times. she’d said little shit like there you go and you’re doing so good, as if she were cheering her on at a game, and not making sure she didn't pass out in the toilet. 

when paige could breath again, all she wanted to lay down and forget any of this ever happened. she moved to get to her feet, stumbling on the way. she got there eventually, and that was the point. 

azzi guided paige to her bedroom the same way she did before— one hand on her hip, one on her back. again, she wasn’t rough, she didn’t speak. she just got paige where she needed to go, and helped her sit at the side of her bed. 

“do you want pajama’s, p?”

she had her hands on paige’s shoulders, and her head dipped low so that they were eye-to-eye. she looked tired, her usually big eyes a little smaller. paige felt horrible. this was all her fault— azzi would never be up well after midnight, but here she was. exhausted for the sake of paige. 

the tears came again, this time paige didn’t have it in her to fight them off.

azzi caught it immediately, of course. she stood up to her full height, sliding between paige’s knees. she brought her hands to the back of paige’s neck, pulling her in so that she was resting just below azzi’s breasts. 

it was comfortable there, warm but not hot. paige let go of herself in those arms. she cried softly, shaking her head for every tear that fell. 

azzi ran her hands up the nape of paige’s neck and held her. she asked no questions, but paige couldn't shut herself up if she tried.

“i’m so sorry.” she whined. she was so fucking whiny tonight. “i didn’t mean for this to happen. i swear. it’s just all got fucked up and i’m just sorry. it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

azzi kept rubbing at the back of paige’s neck. “i know, sweetheart.” she let out a breath, and paige felt the exhale against her cheek. “i know.”

she pulled away, looking up at azzi with wet cheeks. azzi looked down at her, still holding her. she still looked tired, but there was something in her eyes— something that made paige nervous.

“are you mad at me?”

god, she needed to go the fuck to sleep. she was drunk and crying and fucking pathetic.

azzi shook her head, her eyes bugged out. “no, paige.” she used her thumb to wipe at paige’s face. “i’m not mad.”

paige kept her eyes on azzi, still. she felt too good to pull away, and she still was worried that azzi was mad. she ran her eyes over every one of azzi’s features, and by the time she’d gotten to her mouth, azzi was smiling.

paige felt a little lighter (which could have just been her drunk taking over her again). she didn’t want azzi to be mad. she was literally crying because azzi looked sleepy. she’d have done whatever in that moment if it meant azzi wasn’t mad.

“i just need you to lay down for me.” she pushed at paige’s shoulders and helped get her feet in the bed. “need you to sleep it off.”

like before, paige did what she was told. she shimmied until her head was on her pillow (an uncomfortable contrast to azzi’s ribcage) and her feet were rubbing together. she was still in her jorts and t-shirt, but she’d worry about that the next day. 

“okay.” azzi pushed the cover over paige’s shoulders. “thank you, mommy.”

nobody moved. nobody said a word.

paige nearly started crying again as azzi still held the duvet over her shoulders. she closed her eyes and tried to control herself enough that azzi would think she’d fallen asleep. she was drunk enough for this to be ignored— she prayed that this would be ignored.

maybe paige had fooled her, or maybe azzi was showing grace, but she patted paige’s shoulder twice and squeezed at her bicep with a “goodnight, p.”

and paige waited until she heard her bedroom door close before she turned on her belly and screamed.

──

when paige woke up, she thought the sun was a lazer trying to slice her skull in half. she was beyond hungover— she was hungunder. she shoved her head into her pillows in an attempt to ease the ache behind her eyes. of course, she was unsuccessful. 

everything hurt. her mouth tasted like vomit and tequila. it hurt to use her eyes. and worst of all— she’d over-fucking-slept.  she didn’t know where the hell her phone was, but she knew it was too bright outside for early morning. 

her flight wasn’t until two, but she’d planned to leave the house way earlier than necessary and sleep at the airport. she needed to know how late she was, because if God loved her, her father and azzi would be at lunch already.

she sat up in her bed and patted around her mattress. she was still in her clothes from the night before, but they felt stiffer. her hair was knotted at the scalp, her head was about to explode. 

she found her phone charging on her nightstand next to a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of white gatorade. paige didn’t have to think about who’d done it. 

it was ten thirty-seven in the morning, and her dad wouldn’t be leaving for lunch until twelve. 

she wished she forgot what happened last night. she wished she actually did get alcohol poisoning so that she’d have died in her sleep. maybe she could have choked on her vomit if she’d have laid on her back. anything so that she didn’t have to walk out of her bedroom with the knowledge that she’d called her father’s girlfriend mommy the night before in a drunken, tear-induced stupor. 

paige would have to leave eventually. she had a boat trip with kk in two days, and she’d be damned if she missed that flight.

technically speaking, azzi was supposed to have been gone. none of her dad’s conquests lasted more than three months, and he’d been seeing azzi since february. 

why the fuck was she still with him?

there was no way azzi— who seemed like the most interesting person on the planet— was in love with bob bueckers.

maybe she was like an escort or something. maybe she was gold digging. maybe paige’s dad was sick and dying and azzi had met him at the hospital and swooped in to anna nicole smith him. that made more sense— anything made more sense— than her staying with him because he made her happy. 

bob didn’t make anyone happy. he didn’t make anyone feel anything. he was like wonderbread from subway. bland and boring and way too fucking old for someone like azzi. there was no way she was getting what she needed from him.

paige got out of bed and went to the bathroom. she pee’d, she brushed out her hair, she brushed her teeth, she wiped the crust from her eyes. she stared at herself in the mirror and prepared herself for what she was about to walk into.

when she walked into the living room, her father was watching blue bloods. azzi wasn’t sitting with him, and paige couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere.

bob nodded in paige’s direction. “morning.” 

she didn’t stop on her way to the kitchen. “hey, dad.”

as she made her coffee, she looked around the kitchen for azzi but there were no dirty dishes, no lipgloss tubes, no hair-ties. 

her father shouted from the couch. “‘m surprised you’re still here. you’re usually gone before anyone else wake up on your flight days.”

“yeah i uh—” how did you say i got shitfaced to your father even though you’re over the legal drinking age? “i went a little hard last night. had to sleep it off.”

that worked… right?

she popped her head around the corner and took a sip of her coffee. “where’s azzi?”

still watching tv, her dad shrugged. “oh,  she went back to her place this morning.”

“her place?”

“she doesn’t live with me, p.” he laughed. “she’s thirty-one. she has her own house.”

azzi had her own house. of course she did because she was an Adult who worked in an emergency room. she was thirty-one of course she had a house. she was thirty-one.

had bob been to azzi’s house? if she had her own house, why was she always at bob’s? if was an ER nurse and had her own house, why the fuck was she with bob bueckers?

it wasn’t paige’s business— azzi wasn’t paige’s business.

but azzi had made paige her business. with the clothes and the tucking her in. she cared about paige. she asked bob questions about her, so what was the harm in reciprocating energy?

“right.” she nodded. “is it serious? with you and azzi?”

“i dunno,” he shrugged. “she’s nice. can’t cook, but she’s nice.” her dad never looked away from the tv, and that told paige all she needed to know. 

azzi wasn’t going to be with him much longer. there was no way someone like her could stand to be around someone like paige’s dad long term. 

she leaned back on the couch and thought for a second. 

whenever bob’s girlfriends broke up with him, paige usually never saw them again. she’d never wanted to see them again, but azzi was different. paige was older now. she could get azzi’s number. they could talk even when she and bob broke up. that could be normal.

“yeah.” she stood up, coffee in hand. “okay, i’m gonna go pack my bag.”

her dad called down the hallway. “love you!”

“me too, dad.”

FALL BREAK

every time paige came home for thanksgiving, she spent the whole flight thinking about one thing: mac and cheese. 

they always ate at the same soul food spot for thanksgiving because it was one of the only places that served actual thanksgiving food on thanksgiving. they had the best mac and cheese, and paige waited all year for it. 

this year on her flight home, all she could think about was azzi fudd. 

paige spent the last five months learning all google could offer on azzi. she was an ER nurse, which paige already knew, but azzi was also an NP, which meant she made the big bucks. hence the house. she’d never been in a public relationship, but she was a bridesmaid in her best friends wedding, and her date was a brunette masc in a suit that didn’t match the theme. her favorite color was pink. she had a dark pink accent wall in her bedroom and her bedspread was always some shade of pink.

pink is like… your color. 

paige had gone through her instagram highlights countless times. she’d memorized azzi’s linkedin. she’d turned her profile views off on tiktok so she could check azzi’s reposts, but she’d never reposted anything. 

paige was aware that this was teetering the line of stalking. she knew that Normal people were not this invested in their dad’s girlfriend. but paige was almost positive that azzi would have broken up with bob by now. it was november. no one lasted more than a year with bob, not even paige’s mom.

amy had called paige before her flight to say she was excited to see her. paige never wanted her mother to be excited to see her. shit like that never ended well for her. 

she called kk immediately after that to ask if she could spend the holiday in wisconsin. she got cussed out, of course. kk told her that her mom had already started cooking, and that paige had to woman up and just tell her mother to shut the fuck up. 

paige would never. 

paige never had an issue being confrontational unless it was her mother. she was a one hundred and twenty pound masculine lesbian basketball player. the slick mouth came naturally. but being around family— her biological family, not her chosen one— made paige something she learned she wasn’t. 

she became quiet in minnesota. she became softer, more susceptible to bruising. she’d always been the one that someone always had an issue with. 

her mom hated when paige started playing basketball. she hated when paige didn’t got to any school dances. she hated when paige refused to wear a dress for her senior pictures. she hated that paige moved twenty hours away for school.

she gotten used to their dance. she didn’t talk, her mother said things, everyone agreed with amy. a few days later, amy would call paige (who had most likely already went back to school) and apologize, while also making it seem like paige was the one in the wrong. she’d ignore everyone’s calls and texts until it was time to come home again, and the cycle would repeat itself.

toxic? yes. routine? also yes.

she mastered avoiding  it. she was never home for more than a week at a time, she never called her mother first and she kept an excuse to leave early on lock. 

but then azzi came, and paige had someone in her corner. you’d think that having azzi would have made paige feel better—and it did. paige wasn’t so much worried about being dogpiled on as she was about azzi seeing it… again. 

paige worked hard so that no one knew how much her mother hurt her. it was why none of her dad’s girlfriends ever spoke up for her, no teachers, no hometown friends. she seemed like she had it— she didn’t even really care. azzi saw that, and still said something. still did something. 

it was all paige could think about. 

then there was the fourth of july.

you deserve it and open up for me, sweetheart.

what the hell any of that weekend was about was anyone’s guess. but it stuck with paige. she didn’t know how she was supposed to act like it didn’t, but she’d figure it out. she had no choice. 

on the uber ride from the airport, paige felt her heart pound. she was nervous. she was excited. she was anticipating. she wanted to see— she wanted azzi. 

of course, azzi wasn’t there when paige got home. small conveniences didn’t happen for paige.

she wanted to ask her dad where azzi was and when she’d be coming over but again— that would throw her father off. so she went to her room and thrust her duffel onto her ottoman and unpacked her suitcase. she tried to do it slowly, to convince herself that she didn’t care. except when she finished settling in, and azzi wasn’t there, paige felt like she was going to go insane. 

her father, the poor, useless man, was sitting at the kitchen table—like he didn’t have an office— shuffling through papers. 

bob was one of those men who you never really know what her does for work, but he always seems to be working. paige was twenty-two and she still had no idea how her father had so much money. she just knew that she’d gotten a brand new car for her sixteenth birthday, and that her let amy keep the house in the divorce because he could buy another one. she’d never been told no because they couldn’t afford something, and her father told her she didn’t need to get a full scholarship if she didn’t want to play basketball in college.

she didn’t care to know about his job, she didn’t know anyone who ever did. he just worked. 

but his working was annoying her because he was so calm and she was nearly manic. he knew where azzi was, and he knew when she’d be coming over and he wouldn’t say a damn word about it unless he was asked. he probably didn’t even recognize azzi’s absence— it didn’t effect him the way it affected paige. 

he was pissing her off, and she needed to be gone. so she did what any girl in her early twenties did in crisis; she took her dad’s car and went to the mall. 

she didn’t really shop, she just walked around and went into the stores she always went into and rummaged through the racks without trying things on.

every time she saw something she liked, she’d pick it up and hold it to her body. she’d imagine it on herself, the way it would fit, the way it would feel on her skin. then she’d picture the face her mother would make if she saw paige in it, and she’d get sick to her stomach and she’d put the clothes back. 

the thought of purposely irritating amy made paige sick. but then she thought about azzi’s gift and the plan to rebel for the christmas photo. she smiled at the memory of azzi’s face while she asked paige about the clothes. she wanted her to like them. she wanted her to be comfortable.

“your clothes don’t make me uncomfortable— they shouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable.”

paige could have fallen to her knees that day and promised azzi everything she’d ever wanted in life. she’d never experienced anything like what she felt when azzi was around, and her want for that feeling was almost unmanageable. 

when paige walked into the jewelry store, she planned on getting her earrings cleaned. they were her first Big Girl purchase, and she’d been walking around aimlessly for about an hour. she needed productivity. she planned to hand the man with the strange mustache the earring and go eat. 

she didn’t plan on talking to the man with the mustache and learning his name, nor did she plan on letting him show her jewelry she wasn’t going to buy— she wasn’t going to buy any.

but, he picked up a necklace. silver chain, pink square cut diamond held in place by four prongs. it glittered as john— the salesman's name was john— explained that it was lab grown and he’d give it to her for the bargain price of three hundred and sixty dollars due to the holidays. 

paige stared at the necklace with hard, furrowed brows. 

“pink is like… your color.”

“it’s my favorite.” 

her accountant would have encourage paige to get the price down to an even three hundred, and she probably could have. but she didn’t. she looked john straight in his beady eyes, and asked if they took apple pay.

──

paige woke up on thanksgiving with the feeling that she was going to die that day. she had the worst anxiety she’d had since she was a junior in highschool, and it took her twenty minutes to get out of bed.

she hadn’t seen azzi the entire time she’d been home. it had only been two days, but still. she’d spent the last five month thinking about this woman. she’d spent two days with a necklace she’d bought for her tucked in her top drawer. she’d waited to hear azzi’s voice or smell or hair or see her coat on the rack.

she knew azzi would be at thanksgiving though. she heard her father talking yesterday, telling amy that the reservation was for six, which meant azzi had to be coming.

she got ready for dinner with that in mind. fresh out the shower, she put on deodorant and spritzed her valentino cologne. she looked at herself in mirror, in her calvin briefs and binder, and admired herself. 

she’d bulked up like she planned. she’d never get called olive oil, or string bean again. no more sleeper build, no more low stamina. she worked for this body. carved it herself and she was proud of it. she tried to drill that in her brain before it was scrutinized by her entire family. 

she wore black denim jeans and a cream button down that was a size too big. paired it with sambas and a silver chain. she slicked her hair into a bun and shoved her glasses on her face with no makeup she’d tried to give calm, when she felt anything but. 

she was nervous about her mother, but she was always nervous about her mother. the nausea came with azzi. not knowing why she’d been away. wondering if she’d still be on paige’s side. figuring out how she was going to act like she didn’t want her dad’s girlfriend. 

her dad drove them to the restaurant and paige could smell the food before the door was even open. at least she’d have this. food— real comfort food that she’d gorge on while holding back tears.

the table was set the way it always was. amy, dan and taylor on one side. paige and her dad on the other. everyone said their hello’s and pretended like they didn’t hate paige. azzi wasn’t there.

for a while, paige thought she wouldn’t come and that comforted her. she could do this by herself. she always had. she ordered plain water the same way everyone else did, and sat with her back straight and elbows off the table.

she was going to be good tonight.

dan was the first person to address her individually. 

“paige, how’s the season going.”

he always asked her about basketball. he played when he was in highschool, and he tried to give her advice, as if she wasn’t playing at higher level than he ever got to. but he was trying, so paige always let it slide. 

“uh, we’re good.” she nodded. “we got this freshman— her name’s sarah. she’s already a dog.”

she watched dan nod and pretend to know who she was talking about. her team was five games into their season, and she knew her family knew nothing about it. 

she liked it that way. basketball was hers.

taylor perked up, wide eyed and antsy. “what about kk?”

paige watched the way taylor twinkled when she said kk’s name, the way her hand gripped the edge of the table, and she made a mental note to tell kk that her step-sister may or may not have a thing for her. 

paige smiled and took a sip of her water. “kk’s good. she’s been in the gym, i think she’d gonna be a problem this season.”

taylor beamed, and amy spoke.

“kk…” paige braced herself, the way she always did before he mother spoke. “i remember her. she’s a good girl. i’m glad she’s progressing.”

paige cracked a little. her mother had never been glad paige was progressing, she’d never thought of paige and said she was a good girl.

kk was a good girl, and she was progressing, but paige was paige bueckers. she was already legendary.

she dug at a scratch in the wooden table and tried not to be jealous of her best friend. “yeah.” 

“and you?” amy looked directly at paige and folded her hands. “we saw your GQ magazine thing.”

“did you like it?”

paige knew the answer to that question. she was manspread in a suit on the cover, and dressed like a skater boy by page three. her mom hated it, and paige knew that during the shoot. she liked the way she looked in the mag. she disliked the way they over-lined her lips, but she loved the way the photos turned out.

she knew she’d leave this table hating the entire thing.

her mom closed her eyes and pressed her palms into the table. “i just don’t know why you have to broadcast it, paige.”

she always said that. 

broadcast. advertise. 

like paige was supposed to hide the fact that she was gay. she’d spent fourteen years in the closet and another six pretending to be bisexual. that wasn’t enough for amy. 

“i’m just being me, mom.”

amy shook her head, her bob swaying with every twist. “no, that’s not you.” 

she pointed at paige, “you—” then she clutched her chest. “my paige doesn’t dress like a boy on magazine cover while talking about how much she loves God.”

paige could have flown across the table then. she’d only had a few things that were hers. her faith was one of those things, and her mother knew that.

her faith was one of the few things that she kept from her mother. when she was in highschool, she’d go to church and bible study and youth group because it made her feel close to her mom. it was the one thing they could talk about without causing WWIII. her senior year, paige got deeper into hit. she was going to be leaving home, and she needed something to bring her back when she needed it. 

now, she was junior in college, and her faith had nothing to do with her mother, or her father or anyone besides her and the God she served. it honestly made sense for amy to try and take that from her. 

she watched her mom’s lip shake. she watched dan hide in his cup of water. she watched taylor bury her face in her arms on the table. 

she planned on being good. she planned for smooth sailing and calmness. 

 “me being loving a woman doesn’t have anything to do with—” she couldn’t even get into her speech before being interrupted by her father. 

bob put his hand up, pointing in the air. “don’t yell at your mother.”

she screwed her face up and whipped to look at him. she was used to him taking her side, she’d gotten used to their double teams. but being used to something doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

no matter how much of a tolerance you build to to something, it’ll find a way to hurt you eventually. 

her father shrugged like everything was that simple. “she wants the best for you.”

paige scoffed—or maybe it was a laugh. she couldn’t believe this was still her life. that she signed herself up for this bullshit five time a year. 

amy kept going, wagging that fucking finger over paige’s frame. “you just look ridiculous is all—”

the door to the restaurant chimed, and paige became painfully aware of the fact that they hadn’t even ordered yet. she had no food, and she wouldn’t for at least another twenty minutes. 

she heard azzi before she saw her. she’d been telling hostess that her party was already there, and thanking her for taking her drink. 

when she got to the table, paige could smell her. she smelled like white diamond and powder fresh deodorant.

“i’m so sorry i’m late,” she slid into her seat and shuffled so she was leaning over the table. “my shift ran late and i smelled like hospital.”

paige watched as she spoke. she sucked in every word like it was oxygen. azzi was smiling but not really. she’d grown her hair out and the curls were being held back by a braid secured with a white ribbon. she looked tired, which was probably why she was talking so fast, but despite azzi’s tardiness and chaotic entrance, paige felt herself breathe again. 

she nearly cried at the side of the woman. she’d waited days months to see her, and there she was.

she almost pissed herself when azzi looked back at her. it was a small glance, but paige would hold onto it until her dying breath. she didn’t stop looking. not when azzi started asking taylor about nursing school, or when bob said he liked azzi’s jeans, or when dan agreed that azzi looked really nice. 

everyone’s attention was on azzi for those moments, but paige… she was learning azzi always had her attention, whether she was in the room or not. 

when azzi looked at her, it felt like a glow had been cast over her head and angels from heaven were singing songs in too high of a pitch to be understood. 

she looked paige up, down, and up again, and then she smiled.

“i like your shirt, p.” she reached out and ran a hand from paige’s shoulder down to her elbow. “i think it looks good with your skin tone.”

paige almost laughed. she wanted to. she didn’t take her eyes off of azzi, but she knew her mom was about to blow her gasket. azzi hadn’t spoken quietly. she wasn’t subtle in the way she touched paige’s arm. 

they just looked at each other and for some odd reason, paige no longer cared about why azzi hadn’t come to see her, nor did she care about how she was going to hide the fact that she wanted this woman more than she wanted to wake up the next morning. 

but then azzi blinked and turned away, forcing paige to do the same. she looked at bob, who had his head in his hand, and then at taylor who was smiling behind her glass. 

azzi nudged bob, “bob, what’s the matter?”

paige felt her chest puff out just little, because finally the joke wasn’t on her. she leaned back in her chair and manspread like it was dare.

“my mom was just telling me how ridiculous i look in my boy clothes.”

azzi turned the corners of her lips down and raised her brows in a way that said interesting but in a condescending way and paige felt herself get tight between the legs. 

“oh, well.” azzi clasped her hands together and sat back in her seat “it’s a good thing it’s not for her, isn’t it?”

there were only a few points in paige’s life where she’d been sure of things.

she knew when she picked up a basketball that she’d never put it down. 

after her first salon trip, she knew that she was meant to be a blonde, and she’d spend one day every month making sure she lived in her truth. 

when she was sixteen, she made out with a cheerleader in the hotel pool at an away game, and paige knew that she had to break up with her boyfriend, because nothing had ever felt like that before. 

that night, paige became undeniably sure of that fact she was going to get azzi. she’d make her feel as good. she was going to make her smile so hard she busted her lip. she was going to fill her with warmth and light and joy.

“yes,” she said. “it’s a great thing it’s not."

──

paige knew azzi was coming home— to bob’s home.

azzi drove a suburu. paige pictured her driving her dogs to the dog park while they messed around in the back of the car. she wondered if azzi kept the AC booming, or if she was a windows down kind of woman.

she wanted to know every minute detail about her. how she drove, how she slept, how she tasted. she suddenly had no interest in pretending she wanted nothing to do with azzi, and she’d realized how dangerous this feeling truly was.

she watched azzi get out of her car. watched her forearms flex as she pulled herself up on the door. watched her shoulders square while she closed the door. watched her jaw move as she made fun of bob’s slow driving.

she made it a point to not say anything on the way inside the house. she made it a point to not say goodnight before speedwalking to her bedroom. she knew azzi would follow her— she needed azzi to follow her.

she was pacing her room when she heard the knock on her baseboard. it was azzi, still in her cardigan, smiling the way paige had been hoping.

she took a singular step into the room, and folded her hands in front of her. “i like the bun.”

paige froze and tried not to say thank you. she could see the lace of azzi’s bra under her mustard yellow tanktop. she didn’t seem like the type for frilly lingerie but paige felt tight all the same.

it dawned on her that the lace wasn’t for her. that it was for a man that didn’t deserve it— a man who wouldn’t appreciate it the way paige would.

she felt her body be flooded with an anger she’d never felt before. something strong and envious that sang i can do anything better than you.

for safety reasons, she didn’t move. she dug her toes into her rug and put her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

“where you been?” she didn’t know if she sounded as desperate as she felt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

azzi furrowed her brows. her head tilted to the side like she was trying to figure something out, and it made paige uneasy.

“working.” she said. she stepped forward again. “i wanted a little nest egg for the holidays.”

“so it wasn’t because of….” paige didn’t want to say it. saying it would force them to talk about it. if she trailed off, the answer would be yes or no and there’s be no need for expanding.

azzi chewed at her bottom lip, but paige could see her grin. the tips of her ears grew hot with embarrassment, but she didn’t feel ashamed. not anymore.

azzi shook her head. “of course not.” she sounded like she was telling the truth, but she looked like there was something she wasn’t saying. “i wanted to see you.”

paige almost came. she scratched at her thigh through her pockets and looked at the ground.

“thought you were avoiding me.” she regretted the words as soon as she said them. she wasn’t used to wanting to be this vulnerable. she wasn’t used to wanting to see someone. she wasn’t used to wanting to be seen by someone.

she felt azzi’s hand on her shoulder and lifted her head. she didn’t know when she’d gotten so close, but that seemed to be the running theme.

“i promise you i wasn’t.” she leaned up close so paige could see the black speckled in her eyes. “i was working graveyards and sleeping.”

they were inches apart. paige couldn’t breath from holding in everything she wasn’t supposed to want out loud. it was like a single inhale would cross a boundary. they hadn’t done that. yet.

azzi was looking at her like it was the most important thing in the world for paige to know that she wasn’t avoiding. it was the most important thing, at least to paige.

again, for safety reasons, she took a step back. “i got you something.”

the necklace. it was in her underwear drawer, in a long back velvet box that cost paige another twenty six dollars.

the space between them felt like a life raft. she could breathe again. she felt azzi’s eyes on her as she made her way to her dresser, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. she moved slower just to feel those eyes burning into the back of her head.

she pulled the box out and looked at it. she looked at the way her hands held the box, the way the velvet felt on her fingertips. it was soft but if she pushed even a little, she’d be met with a hardness. she wondered if she pushed into azzi, would she be met with the same hardness.

she showed azzi the necklace like a presentation. she shoved at her the way a child would while displaying their macaroni art. azzi didn’t take the box out of her hand, she just flipped the top open and pushed out a breath.

“paige,” she touched the diamond at the center and ran her finger around it slowly. paige watched the way her finger trembled, the gentleness she used.

she brought her eyes to azzi’s face and studied the vein in her forehead. she looked perplexed. not upset, not happy, but confused. “d’you like it?”

azzi looked up at her and balled her hand into a fist. she smiled her real smile and nodded, and paige nearly jumped for joy.

she needed that. the validation and the acceptance. she feared she would always need that and she feared she would only need it from azzi.

“i do.” azzi grabbed paige’s wrist. she didn’t squeeze, but her touch was enough for the hairs there to stand up. “put it on me.”

she turned and held her braid over her shoulder. paige’s first instinct was to step into her. to press her front to azzi’s back and pop every personal bubble. she didn’t do that, obviously. she was a gentlewoman.

kinda.

azzi’s hair smelled like hibiscus and honey. she had a tattoo on the back of her neck. paige traced the infinity symbol without touching it. what was infinite for azzi fudd?

she watched azzi’s shoulders rise and fall from behind her. watched her take the smallest step back. felt her ass press into paige’s thighs.

she put the necklace on azzi, letting her hands rest on her shoulders after. she wanted to push the cardigan off and feel the heat of azzi’s skin. she wanted her hands on azzi’s hips instead of her shoulders. she wanted— she just wanted.

azzi turned around, and paige used the guise of adjusting the necklace as a reason to keep touching her. she started at the clasp and dragged her fingers all the way down past the dips of azzi’s collarbones to the center of her chest. she tapped the pendant, then rubbed circles on the skin around it, all while not allowing herself eye contact.

she was right though. pink was azzi's color.

she felt azzi breath under her finger. she felt her chest rise and fall and rise and stay.

paige brought her eyes up to meet azzi’s and she knew then that she felt it too. it was the kind of intensity that had to be reciprocated in order to be felt.

azzi was breathing through her mouth, paige could feel it on her neck. she felt everything and she planned on feeling so much more.

azzi spoke but not really. it was more of a rasp than anything, but she let out a low. “paige.”

“hm?”

she didn’t know that that was supposed to do. if it was a warning, it hadn’t been heeded. it only made paige close her eyes and picture her name tumbling from those pouty lips again and again and again.

“i don’t thi—”

paige swallowed the rest of that sentence. whatever azzi didn’t think wasn’t necessary. 

azzi’s lips were as soft as they looked. soft and smooth but firm in the way they wrapped around paige’s. she didn’t kiss back immediately, but when she did, paige all but fell to her knees at the feeling.

she wrapped her arms around azzi’s waist, tugging the woman into her. she groaned into the kiss, her whole body languid. she felt azzi’s hands at the back of her head, fingers sliding beneath her bun. 

without pulling away, paige guided azzi’s cardigan off of her shoulders. she pushed the bottom of her tanktop up just enough for her thumbs to be touching skin. azzi was hot and panting and paige wanted to keep her that way. 

azzi pulled away and said paige’s name. she didn’t say it with much merit. didn’t push her away. she just said paige and tugged the sides of her button down. paige looked her pretty face for half a second before dipping into the woman’s neck. 

azzi sucked in a breath and fisted paige’s shirt. “maybe we— hm,” 

paige worked at her neck; kissing and sucking and licking and biting at the skin until azzi’s whole body shook in her hands.

“maybe we what?”

azzi moaned again, pulling paige further into her. “i just think—”

paige kissed her lips because there was no way the sentence was going to be productive. 

“we can think later.” she kissed her again, longer this time. “we can think all day tomorrow.”

she didn’t plan on thinking the next day either, but that wasn’t the point. the point was that she could feel azzi and she felt too good for distractions. 

“lemme have you tonight.” she kissed her again, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. “just wanna make you feel good.”

she didn’t touch azzi, at least not the way she do desperately wanted to. no, she was going to drag this out, make it last. 

she tugged at the trim of azzi’s panties and smiled when the woman curled over, resting her head on paige’s shoulder with the quietest moan. 

“wanna make you happy, az.” she tugged again, and this time, azzi’s hips bucked into paige. 

she edged her fingers into azzi’s pants, cupping her pussy over her underwear. “make you cum,”  

azzi shuddered and paige pulled her hand away. she stepped back entirely, looking azzi in the eyes, so she could see the severity of the situation. 

“lemme have you.” she pleaded, kissing the center of azzi’s chest, right under her necklace. “please.”

azzi nodded, stepping up at the same time paige did. the two crashed into each other holding one another as tightly as they could while simultaneously fucking each other’s mouths. 

paige felt azzi’s nails drag against her skin as she pulled her shirt off. she tugged back into place by the waist and kissed her again, leading them to the bed. 

azzi sat, fully clothed on the bed, looking up at paige with those big brown eyes. pupil blown out, lip combo smeared, braid halfway undone. she was so perfect, it was impossible to make a mess of her. paige was nearly foaming at the mouth. she stood over azzi trying to catch her breath, which was pointless because every time azzi blinked, paige choked again. 

azzi broke the silence. “p?”

still staring in her daze, paige raised a brow. “hm?”

azzi grabbed paige’s hips, splaying her hands over the skin. she was grinning like she hadn’t tried to shut this down two minutes ago. she pressed a kiss to one of paige’s hips, then to the other, sucking on the muscle there.

“i said yes, sweetheart.”

paige fell to her knees, tugging the neckline of azzi’s tanktop down and wrapping her lips around the swell of her breast. she placed her free hand on azzi’s back and pushed her further into her mouth. 

aazzi pushed her pussy into paige’s belly, though paige couldn’t imagine it was doing much for her. it was doing wonders for paige though. she was two seconds away from fucking the woman into the ground. she was so needy, panting and searching for something to get her off.

now she gets it. paige thought. she feels the desperation i’ve felt since we met, and she'll never get rid of it.

she put her fingers in azzi’s belt loop, tugging the denim down and off her legs, leaving her underwear soaked and clinging to her pussy. she ran a finger down and watched azzi arch. 

“i wanna taste.” she pushed the fabric to the side and pushed her palm to azzi’s clit and they moaned together. “eat you so good you can’t see straight.”

azzi, with her scrunched face and sopping pussy and skin, rolled her hips. she was chasing it— chasing paige. she was so fucked. 

“yes.” azzi moaned, still fucking into paige’s palm. “you can. you can taste p, you can— oh fuck.”

paige fell into it, digging her hands into the flesh of azzi’s thighs and taking everything she had into her mouth. paige moaned into azzi’s pussy because she had to. 

she was enveloped by it all. the taste of azzi. the smell of azzi. the feel of azzi’s thighs shaking in her hands. the sound of azzi falling apart above her. 

she could do this all day. she wasn’t thinking of anything besides the fact that she wanted to stay here. in this bed. feasting on azzi. 

she pulled away, smiling when azzi’s hips chased after her mouth. she snatched azzi’s panties off,  brought her hand down and slid in her middle finger. azzi keened, arching so that the only part of her body that touched the bed was her head. 

paige fucked into her slowly at first— again, trying to drag it out, to make it last. but then azzi started fucking her back, rolling her hips to meet paige.

all paige wanted was to give azzi what she wanted and it seemed like azzi wanted more. paige was just as greedy, so she added her index finger and rolled over azzi’s clit with her thumb.

it was like azzi’s whole body stuttered. her eyes fell closed at the same time that her mouth fell open with an oh my god.

paige watched azzi as her face scrambled into something that could only be described as wanton. she wanted azzi to scream.

she curled her fingers, “does it feel good?” 

she knew it felt good. she knew what she was doing to her but she wanted to hear it. she wanted to hear azzi tell her it was good— that she was good. 

azzi nodded from above, sliding a hand onto paige’s shoulder and squeezing. “yes— yes,” paige kissed under her belly button, sucking at the skin. “you’re making mommy feel so good, sweetheart.”

paige felt her ears physically perk up. they hadn’t talked about it— what she’d called azzi on the fourth of july. she’d been embarrassed but hearing azzi say it made her feel nothing but hungry. 

she stuck her tongue out and licked at azzi’s skin, trailing until she was at her clit again. she licked at her until she felt azzi dripping down her wrist and then she used her whole mouth to suck until azzi’s blunt nails dug into her shoulders. 

paige hoped she’d bruise, she wanted this engraved on her forever. her hips dug into the mattress without her permission. she just needed to feel something— anything to relieve the tension between her legs. 

she kept fucking and eating and grinding until she thought she wasn’t breathing, and even then, she kept going. 

azzi was writhing above her, one hand playing with her tits, the other clutching paige’s shoulder. she was spread so wide, taking it so good and paige was lost. she nodded into azzi’s pussy, breathing through her nose, eyes rolling back at the scent.

“so good,” azzi cried, tightening her legs around paige’s head and grinding. “you’re doing so good.”

paige wondered if the cumming untouched thing actually happened. she was sure she was almost there, still fucking into the mattress like it could fuck back. the humping wasn’t enough, but azzi telling her she was doing good was all she needed. 

“please az— i wanna make you cum.” she spat onto her pussy “i need you to cum.”

she dove back in, eating her pussy and fucking her all at once. she was so close to coming herself and the feel of azzi spazzing around her was only pushing her further. 

“paige,” azzi gasped, nearly sitting all the way up. “you’re so fucking—” 

“i want it,” paige begged. “want you to cum on my face. in my mouth— fuck please, mommy”

azzi sucked in a big breath before her whole body locked up and her leg started twitched around paige’s head. she came quietly, letting out harsh, quiet breaths as she gradually fell back on the bed. 

paige kept going because one wasn’t enough. she wanted the taste of azzi’s cum on her tongue forever. azzi was so sensitive, though. so she took her mouth off of her and instead blew lightly on her swollen clit. she added a third finger and watched as her pussy contracted. 

azzi locked up again, this time gripping at paige’s disheveled bun. “paigepaigepaigepaigepai—SHIT” she snatched at the girls hair and arched so that her entire neck was on display. “oh shiit, fuck yes, sweetheart, just like that.”

she came on paige’s fingers and paige couldn’t help but to lick at her hand as she was fucking azzi through her orgasm. 

she was on a high. the taste of azzi’s cum in her mouth and the sight of it on her fingers and the sound of her gasping for air and the feeling of her hands in paige’s hair— it was all so good. 

she came untouched with a shaky groan into azzi’s thigh. she literally came in her pants and she couldn’t care less. she climbed over the woman’s body kissing her lips until she noticed that azzi was still trying to catch her breath, so she kissed down her neck and stopped at the valley between  her breasts.

she laid there, breathing azzi in, resting her forehead on the woman’s solar plexus. she matched her breath to azzi’s. she felt that hand in her hair, letting her bun down and rubbing the base of her skull. 

paige could have fallen asleep there. but she has so much to say, and so little time to say it. azzi would have to leave her before the night was over. that realization curdled like milk in her chest.

face in azzi’s chest, paige whispered, “i’ve never wanted anyone like i want you.”

azzi’s hand froze in her head, but she corrected quickly stroking again while saying nothing.

“like,” paige laughed a little, “when we first met, all i wanted to do was talk to you. ask you a million questions.”

she felt azzi’s heart pound against her cheek, but she didn't show that she was effected by anything paige had said. 

in a raspy, tired voice all azzi said was, “i wanted you to.”

paige thought back to the day they met. when azzi was preparing to butcher the duck they never got to eat. she’d been enamored from the jump, but she’d been callous.

she brought her head up, looking at azzi, who’d already been looking at her. 

“i’m sorry i was a dick to you.” she mumbled. 

azzi smiled and shook her head like it was the ridiculous thing to say. she brushed a thumb across paige’s chin and pressed it into her bottom lip. “it’s okay, baby.”

paige slept alone that night, wrapped in azzi’s cardigan. she lied when she told azzi they’d think all day the next day. she had a plane to catch and a game to play. she’d be going back to storrs knowing nothing but azzi fudd. 

Fuck.

CHRISTMAS BREAK

paige wasn’t the biggest fan of christmas. winter in minnesota wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, and neither was exchanging gifts with her family. but the thing she looked forward to the least was the christmas photo. 

every year, her family met at JCPenny in pre-planned outfits. the christmas photo was amy’s chance to show everyone and their grandmothers that she’d done divorce correctly. to flaunt her perfectly blended family. 

and paige wanted to give her that. so every year, she put on that stupid red dress and let her mom curl her hair. she wore the heels and the ugly pearl earrings and the pink lip gloss. she’d only tried to do it differently once and that taught paige that obedience was best in regards to her mother. 

she promised herself this year would be different. that she’d wear the clothes azzi got her because azzi wanted her to be comfortable— because azzi said she deserved to be comfortable. but her hands were shaking as she looked at the slacks she’d just ironed. 

all she could think about was her mother’s face. the disgust and shame. 

there was only so much pride you could have in yourself when your mother was disgusted by you. only so much confidence you could walk with when your mother made it her mission to break you. 

paige had known how her life would go for a while. she’d never be able to bring a girl home. her mother wouldn’t give her away, and her father wouldn’t walk her down the aisle. her children would never know her family, they’d never look through her baby books or be spoiled by grandma. 

she’d been single because she knew the minute she met a girl worth keeping, she’d never see her family again. so she was careful with who she went out with, careful with how she went about relationships.

since she’d been home for christmas, she was sure she’d found that girl— that woman. of course, it just had to be her father’s girlfriend. not only was it a woman paige’s mom liked, but a woman her father had already claimed. 

paige slammed her head into her hands and pulled at her hair. she cursed herself for fucking up the routine she’d mastered. she should have stayed away. she should have left the fucking clothes. returned them. burned them. something. 

her door opened without a knock. 

it was azzi in the dress paige had fucked her in the day before. only now, she had her hair pressed into big curls. “your dad sent me to—” she took one look at paige and lost her sly smirk. “what’s wrong?”

paige crumbled again, shaking her head in her hands. “i can’t do it, az.” she choked out. 

azzi put a hand on paige’s shoulder and crouched down in front of her. paige thought her dress was too tight for that to be comfortable. “do what, sweetheart?”

she waved at the outfit spread the mattress beside her. “the c-clothes. i was gonna wear the clothes you got me but i– i can’t.”

she cried some more, not looking at azzi but resting her head on the woman’s forearm.

“hey,” azzi cooed. 

paige didn’t respond, she kept crying. 

then, firmer this time, azzi said, “look at me, paige.”

paige opened her eyes instantly, popping her head up and trying to pull it together. 

azzi held paige’s face in her hands and kissed just beside her nose. 

“you can wear whatever you want to.” rubbed at paige’s tears, keeping her brown saucers on paige’s blue ones. “amy doesn’t get a say in what you wear. she doesn’t get a say in who you love. it’s your life— your happiness. not hers. do you understand?”

more tears poured from paige’s eyes. no one had ever said that to her. no one had ever made her feel the way azzi did. security was new to her, as was feeling validated for anything other than throwing a ball in a hoop. 

but there azzi was. holding paige and wiping her tears and ruining her lip combo by kissing paige’s face. 

paige nodded and tried not to fall apart completely. 

“good.” azzi smiled. “now put your clothes on and i’ll see you at the mall. okay?”

paige nodded again and with a wobbly voice said, “okay.”

azzi stood up and peered down at paige before bending and pressing a closed mouth but world shattering kiss to her lips. 

“good girl.” she whispered, wiping her makeup off of paige’s lips. 

──

paige sat in her dad’s car for fifteen minutes. the mall was packed with children wanting pictures with santa and parents forgetting gifts for family they didn’t really care about. she didn’t need to go inside to know that the people of edina, minnesota were in a frenzy. 

the sweater fit her perfectly. the slacks fit her perfectly. the loafers she bought complimented the outfit perfectly. her accessories matched perfectly. 

paige looked good. she looked perfect. 

she wanted to remember that. she kept saying it. 

you look good. this is a good outfit. 

this is christmas and festive and azzi knew what she was doing when she bought it. 

there is nothing wrong. with your fucking. clothes. 

she hadn’t fully convinced herself, but taylor had texted her saying that amy was losing her shit, which meant paige had approximately five minutes before she was disowned and the family photo was taken without her.

she hadn’t fully convinced herself, but taylor had texted her saying that amy was losing her shit, which meant paige had approximately five minutes before she was disowned and the family photo was taken without her.

when she got to the photography section of the JCPenny, paige saw azzi first. she was talking to taylor and playing with the pink diamond laying on her chest. 

her dress was black and tight with a black fur trim around the top and the wrists. you wouldn’t know it was a christmas photoshoot if she didn’t have a ridiculously large red bow at the top of her ponytail. her shoulders were out and dusted with body glitter that paige wanted nothing more than to lick off of her. her had paige’s christmas gift to her on her feet, and small but chunky silver hoops to match her necklace. 

looking at azzi laugh, paige thought i can do this. 

she stepped in and everyone looked at her. azzi smiled so wide, paige could see her gums. taylor’s eyes bugged out of her head. bob face palmed. dan looked at amy. amy turned fire hydrant red. 

“paige.” her mom seethed. 

paige sighed and squared her shoulders. “mom.”

“we don’t have time for this,” her mom approached her and pushed at her bicep. she pointed to the door. “go change.”

she shrugged her mother off of her. “this is what i’m wearing, mom.” 

she was standing on it. she looked to azzi, who nodded in solidarity. taylor was holding azzi’s hand, squeezing so hard her veins were popping out. 

“no it isn’t,” amy shook her head.“go put on the dress i bought you. did you even bring it?”

paige didn’t even take the dress out of it’s box. 

“no, i didn’t bring it because this is what i’m wearing.”

shaking her head again, amy pointed at paige’s body. “that’s not appropriate.”

paige deadpanned and tilted her head in dan’s direction. “it’s almost the exact same thing your husband is wearing.”

“paige,” dan sighed, stepping up to the two women. “your mother just wants things to go smoothly. why do you always have to provoke her?”

paige gawked “i’m no-”

 “paige’s outfit is perfectly fine.” 

she was interrupted by that same firm voice from earlier. azzi stepped up, dragging taylor with her.

“i think you look beautiful,” she smiled at paige before turning to taylor. “doesn’t she look beautiful?”

taylor looked between azzi and her dad with wide eyes. “i— yeah.”

paige nearly dropped her jaw. taylor was a few years younger than paige, but the two had grown up together. they’d never been close. taylor had never been kind to p, but she’d never been rude. she was just always there.

azzi let taylor go and approached amy. “since i met your family, you’ve done nothing but berate your child and make her feel small. for her clothes, for the way she sits, the way she talks.” she counted on her fingers. “it’s pathetic, the way you can’t open your small mind and show compassion to this girl.”

paige couldn’t help but gape at the only person in the history of the universe to defend her. azzi fudd was standing up for her. she was in her mother’s face, lording over her in the heels paige bought her. 

the heat in her eyes was fascinating.

“if you’re provoked by your daughter in sweater, that’s a you issue.” she pointed at amy’s head. “all she wants is to make you happy and be herself. i watch her bite her tongue every time you speak because she doesn’t want to provoke you.” 

paige could have kissed her and blew shit up even more. she wanted to cry and smile and scream all at once. 

“and you.” azzi turned to bob, who’d been scratching his neck this whole time. “you never have her back. you roll over for your ex-wife like a yorkie but tell me how bad you feel for your daughter.” 

paige looked at her father, who seemed like he wanted to crawl in a hole. 

doesn’t feel good, does it bitch?

azzi looked at bob, then dan, then dead at amy. “you’re all so sick and so sad and i’m tired of watching it.” 

she headed to door, but paige’s dad grabbed at her. “azzi wait—”

she shrugged him off, shaking her head. “talk to your kid, robert.”

he turned to paige, who was trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. “paige?”

not right now, pops.” she shook her head, too, before walking out the door. 

she found azzi sitting in the waiting area. she sat beside her, not looking at her.

“thanks.” she mumbled. “i could have defended myself, but thank you.”

azzi shook her head. “they wouldn’t let you.” she cut her eyes like she was still looking at paige’s mom. “ i hate when she doesn’t let you speak.”

paige shrugged. and turned to azzi who still looked homicidal. she rubbed at the woman’s back. “it’s okay.” 

she’d been through this a million times. she’d cry about it later. once she was alone and had no choice but to think, paige would cry about this whole thing. she’d imagine comebacks and scream into her pillow and punch her mattress until kingdom came. but for now, she was okay. 

“no, it’s not.” azzi insisted, whipping her head to paige. her eyes were red and glossy. 

 “what gives her the fucking right to talk to you that way?” her voice cracked and she rolled her eyes as she wiped them. “god, and your father is so spineless.”

paige knew she was in love right then. it didn’t matter that azzi wasn’t hers, or that she was eight years older. the logistics were out the window because paige was in love. 

“az.” she grabbed both of azzi’s shoulders. “i’m okay for now.”

azzi looked over her face and sniffled. “are you sure?” 

paige smiled and nodded. “yes.”

azzi reached across the armrest and took paige in her arms. paige nearly melted. she hugged her back and nuzzled her face into the woman’s neck, inhaling her scent. 

she felt peace there. like nothing would hurt ever again. the feeling made her want to do crazy shit, like kiss azzi in the JCPenny photography waiting room.  

“i really like you, azzi.” paige blurted out, pulling out the hug but still holding azzi’s elbows. 

 “like this isn’t just sex for me. i know you’re with my dad right now but we both know you don’t wanna be. you could be with me— i wanna be with you. and i know i’m at school right now but i graduate next year and i’ll be home more often because i’m pretty sure my parents never wanna see me again and— and we can be together, az.”

she sucked in a breath and searched azzi’s face for an answer. the woman was still holding paige’s arms, but she looked so far away. dread took over paige’s entire being. 

“what?” she let go of azzi. “you—” her voice broke,  “you don’t wanna be with me?”

just the thought had paige nauseous. she’d misread this whole thing. how fucking stupid could she be?

she never got what she wanted and she knew that. she’d known that her whole life. she’d clawed her way through life with scraps of approval and enough false confidence to fill a well. she had a routine. she had a systematic way of going about things and she let this woman— her dad’s fucking girlfriend— give her hope. 

she’d fallen for azzi’s whole you deserve it bullshit and let herself get excited. that was the worst part. she knew better. she should have expected this. 

she should have expected azzi to stay with bob. paige knew he’d never deserve azzi. that he didn’t have what it took to make her happy. she’d seen azzi happy. she knew azzi’s real smile well, and she’d never seen it directed at bob. 

azzi reached for her, “that’s not it—”

paige pulled away from her, causing azzi to stop her sentence. her breath trembled with betrayal. 

azzi’s lips parted, whatever she was about to say stuck in her mouth. she went to speak again but the door to the waiting area slammed open. 

bob stood at the threshold, eyes bouncing from paige to azzi with a low brows and that stupid, clueless twinkle in his eyes.

and suddenly, time was frozen.

paige looked at her father. her father looked at his girlfriend. his girlfriend looked at paige. 

paige felt her heart pounding in her throat. she watched azzi’d face flash with confusion, then guilt, then something softer. and then bob opened his mouth. 

“p, can we talk?” her asked, painfully unaware of the clusterfuck he’d just interrupted. 

paige opened her mouth. nothing came out.

azzi shifted in her seat, just enough for her knee to brush paige’s. it was like a tether. a small, wordless one, but a tether nonetheless. paige’s heart clenched. 

paige looked at her father. 

her father looked at his girlfriend. 

his girlfriend looked at paige.

The house was quiet when Azzi finally dragged herself down the stairs. The clock on the kitchen wall read just past nine. Tim had already left for work, leaving the house still and peaceful. Katie was sitting on the living room couch with a mug of coffee, looking up with immediate concern as Azzi walked into the room.

"Good morning," Katie said softly, setting her mug on the coffee table and patting the space next to her. "Come sit."

Azzi walked over on trembling legs and sank onto the cushions, instantly curling her knees up toward her chest. Her throat felt incredibly tight, and the tears she had cried all night were already starting to well up again.

"Mom," Azzi started, her voice cracking immediately. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I need to tell you what happened. And... I know you’re not going to be happy about some of this. But please, I really don't need to be yelled at right now. So just listen, okay? Just let me get it out."

Katie’s expression softened completely, any trace of strictness vanishing. She reached over and gently rubbed Azzi’s arm. "I'm listening, I won't yell.“

"I had a girlfriend at school," Azzi blurted out, her words tumbling out of her in a hurried, nervous rush. She was crying openly now, her shoulders shaking as she began to overexplain, desperately trying to soften the blow of the confession. "Her name is Paige. She was my roommate. And I know… I know what you think about that, I know you think that type of stuff is sinful and wrong, but it wasn't like that. It wasn't bad, I promise. She was so good to me, and she’s literally the best, most gentle person I’ve ever met in my life. I loved her so much, and she loved me too, and we just... we just fit together so well."

Azzi took a ragged, hiccuping breath, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater, her eyes darting around the room as her anxiety made her speak faster and faster.

"But when we left for break she didn't have any way to call me or text me, so all summer long we didn't talk. And I was so anxious, but I just kept telling myself she'd be back in August. But when I got back to campus, she wasn't there. No one would tell me where she went, and I've just been living in this nightmare for months not knowing if she was okay or happened. And then... and then yesterday, Caroline sent me a photo. Paige is missing person, she's out there right now with some girl named Nika who I don't even know, and I'm just so scared..."

Azzi completely broke down, burying her face in her hands as violent sobs took over her entire body. She was trembling from head to toe, exhausted from the weight of the secret she had carried for so long.

Katie sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of her daughter's heartbreak. The disapproval she usually carried toward that part of Azzi's life was entirely eclipsed by the pain sitting right next to her.

"Azzi," Katie said gently, sliding closer and putting her arm around her. "Can I... can I see a picture of her?"

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Azzi reached into her pocket with a shaking hand, unlocked her phone, and pulled up a photo of Paige laughing on their bed, her blonde hair caught in the sunlight. She held the screen out, her hand wobbling.

Katie took the phone, looking closely at the image. A gentle, sad smile touched her lips. "She’s a really pretty girl."

She handed the phone back and took a quiet second, looking at her daughter’s tear-stained face, carefully choosing her words.

"Azzi... you know I don't condone that lifestyle," Katie began, her voice soft, calm, and entirely honest. "But you are my daughter. And sitting here listening to you... I can’t even imagine how I would have reacted if something like this had happened to your father, let alone at your age. To have the person you care about just vanish into thin air..."

Katie pulled Azzi into a hug, resting her chin on her daughter's head.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart," Katie whispered, rubbing her back as Azzi cried into her shoulder. "I completely understand why you needed to come home."

—

The soft click of the front door opening broke the silence of the living room.

Caroline stepped into the entryway, her face pale with worry, her coat still damp from the cold morning air. Katie looked up from the couch, giving a tired, grateful nod.

As soon as Caroline saw Azzi curled up on the couch, still trembling and exhausted from crying, her heart broke. She dropped her keys on the console table and rushed into the living room, completely bypassing the tension in the air.

"Oh, Azzi," Caroline murmured, dropping her bag and immediately sinking onto the couch beside her. She wrapped her arms tightly around Azzi, pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry."

Azzi immediately clung to her, burying her face in Caroline’s shoulder as a fresh wave of quiet, exhausted tears spilled over. Caroline just held her tight, rocking her gently and rubbing her back, letting her absorb the familiar comfort of someone who had been there through the whole story.

After a long moment, Caroline pulled back just enough to look at Azzi's red, swollen eyes. She gently wiped a tear from Azzi's cheek.

"Come on," Caroline said softly, her voice incredibly tender as she gently took Azzi’s hands and helped her stand up from the couch. "Let's go upstairs, get you out of these clothes and get you some water, okay? Come on, up we go."

Azzi didn't protest. She let Caroline guide her, her steps slow and heavy. Caroline kept a supportive arm wrapped securely around Azzi's waist, guiding her up the staircase and back toward her bedroom.

Once they reached the room, Caroline gently closed the door. She went straight to the suitcase, pulling out a pair of soft sweatpants and one of the oversized hoodies Azzi had packed.

With quiet care, Caroline helped Azzi pull off her sweater, guiding her arms through the soft fabric of the new clothes. Azzi was entirely compliant, moving like a doll, her eyes glassy as she stared blankly at the floor.

Once Azzi was changed, Caroline pulled the blankets back and got in bed with her. They laid on their sides, facing each other. Caroline reached out, gently smoothing a stray curl away from Azzi's tear-stained face.

"Azzi," Caroline whispered, her voice incredibly soft. "Do you... do you want to go there? To the area where she went missing? We can pack up my car. We can drive down there right now and try to find her. I'll go with you."

For a split second, a tiny spark of hope flared in Azzi's chest, but it was quickly snuffed out by a wave of reality. She let out a weak, broken sob, shaking her head against the pillow.

"It's nine hours away," Azzi choked out, the tears spilling over her eyelashes and soaking into the pillowcase. "It’s so far. And it’s probably already been searched by the police... and if they are running away, they wouldn't stay there. They’d be gone by now. We wouldn't even know where to start looking."

She paused, her breathing hitching in her throat as her exhausted mind suddenly spun down a darker, more agonizing rabbit hole. The image of the second missing persons report; the dark-haired girl named Nika, flashed vividly in her mind.

"What if..." Azzi’s voice trembled violently, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. "Caroline, what if they are together? Like... together-together? What if Paige ran away with her? What if she met someone else while she was gone, and she forgot about me?"

"Hey, no. Azzi, stop," Caroline said firmly but gently, reaching over to squeeze Azzi's hand tightly. "Do not do that to yourself. Don't go down that road. You know Paige. You know how much she loves you."

"Yeah, she loved me five months ago!" Azzi wailed, a fresh wave of heartbreaking sobs racking her chest. "Five months is a really long time! What if she doesn't anymore? What if she decided I wasn’t enough for her? Or I didn’t make her happy? What if I lost her for good?"

Caroline immediately leaned closer, pulling Azzi’s hands away from her face and wrapping her arms tightly around her.

Azzi lay in silence for a few minutes, the sobs finally tapering off into a dull, exhausted hollow. Her chest felt bruised from the hours of crying. She stared blankly at the wall, her mind racing but entirely depleted.

"Carol?" Azzi whispered, her voice barely a dry rasp.

"Yeah, babe? I'm right here," Caroline murmured, shifting closer.

Azzi swallowed hard, turning her head slightly. "Can you do a favor for me? My mom is leaving for work in like twenty minutes. Once she's gone... can you go out and buy me some vodka and weed?"

Caroline sat up slightly, her brow furrowing in immediate disapproval. "Absolutely not, Azzi. No way. You are already in a terrible headspace."

"Please, Caroline, please," Azzi pleaded, her voice cracking as she turned fully toward her, her hands reaching out to grab Caroline's arm. She was practically begging, her eyes desperate and bloodshot. "I feel like my chest is going to explode. Just... please. Just let me numb it out for a little bit. I can't feel like this anymore. I can't."

Caroline looked down at her best friend. Seeing Azzi so utterly reduced, begging just to escape her own mind for a few hours, broke her resolve. She let out a long sigh. "Fine. But I'm staying with you the entire time. No drinking alone in your room."

"Thank you," Azzi whispered, closing her eyes in relief.

Twenty minutes later, after the sound of Katie’s car fading down the driveway signaled her departure, Caroline headed out. When she returned, she found Azzi sitting on the back porch steps, wrapped in Paige’s oversized gray hoodie, staring blankly at the frosted grass of the backyard.

Caroline quietly sat down beside her, handing over a bottle of vodka and a freshly rolled joint.

Azzi didn't hesitate. She took a long drag of the joint, holding the smoke in her lungs before letting it slowly escape into the air. After a couple of hits, she took a swig of the vodka, grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. Within ten minutes, the sharp, jagged edges of her panic began to blur, replaced by numbness.

She stared at the wisps of smoke curling up toward the gray sky.

"The last time I got high..." Azzi said, her voice flat, devoid of the frantic energy from earlier. "I was with her. We were in the woods. We kept kissing in between each hit. Everything felt so warm."

Caroline stayed quiet, just leaning her shoulder against Azzi's, letting her speak.

"I think she fell out of love with me," Azzi murmured, taking another slow drag. The numbness was settling deep into her bones, making her words feel heavy and detached. "Maybe I'm just... unloveable. I always worried about that when we were together."

"Azzi, don't say that—"

"And Nika..." Azzi interrupted softly, her mind drifting back to the image on her phone. She let out a quiet, bitter breath. "I looked at her picture again. She’s really pretty."

Caroline bumped her shoulder against Azzi’s, letting out a soft sigh. "Azzi, I really don't think that’s what happened. Seriously. Think about it. We’ve talked about running away together like, a million times, and that doesn't mean we’re fucking."

She offered a small, tentative smile, desperately trying to inject a little bit of lightheartedness into the atmosphere.

But the joke fell a little flat. Beside her, Azzi’s entire body went quiet and rigid. The lazy, slumped posture vanished as her muscles coiled under Paige’s hoodie.

Caroline’s smile faded. She picked up on the shift immediately. Turning her head, she looked at Azzi's profile, watching the way she stared blankly ahead.

"Azzi..." Caroline asked, her voice dropping into a tentative, quiet whisper. "Did you and Paige... did you guys ever actually get to that point?"

Azzi stared straight ahead, her eyes glassy from the weed. She took a slow, quiet drag from the joint.

"No," Azzi said, her voice flat. "We didn't. Paige wasn't ready. And I never pushed her because I wanted her to feel safe."

She blew the smoke out into the cold air, her face completely expressionless, totally numb from the alcohol. She didn't look at Caroline as she spoke, her voice dropping into a completely monotone, deadpan delivery.

"But I swear to God, Caroline... if she's out there doing that with this girl, I'm going to find her and kill her."

Caroline let out a breathy, half-startled laugh, the tension in her shoulders instantly relaxing. She shook her head, nudging Azzi with her elbow. "There she is. I was wondering when Azzi would show up."

"I'm not even kidding," Azzi murmured, though the tiny, bitter twitch at the corner of her lips gave away the humor of it. "I'll hunt them both down."

She took another swig of the vodka, the burn helping to keep the painful reality at bay, if only for a little while longer.

—

Paige and Nika walked down the crowded sidewalks, but Paige’s steps were hesitant, almost ghost-like. She kept her chin tucked deep into her chest, her eyes darting nervously to the pavement. The five months of torture she had just escaped had carved her out, leaving her a quiet, fragile shell of the girl she used to be. Even simple things, the sound of a bus engine, a stranger walking too close, made her flinch, her shoulders tensing up as if she were expecting a blow.

They were running on empty, but to get a warm hotel room and access Paige's bank account, they had to clear their names from the active missing persons list.

Fortunately, Paige had one small lifeline. When her parents had forced her away five months ago, she had slipped her driver's license into her bag. She had kept it hidden the entire time. Nika, however, had escaped with absolutely nothing.

"I'll go," Paige whispered. Her voice was flat, hollow, stripped of the energy it once held. She stopped a block away from the local police station, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Nika’s sleeve. "If they run your name without an ID... they might hold you. I have mine. I can do it."

Nika looked at Paige, her eyes filled with a deep, protective worry. Paige looked so incredibly pale, her face drawn and her gaze somewhat vacant. "Are you sure, Paige? You don't have to do this right now if it's too much."

"We need a place to sleep," Paige murmured blankly. "I can do it."

With slow, deliberate steps, Paige walked up the concrete stairs of the station. Pushing through the doors, the bright fluorescent lights and the sudden, loud chatter of the lobby made her dizzy. She felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. For a terrifying second, she felt like she was back in the facility, but she forced herself to take a breath and walked to the front desk.

She slid her ID through the slot under the glass window. Her hand shook so badly the plastic clattered against the metal.

"My name is Paige Bueckers," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm listed as a missing person. I'm here to identify myself. I'm... I'm safe. I'm on my own."

The officer behind the glass looked at the ID, then up at Paige. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, her fragile frame, and the quiet tremor in her hands, but she was eighteen; an adult. He tapped at his keyboard for a moment before looking back at her. "Alright, Paige. The system shows the active report. I can close the case, but we do have to notify the reporting agency that you've been located."

A sudden, sharp spike of panic pierced through Paige's numbness. She pressed her hands against the counter to steady herself, her eyes wide.

"Please," she choked out, her voice cracking as she begged. "Please, I am an adult. You can tell them I'm alive, but do not tell my family where I am. Do not give them any way to contact me. Please. I don't want them to find me."

The officer stared at her for a long moment, recognizing the genuine fear of a survivor. His expression softened with a touch of pity. He nodded slowly. "I'll put a strict no-contact flag on the file, Paige. We will close the report and note that you are safe and do not want your location disclosed. Your family won't be notified of where you are."

"Thank you," Paige whispered, a tiny breath of air finally returning to her lungs.

After signing the paperwork with a hand that could barely grip the pen, Paige walked back out into the cold. She crossed the street to the coffee shop where Nika was waiting. When she saw Nika’s familiar, worried face through the glass, Paige didn't smile; she didn't have the strength left for it, but she gave a small, weary nod. She was exhausted, broken, and terrified, but they were finally free.

The steady hum of the radiator was the only sound in the small, warmly lit hotel room. After months of freezing, clinical silence, the simple luxury of hot water and clean sheets felt almost surreal.

Paige sat on the edge of one of the double beds, wrapped in an oversized hotel robe, her damp blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and her eyes had that same vacant, hollow stare she’d carried since they escaped, like her body was in the room, but her mind was still drifting and not fully there.

Nika sat behind her on the mattress, slowly and gently running a plastic comb through Paige’s hair, careful not to tug. Paige flinched slightly at first, a learned reflex from months of rough handling, but she slowly settled under the quiet, repetitive rhythm.

"Azzi’s eighteenth birthday is tomorrow," Paige murmured, her voice flat as she stared blankly at the beige wallpaper of the hotel room.

Nika paused the comb for a fraction of a second, then resumed. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Paige’s hands rested limp in her lap. "I feel so bad. I'm missing it. I was... I was supposed to be there. I got her a gift over the summer. But my parents probably found it and threw it out. Or sold it. Or something."

"What did you get her?" Nika asked softly, her tone incredibly gentle, treating Paige like she was made of glass.

"A ring," Paige whispered. A tiny, nervous tremor shook her shoulders, her vacant eyes blinking rapidly. "Not... not like a engagement ring. Just... a love ring. To show her I'm hers."

"A promise ring," Nika supplied quietly.

"Yeah," Paige breathed, her voice trailing off as she stared at her own bare fingers. "A promise ring. It was pink…. That’s her favorite color."

Nika finished combing through a knot, her expression turning somber. She stared down at the comb in her hand, the weight of their shared reality settling heavily on her own chest. "Last month was my one-year anniversary with Jordyn. I don't even know if I can consider her my girlfriend anymore. Five months of nothing... I don't know what she's doing."

"I used to feel the same," Paige murmured, her voice sounding distant, almost dreamlike. "Before Azzi came to visit me."

Nika’s hand froze instantly, the comb dangling in Paige's hair. Her stomach dropped, a cold wave of dread washing over her.

Nika carefully set the comb down and shifted around the bed so she could look Paige in the face. Paige’s eyes remained unfocused, staring right through her. Nika swallowed hard, trying to figure out if Paige genuinely believed this had happened.

"Paige..." Nika began, her voice incredibly tentative. "When Azzi came and saw you... was it in a dream?"

Paige’s brow furrowed, a look of confusion crossing her face. She blinked, her gaze finally snapping onto Nika, though she still looked entirely disconnected.

"No," Paige said immediately, her tone carrying a faint, defensive edge. "No, Nika. I already told you. Azzi was there. She was in the room with me."

Nika’s chest tightened, her heart aching at the sheer depth of Paige's trauma. "Paige—"

"She held me," Paige insisted quietly, her voice cracking as she looked down at her hands, genuinely remembering the warmth of a touch that had only been a hallucination. "She was right there. She held me. I know she did. I could feel her… I could hear her."

Nika sat in silence, entirely unsure of how to pull Paige back to reality when reality had been so cruel to her.

Nika’s heart ached as she looked at Paige’s fragile, defensive face. She knew she couldn't let Paige hold onto this hallucination; not if they were going to heal, and not if Paige was ever going to face the real world again. But she had to be so, so careful.

"Hey," Nika said softly, keeping her voice level and gentle. "Let's get you changed into some dry clothes first, okay? Go grab your sweatpants."

Paige nodded vaguely, her movements slow and mechanical. She stood up, wrapped the robe tighter around herself, and went to her bag to pull on a soft t-shirt and some fleece pants. When she came back out, looking incredibly small, Nika patted the spot next to her on the bed.

"Come here," Nika murmured.

Paige crawled onto the mattress, lying down on her side. Nika adjusted her pillows and lay down facing her. Slowly, Nika reached out and began gently rubbing Paige’s forehead, her fingers lightly scratching along Paige’s hairline; a soothing rhythm she knew Paige desperately needed to feel grounded.

Paige let her eyes flutter shut, her breathing starting to slow under the gentle touch.

Nika took a quiet, steadying breath. She kept her fingers moving softly, her voice dropping to a tender, quiet whisper.

"Paige... I need you to listen to me, okay? And I need you to try and hear what I’m saying." Nika paused, watching Paige's eyelashes flutter. "Azzi wasn’t physically there."

Paige’s eyes snapped open, a defensive spark returning to her vacant gaze, but Nika kept her hand steady, continuing to lightly scratch her hairline, keeping her anchored.

"Listen to me please," Nika said softly, her tone overflowing with empathy, not judgment. "There were no visitors allowed at that place. Absolutely none. They kept us completely locked away. And Azzi... Azzi didn't even know where you were. She had no way of finding you, and no way of getting inside."

"But she was—" Paige started, her voice cracking, a look of desperate panic rising in her eyes.

"I know," Nika interrupted gently, her thumb smoothing over Paige’s brow. "I know it felt so real. And I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that Azzi was with you in your heart. I know how much you love her. I know how safe and comforting she is to you, and I am so, so happy that your mind was able to find that comfort when you were hurting so badly. But physically... she wasn't there in that room with you."

For a few agonizing seconds, Paige just stared at Nika, her breath hitching in her chest. She wanted to fight it. She wanted to argue, to insist on the memory of the warmth, the memory of being held. But as she looked into Nika’s sad, completely honest eyes, the fragile illusion finally shattered. The truth crashed down on her like ice water.

Azzi hadn't been there. She had been completely alone the entire time.

A choked, ragged sob tore from Paige’s throat. Her face crumpled, and she completely broke down, burying her face in Nika’s chest. Her entire body shook violently as she wept, releasing months of stored-up terror, grief, and the loneliness she had tried so hard to protect herself from.

Nika just wrapped her arms tightly around her, holding her close, keeping her fingers in Paige's hair as she let her cry it all out.

After a long time, the violent shaking of Paige's shoulders finally began to ease. She pulled back slightly, her face pale and her eyes terribly red, wiping her cheeks with the back of her trembling hand.

"I'm sorry," Paige whispered, her voice raw and completely worn out. "I'm sorry for breaking down like that."

"Don't apologize. You just survived hell, you’re allowed to cry," Nika said softly, keeping a comforting hand on Paige’s shoulder. She resumed the slow, gentle scratching of Paige's hairline, trying to bring her back to a state of calm.

Paige took a deep, shaky breath, desperately wanting to shift the focus away from her own mind. "What... what were you saying before? About Jordyn? Please, continue. I want to hear."

Nika let out a quiet sigh, her eyes drifting toward the window. The vulnerability she had kept bottled up for five months finally started to leak out.

"It's just..." Nika started, her voice hollow. "Unlike you... I don't have anything. I don't have photos of Jordyn, I don't have letters, or anything physical to remind me that she was real. I just have my memories, and after a while in that place, you start to question your own mind."

She paused, her fingers slowing in Paige's hair.

"I wonder if she still thinks about me as much as I think about her," Nika murmured, looking incredibly small. "Or if she’s just... moved on. We were just in high school, Paige. Things change. People change. Even if she does still love me... I don't even know how I would go back to her. I'm not the same person she knew. I don't know how to just step back into a normal life."

Paige's brow furrowed slightly, a faint wave of confusion pulling her through her exhaustion. She looked up at Nika. "But... I thought that was the plan. I thought we escaped so you could go back to Jordyn, and I could go back to Azzi. That's what kept us going."

Nika looked down at Paige, her expression filled with a profound, quiet sadness.

"Paige... we escaped when we did because of you," Nika said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "You were fading away. I had to get you out."

The realization hit Paige like a blow. Her stomach twisted with a sudden, crushing weight of guilt. She had been so wrapped up in her own suffering, so disconnected and trapped in her own mind, that she hadn't realized the burden Nika had been carrying.

"Oh," Paige whispered, fresh tears instantly welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Nika... I'm so sorry."

"No, Paige, don't—"

"No, you shouldn't have had to carry all of that," Paige insisted, her voice breaking as she looked at her friend. "You shouldn't have had to worry about saving my life on top of your own. I should have been stronger. I should have been a better friend to you. I'm so, so sorry."

"Hey, look at me," Nika commanded gently, cupping Paige’s cheek to stop her from spiraling. "You survived. That was your only job. You are the best friend I could have ever asked for, and we got out together. That's all that matters."

Paige sniffled, a tiny, genuine warmth finally breaking through the pain in her chest. She reached up, placing her hand over Nika's.

"I love you so much," Paige said softly, her eyes sincere. "You are my best friend ever." She paused for a beat, a faint, fragile spark of her old self returning to her eyes. "Well... second to Azzi."

Nika let out a sudden, startled laugh, the sound bright and unexpected. She shook her head, a genuine grin breaking across her face as she lightly nudged Paige's shoulder.

"Of course," Nika teased, her smile softening with immense relief. "I would never try to compete with Azzi."

—

The next morning, Azzi woke up to a throbbing, relentless pressure behind her eyes. The gray November light filtering through her bedroom blinds felt entirely too bright, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut with a low groan. Her mouth tasted like copper and stale alcohol, her stomach churning uncomfortably from the toxic mix of vodka and weed from the day before.

Beside her, the mattress shifted. Caroline, who had stayed the night to make sure Azzi wasn't alone, rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking down at her with a soft, sympathetic expression.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Az," Caroline whispered gently.

Azzi just let out another weak groan, pulling the comforter over her face to block out the world. "Don't say that out loud. It makes my head hurt."

Caroline couldn't help but let out a small, sad sigh. She reached over, gently tugging the blanket down just enough so she could see Azzi's face. "How are you feeling? Do you need some Advil?"

"I feel like I got hit by a truck," Azzi muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Caroline sat up a bit more, leaning her back against the headboard. She watched her best friend closely, wanting desperately to bring some kind of comfort to her on a day that was supposed to be a milestone. "Well... it's still your birthday. What do you want to do today? What do you want for your birthday?"

Azzi didn't even hesitate. Her voice was completely flat, empty of any of the excitement or life she usually had.

"I want to get drunk," Azzi said.

Caroline’s posture immediately stiffened, the gentle warmth in her eyes instantly replaced by worry. She looked at Azzi, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, the hollow look in her face, and the way she was already desperately looking for an escape before the clock had even hit ten in the morning.

"Azzi..." Caroline started, her voice laced with concern. "You can't do that. I let you do it yesterday because you were in shock, but you can't start your birthday by drowning it. I'm really worried about you."

Azzi’s face darkened, the irritation from her hangover instantly morphing into anger. She sat up abruptly, ignoring the violent throb in her temples, and glared at Caroline.

"Just buy me the fucking alcohol, Caroline!" Azzi snapped, her voice cracking with a mix of rage and desperation. She threw the blankets off her legs, her chest heaving. "Just get up and go buy it! Please. I can't do this today, so just do this one fucking thing for me!"

"Azzi, stop!" Caroline said, her voice rising to match her friend's, though it was laced with deep hurt. "It’s not healthy for you! It's only going to make you feel worse. I'm trying to help you!"

"You don't get to tell me what’s healthy!" Azzi yelled, her voice echoing off the bedroom walls as tears of frustration and grief finally spilled over her red, swollen eyes. She stood up, towering over the bed, her hands shaking violently. "You don't get to sit there lecture me about how I deal with things when my entire life is falling apart!"

Caroline tried to speak, but Azzi cut her off, her voice cracking with a raw, agonizing pain that made Caroline's chest ache.

"When the love of your life goes missing, and you don't even know if she's alive or freezing to death, or if she even fucking loves you anymore, then you can start telling me how to cope! Until then, shut up!"

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Caroline sat frozen on the bed. The words stung, but looking at Azzi’s completely shattered, desperate expression, the anger melted away, leaving only pity. She knew Azzi was just drowning in pain and taking it out on the only person who was there to catch her.

With a slow, defeated sigh, Caroline climbed out of bed.

"Fine," Caroline whispered quietly, not looking Azzi in the eye as she grabbed her car keys and her wallet from the nightstand. "I'll go get it."

—

Caroline walked into the bedroom, her face a mask of cold, exhausted detachment. Without saying a single word, she walked over to the desk, set a plastic bag containing a large bottle of cheap vodka and a couple of energy drinks down with a sharp clunk, and grabbed her jacket.

She was fed up. She had spent the last twenty-four hours taking the brunt of Azzi's panic, screaming, and tears, and she had finally reached her breaking point.

Azzi sat on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, watching her with glassy, red-rimmed eyes. She didn't apologize. She didn't say thank you.

"I'm going home, Azzi," Caroline said, her voice flat and completely stripped of the warmth she usually carried. "Happy birthday."

She turned on her heel and walked out, the bedroom door clicking shut behind her. A moment later, the distant rumble of her car engine faded down the street.

Azzi didn't care. The hollow ache in her chest was so loud that the loss of her best friend's company barely registered.

She dragged herself off the bed, walked over to the desk, and ripped the bottle out of the plastic bag. She didn't bother with a glass, and she didn't bother with the mixers. She just twisted the cap off, tilted her head back, and took a long, burning swallow straight from the bottle. She grimaced as the alcohol seared her throat, but she welcomed the pain; it was a physical sensation she could actually control.

Sitting back down on the floor, her back pressed against the side of her bed, Azzi just drank.

She drank to stop thinking about Paige’s empty bed at school. She drank to drown out the image of the missing persons report, and the beautiful girl named Nika who was out there with her. She drank until the room started to tilt, until her thoughts became sluggish and heavy, and then she drank some more, desperately chasing the numbness until the world finally went completely black.

A full week had passed. Caroline had spent every day of it feeling a toxic mix of anger, guilt, and sickening worry. Finally, unable to take the silence anymore and desperately hoping that a week of space had given Azzi time to clear her head, Caroline drove back to the house.

She let herself in, the quiet of the empty house immediately making her uneasy. When she walked up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door, her stomach dropped.

The blinds were drawn tight, sealing the room in a miserable twilight. Azzi was sitting in the middle of the floor, disheveled, hollow-eyed, and holding a fresh, half-empty bottle of alcohol. It was barely one o'clock in the afternoon.

Caroline stared at the bottle, her worry instantly sharpening into disbelief. "Where did you even get that? I haven't bought you anything since last week."

Azzi didn't even look up at her, her voice flat and slurry. "Bought it off some guy on Snap. He delivered it."

The sheer disappointment and fury that crashed over Caroline at those words was overwhelming.

"Are you fucking serious right now?!" Caroline snapped, her voice instantly rising to a scream as she slammed the door shut behind her. "It is the middle of the day, Azzi! You're buying alcohol off random people on Snapchat? You need to grow the fuck up! Look at yourself!"

Azzi flinched at the volume but quickly glared up at her, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, her defenses immediately going up. "Get out of my room, Caroline."

"No! I'm not leaving!" Caroline yelled, stepping further into the room and gesturing wildly at the clutter on the floor. "You are being so incredibly selfish! You act like you are the only person in the entire world who is going through shit right now!"

"Oh, really?!" Azzi scrambled to her feet, her balance swaying slightly as she screamed back, her face twisting with bitter, drunken rage. "What the fuck are you going through, Caroline?! What is so hard about your life right now?!"

"I am sitting here watching my best friend destroy herself over a girl!" Caroline shrieked, her voice cracking as the pain of the last week finally tore through her. "I am standing here watching you fall right back into your old habits! Do you have any idea what that is like?!"

Azzi opened her mouth to shoot back another angry retort, but Caroline stepped closer, tears of frustration spilling over her cheeks, her voice shaking but furious.

"My only options right now are to enable you and watch you fall apart, or refuse to help you and have you shut me out completely! Either way, I lose my best friend! That is what I am going through, Azzi! I am losing you, and you don't even care!"

The room fell into a sudden silence. Caroline stood there panting, the tears hot on her face, while Azzi stared at her, the bottle trembling in her hand as the weight of Caroline's words slowly began to pierce through the protective fog of the alcohol.

Caroline stepped even closer, her chest heaving as she looked down at Azzi. The anger in her voice began to fracture, giving way to a devastating, desperate plea.

"What do you think Paige would say if she walked in and saw you like this right now?" Caroline asked, her voice trembling. "She would hate it, Azzi. You are not acting like the girl she fell in love with."

Azzi flinched as if she’d been struck, Paige’s name cutting straight through her drunken haze. She gripped the neck of the vodka bottle tighter, her jaw clenching as she stared at the floor.

"Well, Paige isn't here," Azzi whispered, her voice incredibly bitter and hollow. "So it doesn't fucking matter."

"What if she comes back?" Caroline yelled, her eyes shining with tears. "What if she finds a way back to you, Azzi? What if she calls you, or she shows up at your door tomorrow, and the girl she loves is just lying on the floor wasted? What then?"

That was the breaking point.

The anger drained out of Azzi all at once, leaving her entirely empty. Her grip loosened, and the bottle slipped from her hand, thudding onto the carpet. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed back onto the floor, burying her face in her hands as a harsh, ragged sob ripped from her chest.

"I don't know how to stop missing her," Azzi choked out, her whole body shaking violently as she wept. "Caroline, I don't know how to make it stop. It hurts so bad. I just want to stop missing her."

Seeing her best friend completely break down, Caroline’s anger vanished. She dropped to her knees on the floor beside Azzi, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug.

"You don't have to stop," Caroline whispered, her own tears falling into Azzi's messy curls. She held her tight, letting Azzi press her face into her shoulder. "You don't have to stop missing her. And it's okay to be heartbroken. You're allowed to be sad. But you have to actually feel it."

Azzi clung to Caroline, her fingers desperately bunching the fabric of Caroline's shirt as she let out another broken, choked sob.

"I love her so much," Azzi wept, her voice muffled against Caroline’s shoulder, raw with a pain she had been trying so hard to drink away. "I love her so much, Caroline. Everything... everything just hurts. Every single thing reminds me of her."

Caroline didn't say anything, she just held her tighter, swaying her gently on the floor as the tears continued to flow.

"And I don't even know..." Azzi’s breath hitched, her voice cracking so badly it was barely a whisper. "I don't even know if she’s my girlfriend anymore. It’s been five months. Five months of nothing. I don't know where she is. I don't know if she's ever coming back."

She pulled back just enough to look at Caroline, her face completely red and streaked with tears, her eyes pleading for an answer that she knew Caroline couldn't give her.

"I know it's so dumb," Azzi sobbed, fresh tears spilling over her eyelashes as her shoulders shook. "I know we’re just in high school. But I really... Caroline, I really thought Paige was my forever. I genuinely thought she was it for me."

Caroline felt her own heart break at the sincerity in Azzi's voice. She reached up, gently wiping a tear from Azzi's cheek, her expression softening into a look of pure, bittersweet empathy.

"It's not dumb, Azzi," Caroline whispered back, her own voice thick with emotion. "I remember in July when Paige came up to us in the mall…"

Azzi didn't answer, but her crying slowed slightly, her breathing catching in her chest as she listened.

"I have never seen you smile the way you did when you realized it was her," Caroline said, a small, bittersweet smile touching her own lips at the memory. "And Paige... she looked like she was so incredibly in love with you. You could feel it just standing near you guys."

She squeezed Azzi a little tighter, rubbing her hand up and down her back to help ground her.

"I know how scary it is right now," Caroline murmured. "But I really think you’ll find each other again. You just have to be here, whole and ready, when she does."

Azzi’s grip on Caroline tightened, her forehead pressing hard against Caroline’s shoulder as another wave of quiet, exhausted tears spilled over.

"She made me so much better," Azzi whispered, her voice thick and broken. "I felt like... like Paige made me a better person. All I had to do was get through the summer. That was it. Just get through those few months, and then we were going to be together forever."

She took a ragged, trembling breath, the weight of the future she had built in her mind crushing down on her.

"I thought she was going to be my wife," Azzi sobbed, her voice cracking as she finally admitted the dreams she had kept locked away. "I thought we'd get a place together. I thought we'd have kids. I had this whole life pictured with her."

Caroline felt a tear slip down her own cheek. She squeezed Azzi tighter, trying to absorb some of the pain. "Hey... listen to me. That could still happen. Just because everything is a mess right now doesn't mean those things are gone forever. You can still have that life with her."

"But not the way I imagined it," Azzi choked out, shaking her head against Caroline's shoulder. "Not after this. It’s all ruined. Even if she comes back... it's never going to be the way it was supposed to be."

—

They were sitting in a quiet booth near the back of the cafe. Nika slowly stirred her tea, keeping her eyes on Paige, who was cradling a warm mug of hot chocolate in both hands. Paige looked healthier than she had a week ago, but there was still a fragile, delicate air about her, like a light breeze could blow her away.

"It's so beautiful here," Paige whispered, staring down at the swirling whipped cream in her mug. "Azzi would love this so much."

Nika smiled softly, leaning forward on her elbows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Paige said, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips as her eyes went soft with memory. "She had this whole plan. She wanted to go to college here, and she was going to major in English because she wanted to be an author. She’s so smart; she writes beautiful things. And she wanted us to get an apartment together here, and a pet. And I liked the idea of a cat. She wanted to get married."

Paige's voice quieted, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug as she looked out the window.

"I always imagined I’d propose to her young," Paige confessed, her cheeks flushing a faint, delicate pink. "I used to think about how happy she’d be. How she’d cry and jump into my arms. How excited she’d be to be my wife. She wanted to have kids with me. I just felt so wanted by her. I’ve never felt that way with anyone else. Like I was someone's first choice. Her forever."

But as quickly as the warmth had entered Paige’s face, it began to drain away, replaced by doubt. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared back down at her hands, her fingers beginning to tremble slightly.

"But now..." Paige swallowed hard, her voice cracking as the reality of their trauma crashed back over her. "Now I'm just... I'm so scared."

Nika reached across the table, gently placing her hand over Paige’s. "Scared of what?"

"I'm scared I won’t be able to give her that dream life anymore," Paige whispered, tears quickly welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "She deserved this perfect, beautiful future. And I'm so terrified that because of what happened, I’m going to ruin it for her. I'm scared she’s angry with me and doesn’t want me anymore."

Nika squeezed Paige’s hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles. Her expression was incredibly tender as she looked at her friend.

"Paige, look at me," Nika said softly. Paige slowly raised her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting Nika's. Nika gave her a warm, reassuring smile. "You already made the first step of making Azzi’s dream come true."

Paige blinked, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're here," Nika whispered, gesturing slightly to the cafe and the city outside the window. "You made it to D.C. You survived, and you brought yourself right to the place she wanted to build a life with you. You're already doing it."

—

Two months had passed since Paige and Nika had arrived in Washington, D.C., and a full month since Nika had boarded a train south to Florida to start putting her own life back together.

Paige was living in a small, long-stay hotel room near the edge of the city. It wasn't the apartment Azzi had always dreamed of, but with the money she was earning working long shifts as a waitress at a diner down the street, it was hers. She had even managed to save enough tips to buy a phone.

The phone was currently propped up against a box of pencils on her tiny desk. On the screen, Nika’s face filled the display, her hair damp from the humidity as she talked about her new job at a bakery and the apartment she was living in with two roommates.

"The heat down here is insane, Paige, seriously," Nika was saying, gesturing with a glass of iced tea. "You’d hate it."

Paige let out a soft, quiet laugh, not looking up from the sketchbook spread out in front of her. Her hand moved rhythmically, shading delicate, intricate lines across the paper with a charcoal pencil.

Nika leaned closer to her camera, squinting. "What are you drawing over there anyway? You’ve been staring at that page for twenty minutes."

Paige paused, her fingers smudging a bit of graphite on the edge of the sheet. She turned the sketchbook toward the phone camera. On the page was a highly detailed drawing of a tiger.

"I'm working on a portfolio," Paige said, her cheeks coloring slightly with a flash of self-conscious pride. "I’m trying to get a tattoo apprenticeship."

Nika’s eyes went wide on the screen, a genuine, glowing smile breaking across her face. "Paige! Are you serious?! That’s incredible!"

"Thanks," Paige murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips as she pulled the book back to keep working. "I want to be able to do something that makes me happy, and you know I love to draw. Plus I don’t have a degree so there’s not too many options."

"It really is amazing, P," Nika said, her tone shifting slightly, becoming softer, more careful. She set her glass down and leaned her chin in her hand, looking intently at Paige through the screen. "I’m so glad you’re taking these steps to build something for yourself. Really. But..."

Paige’s pencil froze over the paper. The sudden change in Nika's voice made her guard go up instantly. "But what?"

"Paige... I really think you need to try and go to therapy," Nika said gently. "Now that you have a job and a little bit of income... there are community clinics, or—"

"No," Paige cut her off sharply, her posture rigid. She set her pencil down with a loud snap against the wood desk. "Absolutely not, Nika. I'm fine."

"Paige, you still aren’t eating well," Nika pushed, her eyes full of worry. "You barely sleep, and you're doing this all on your own in that hotel room—"

"I am never talking to another therapist or doctor again!" Paige snapped, her voice suddenly cracking with a sudden, defensive surge of adrenaline. The memories of the aversion room, the forced medication, and the “therapy” where she would get screamed at for hours on end flooded her mind, making her stomach twist into nauseating knots. "They twist everything you say! They lock you up and try to make you crazy! I am not doing it!"

"This isn't that place, Paige!" Nika pleaded softly. "You can't heal from what they did to you all on your own. You can't just throw yourself into work and drawing and pretend you’re not still hurting."

Paige crossed her arms tightly over her chest, staring bitterly at the corner of her desk, her jaw set, tears of anger and fear stinging her eyes.

Nika took a deep breath, her expression softening into pure, heartbreaking empathy.

"Paige... listen to me," Nika whispered softly through the speaker. "You want to be ready when you see Azzi again, right? You want to be able to hold her and give her that life you were telling me about."

Paige’s throat tightened, a single tear slipping down her cheek at the mention of Azzi's name.

"You love her so much," Nika continued gently. "But you need to heal yourself in order to be good for her. You can't carry all this trauma into her arms and expect everything to just be okay. You have to do the work to get better; not just for yourself, but so you can actually give Azzi the healthy, safe forever you both deserve."

Slowly, Paige uncrossed her arms. She wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her wrist and let out a long, shaky breath.

"Okay," Paige whispered, her voice fragile, but resolved. "Okay. I'll... I'll look into it."

A week had passed since her call with Nika. Taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands, Paige pushed open the glass door of a tattoo shop. The shop smelled faintly of green soap, rubbing alcohol, and fresh coffee. Rap music played in the background as Paige clutched her black leather binder tightly to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Standing behind the front counter was KK.

"Hey," KK said, leaning against the counter. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hi... um," Paige cleared her throat, trying to sound braver than she felt. "I was looking to get into tattooing and I brought my portfolio, I was wondering if you could take a look at it?"

"Of course," KK said, her face lighting up with a friendly smile. "Let’s see what you’ve got. Lay it out."

Paige carefully placed her binder on the counter and flipped it open. KK leaned over, flipping through the pages in quiet concentration. Page after page revealed Paige’s work; sharp line work, delicate floral pieces, colorful traditional flash sheets, and soft, detailed portraits.

"Damn," KK murmured under her breath. She turned around and called toward the back stations. "Aubrey! Nai! Get up here for a second!"

Two artists stepped out from their booths.

"Look at this," KK said, turning the portfolio toward them.

Aubrey leaned in, whistling softly. "Whoa. These are all so clean."

"Did you do all of these by hand or some digital?" Nai asked, looking up at Paige with genuine surprise and admiration. "The shading on this lantern is stunning. You’ve got incredible spatial awareness."

A faint blush crept up Paige's neck, the overwhelming praise making her chest feel lighter than it had in months.

"All by hand, thanks," Paige murmured, her fingers knotting together in front of her.

KK closed the binder and leaned her elbows on the counter, looking at Paige intently. "You've got real talent. So let me ask, have you taken care of any of the safety certifications yet?"

"Yes," Paige answered quickly. "I did the bloodborne pathogens course and the first aid certification last week. I printed the certificates out, they're in the back sleeve."

"Awesome. That saves us a step," KK nodded approvingly. "What about gear? Do you have a way to get materials?"

The moment the question hung in the air, the fragile air of confidence Paige had built completely shattered.

Her breath hitched. Her heart sank straight into her stomach, and a wave of panic washed over her. Her hands began to tremble violently as she pulled her arms back against her chest.

"I... I'm so sorry," Paige stammered, her voice suddenly cracking with embarrassment. She felt tears of frustration instantly pricking the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't think that far in advance. I just... I don't have the money for it."

Aubrey and Nai exchanged a quiet, gentle glance, while KK’s expression softened into concern.

"Hey, it's okay," KK said softly. "You don't have to apologize."

"I’m currently living out of a hotel," Paige rushed out, the truth spilling out of her in a desperate, embarrassed whisper as she stared at the floor, convinced she had just ruined her chance. "I work as a waitress down the street, but all my money goes straight to my room and food. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

She reached out, her hand shaking as she went to pull her portfolio off the counter to leave before KK could officially reject her.

Before Paige could grab the binder, KK reached across the counter and gently placed her hand over Paige’s, stopping her.

"Paige. Stop," KK said, her voice firm but entirely devoid of judgment.

Paige looked up, her eyes wide, tear-rimmed, and terrified.

KK smiled, giving Paige's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're not wasting anybody's time. Talent like yours doesn't come around every day, and I am not letting you walk out that door just because money is tight."

Paige blinked, completely frozen. "What?"

"Here's the deal," KK said casually, leaning back against the counter. "If you're willing to come in for an hour a day before your shift, or after, to sweep up, sanitize the stations, and help us run the front counter, I will cover your supplies, and I'll teach you everything I know. Deal?"

Silence stretched across the shop for a second. Paige stared at KK, completely unable to process the gesture. The weight of terror and shame evaporated, replaced by a sudden, breathtaking relief so strong her knees felt weak.

A small, tearful sob escaped Paige's throat, but this time a real, dazzling smile broke across her face.

"Deal," Paige whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek as she laughed through her relief. "Yes. Deal. Thank you so much. Thank you."

"Welcome to the team," KK smiled, nudging the binder back toward her. "Get ready to work."

—

The dim glow of the tv bounced off the clutter scattered across Azzi’s bedroom floor. It was late, the kind of quiet hour where the rest of the world was fast asleep, but inside those four walls, the noise in Azzi's head was deafening.

She hadn't stopped drinking. Not really. She had just learned how to be smarter about it; hiding the vodka in water bottles on her desk, chewing mint gum until her jaw throbbed, and learning how to fix her posture so she didn't sway when Caroline was around.

Azzi sat slumped on the edge of her bed, her back pressed against the wall, an unmarked water bottle cradled loosely between her knees. Her phone rested on her lap, its screen illuminating her exhausted, tear-stained face.

On the screen were old pictures of Paige.

Paige sitting at her desk in the dorm, her hair messy as she studied. Paige smiling up at the camera with that quiet, gentle expression that used to make Azzi's entire world stop spinning.

Azzi raised the bottle to her lips, taking a long, burning swallow. Her hand trembled as she traced the outline of Paige’s face on the screen, her vision blurring as fresh tears welled in her eyes.

"Where are you?" Azzi whispered, her voice thick, slurred, and heavy with pain. "Where the hell are you?"

She clicked to the next picture; a selfie of the two of them pressed shoulder to shoulder, Paige kissing Azzi’s cheek while Azzi grinned like an idiot.

A surge of anger flared through her drunken state.

"I hate you," Azzi croaked, staring directly into the pixels of Paige's eyes, her voice rising into a cracked, frantic whisper. "I fucking hate you for leaving me here like this. You promised. You promised we were going to get through the summer, and then you just... you just disappeared. You left me completely alone. How could you do that to me?"

She slammed her fist down onto the floor, shaking her head as the tears finally spilled over, hot and steady down her cheeks.

"You promised we were going to move to D.C.," Azzi sobbed, her chest heaving as she gripped the phone, pulling it closer to her chest like it could somehow bring the girl in the picture back to her. "We had a whole life planned, and you just left me behind."

The anger flared brightly, hot and furious, but just as quickly as it had ignited, it collapsed under the weight of her heartbreak. The bottle slipped from her hand, thudding softly against the carpet as Azzi curled her body inward, burying her face against the phone screen.

"I hate you," she sobbed softly, her voice breaking into pathetic, ragged hitches. "I hate you so much... but I love you. I love you so fucking much."

She pressed her forehead against the glowing image of Paige’s smile, her shoulders shaking violently.

"I love you," Azzi wept into the dark. "And everything just hurts without you. Please... please just come back to me."

Azzi’s eyelids finally gave out, the glowing screen of her phone fading into a blur as she fell into a fitful, alcohol-steeped sleep.

When she finally stirred, the harsh morning light was cutting through the blinds. Her head throbbed with a dull, vicious ache, and her mouth felt like sand.

As she forced her eyes open, she saw Caroline sitting quietly in the desk chair across the room, watching her with a pale, utterly exhausted face. On the floor by Caroline's feet was the empty water bottle Azzi had been drinking from, along with two other hidden bottles Caroline had clearly found under the bed.

"I poured them out," Caroline said softly, her voice devoid of the anger she had carried weeks ago. It was just quiet. Sad.

Azzi pushed herself up against the headboard. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, her voice raspy and bitter. "It doesn't matter. I'm just going to buy more."

Caroline didn't yell. She didn't throw a fit. She just looked down at her hands, taking a slow breath.

"Okay," Caroline whispered gently. She looked back up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "What’s going on, Azzi? I thought... I thought you were doing better. I thought you stopped."

Azzi pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face against them as fresh tears burst through her eyes.

"I just want Paige," Azzi sobbed, her voice muffled against her sweatpants, her whole body shaking with ragged, agonizing hitches. "Caroline, I just want Paige. I can't do this without her. I can't."

Caroline didn't scold her. Looking at her best friend, stripped down to nothing but grief, Caroline couldn't even bring herself to blame Azzi for turning to the bottle anymore. The sheer weight of the pain was simply too big for a person to carry alone.

Caroline slid off the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to wrap her arms around Azzi’s trembling shoulders, pulling her close.

"I know," Caroline murmured into Azzi’s hair, her own tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "I know, Azzi. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"I'm so angry at her all the time," Azzi choked out, gripping Caroline's shirt as she wept. "I sit here and I get so mad at her for leaving me, for disappearing, for breaking every promise we made... but I know... I know if she walked through that door right now, I wouldn't even care. I wouldn't care that she left. I wouldn't care about anything. I just want her back so bad. It hurts so fucking much."

Caroline just held her tighter, swaying slightly on the bed, rubbing Azzi's back as the grief washed over both of them.

"I know, Azzi," Caroline whispered gently over and over, letting her friend cry until there were no tears left. "I know. I'm so sorry."

—

The faint hum of the shop's air conditioner filled the quiet morning air as Paige swept the polished concrete floors. She had just finished sanitizing the counter and wiping down the leather client chairs when KK walked in from the back room.

KK leaned against the counter, watching Paige hang up the broom.

"Hey, P," KK called out casually. "Do you have any tattoos?"

Paige stopped, she shook her head softly. "No. None."

KK grinned, setting her coffee mug down with a small tap. "Alright then. First lesson: draw up a tattoo you want. Correct size, full placement scale, clean line work, everything. Show me what you’ve got."

A flutter of nervous excitement sparked in Paige's chest. She walked over to her designated station, pulled out a fresh sheet of tracing paper, and sat down.

She didn't even have to guess what to draw. Her fingers instinctively reached up, resting over the smooth silver locket hanging against her collarbone.

She looked down, resting her thumb over the delicate pattern engraved on the front: two detailed, intricate tulips curving toward each other, their stems arcing until they met at the base to form a perfect, elegant oval.

With steady, deliberate strokes, Paige drew the exact pattern, sizing it perfectly to fit on her left hand.

Twenty minutes later, Paige walked back over to the counter and laid the design down in front of KK.

KK leaned over, her eyes scanning the clean, intricate lines. A low, appreciative whistle escaped her lips. "Damn, Paige. This is gorgeous. Fitting it for a hand placement?"

"Yeah," Paige murmured softly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "On my left hand."

"Sit down," KK said, pulling a pair of gloves out of a box and beginning to set up her station. "I'm doing it for you right now."

Paige blinked, her eyes going wide with surprise. "Really? Right now?"

"Yup. Great practice for you to feel the needle, see how the stencil transfers, and watch how I do line work and blend up close."

Paige pulled out her small wallet, her fingers frantically flipping through the few bills she had earned from her diner shifts. "Okay, um... how much is it going to cost? I don't have a lot on me right now, but I can pay you half now and the rest after my shift tomorrow—"

KK stopped prepping and looked at Paige, a thoroughly confused expression on her face. "Cost? Paige, what are you talking about? It's free."

Paige froze, holding her wallet awkwardly. "Free?"

"You're an apprentice here," KK said with a warm, amused chuckle. "We tattoo each other. It comes with the territory."

Paige swallowed hard, gratitude making her throat feel tight. She put her wallet away and sat down in the chair, extending her left hand.

As KK began applying the stencil to the top of Paige's hand, Paige looked down. Her eyes drifted just an inch lower, past her knuckles, to the thick, jagged scar running horizontally around her wrist; a constant, painful reminder of everything she had endured at the facility.

Paige swallowed hard, her voice dropping into a whisper. "I... I was kind of hoping a hand tattoo would help distract from this." She pointed a trembling finger at the scar on her wrist.

KK paused, her hands coming to a gentle rest over Paige's. She looked down at the scar, her eyes showing nothing but deep, non-judgmental empathy.

"It'll draw the eye away, for sure," KK said gently. "But once those scars fully heal and lighten up a bit more, we can just tattoo right over them."

Paige looked up, shock written across her face. "Really? You can do that?"

"Absolutely," KK smiled, adjusting her glove as she picked up her tattoo machine. "A cuff would lay over that wrist perfectly.”

A sense of relief washed over Paige, making her shoulders drop as the knot in her chest finally loosened. She reached up with her right hand to lightly touch the locket around her neck, then looked back down at the stencil of Azzi's tulips resting on her hand. A faint, real smile touched her lips as the tattoo machine hummed to life.

Halfway through the session, the electric buzz of the tattoo machine slowed to a steady rhythm as KK wiped away the excess ink with a soft paper towel. The outline of the twin tulips was already coming to life against Paige’s pale skin, breathtaking in its precision.

"You know," KK said, her eyes looking down at the crisp lines, "this is a really beautiful pattern. How’d you come up with the design?"

Paige stared at her hand, her heart fluttering with a soft, bittersweet warmth. She reached up with her right hand, her fingers gently lifting the locket resting against her collarbone.

"My girlfriend got it for me last Christmas," Paige whispered softly, tilting the metal so KK could see the tiny, perfectly engraved tulips on the front. "It... it means a lot to me. I wanted to carry it with me everywhere."

KK’s gaze softened as she looked from the locket back up to Paige's face. The instant Paige had spoken the word girlfriend, a delicate sadness had settled over her voice, a subtle shift that KK didn't miss.

"It really is pretty," KK said gently, dipping her needle back into the ink. She paused, looking at Paige with quiet curiosity. "Are you guys still together?"

Paige’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze dropping down to her lap. Her fingers tightened around the locket before she slowly let it rest back against her chest.

"I... I don't know," Paige admitted, her voice cracking with a raw, fragile honesty. "Something happened to me this summer. I had to go away, and... I haven't seen her or talked to her since. But I love her so much."

KK’s eyes subtly drifted from the tender design on the back of Paige's hand down to the thick, jagged scar running across her wrist. Looking at the emotion written across Paige’s face, KK connected the dots in her own mind; whatever event had separated Paige from her girl, those scars were the direct evidence of it.

Instead of pushing or prying into the painful past, KK just gave Paige a soft, understanding nod.

"Well," KK murmured gently, bringing the humming machine back to Paige's hand and beginning to shade the inner petals of the tulip. "If she ever does see this, I think she’ll love it"

KK gave the back of Paige's hand one final wipe with a warm paper towel, removing the remaining ink and soap before stepping back to admire her work.

"All right," KK said, pulling a roll of second skin out of a drawer. "Hold still for a second."

She carefully peeled the backing off the clear bandage and smoothed it down over the top of Paige's hand. The wrap sealed tightly against her skin, protecting the fresh black lines.

"All done," KK smiled, gesturing toward the full-length mirror near the front of the shop. "Go take a look."

Paige stood up, her hand feeling a little tight under the protective film, and walked over to the mirror. She raised her left hand, turning it slowly under the warm studio lights. It was exact. It was beautiful. And every time she looked at her hand now, she would see a piece of Azzi looking right back at her.

A genuine, radiant smile broke across Paige’s face, her eyes shining with quiet tears of joy.

"I love it," Paige whispered, tracing the edge of the clear bandage with her opposite thumb. "KK, it’s so perfect. Thank you so much."

"You earned it," KK said, tossing her used gloves into the trash bin and leaning against her workstation. She grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil, holding them out to Paige. "Now, before you head off for your shift, I want you to sit at the front desk and work on an American Traditional flash sheet."

Paige took the paper, tilting her head slightly. "Anything as long as it’s traditional?"

"Yep." KK explained. "Let me see five solid designs before you take off."

"Okay," Paige said, her heart full as she carried the supplies over to the front counter.

She sat down, propping her left hand up so she could see the fresh tattoo while she worked.

—

The quiet in the dining room was deafening, broken only by the sharp, metallic scrape of forks against porcelain.

Azzi sat at the table, picking aimlessly at her food. She hadn't eaten more than three bites. Her jaw was set tight, her eyes fixed on her plate, and every answer she gave was clipped, dry, and laced with irritation.

"Azzi," her father, said, his voice instantly stern as he set his fork down. "I asked you how your day was. I didn't ask for a eyeroll and an attitude."

"It was fine," Azzi muttered, not looking up. "Just fine."

Tim’s brow furrowed, his patience instantly snapping. To him, Azzi was just being a moody, ungrateful teenager.

"Enough with the disrespect," Tim snapped, his voice booming across the table. "You’ve been sulking around this house for two months like the world owes you something. Fix your attitude right now, or you can go straight to your room."

The hostility in his voice pierced right through Azzi’s fragile walls. Her chest tightened, her throat closing up as tears instantly flooded her eyes. She felt so completely misunderstood.

A tear spilled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, her shoulders trembling.

"Tim, stop," Katie said softly, finally speaking up from the end of the table.

Azzi looked up at her mother through a blur of tears, a sudden, desperate flicker of hope sparking in her chest. She knew. Her mom was the one who actually understood the magnitude of what had happened to Paige and how deeply Azzi was suffering. Azzi braced herself, waiting for her mom to defend her, to tell her dad to back off.

Instead, Katie just let out a tired sigh and looked at Azzi with a stern expression.

"Your father is right, Azzi," Katie said, her voice quiet but firm. "You can't keep acting out like this. We are trying to have a nice dinner, and your attitude is making it impossible for everyone."

Azzi froze, the breath completely knocked out of her.

The betrayal hit her like a blow. Fury rushed through her veins, replacing the tears with rage. She stared at Katie, her hands shaking as they balled into tight fists on her lap.

How could she? She knew everything. She knew Paige was gone. She knew Azzi was drowning in heartbreak every single day. And yet, she was standing by her dad, acting like Azzi’s pain was nothing more than inconvenient.

"Are you serious?" Azzi choked out, her voice rising into a cracked, furious whisper as she glared directly at her mother. "You're taking his side?"

"Azzi, don't yell at your mother—" Tim warned, but Azzi didn't even hear him.

Her eyes were locked onto Katie, burning with betrayal and anger. "You know!" Azzi shouted, her chair screeching violently against the floor as she stood up, tears streaming down her burning cheeks. "You know exactly why I'm like this! How can you sit there and act like I'm just being mean?! You're terrible!"

Without waiting for another word, Azzi turned on her heel and sprinted up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door so hard the entire house seemed to shake.

The thud of footsteps echoed up the staircase, coming fast and aggressive. A second later, Azzi’s bedroom door was thrown open, banging violently against the wall.

Tim stood in the doorway, his finger pointed directly at her.

"What does she know, Azzi?!" Tim bellowed, his voice shaking. He turned back toward the hallway, shouting over his shoulder. "Katie! Get up here right now! What is she talking about?!"

Katie appeared at the top of the stairs, looking pale, exhausted, and deeply uncomfortable. She stepped into the bedroom, avoiding Azzi’s furious, tear-filled glare.

"Tim, please, just calm down—" Katie started gently.

"No! I am sick of the secrets in this house!" Tim barked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Why is she screaming at you? What do you know that I don't?"

Katie swallowed hard, wringing her hands together. She looked at Azzi, whose jaw was set in a tight, trembling line, and then back to her husband.

"Azzi was in a relationship with her roommate, Tim," Katie confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "And... the girl went missing a few months ago. Nobody knows where she is. That's why Azzi's been like this."

Silence stretched across the room, heavy and tense. Tim blinked, processing the news, but instead of showing a single shred of empathy or concern, his expression hardened into something cold, rigid, and deeply righteous.

He let out a sharp, bitter scoff, shaking his head as he looked down at Azzi.

"Is that what all this is about?" Tim said, his voice dripping with harsh condescension. "A girl?"

Azzi snapped her eyes open, staring at him in utter disbelief. "A girl?! Dad, she’s gone! Nobody knows where she is, if she's safe, or if she's even—"

"And what did you expect, Azzi?!" Tim shouted back, stepping further into the room and leaning into her space. "I tried to warn you! I told you that living that lifestyle, running around with women, was only going to bring you pain! But you were too stubborn to listen to me! You thought you knew better than everyone else!"

"Tim, don't..." Katie murmured weakly from the doorway, but she didn't step in to stop him. She just stood there, letting it happen.

"No, Katie, she needs to hear this!" Tim snapped, pointing an accusing finger right at Azzi.

"You brought this on yourself," Tim declared coldly, his words cutting through her like a blade. "You chose to walk down an unnatural path, and now you're crying because it blew up in your face. This is God’s punishment for your stubbornness. I hope you learned your lesson."

Azzi stared at him, her heart shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. The cruelty of his words, backed by her mother's silent compliance, made her feel entirely alone in the world.

"Get out," Azzi choked out, her voice a fragile, broken thread of rage. "Get out of my room! Both of you!"

Tim just gave her a dismissive, cold look, turning on his heel. "Fix your life, Azzi," he said over his shoulder as he walked out. "Because nobody is going to feel sorry for you."

Katie lingered for a brief second in the doorway, looking at Azzi with a fleeting glimpse of guilt, before silently closing the door behind them.

Azzi collapsed sideways onto her mattress, curling her body into a tight, defensive ball. Her hands gripped her pillow so hard her knuckles turned white, burying her face into the fabric as the sobs finally tore free from her chest; violent, ragged sounds that shook her whole frame.

How could he say that?

The words kept looping in her head, louder and cruel with every repetition. God's punishment. How could her own father look at her and feel nothing but disgust? He didn't care about the gentle, brilliant girl who made Azzi feel like the luckiest person alive. To him, Paige wasn't even a person. She was just a mistake. A lesson.

And her mom...

That was what hurt the most. Katie had sat right there. She knew the weight of every tear Azzi had shed over the last two months. And when Tim turned his anger on Azzi, Katie had just... backed up. She had stood in the doorway and let him spit those hateful words right into Azzi's face.

"How could you?" Azzi choked out into the dark room, her voice breaking into a breathless, pathetic whisper. "How could you just let him say that?"

She couldn't understand how anyone could look at love; the purest, softest thing she had ever known with Paige, and decide it was something dirty enough to warrant punishment. How could anyone look at Paige being torn away from her life, forced into hiding or worse, and decide she deserved it?

Paige hadn't hurt anyone. Paige was gentle. Paige loved deeply, unconditionally, and fiercely.

Azzi pulled her knees closer to her chest, her hands trembling as her fingers reached up to clutch at her own shirt. She felt so small, so deeply unwanted in her own home.

—

That night, the darkness of her bedroom offered no comfort. Azzi drank until the edges of her vision blurred, until the burning in her throat drowned out the echo of her father’s voice and the haunting memory of her mother’s silence. She drank until her mind finally shut down, collapsing into a dreamless blackout.

When she woke the next morning, her head was pounding. Her mouth was dry, her stomach twisted in knots, but underlying the physical hangover was a cold, impenetrable numbness. She forced herself out of bed, threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a dark hoodie, and grabbed her keys and bag. She was getting out of this house.

Downstairs, the house was deathly quiet. As Azzi made her way toward the front door, she had to pass through the kitchen.

Katie was standing near the counter, holding a mug of coffee. The moment she heard Azzi's footsteps, she turned around. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression weary and deeply remorseful.

"Azzi," Katie said softly, taking a hesitant step forward. "I want to apologize about last night—"

"I don't want to talk," Azzi cut her off coldly, not even slowing her pace as she reached for her jacket hanging near the entryway.

"Azzi, stop for a second," Katie pleaded, her voice cracking as she set her coffee mug down. "Your father... he was harsh last night. He went too far, and I'm sorry."

Azzi stopped. She slowly turned around to look at her mother, her face completely drained of color, her eyes dark, hollow, and furious.

"You should have defended me," Azzi said, her voice dropping into a low, deadly quiet. "He stood in my room and told me that Paige going missing was God's punishment for me being with a girl. And you just stood there. You let him say those terrible things to me."

Katie flinched, looking away for a fraction of a second before her own defensive posture took over. She wringing her hands together, a look of uncomfortable frustration crossing her face.

"Azzi, that's really not fair," Katie murmured, her voice rising slightly. "You know how your father gets. And I told you I didn't support your relationship with that girl. What was I even supposed to say to him?"

Azzi stared at her mother, completely stunned. The sheer indifference in Katie's words felt like a slap to the face.

For a second, Azzi couldn't even breathe. The last remaining shred of hope she had held for her mother evaporated on the spot, leaving behind a bitter, toxic ash.

"What were you supposed to say?" Azzi whispered, a harsh, disbelieving laugh escaping her throat before her voice cracked with raw, agonizing betrayal. "You were supposed to say that I'm your daughter! You were supposed to tell him that Paige is a human being! But you don't even care, do you?"

"Azzi, I care about you—"

"No, you don't!" Azzi yelled, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, though her gaze stayed locked onto Katie. "You and Dad are cruel, horrible people. You don't give a damn about me, and you definitely don't care that the person I love is gone."

Katie froze, her mouth slightly open, completely speechless as Azzi took a step back toward the door.

"I am never telling you anything ever again," Azzi choked out, wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve, her hand shaking violently as she grabbed the doorknob. "You lost that privilege."

Before Katie could utter another word, Azzi yanked the front door open, stepped out into the bright morning air, and slammed it behind her with every ounce of strength she had left.

—

Back in her hotel room, Paige sat cross-legged on her bed with her phone propped up against a stack of sketchbooks. On the screen, Nika leaned in close, her eyes wide as Paige held her hand up to the camera.

"Look!" Paige said, a bright, helpless grin spreading across her face.

"Paige, oh my god," Nika gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth on screen. "That is stunning! Did KK do that?!"

"Yeah," Paige murmured, turning her hand under the warm hotel lamp to admire the work. Her thumb gently stroked the edge of the bandage. "I really think it takes the attention away from... you know, the scars on my wrist. It just draws your eyes straight to the top of my hand instead." She swallowed softly, her voice dropping into something tender and warm. "And... I don't know, it just feels so good to have a part of Azzi with me like this. In a way, she’s right here with me every time I look down."

Nika’s eyes went soft and shiny with happy tears. "She’d absolutely fall in love with it, P. Seriously."

"Everyone at the shop is so nice to me," Paige continued, her energy lifting as she leaned closer to the phone. "Nai kinda treats me like I’m her kid, which... honestly feels really nice right now. They make me feel like I actually belong there."

Paige reached over to her desk, grabbing the paper she had been working on before her shift, and held it up to the camera.

"Look, KK had me draw this flash sheet before I left today," Paige said proudly. "She told me they look really good! And tomorrow... tomorrow she's letting me practice with the tattoo machine on fake skin using these designs!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Nika cheered, clapping her hands on screen. "You're literally an actual tattoo artist now! Look at you!"

"You have to come visit me soon," Paige giggled, a clear, happy sound that Nika hadn't heard in months. "When you get down here, we are getting matching tattoos. I'll even do yours myself once KK lets me on real skin."

"Say less," Nika laughed.

Paige’s smile settled into something a bit quieter, more grounded, as she set the flash sheet back down on the bed. She looked directly at Nika through the screen, taking a steady breath.

"Also... I wanted to tell you," Paige said softly. "I called that clinic you talked about. I got in with a therapist, and... I have my first session this weekend."

For a second, Nika just stared at her through the screen, completely speechless. A huge, radiant smile broke across her face, her whole posture relaxing.

"Paige..." Nika whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she pressed a hand to her chest. "I am so, so happy for you. You're doing it, P. You're really doing it."

Paige looked down at her lap, her eyes shining with sudden, warm tears, but this time they were tears of deep, overwhelming gratitude. She looked back up at the camera, her chest swelling with love for the girl on the screen.

"Nika, you are seriously the best friend I could've ever asked for," Paige said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. "I would be so lost without you. Thank you... thank you for everything you've done for me."

Nika’s smile softened into pure, unwavering warmth, her eyes shimmering across the distance separating them. "Always, P."

—

A month of weekly sessions had given the small, quiet office at the community clinic a familiar feel. The soft hum of a white noise machine sat outside the door, and the room smelled faintly of roses and old paper.

Paige sat tucked into the corner of a plush armchair, her hands resting quietly on her lap. Opposite her sat Ann, her therapist, a woman with warm eyes, silver-streaked hair, and a calm, grounded presence that Paige had slowly learned to trust.

"You've come a long way in four weeks, Paige," Ann said softly, setting her notepad on her knee. "You're working hard, you're building a routine at the shop, and you're processing some incredibly heavy trauma. But today, I want to gently revisit something we've touched on before."

Paige blinked, her thumb instinctively tracing the stem of the tattooed tulip on her hand. "Okay. What is it?"

"I want to talk about how you view your relationship with Azzi," Ann explained, keeping her tone completely free of judgment. "Specifically, the level of anxiety and emotional dependency that was present even before the separation."

Paige shifted slightly in her chair, her posture stiffening just a bit. "Dependency?"

"You've shared how Azzi was your entire world," Ann said gently. "How she was the only thing that made you feel safe, wanted, or valid. And while that love is real and deep, carrying the belief that another person is your only reason for existing creates an incredible amount of anxiety, not just for you, but for the relationship itself."

Paige looked down at her hands, her throat tightening as Ann's words sank in.

"When you make one person your whole universe, it puts them in an unfair position," Ann continued smoothly, her voice filled with empathy. "It forces Azzi into a space where she feels overwhelmed, like she constantly has to carry the emotional load of keeping you happy. Even with the best intentions, that kind of pressure becomes suffocating, and over time, it can make a relationship toxic."

Paige swallowed hard, a painful pang of realization hitting her chest as she remembered how terrified and overwhelmed Azzi had often looked when things got hard.

"A partner is meant to be a part of your life, Paige; not your whole life," Ann urged gently. "To be a healthy, secure partner; whether that's with Azzi in the future, or in another relationship down the road if you two don't get the chance to try again, you have to be a whole person on your own first."

Hearing the phrase another relationship made Paige's chest pull tight, a small flinch catching in her shoulders, but she didn't shut down like she used to. The past month with Ann had taught her how to stay in her seat when uncomfortable truths came up.

"It's scary to think about," Paige admitted, her voice small, raspy, and honest. "Because I always thought... if I wasn't completely consumed by her, it meant I didn't love her enough."

"And that’s the anxiety talking," Ann offered with a soft, encouraging smile. "Consuming someone isn't love, Paige. Loving someone healthily means being able to stand on your own two feet, trusting that you are worthy and complete even when they aren't right next to you. Being less anxiety-driven means you won't be constantly expecting her to save you. You'll be able to bring stability, peace, and equal partnership to the table."

Paige stared at the delicate tulips on her hand; the symbol of Azzi's love that she had etched onto her skin. But for the first time, as she looked at it, she didn't just see a life raft she was clinging to. She saw a reminder of a bond she wanted to be strong enough to carry properly, without hurting the girl she loved.

"I don't want to be like that anymore," Paige whispered, looking up to meet Ann's eyes, her voice steadying with a quiet, newfound resolve. "I want to be safe for her. I want to be whole."

Ann nodded encouragingly, shifting slightly in her chair. "Let's put this into practice, Paige. I want you to think back to a few specific moments in your relationship with Azzi where that dependency took over. How did you react then, and looking back now with what you're learning, how could you handle those situations differently?"

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling as she pulled up memories she usually tried to keep buried. A blush of shame warmed her cheeks.

"There was... this one time," Paige began, her voice quiet and hesitant. "When I found out Azzi was becoming friends with a girl named Ines. I freaked out. I cried, I had this huge meltdown, and... I told Azzi that I didn't want her to have any other friends. I was so terrified that if she spent time with anyone else, she’d realize she didn't need me anymore."

"That must have been really hard for both of you," Ann noted gently, keeping her tone grounded. "So, if a situation like that happened today; if Azzi, or a future partner, was making a new friend, how would you correct that thought process?"

Paige took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing herself to process the emotion instead of drowning in it. "I’d have to remind myself that her having friends doesn't take away from what she feels for me. It’s healthy for her to have a life outside of our relationship. Instead of panicking and making her feel guilty for connecting with people, I’d take a step back, handle my own insecurity, and... maybe even be happy that she’s building a support system."

"That is a massive shift, Paige," Ann said warmly. "That shows so much self-awareness. What’s another moment that comes to mind?"

Paige lowered her gaze back down to her hands, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edge of her seat. This second memory was harder to speak out loud; it carried a weight that made her chest ache.

"It was back when I was having panic attacks because I felt so guilty for liking girls, specifically for liking Azzi," Paige murmured, her throat tight. "I was spiraling so bad. Azzi was exhausted, it was obvious how much it hurt her to feel like something I was ashamed of. She tried to take a little space and distance herself just so she could breathe. But I couldn't handle it. I got so upset, crying and begging her to stay, practically forcing her to stay right there and fix me."

Paige swallowed hard, a stray tear slipping past her lashes.

"I put her in an impossible situation," Paige confessed, her voice cracking. "She was just trying to navigate her own feelings, and I made her feel like if she stepped away for even a second, I would completely fall apart. She stepped away anyways but still, she shouldn’t have been treated like that."

Ann gave her a look of deep, compassionate validation. "Recognizing that isn't easy, Paige, but it's a huge step toward healing. So, how would you handle a moment of panic or guilt now?"

Paige wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, looking up to meet Ann's eyes.

"I wouldn't make it her job to save me," Paige said, her voice growing firmer with every word. "I’d use the coping tools you're teaching me. I’d breathe, I’d call my therapist, or I’d reach out to a friend like Nika. I would tell Azzi, that I was having a hard time but I’d give her the room to breathe."

Ann smiled, a soft, immensely proud expression washing over her face. "That, Paige, is how you break the cycle. You're learning how to be your own anchor."

—

The afternoon sun filtered through the front windows of the tattoo shop, casting a warm glow across the desk where Paige and KK were seated. Spread out between them was a month’s worth of Paige’s hard work: sketchbooks overflowing with botanical studies, crisp flash sheets, fine-line script practice, and a stack of rolled-up fake skin covered in cured black ink.

KK leaned back in her chair, slowly flipping through Paige’s practice skins.

"Alright, P," KK said, tracing the edge of a detailed dark shaded leaf on one of the sheets. "You've been at this for a while now, and your technique is getting really clean. It’s time we start narrowing down what you want your style to be. When you picture yourself tattooing a year from now, what does your work look like?"

Paige leaned over the desk, her fingers running over the smooth surface of her fake skin pieces. She looked at the different styles laid out in front of her.

"I really like blackwork," Paige admitted, a soft, confident smile touching her lips. "It’s definitely the most fun to do. And I think I like fine-line work, too."

She picked up the American traditional flash sheet she had drawn a few weeks ago and gently set it to the side.

"I don't think traditional is really for me," Paige chuckled softly. "And honestly, I don't see myself doing things with a lot of color, maybe red but I just love the look of black tattoos."

KK nodded approvingly, pulling a sheet of Paige's blackwork flash closer. "Blackwork and fine-line are huge right now. And we don’t have a black work artist. If that's where your heart is, we'll double down on those techniques."

Paige’s face lit up. She shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling a surge of nervous, excited energy.

"Actually... speaking of tattoos," Paige said, her voice lifting. "My best friend Nika is coming to visit soon. We talked about it, and we really want to get matching tattoos while she's here."

KK raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across her face. "Yeah?"

"It’s just going to be some fine-line script," Paige continued, her hands twisting together eagerly as she looked at her mentor. "I was wondering... do you think you’d let me do Nika’s? On real skin?"

KK looked from Paige’s hopeful eyes down to the pristine, perfectly executed script practice on the fake skin sitting in front of them. The lines were steady, uniform, and precise.

KK let out a low chuckle and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter.

"Script is tough on real skin because there's nowhere to hide a mistake," KK said, her tone serious for just a second before her eyes crinkled at the corners. "But looking at your practice skin? You're ready, Paige. As long as I'm standing right beside you to monitor your depth, you can do her tattoo."

A breathless, overjoyed gasp escaped Paige's lips. "Really?! Oh my god, thank you!"

—

The front door of the shop chimed as Nika walked in, and the entire place instantly felt brighter. Paige practically threw herself over the counter to wrap her best friend in a tight, breathless hug; the kind of hug that held months of survived distance and healing.

Now, an hour later, the shop was filled with lighthearted chatter and the soft, steady hum of the station setup. Paige stood at her desk, carefully printing out the stencil for their matching pieces.

The design was delicate, fine-line script featuring a lyric from Painkillers. It was a song Nika introduced Paige too, and one they had both been listening too every day since:

“living just comes with a bit of heartache”

Nika was sitting back in the chair, her feet kicked up, watching Paige with an exaggerated, suspicious squint.

"So, P," Nika drawled, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. "How many times have you done real skin before today? Zero? Zero times?"

Paige laughed, peeling the backing off the stencil sheet with practiced, steady fingers. "Technically, yeah. But I’ve tattered up enough fake skin to cover the room, Nika. You're in good hands."

"I swear to god, P, if it looks like a squiggly worm, I’m gonna be so pissed," Nika teased, pointing a finger at her. "I will literally leave a one-star review on Yelp. Artist was cute, but ruined my arm and my life.'"

"Oh, shut up, you love me!" Paige giggled, walking over with the stencil and a bottle of skin prep. "Hold still so I can place this right."

As Paige carefully cleaned the skin on Nika's forearm and smoothed the stencil down.

She looked up at Nika, her eyes shining with quiet, genuine happiness. Having her best friend back, even for a short visit, felt go incredibly good.

"Look at that," Paige murmured, stepping back to let Nika inspect the blue stencil against her arm. "You like the placement? Ready for the real thing?"

Nika looked down at the soft, elegant script, her playful grin softening into something deeply affectionate. She looked back up at Paige, her eyes warm.

"More than ready, P."

—

The soft tap of laptop keys and the occasional quiet rustle of textbook pages filled the sunlit living room at Caroline’s house. For the past hour, the two of them had been sitting cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by highlighters, notebooks, and half-empty coffee mugs as they worked through their online coursework.

Azzi stared blankly at her screen, her eyes fixed on a bold black subject line sitting in her inbox.

Status Update: Georgetown University Admissions.

She stared at it for a long moment, her throat dry, before quietly clicking the link. Her eyes scanned the official letter.

Congratulations, Azzi! It is our pleasure to inform you...

A quiet, heavy exhale escaped Azzi’s lips. She slowly lowered her laptop screen, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Hey, Caroline?" Azzi spoke softly into the quiet room.

Caroline looked up from her notes, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. "Yeah? What’s up?"

"I... I just got accepted into Georgetown," Azzi murmured, her voice strangely flat, completely devoid of any excitement.

Caroline’s eyes instantly went wide. She dropped her pen onto her notebook and let out a loud, breathless gasp, a massive smile bursting across her face.

"Azzi! Are you kidding me?!" Caroline squealed, throwing her hands in the air. "Georgetown?! That's huge! Oh my god, Azzi, congratulations!" She leaned forward, reaching out to hug her, expecting Azzi to be beaming.

Instead, Azzi just sat there, her body stiff, barely reacting as Caroline pulled back. The contrast between Caroline's

excitement and Azzi's hollow silence hung in the air.

Caroline’s smile faded slightly, replaced by quiet concern. "Wait... aren't you excited? This is your dream school."

Azzi looked down at her hands, her thumb picking idly at the edge of her sleeve. A bitter tightness pulled at her chest.

"I don't know," Azzi whispered, her voice cracking as a wave of grief rushed back over her. "I thought... I thought when I got accepted, I'd be ecstatic. But now that it's actually happening, I just... I don't think D.C. is going to be everything I hoped for."

Caroline softened, leaning her head on her hand as she watched her best friend carefully. "Why do you say that?"

Azzi looked up, her eyes glossy with quiet tears, her heart aching for the girl she had planned every single detail of this future with.

"Because Paige isn't going to be there," Azzi admitted, her voice dropping into a fragile, painful thread. "The whole plan... it was all supposed to be ours. Going there without her just feels wrong."

Caroline listened quietly, her heart breaking for the pain still clearly etched across Azzi’s face. She reached across the small gap between them on the rug, gently covering Azzi’s hand with her own.

"Azzi... look at me," Caroline said, her voice dropping into a firm, grounding tone filled with deep warmth.

Azzi blinked through her tears, looking up to meet Caroline’s eyes.

"If Paige were sitting right here beside you right now," Caroline said softly, "she would be screaming, crying, and jumping up and down for you. You know she would. She would be so insanely proud of you."

Azzi swallowed hard, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks, but she didn't look away.

"I know how hard this is, Azzi. I know how much it hurts that she isn't here to share this with you," Caroline continued, squeezing her hand tightly. "But you have to let yourself be happy. Life is still happening, and taking a step forward doesn't mean you're leaving her behind. Letting yourself feel joy right now does not take away from how much you love her, or how much you miss her."

Azzi let out a shaky, trembling breath, her throat far too tight to speak.

"Paige loves you so much," Caroline urged gently, her gaze steady and honest. "And because she loves you, she would be absolutely heartbroken to see you shutting down your own life like this. She wouldn't want you ruining every good thing that comes your way just because she can't be there to witness it. She would want you to live, Azzi. She'd want you to go to Georgetown and build a future for yourself."

The words hit Azzi right in the center of her chest; hard, real, and undeniable. Deep down, she knew Caroline was completely right. Paige had always been her biggest cheerleader, always the first to lift her up when she doubted herself.

Azzi leaned her forehead down against her knees, letting out a long, ragged exhale as the bitter knot of guilt in her chest slowly began to loosen.

—

The bass from the speakers vibrated straight through the floorboards of the crowded townhouse living room. Red cups littered every surface, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer, sticky floors, and the heat of a fall Georgetown party.

Azzi stood near the kitchen counter, her head swimming. It had been over a year. A full, agonizing year since she had last seen Paige, touched her face, or heard her voice. Over three hundred and sixty-five days of trying to live as a ghost of the person she used to be.

Tonight, like every other night since Paige went missing, she had tried to drink the memory away.

"Hey."

A voice cut through the thrum of the music. Azzi turned her head slowly, leaning back against the counter to steady herself.

Standing in front of her was a girl with soft, shoulder-length blonde hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile. She was pretty, and she was looking at Azzi with clear, uncomplicated interest. She leaned in a little closer, her hand lightly brushing against Azzi's arm.

"I’m Chloe," the girl said, her voice dripping with playful charm. "I've seen you around the humanities building, but you're always running off. I was hoping I'd catch you somewhere off-campus."

Azzi blinked, her vision swaying slightly. In her drunk state, the loud noise of the party faded into background static. Her eyes locked onto the golden light hitting the girl's blonde hair, the curve of her smile, the gentle pressure of a hand on her arm.

Blonde. Soft. Gentle. Pretty smile.

A dangerous wave of longing crashed through Azzi’s chest. Her intoxicated brain, desperate to stop aching, offered her a cruel, beautiful escape.

If she didn't focus too hard, if she let her eyes stay half-lidded and allowed the alcohol to do the thinking... she could pretend.

"Hi," Azzi whispered, her voice thick and slightly slurred.

Chloe’s smile widened, taking Azzi’s quiet response as an invitation. "Can I get you another drink? Or maybe we can get out of this kitchen?"

Azzi didn't answer right away. She just stared at her, letting her mind twist the soft features in front of her into the face she spent every night dreaming about. She let herself fall into the delusion, desperate for just a few minutes of feeling like Paige was standing right there with her.

"Yeah," Azzi murmured, stepping closer, letting the lie consume her completely. "Yeah, okay."

Chloe leaned back against the wooden railing, and looked up at Azzi with a warm, hopeful smile. "So," Chloe started softly, clearly trying to break the ice. "Are you a freshman or a transfer? I feel like I only ever see you coming out of the library, so I figured you were either super studious or—"

Azzi wasn't listening.

The words just sounded like empty noise. She didn't want to know Chloe’s major, where she was from, or what her favorite music was. She didn't want Chloe.

Before Chloe could finish her sentence, Azzi closed the distance between them, leaned in, and pressed her lips to Chloe's.

Chloe let out a small, surprised hum against her mouth before melting into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest on Azzi’s waist.

For a few fleeting seconds, Azzi tried desperately to sink into the delusion. She closed her eyes tight, forcing herself to imagine the smell of lavender, the specific warmth of Paige's hands, the delicate way Paige always held her like she was precious.

But as the seconds stretched on, the alcohol couldn't hold the lie together anymore. Reality tore through the haze.

Everything felt wrong.

Chloe's touch wasn't Paige’s. Her grip was different, her lips moved differently, her hands felt too firm, too fast, too wrong. She wasn't soft. She wasn't gentle. She wasn't Paige. Every nerve ending in Azzi’s body fired off alarm bells.

Azzi snapped her eyes open, pulled back sharply, and practically stumbled away from Chloe.

"Woah," Chloe blinked, looking completely startled, her hands hovering in the air. "Hey, are you okay?"

Azzi couldn't breathe. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I... I can't. I'm sorry," she gasped out, her voice cracked and terrified.

Without waiting for a response, Azzi spun around, shoved the door open, and blindly pushed her way back through the packed, sweaty crowd inside. The party lights felt too bright, the music too loud, the laughter around her sickening.

She slammed into the downstairs bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Azzi barely made it to the toilet before dropping to her knees, the mix of alcohol and panic violently turning her stomach. She threw up, her entire body shaking with ragged, painful heaves.

When it was finally over, Azzi slumped back against the cold tile wall, wiping her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. Tears were streaming down her face, hot and fast.

The guilt was crushing her chest, threatening to suffocate her. She felt disgusting. She felt like a traitor. She had tried to replace the girl who she loved so deeply with a stranger on a porch just to stop hurting for five minutes.

Azzi buried her face in her hands, sitting alone on the dirty bathroom floor, sobbing quietly as the party roared on the other side of the door.

—

The walk back to her dorm was a blurred nightmare. Somehow, through the haze of alcohol and guilt, Azzi’s feet remembered the way across campus, her body moving on pure muscle memory.

The moment she stumbled into her single room, she slammed the door, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto her bed. She grabbed her phone with hands that wouldn't stop shaking and dialed Caroline on FaceTime.

It rang twice before Caroline’s face popped up on the screen, her hair wrapped in a towel, her expression instantly shifting from relaxed to alarmed the second she saw Azzi’s red, tear-streaked face.

"Azzi? Oh my god, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

The sound of her best friend's voice broke whatever fragile hold Azzi had left. A loud, ragged sob tore from her throat as she pressed the phone close to her face, curled up on her side in the dark dorm room.

"I did something terrible," Azzi choked out, her voice cracked and frantic. "I... I went to a party and I got so drunk, and this girl... she was kissing me, and I—"

"Hey, hey, breathe," Caroline interrupted softly, her voice calm, trying to wrap Azzi in a blanket of comfort from miles away. "Azzi, look at me. You didn't do anything terrible. It’s been over a year. It is okay for you to kiss someone else. It's okay to try to move on and let yourself be happy without Paige. You're allowed to live your life—"

"No, Caroline, you don't understand!" Azzi cried out, her voice rising in a desperate burst as fresh tears flooded her eyes. "That's the thing! I wasn't moving on!"

Caroline paused, her brow furrowing with quiet concern. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't kiss her because I liked her," Azzi sobbed, her chest heaving as she buried her face into her pillow for a second before looking back at the screen. "I did it because she had blonde hair, and seemed gentle. I was so drunk that I pretended she was her. I stood there on that porch with my eyes closed, forcing myself to believe it was Paige holding me. But then she touched me, and she wasn't soft, and she didn't smell like her, and she wasn't her."

Azzi rubbed her face violently with the back of her hand, the self-disgust dripping from every word.

"I tried to replace her," Azzi whispered, her voice breaking into a fragile, hollow thread. "I tried to use some stranger just to steal a piece of Paige back, and it made me feel so sick I threw up in the bathroom. It was disgusting."

Caroline’s expression softened into deep, aching pity, her eyes shiny with sympathy as she watched her friend unravel. "Azzi..."

"Nobody is ever going to compare to her," Azzi choked out, squeezing her eyes shut as the truth of it settled in her chest. "It’s been a year, and I still see her everywhere. I tried, Caroline. I tried to feel something else, but it’s only ever going to be her. I just want my baby back."

Caroline let out a soft sigh, resting her chin in her hand as she stared at the phone screen.

"Azzi, okay, maybe that girl wasn't the right one," Caroline said gently, her tone patient and persistent. "I get it, it was a bad night. But there are so many other girls out there, Azzi. You can't just completely close yourself off from the world. You deserve connection."

Azzi let out a bitter, watery laugh, wiping a tear from her nose with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. She stared right into the camera, her eyes swollen, red-rimmed, and filled with an absolute, unwavering certainty.

"I'm not closed off, Caroline," Azzi said, her voice dropping into a quiet, deadly serious thread.

"Azzi, you literally just threw up because another girl kissed you—"

"If Paige walked up to my dorm door right now and knocked," Azzi interrupted, her voice shaking with raw, undisguised emotion, "I would open it, grab her face, kiss her, and tell her I love her. In a heartbeat. I wouldn't hesitate for a single second."

Caroline fell quiet, staring at her screen, caught off guard by the sheer intensity in Azzi's voice.

Azzi Fudd wanted nothing more than a clean slate; a new opportunity. To spread her...purple wings.

The exciting trade created more commotion than just ESPN headlines, spreading...internally?

The Golden State Valkyries PR Manager, Paige Bueckers, had long been obsessed with the girl before the trade had even occurred. It takes all of her energy + a little help in Ballhalla to make Azzi even bat an eye(lash).

Azzi had always been reserved, thoughtful, and rather nonchalant. 

And Paige was…um…but she forms a plan. 

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Step 1: Flirt a lil

“Great job again, guys. I’m loving the extra rebounding effort I saw in 3-on-3 today. Keep it up. Remember to take it easy tomorrow for your off-day. Azzi, I’m looking at you.” Natalie pointed two fingers at her eyes and then to Azzi’s with a knowing smile from the center of the huddle. 

“I don’t go that hard-” 

“That’s not what Stewie told me. But, okay, anyway. Everyone ready? Valks on three; 1, 2, 3,” 

“VALKS!” 

“Azzi, you’re such a liar.” Gabby said, laughing and poking her in the ribs as the huddle broke apart. 

Azzi rolled her eyes and simply sent her stumbling into Janelle before jogging off to find Natalie. “Nat? When’d Stewie tell you that?” 

Natalie unrolled the papers clasped in her hand and brought the whistle down from around her neck into her other hand. “Oh, I think it was at the finals last year? I don’t really remember.” 

“Oh.” Azzi didn’t know why this surprised her. Stewie was always very protective of her during her time on the Liberty. I need to text her. It’s been a while-

“What, you worried I’m getting the inside scoop on you?” Natalie joked, looking up at her. 

Truth be told? Yeah, Azzi was kind of worried about that. She hadn’t told anybody the real reason for her departure from the Liberty, aside from the partial truth she had given to Paige. She didn’t think Stewie had any way of knowing this, since she gave her old teammates the same media-darling-esque responses as to why she was leaving, anyway, but the terrifying thought did cross her mind, more often than not, that her friends could become aware of the truth. 

“Haha, no, nothing like that.” She lied, flashing her a smile as they walked over to the end of the gym together. 

“She only said good things about you, don’t worry. The Liberty staff, too, when I talked to them last week. They also said- oh, wait, shoot- is Gabby still here?” 

They looked around the gym but only saw Veronica and Kaila on the court. The rest of them had already left.

Natalie sighed. “Fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, but can you do media today instead? This is my bad. I know Paige wanted Gabby today, but I dunno where she went.”

“Ugh. Do I haveee to?” Azzi asked, putting on a pout. “What about V? Or Kai?” She asked, pointing at the two of them. 

“You know the reporters would rather speak to you. And, again, the revenue shit and whatnot.” Natalie rolled her eyes in time with Azzi, making them both laugh. 

“Fineee, but you owe me,” Azzi said, taking a few steps back and pointing her finger at Natalie with a smile. “No suicides next practice?” 

Natalie laughed. “No promises, Fudd. Maybe I’ll buy you a Gatorade or something.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Azzi turned around, laughing, and exited the gym. 

This wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed. Well, talking to the media again will be. But seeing Paige again? That won’t be-

“Ah-” Azzi bumped into a solid mass just as she rounded the corner of the hallway, looking up as she stumbled backwards. 

Dude.

“Oh my god, Paige? Sorry I keep doing that. I gotta pay more attention-”

Paige grabbed Azzi’s elbow with surprising strength and settled her other hand on Azzi’s hip, stabilizing her. “It’s all good, don’t worry.” 

Azzi opened her mouth, but no words came out as she felt goosebumps erupt under her practice jersey at Paige's light touch.

'Blue eyes' was all her brain supplied her with. She watched her eyes get bigger and bigger…am I leaning in? Wait-

She wrenched herself free from Paige’s grasp and took a step back, instantly feeling guilty when Paige looked at her in confusion. 

“Wait, sorry! Sorry. I just got lost for a second. I don’t know where my mind’s at, sorry.” On you-

Paige chuckled and dropped her arms to her sides. “Nah, no need to apologize. You’re all good. I know my eyes can be…distracting.” She winked before turning around and heading further down the hallway, adding, “You coming?” over her shoulder. 

Azzi’s eyes widened. Is she talking about what happened at the game? 

“9 assists from our distracted shooting guard is still pretty goodddd,” Paige called out without looking back. 

She totally is. Fuck.

Azzi stood in place, blinking a few times, before jogging to catch up with Paige. She watched Paige grab the tiny mic out of her back pocket that Azzi had grown familiar with after having to do media so often, before slowing her pace to allow her gaze to wander shamelessly over the blonde’s lanky frame. 

She was wearing a light pair of baggy jeans that Azzi vaguely remembered having pink lettering on the front. She had on an oversized grey hoodie, too, which she also recalled having some sort of pink detailing on it. Her eyes moved further down…matching pink shoes, too. She has good style.

Azzi moved to walk alongside her and grabbed the mic out of Paige’s hands, letting their fingertips brush as she did so (she ignored her stomach flipping at the feeling). She registered Paige’s head turn towards her in surprise, eyes wide.

But Azzi only smiled to herself and clipped the mic onto her jersey as they made their way to the media corner. Paige put her hands on her hips as they came to a stop. 

“That’s my job, you know?” She said, pointing at the mic. 

“Oh, is it? I dunno, media girl. I did a pretty good job, myself.” Azzi daintily patted the mic with her right hand, grinning. 

“Actually,” Paige stepped forward, reaching for the mic. “It’s facing the wrong way,” she whispered, unclipping it from her jersey and flipping it. She clipped it around the other side of the strap. “There.” 

Paige patted it herself, now looking into Azzi’s eyes. They were standing quite close, and Azzi could almost feel the heat radiating off of Paige’s face as a small blush appeared on her cheeks.

“So what happened at the game the other day?” Paige started innocently, playfully raising her eyebrows.

Oh my god. Okay, wait, play into it-

Azzi looked away and smiled before snaking her hand on top of Paige’s, pressing her hand further into the mic. “I dunno, maybe you should ask the hot blonde.” 

Paige’s mouth opened at this, and she stepped back, turning away. The lighting in the hallway was not forgiving by any means, though, and Azzi still had a clear view of Paige getting even redder at the comment. Her smile widened.

Paige groaned, bringing her hands up to her face. Her voice was slightly muffled when she spoke. “Ugh, Janelle’s so annoying. Why did she have to do that?” 

“I dunno,” Azzi giggled, stepping towards her again. “I thought it was pretty funny.” 

Paige lowered her hands as she approached her before crossing her arms and pursing her lips. “If the media asks about that today, you’re all on your own. I’m not shutting it down for you.” 

“Paige!” Azzi laughed. “No, come on. You gotta save me if they do that-” 

“Nope. Not doing it.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Come onnn. Please?” Azzi pouted and cupped Paige’s elbows with her palms, stepping even closer. 

Paige’s breath audibly hitched at her touch, though she still refused to open her eyes. Azzi’s face was beginning to hurt from how long she’d been smiling. “Paigeee.” 

She shook her by the arms, giggling again at the sight of Paige’s lips curving into a smile. “Paige, please.” 

But Paige remained silent, still refusing to look at her. Azzi let out half a scoff before coming up with a brilliant idea. She leaned in and whispered sensually into Paige’s ear, “Please, hot blondie?” 

That got Paige to open her eyes. She looked at Azzi, breathing much more quickly than before, as Azzi dragged her hands up along her biceps and onto her shoulders.

Paige sighed rather dramatically before dropping her head, nearly clipping Azzi’s nose with her forehead. “Azzi, I gotta tell you something.”  

No way. Is she gonna say-

Paige kept her head down as she began to speak again. 

Wait, am I even ready for- 

Paige spoke just as Azzi abruptly took her hands off of her.

“The mic’s been recording this whole timeeee.” She lifted her head, eyes crinkling as she laughed. “I’m sending this to Nattttt.” 

Oh-

Azzi rolled her eyes and took a step back. “Bruh. You’re so annoying.” She huffed, turning around and making her way back to the media corner.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Paige said between laughs, raising her hands up in surrender as she followed her. 

Azzi glared at her approaching figure, crossing her arms with another pout. “What, about the recording thing or the whole ‘I’m not gonna save you from the media’ thing? Cuz neither of 'em were funny.”

“Both, don’t worry, grumpy.” She took a step closer to Azzi, who still wasn’t having it. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go get the media, blondie.” Azzi said, pushing her off the platform.

“Alright, chilllll,” Paige called out. She added as she left, over her shoulder, “But that’s hot blondie to you, Fudd.” 

Oh my god.

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

“…and that’s all the time we have today, thank you.” 

Azzi refused to look at Paige as she ushered the media personnel away, who collected their gear before heading out. 

Paige had not-so-discreetly added two whole extra minutes to her media scrum and kept flashing the timer at Azzi with a smirk when she was mid-answer. 

“Lemme get the mic-” Paige leaned in, but Azzi turned away.

“No, I got it.” She fiddled with the clip for a solid thirty seconds, resolutely ignoring Paige’s stare, before finally managing to get it off. 

“What was that?” Paige laughed, holding out her hand.

“I’m still mad at you, Paige.” She huffed, handing Paige the mic. She tried to ignore the sensation of her stomach flipping as Paige’s fingers brushed against her own, but wasn’t too successful. 

Paige chuckled as she stuffed the mic into her back pocket. “Come on. You gotta admit, it was funny.” 

“Um, no, it wasn’t. You know I hate doing media!” Azzi said, pouting again. 

“Wow, you really are such a princess.” 

“Ugh. I’m leaving.” She turned away and started walking down the hallway. 

“Okay, okay, wait-” Paige caught up to her and grabbed her arm, halting her movements. “I’m kidding. Well, no, not about the princess thing. You really are a princess. Or, like- not an actual princess. Just cuz you’re called the people’s princess. I’m not saying you need saving, or anything like that-”

“Paige,” There’s the switch-up again. “No, hey, you can call me princess, that’s fine. I…like it.” 

Paige blushed again. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll call you that, then, uh- princess.” 

Aw. Azzi smiled at her, feeling something she didn’t want to name quite yet.

As much as she’d have liked to entertain the conversation further, Azzi was beyond ready to have her full rest day after the grueling practices the team had been through during training camp, and especially after the physical game they’d had the night before. She wanted to go home and sleep. It also meant that she wouldn’t see Paige, though, tomorrow. 

“I’m gonna do recovery before I head out. I’ll see you…next practice?”

Paige nodded fervently, her gaze flicking between Azzi’s eyes before saying, “Did you want to- um, actually, nevermind. Yep, I’ll see you, uh, then, princess.” 

Azzi narrowed her eyes at her for a moment before looking away, turning to go back to the locker room. Okay, that was good, right? We talked a lot more, and like, we kinda flirted, too-

“Azzi!” Paige called out. She turned to see Paige’s figure jogging towards her. 

“Yeah?” 

“I, um-” She scratched the back of her neck rather awkwardly, reminding Azzi of their recent encounter in the elevator. The action lifted the hem of her hoodie, revealing part of the flat plane of her stomach, which was…rather toned. Not that Azzi was looking. She snapped her gaze back up as Paige found her words, “Do you maybe wanna- are you busy tomorrow?” 

Azzi paused, searching Paige’s eyes as her pulse kicked up. Wait, is she…gonna ask me out? 

“Cuz, like, if you aren’t…busy, I mean. If you aren’t busy. I’ve had this LEGO set for ages. I, um, if you like LEGOs, we could maybe, uh, build it together? If you want? Tomorrow?” 

Azzi felt her smile widen as Paige went on. Oh, I guess it’s not explicitly a date? But aw, she’s so nervous. She tilted her head, pretending to consider it, before answering, “Yeah, I’d love to. Your place?” 

“Uh, yeah, my place. Cool cool cool.” She said, smiling sheepishly as she tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “How’s 3pm?” 

Azzi nodded as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Sounds good. Do you need-”

“I already have your number,” Paige blurted, pausing when Azzi’s eyebrows knit together. “Cuz you’re on the team! It’s just cuz you’re on the team, I swear. I have all the Valks’ phone numbers. Uh, I’ll text you tomorrow?” 

“Oh, okay, yeah. Sounds good!” She flashed another smile at Paige before turning away, calling over her shoulder, “Alright, I’m gonna hit the recovery room now, for real.” 

“Recover, um, well! See you tomorrow, Az.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, cheeks throbbing, “See you, blondie.” 

She barely made it into the locker room before she hastily pulled her phone out again. 

Miss Nonchalant: 

so

Gabs 🥂:

what

Miss Nonchalant: 

sooo

Gabs 🥂:

what??

Miss Nonchalant: 

sooooooooo

Gabs 🥂:

r u gonna keep edging me or tell me what’s up? 🤨

Miss Nonchalant: 

so

Gabs 🥂:

azzi.

Miss Nonchalant: 

Paige asked me to come over tomorrow

Gabs 🥂:

OMG FIRST DATE AHHHHHH

Miss Nonchalant: 

nono not a date!

just building legos at her place

Gabs 🥂:

awwwwww

that’s so romantic

do you know what that sounds like…?

a date 🥰

Miss Nonchalant: 

Gabby please 

i’m nervous

Gabs 🥂:

yeah cuz u like her

Miss Nonchalant: 

no 

well maybe

idk

Gabs 🥂:

you’re in denial bruh

also why didn’t u send this in the gc?

Miss Nonchalant: 

cuz i hate the name of it

Gabs 🥂:

too bad im sending them a sc

Miss Nonchalant: 

bro

Gabs 🥂:

text me abt it after

like fr

u secretive lil weirdo

Miss Nonchalant: 

thanks Gabs that makes me want to share more things with you ☺️

(this is a lie)

Gabs 🥂:

im gonna need details too

ooooh ur def gonna kiss

Miss Nonchalant: 

… 

Gabs 🥂:

Azzi and Paigeeee

Miss Nonchalant: 

do u want me to block u

Gabs 🥂:

🙄

that’s u

😅

and that’s Paige

😘😘

and that’s the two of you

💋💋💋💋💋

kissing

Miss Nonchalant: 

ur so stupid

i’m not gonna tell u shit

Gabs 🥂:

😘😘

Miss Nonchalant blocked Gabs 🥂

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Azzi was lying awake on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to finally fall asleep, but her alarm rang out from her nightstand. 

“Ugh.” 

She reached over to turn it off, but ended up knocking her phone to the ground instead, the alarm still blaring. 

“UGH.” 

She groaned, sitting up and reaching around the bed frame to grab it. She finally turned the alarm off and looked at the time. 

She'd somehow spent her entire ‘nap’ just thinking. Thoughts. Thoughts that definitely didn’t include a certain blonde. 

She stood up and stretched before turning towards her bed and smoothing the wrinkled sheets she’d been lying on. She made her way into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind her with a click. 

Azzi didn’t know if she was ready to move on from her ex, and that was clearly the biggest thing holding her back from fully committing to this new thing with Paige. She revisited what she’d gone over in her head during her 'nap' about what she did know about this whole situation.

I was in a four-year relationship. 

It kinda blew up.

We took a break. 

But got back together.

Then it blew up for real.

New beginnings, though. I’m in Cali now. 

So try new things. Talk to Paige.

But what if the same thing happens again?

I can’t think like that- I can’t base all of my decisions off of ‘what if’. 

She rubbed her eyes, socked feet padding her footsteps as she steered herself into the kitchen instead. She opened one of her cabinets and pulled out a small glass. 

But Mia-

No. Don’t think about her.

Think about Paige. 

She grabbed her Brita and poured herself a glass of water, drinking nearly the whole thing before even entering the living room. 

Paige is pretty.

I know Gabby said she was into me. I can see it too. It’s cute when she gets all nervous- 

But why am I nervous? Do I actually like her?

She slid a coaster onto the coffee table before setting her glass down, planting her hands on her hips and surveying the room. Specifically, all of the untouched boxes lined up against the walls. 

How much time do I have?

She glanced at her phone again.

Thirty minutes, okay. 

She'd been meaning to unpack all of her belongings over the last couple of days in her new apartment, but she’d just been so busy with the team. She was honestly glad of how packed her schedule had been, as of late, since it didn’t really allow her to dwell on her thoughts for too long.

Enter team rest day, though. 

She pocketed her phone and made her way over to the box directly under her TV. The seal was already broken since she had unpacked half of it the previous night, so she tugged the folds open and started rummaging through it. 

She removed the small lamp that was tucked into one corner first and set it down on the floor. Then she took out a few board games that were stacked on top of one another in the other corner.

Her breath caught when she saw what was under them.

It was a framed picture. Of her and Mia. It was from when they’d spent a long day at a beach in Europe, when Mia had taken a selfie of the two of them watching the sunset. She was smiling brightly at the camera. Azzi was kissing her cheek. 

She felt her hand tighten around the Monopoly box she was still holding, nails starting to dig into the cardboard. 

Azzi had no recollection of packing it. She'd adamantly told her friend Caroline, who had been helping her pack in New York, that she wanted nothing to do with that life anymore, and that she was definitely getting rid of it. She doesn’t remember throwing it away, either, but she knew for a fact that she didn’t pack it herself. 

Ugh, was it Carol? 

It had to be. Caroline didn’t know the full story of what had happened, either, and she'd always been rather fond of Mia. Azzi knew the lame excuse she’d given her on why they'd broken up hadn’t sat well with her, so she must’ve packed the frame as a keepsake for Azzi, thinking she’d want to reminisce on the relationship. 

It is a nice frame, though. Azzi thought, lowering the board game onto the floor. She reached for the frame and turned it over in her hands, shielding herself from the picture. She delicately pried back the metal wires that held the backing in place and peeled it off, setting it on top of the Monopoly box. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, grimacing, after catching a glimpse of the back of the photograph. She had completely forgotten about it, in all honesty. On the back was a sketch of Mia drinking a martini; the first picture Azzi had taken of her, on the same vacation. The one she had later sketched during her solo flight back. 

She swallowed, nails beginning to dig into the wooden frame, and resolutely tore her gaze away from it, standing up.

She set the frame down on her island countertop and pulled the photograph out of it, making her way deeper into the kitchen and pulling open the drawer that contained her trashcan. She held the photo above it, her hand shaking.

“Fuck you.” She whispered before crumpling it up and throwing it away. She slammed the drawer shut and returned to the living room, breathing unevenly. 

Well, that was settled. 

She nestled the board games into her coffee table’s inner compartment and set the lamp down on a side table before plugging it in. She went through the rest of the box rather easily, as it mostly contained other, tamer pieces of her living room. 

She returned to the box when she had finished and folded it into a flat sheet. She walked over to her door and rested it on the wall adjacent to it, against all the other ones she had left there over the course of the week. 

I should recycle these tonight. 

She checked the time again and saw that she only had fifteen minutes left until her definitely-not-a-date with Paige, her heart rate picking up in her chest again, this time for an entirely different reason.

She went back into the living room to grab her glass of water, finishing it in one gulp before returning to the kitchen to rinse the cup, setting it on the drying rack. 

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Step 2: Get to know her better

After Azzi had changed into a more presentable outfit than the old UConn t-shirt and shorts she'd worn to bed (taking a considerably long time to decide what to wear), and maybe after she put on some light makeup too, she finally started making her way over to Paige’s apartment.

She was holding the bottle of champagne she had bought for the occasion in one hand, and her phone and keys in the other. She locked her door behind her and walked over to the elevator, clicking the ‘down’ button before standing back and pocketing her keys, already lost in thought again.

Don’t be nervous. It’s literally not a date.

The doors opened with a squeak and Azzi stepped inside, grateful that nobody was in it. She peered up to see that yet another lightbulb seemed to have burned out in the already-dingy elevator. The sight reminded her of her run-in with Paige the other night, in the same elevator. 

She was in a tank that night. She looked…hot. Should I have kissed her on the bench? Nah, what am I saying-

She clicked the ‘5’ button and leaned back against the railing. 

I was wearing fucking Care Bear pajamas. She snorted. 

The elevator quickly arrived on the fifth floor and the doors squeaked open again. She clumsily bumped the bottle of champagne against the doors as she stepped out and cursed under her breath, rubbing the bottom of the glass to make sure it hadn’t cracked as she continued walking. 

508

She kept going.

510

512

She paused in the doorway, gaze catching on the welcome mat.

“Welcome in…I guess?” Azzi read under her breath, smiling. “That’s so Paige.” 

She swallowed and raised her fist, knocking twice. 

Not a date. Don’t be nervous.

Azzi felt her phone buzz in her hand right after the second knock, and Paige’s door swung open almost immediately afterward. Paige was holding her phone, herself, and looked a little confused.

“Um, hey?” She said, staring rather blankly at Azzi. 

Azzi internally panicked, her eyes widening. 

Am I early!? 

She felt her heart race as she scrambled for an excuse. Despite her sudden distress, though, she took in the sight in front of her.

Paige was dressed very casually, wearing a pair of black sweats and a hoodie. The black backwards cap she had on was the cherry on top. It had some rhinestones on it that caught the scarce light of the dimly lit hallway. Her hair was up in a low bun again, this time with golden flyaways messily escaping from under the sides of the cap. She was wearing a tennis necklace too, its jewels complementing her cap.

Paige cleared her throat, making Azzi painfully aware of how long she'd been staring.

“Well, you can come in, hi.” She spoke again, stepping to the side and holding the door open for Azzi. 

Azzi shot her a sheepish look and stepped inside, heart racing.

Bro. Calm down. It’s NOT a date.

She turned away to place the bottle of champagne and her phone on the ground while she took her shoes off and then put them in an empty spot on the little rack near the door, occupying herselft. 

Paige cleared her throat again behind her and Azzi froze in place. She spoke again as Azzi grabbed a hold of the bottle and her phone again, preparing herself to straighten up.

“Um. How d’you know where I live? I, like, just texted you my address.” 

OH. 

Azzi spun on her heels, curls whipping around. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t even say hi- um, hey. I thought I was really early or something, I just got so anxious…” Her sentence faded away as she fumbled with her phone, shoving it into her pocket, and brought her hand up to cover her face. 

Paige offered her a small smile, “Oh, nah, don’t worry, you’re not early. It’s just- I know you live here, too, cuz of team housing ‘n all that. But how’d you know which floor I was on? And…number?”

“Um-” She swallowed, her heartbeat pounding in her throat. There wasn’t a need to lie about this. It wasn’t that incriminating.  “Gabby told me the other night when I was over at hers.”

“My apartment number came up in casual conversation?” Paige teased, raising her eyebrows. 

Azzi started absentmindedly rubbing the cork of the champagne bottle with her thumb as her gaze dropped to the collar of Paige’s hoodie where a sliver of white was visible under the black hoodie. It was presumably her shirt. “No…well, kinda? I dunno. We were talking about you and I asked where you live, cuz Gabby pointed at the ground.” 

“You guys were talking about me? What were you saying?” Paige crossed her arms and widened her stance, clearly amused. 

“Nothing! Nothing at all. Nothing.” She hastily stepped forward and shoved the bottle into Paige’s hands, looking back up at her. “This is for you. Champagne.” She pointed rather uselessly at the bottle once Paige had grabbed it. 

“Mm, I can see that. Thanks, Azzi. This is sweet.” She stood there for a moment longer before walking into her kitchen, setting the bottle down and starting to rummage through a drawer, clearly searching for a corkscrew. “We can have some while we build the LEGO set.”

Azzi felt herself relax, shoulders dropping a bit. Okay, calm down. She’s not gonna grill me on it, I guess. Thank god. She stepped further into Paige’s apartment and leaned over the island, crossing her arms over the cool surface. “Right, yeah. How many pieces is it?”

Paige found the corkscrew and brought both it and the bottle over to the island to stand across from Azzi. “750, I think? Something like that. But seriously, what were y’all saying about me? Were you talkin’ crap?” 

Ugh. “Okay, what the hell?” Azzi laughed awkwardly, sounding completely unlike herself, which had to be apparent considering the look Paige was currently giving her. She combed her fingers through her hair, resting her elbows on the marble countertop. “What happened to you being all nervous around me? Why’re you making me nervous instead-”

Paige paused her efforts to remove the cork, diverting her full attention to Azzi, smirking. “Oh, I make you nervous, huh?” 

Azzi scoffed at her slipup, feeling a familiar heat creep up her neck as her fingers stilled in her scalp. “Nevermind that. What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing.” Paige lied, returning her attention to the bottle and finally unscrewing the cork with a pop, feeling Azzi’s suspicious gaze burn a hole through her head. 

“I’ll grab some glasses for the two of us. We can build it on the coffee table. Make yourself at home.” She looked up again and gestured towards the space.

Azzi studied her surprisingly pale face for another moment before relenting and heading into the living room. Right. LEGOs. That’s why I’m here.

It wasn’t as furnished as Azzi imagined it’d be, considering Paige had likely been there for two years. But then again, Paige was just out of college, so fair enough. 

It had a light grey couch that spanned across two walls, converging into a single corner, with a wooden coffee table in front of it that sat on top of a small white and grey rug. A TV was mounted on the other side of the room, with a small white stand beneath it, a few board games sticking out of its many compartments, and a few packs of cards sitting on the top surface. The walls were a mute grey, one containing a large rustic painting. It all looked quite modern.

She sat down at the center of one side of the couch, sitting rather stiffly. She rubbed her palms over her thighs before interlocking them in her lap. She was still really nervous.

She watched Paige walk over and hold out a champagne flute to her before rummaging through the space under the coffee table and grabbing two coasters. She set them both down before taking a sip from her glass and placing it down, retreating to what was presumably her bedroom. 

Azzi let her gaze sweep across her figure again. She looked good. She was also in completely different attire than Azzi, who had thought the now-obviously casual activity of building LEGOs would require her to wear something more formal, like the jeans and ribbed tank she was currently wearing. Her thumbs brushed the surface of her jeans as Paige walked back in carrying the LEGO set. 

“Yeah, 749 pieces. Whatever, close enough.” She threw it onto the coffee table, narrowly avoiding Azzi’s glass. “Ope- sorry.” 

“Oh, flowers?” Azzi reached for the box herself, taking in the vibrant packaging. It was a LEGO Botanicals set of a flower bouquet. It’s pretty. But also…romantic?

Paige seemed to read her mind, quickly saying, “I swear it was just one that I had lying around. I don’t wanna, um-” She gestured incoherently and flashed her an embarrassed smile before sitting on the floor in front of her. 

Azzi lowered the box to peer down at her, smiling. “Oh, so you’re not entirely Ms. Confident PR Manager now? Good to know.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. D’you wanna start it?” She reached for her glass on the coffee table and took a sip, adjusting her cap with her other hand. 

“Yeah, sure. Lemme-” Azzi moved to sit on the floor across from Paige, placing the box in the small space between them. 

Paige started tearing it open, flinging out the individually wrapped sections, “You like LEGOs?” 

“I loved them when I was little.” Azzi watched her start flipping through the instructions. “I’ve only made one or two of them since, like, high school, though.” 

Paige handed her the open booklet as she continued trying to open one of the packages. “Mm, yeah me too. Actually, no, I’m kidding. I have like ten sets in my closet. I love LEGOs.” 

Azzi laughed, opening up the booklet. “Oh yeah? Which ones do you like? You’re also opening the wrong one, by the way. You’re supposed to start with packet one, idiot.” 

“Oh.” Paige looked up at her, smiling too, dropping it and reaching for the correct one. “My bad, princess.” 

Azzi felt her heart flutter at the nickname. She dropped her head to hide her smile, trying to refocus on the instructions. 

“I thought you wanted me to call you that.” 

She looked up, brows knitting together. “What, princess? Yeah, I like it when you call me that.” 

“So you’re blushing cuz you like it. Got it.” Paige tore the packet open with her teeth (which definitely wasn’t extremely sexy) and eyed the packet in Azzi’s hands before handing her the correct pieces. 

“Oh my god. Literally shut up.” She halfheartedly swatted at Paige’s hand before taking the pieces anyway, setting the instructions down on the table and feeling her cheeks heat even more. 

Fuck. I haven’t felt like this since Mia-

“It’s cute, don’t worry.” 

She narrowed her eyes at her, heart racing. Paige was smirking. Of course she was.

“Alright, I’ll shut up about it. Don’t kill me.” She raised her hands in surrender, beginning to sort the pieces on the coffee table. “Do you like to sort ‘em by color, first?” 

Azzi laughed under her breath, “Yeah, I think so? I really haven’t done this in ages, though. What do you like to do? You’re the LEGO aficionado.” She moved her champagne flute and coaster to set the packet down in its place, sitting up on her knees to help Paige sort the pieces.

She felt Paige look over at her. “I’m not like- come on, I’m not a nerd like that-”

“What?” Azzi laughed, “I’m not calling you a nerd. This is a common hobby, isn’t it?” 

“Well- yeah, exactly-” 

“Why are you nervous, Paige?” She looked over to see Paige reddening under her gaze, holding two pieces in her hands. 

“I’m not! You’re the nervous one. Not me. You literally said so in the doorway.” 

“I said I was anxious, thank you very much.” Azzi felt her heart rate pick up again anyway. 

Paige rolled her eyes before setting the pieces down in their respective piles. “Okay, but you were totally flustered.” 

“As if you weren’t just now?” Azzi raised an eyebrow at her, holding the now-assembled petal in one hand. 

Paige shook her head and returned to sorting the pieces, smiling. Azzi saw that the apples of Paige’s cheeks really popped out when she was trying to hide her smile. It was adorable. That, coupled with her flushed face? Ugh. She’s cute. 

“Have you hung out with the team a lot?” Paige’s voice cut through her thoughts as reached in front of Azzi to flip the page, analyzing it for a moment before handing her the right pieces. 

“Yes! It’s been so much fun.” She clicked the pieces together and sat back on her heels, watching Paige. “Gabby and I went thrifting the other day and we found a lotta good stuff.” 

“Mm, like what you’re wearing now? It looks good on you.” Paige said casually, continuing to sort pieces before looking over when Azzi didn’t respond. “What? It does.” 

Azzi bit her cheek and tried to ignore the sensation of butterflies in her stomach. “Thanks.” She murmured, accepting the new pieces she handed her. “But no, this isn’t thrifted. I think I bought it all in New York.”  

“So why’re you wearing all that right now?” 

“Um, what?” What the fuck? Is that an innuendo or something?

“Like,” Paige laughed, handing her some more pieces. “It looks uncomfy, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Stupid. “Yeah, it kinda is.” She absentmindedly rubbed her thighs again with her free hand. 

Paige stood abruptly, “D’you want some sweats? I can bring you a pair. Here-” She headed back into her room before Azzi could respond.

Ugh. She’s considerate too. 

Paige returned with a pair of black sweats slung over her shoulder, wearing a big grin on her face. She awkwardly bowed in front of Azzi, ducking her head as she handed her the sweats, speaking in a royal tone, “Jordan brand for the Jordan athlete.” 

Azzi couldn’t hide her smile this time as she playfully rolled her eyes. “You’re stupid, you know that? Thanks.” 

Paige only smiled harder at this, stupid grin growing, sitting back down and pointing towards the hallway, “Bathroom’s the first door on the left.” 

Azzi threw the finished flower into Paige’s lap before making her way into the bathroom. She clicked the door shut behind her and looked into the mirror at her reflection. She pinched the pair of sweats against her side with her elbow and smoothened her curls with both hands. 

Hair’s still good. Makeup’s still good. She brushed a fallen eyelash off of her cheek.

She moved the sweats a bit higher to start taking her jeans off before pausing. She inhaled. 

The sweats smell like Paige. 

She must’ve subconsciously assigned a certain smell to Paige at some point, because she didn’t remember ever thinking about it, even on the night they spent on the hill. It was a flowery but also woody scent, with some hints of spice. It smelled…comforting. 

She realized she’d probably been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time, and quickly shed her jeans, swapping them for the pair of sweats before checking herself out in the mirror one last time and returning to the living room. 

“How do I look?” Azzi had no idea what came over her, but she gave Paige a little twirl in the living room, showing off the sweats as her jeans dangled in her hand. She stopped to face Paige, tilting her head. “Good?”

Paige smiled up at her, twirling the flower Azzi had built, now complete with its stem, between her fingers. “Beautiful.” 

Azzi stood in place, breath catching. She was surprised at how forward Paige was being, and was brought back into the moment when Paige spoke again.

“Come on, princess, the flowers aren’t gonna make themselves.” 

UGH.

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

“Yeah, well, the east coast has Publix.”

“You are not gonna sit here and tell me Publix is any good. Also, what? There aren’t any in the Northeast, right?” 

“Okay, maybe…”

“Exactly. Cali’s better.” 

They had built about half of the set now, bickering about random things as they continued their simple arrangement of Paige sorting pieces and handing the correct ones to Azzi, who put them together. A handful of flowers were now finished and sitting on the far end of the coffee table. 

“But it’s like a cultural thing, too, y’know? There’s so much diversity in New York.” Azzi snapped a piece onto the petal. 

Paige raised an eyebrow at her. She had her legs spread out in front of her and was resting her weight behind her on her palms, head turned towards Azzi. “You don’t think there’s diversity in Cali?” 

“Well, there is, but like not as much.”

“I dunno about that, Az.”

Azzi tried to hide her smile again, bringing the completed flower closer to her face. That was a new thing, too. Paige had started calling her ‘Az’ after they’d completed the fourth flower or so. Normally, she didn’t like when new people called her that, especially if she didn’t know them very well, but…she found that Paige was an exception. 

“Whatever, P.” 

That was new, too. The nickname had accidentally tumbled out of her mouth when Paige had first called her ‘Az’, but after realizing Paige would smile every time she said it, it had stuck. 

She felt all warm and fuzzy inside at how comfortable they already seemed with one another. She felt at home with Paige, somehow, after only seeing her at work a few times and spending a few hours in her apartment…a mere week after upending her life in New York and moving across the country. The thought terrified Azzi, but it was also exhilarating. Paige was far more layered than what her first impression of her being a bumbling idiot had suggested. 

“Why’d you pick Jordan brand?” Paige asked, handing her more pieces.

“For what?” 

“Like, to be a Jordan athlete, I mean.” 

“Oh, they gave me a really good sales pitch, to be honest, and I really liked the group they’d already signed within the W.” 

“Mm, yeah, like Phee ‘n them?”

“Yeah and Gabby too,” she clicked her tongue as she finished building the flower. “Who, mind you, already told me you’re obsessed with Jordan brand. I mean, you’re literally wearing a whole set and gave me some Jordan sweats too-” 

“When’d Gabby tell you that?” Paige interrupted her, resting her weight on her palms again, tilting her head.

“Back when we got wine-drunk at her place.” Azzi laughed, setting the completed flower down by the others. 

She mirrored Paige’s pose, kicking her legs out as they both took a break. 

“Oh, the night you were talking ‘bout me?” Paige waggled her eyebrows. 

Azzi smiled at her. “Yes, that night. We were talking so much crap, you don’t even know.” 

Paige smiled back before breaking their eye contact, hand coming over to fidget with the corner of the rug between them. 

“You weren’t really, were you?” 

Azzi almost didn’t catch her words. She couldn’t tell if Paige had actually wanted her to hear them or not, the way they’d come out so quietly.

She let out a laugh, “What, talkin’ crap?” 

Paige didn’t offer a response, only nodding as she continued fiddling with the edge of the rug. 

“Hey,” Azzi frowned, tentatively reaching for her hand, stilling her movements. Her hand was surprisingly cold as she squeezed it once and ignored the warmth she felt inside at just feeling her. “I’m kidding, I swear.” 

“Like for real?” Paige murmured.

“Paige.” Azzi impulsively turned her hand over and intertwined their fingers, Paige’s breath hitching. “We weren’t actually talking crap.” 

Paige was quiet for a moment, simply staring at their hands. Azzi soothingly rubbed her thumb along the back of her hand before squeezing it again in silent reassurance.

She spoke up, “Why won’t you say what y’all were talking about, though?” She turned to find Azzi already looking at her.

“Um-” I can’t say- this is so embarrassing. It was Azzi’s turn to look at their intertwined hands, thumb resuming its strokes. “It was just random stuff, I swear. You came up cuz she was asking about my press conference.” 

“Ugh. Please don’t tell me you guys were talking about all the shit I did- Az, I was so nervous, you don’t even know.”

“You were nervous?” Azzi laughed incredulously, “That was a larger crowd than all the finals press conferences I’ve been to. I was dying.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, seriously. I knew the trade was, like, big. But I didn’t know it was this big of a deal.” 

Paige shook her head with a laugh, “You didn’t think you, Ms. Has-all-the-accolades-you-can-dream-of-getting, were gonna garner a lot of attention with the big move?”

Azzi rolled her eyes and tossed Paige’s hand into her lap, “Oh my god, I’m not all that, dude,” though she was still smiling too. 

“Don’t say that, you literally are.” Paige leaned back on both of her hands again, “You were like the most successful Liberty player, weren’t you?” 

“I dunno, something like that.” 

“You’re such a liar. You totally do know.”

“Okay, maybe, but like- I really wanna put that Liberty life behind me, y’know?” Azzi drew her knees into her chest, staring into Paige’s blue orbs of eyes. 

“D’you think you’ll stay with the Valks longterm?” 

Azzi looked away and turned a page of the booklet, grabbing some pieces to occupy her hands. “Maybe? I don’t really know. I’ve only gotten a taste of what it’s like to be here.”

“Mm.” Paige accepted the pieces she handed her, sitting up, too.

“What about you?” Azzi nodded her head towards her. 

“What, do I like being the PR Manager for the Valks?”

“Mhm. And Gabby said something about you wanting to be a Director of PR someday?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve always been interested in business, and I really liked comms so PR stuff made sense to me.” She tried fitting some of the pieces together, though it was a feeble attempt without the instructions, avoiding Azzi’s gaze. “And a director, yeah. I mean, that’s the goal, y’know? Someday.” 

“Mm, I’m sure you’ll get there.”

“Thanks, Az.” 

Azzi smiled, turning her head again. “Do the Valks even have that position?”

Paige dropped one of the pieces she was holding on accident, and picked it up before responding, “I think theirs is like a Director of Comms or something. Oh, how was your tour? You had one, right?”

“Did I have a tour?” Azzi asked, now raising her eyebrows, still smiling. “Yes, ma’am, I had a tour.” 

“You know what I meannn.” Paige pouted, finally looking over. “Do you like it?”

“I’m just playing. Yeah, I really like it so far. The facility’s massive, has great amenities, and all that.” 

“And your new teammates?” 

“Oh, it’s amazing to finally be teammates with Gabby again, too, and everyone’s been so welcoming and so sweet, including the fans. And…especially you.” She added quietly, turning away again.

Paige paused her silly attempt at putting the flower together, and Azzi saw a smirk overtaking her features in her periphery. 

She’s about to say the most stupid thing ever, isn’t she-

“Well, y’know, that’s what the hot blondes are for.” 

“Oh my god.” Azzi rolled her eyes again, chucking a random piece at her. “Just build the flower, blondie.” 

“Hot blondie, thank you very much.” 

“You’re so-”

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Step 3: Get closer (literally + physically)

“They’re so pretty!” 

They had finished the flowers in what seemed like no time, since their conversation had kept flowing, and Paige was currently holding the bouquet in one hand while trying to find a container to put them in with her other. 

“I know, right? Should I put them in a glass or something?” They’d migrated to the kitchen, bringing their somewhat-forgotten champagne flutes with them. 

“Yeah, sure. Do you have a really tall one, so they don’t fall?” 

“I think so?” Paige rummaged through her kitchen cabinets for a bit longer before finding the glasses she was looking for. “Oh, here.” 

She dropped the stems into the glass, handing it out to Azzi with a smile. 

Azzi accepted them and started looking around the apartment. “Where should we put them?” She walked into the living room again. “Coffee table?” 

“Why not.” Paige followed her in, appearing at her side. 

Azzi couldn’t believe how relaxing the whole thing had been. Sure, Paige was really annoying and liked to push her buttons, but they’d had some great conversations and honestly just had a lot of fun together. She was sure she’d never forget this little…hangout. Her first real attempt at making a friend here, besides her new teammates. 

Azzi had tried pretty hard to clear the thought of ‘I think I might like her’ from her mind, and had been successful for the most part, but consciously allowed it to resurface now as she watched Paige clear the coasters off the table. 

It felt so domestic, the way they had made this little piece together that would be showcased in Paige’s living room. The way she was wearing Paige’s sweats, dressed as comfortable as she now felt around her. She felt so at peace. 

She wanted to commit the moment to memory. I wanna take a picture-

“Paige, c’mere.” She pulled out her phone, gesturing for her to bring the flowers too. 

“Wassup?” Paige said, walking over with the glass. 

Azzi opened her camera app and flipped it, lifting her arm up high. Paige got the message and shuffled in beside Azzi, bringing the flowers between them. 

“You wanna hold ‘em too?” Azzi smiled to herself, watching Paige look at her in the camera and grab the other side of the glass, fingers brushing hers. 

“Smileee,” She said through her teeth, watching Paige scramble to pose for the picture, breathing out a laugh as she finally decided on throwing up a peace sign with her empty hand. Her head tipped towards Azzi’s as she leaned in, who had her now-classic ‘Paige smile’ on her face.

“Thanks.” Azzi said, lowering her phone as Paige went to set the flowers down. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You’re right, they’re so pretty.” 

Azzi nodded, attention diverted to her phone, at the photo. This is so cute. She didn’t catch Paige watching her as she made her way back to the kitchen. 

Quite uncharacteristically, she opened Instagram and added the picture to her close friend's story, almost adding a caption before deciding against it and posting it. 

She looked up to see Paige watching her, sipping the now-flat champagne. 

“Question.” 

“Hmm?” Azzi hummed, pocketing her phone. She honestly wasn’t ready for the night to end, although they had spent considerable time together that evening. She felt greedy for having the thought, but she simply wanted more of Paige-

“Wanna go get dinner?” 

Oh! 

“Oh, I, um-” She wants to take me out? Would that be an actual date? 

Paige blanched at Azzi’s hesitation, immediately backpedaling, “No, I just- nevermind. I thought you’d be hungry or something, too, cuz we’ve been at it for so long, but I know it’s getting late- my fault-”

“No, no, Paige-” 

“It’s fine, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna, um, rush anything-”

“Paige,” Azzi stepped closer, grabbing Paige’s hand as she gazed into her noticeably blown pupils. “I’d…love to. Let’s go eat.” 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go. Yeah-” Paige searched her eyes for a moment before taking a step back and walking over to the front door, slipping on her shoes. Or attempting to, at least.

Azzi shook her head at the sight, smiling warmly as she watched her fumble with her shoes numerous times before finally getting them on. God, she’s such an idiot. 

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

“They have the best tacos, I swear. D’you like tacos? What d’you normally get?” 

“I do like them, but I don’t really like cilantro, so I don’t typically order them at new places. I usually stick with enchiladas.” Azzi flipped a page of her menu. 

They were sitting in a booth at the local Mexican restaurant Paige had suggested, after Azzi had taken way too long to decide, tucked into a quiet corner. 

“I can’t believe they’re open so late.” Azzi said, examining the entrées. 

“I know, right? This is my go-to spot for a late dinner.” Paige was sitting back on her side of the booth, relaxed, hands playing with the sleeves of her hoodie, resting on the table. 

“Do you come here often?” 

“Hmm, do I come here often, like the hill?” 

Azzi could feel the smirk on Paige’s face, and she refused to dignify it with even a glance. It didn’t help that she had no idea what to say, either, torn about whether to mention the whole bench thing or not. 

What are you supposed to say to your crush-not-a-crush about that? That I was fucking swooning over her being so soft with me in the middle of the night, on a random bench, overlooking the new-ass city I upended my whole life to move to? 

It seemed as though Paige took her silence for more than just uncertainty, unfortunately. “I didn’t- it wasn’t, like, awkward or anything for you, was it? That night? I didn’t mean to-” 

Azzi looked up, setting her menu down. She watched Paige start to nervously tug at her collar. “Paige, no. It wasn’t awkward.” 

“Oh, thank god. I thought- um-” 

“No, seriously.” Azzi said firmly. “I…really enjoyed it. It helped me relax. I slept really well that night.” 

Well, that last bit was complete bullshit. It had taken her an ungodly amount of time to actually fall asleep after getting home, and she had been questioning her reasoning for voluntarily spending time with Paige, who just seemed to make her thoughts run wild. Not to mention the dreams she’d been having-

She took a sip of water before continuing, this time being more truthful, “I…feel really comfortable around you already. I dunno why. Like, I take a while to warm up to people, typically, but with you, I just…” 

Her voice trailed off as she searched Paige’s eyes, who was wearing an unreadable expression, her hands returning to the table.

“Feel safe.” 

Paige immediately smiled at this, eyes squinting into little crescents (Cute.), “Aw, me too, princess. You really take a while to get close with people? Actually, I kinda get that cuz of how you were during all the media availabilities- ow!” She yanked her hand away from the table after Azzi had slapped it, rubbing it exaggeratedly, though she was still smiling. “Rude. I was basically complimenting you-”

“Complimenting me by saying I was being awkward during media?” Azzi deadpanned.

“No! I was complimenting your- uh…” She paused, clearly catching on that she hadn’t actually said anything of the sort. 

Azzi giggled at her mouth hanging open, egging her on by tilting her head and saying, “Uh huh?” 

“You’re really pretty, Az-” Paige blurted, closing her mouth in horror after the words had escaped. Her eyes widened, and she looked down at the table before snatching her glass and taking a sip of water, seemingly to occupy herself. 

Azzi let out a laugh, warmth spreading inside of her, as she watched Paige spill some over the edge when dropping it a little too hard onto the table. 

“Thanks, P.” She looked into Paige’s eyes, watching the blue of her irises shrink in real time, before letting her gaze wander to her pink cheeks that were popping from the way she was trying to bite back her smile, up to the messy strands of hair peeking out from her cap, down to her luscious lips…

“Hey, y’all. What can I get you two tonight? Any drinks?” Their waiter walked up to their table, interrupting her thoughts, 

Oh, shit- wait, what am I getting?

She began hastily flipping through the menu, eyes darting over the items. She heard Paige chuckle across from her, and chanced a glance at her. 

She was simply watching Azzi panic, still sitting back, as she said, “I’m alright. Could I get two of your house tacos, please?” 

“Yes, of course. Did you want to add pico de gallo to that?” He pulled out a pad of paper, jotting it down. 

“Sure, thanks.” Paige said, eyes still locked on Azzi. She raised her eyebrows, shooting her a ‘want me to order for you?’ look that Azzi graciously nodded at, who closed her menu with a snap. 

“She’ll have the chicken enchiladas. And let’s do rice and beans on the side.” 

“Alright…” he jotted that down too before looking up and glancing between the two of them. “Would that be all for you guys?” 

“Yes.” Paige said, finally looking over at him. “That’s all, thank you.” 

“Of course. It should be ready in around 10.” He smiled at them and grabbed the menus before heading back towards the kitchen. 

Azzi watched him leave as her mind started to wander again. 

That was…hot. The way she just took over for me. Why haven’t I let my girlfriends do that for me? Oh, right, cuz I had to do that shit FOR Mia- fuck, Mia-

“Paige?” Azzi blurted before her mind could catch up, feeling whiplash at her thoughts jumping around so erratically. “Can I tell you about my ex?” 

She saw Paige’s expression change in an instant as she crossed her arms and leaned forward onto the table, nodding. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Only if you want to, though.” 

So respectful- 

“I…yeah, I want to.” No the fuck I don’t. “Um, it’s a pretty long story, though. Is that okay?” She started picking at the skin by her thumbnail again, gazing down at her hand as she did so. 

Paige reached a hand out and placed it over her hand, halting her movements, muttering. “Don’t do that, princess.” 

Azzi felt herself get even more nervous at her touch, as Paige continued, “That’s totally fine. You can tell me like half of it today, though, if you’re not up for the whole thing.”

Azzi swallowed, feeling her insides flip from both her words and piercing gaze (and Paige starting to rub circles into the back of her hand), “Thanks, P. I think I wanna get the whole out tonight. I dunno if I can even start this conversation again.” She let out a nervous laugh, cringing internally.

She’s gonna think I’m a pussy, bro. I mean, I totally am about the whole thing, but she’s gonna know that now-

“You really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Az. I just asked you the other night cuz I was curious- I don’t wanna pry-”

“No, no!” Azzi said quickly, turning her hand and interlocking their fingertips. Again, no game my ass, VB. “I promise you didn’t pressure me, or anything. I just- I haven’t told anyone about it. Like, anyone. I’ve been meaning to for a while, especially to, like, Gabby, but it hasn’t been the right time, the right setting, the right…anything, really.” 

Paige nodded, wiggling her fingers out of Azzi’s grasp to hold them all together. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

I am not sure.

“I…am sure. Yeah.” 

Paige smiled, “You sound very sure.” 

“Ugh-” Azzi rolled her eyes, giving Paige’s fingers an extra strong squeeze. Paige’s fingers were quite cold around her own, but carried a warmth with how carefully her thumb was caressing her pinky. Azzi watched their intertwined hands for a moment before speaking.

“Her name was Mia,” She saw Paige nod in her periphery while continuing her ministrations. “We were together for five years. She was in one of my accounting classes. I honestly thought she was straight for ages, and had kinda lost all hope of having a chance with her-” She laughed softly.

“But she was into girls, actually, and I was apparently so bad at hiding my feelings that she asked me out after class one day. That was our senior year. We went on a few dates, got a lot closer, and I asked her to be my girlfriend, like a month in. We were inseparable, there’s really no other way to put it. Always together, never apart. And it was going really well.” 

She took a breath, and Paige squeezed her hand in reassurance. 

“But I was getting drafted soon, and we didn’t know what that meant for us. It was known that I was going number one, and the Liberty had the first pick, so it was only a question of if she wanted to come to New York with me, or use her marketing degree elsewhere.” Azzi paused again, sighing. Paige’s thumb was still soothingly rubbing circles on the side of her pinky.  

“We had a lot of tough conversations about what we wanted our future to look like, and she ultimately decided that she wanted to come to New York with me. I was, like, beyond excited for my new life there. I told you I’m originally from NYC, right” She finally looked up at Paige, who nodded once. “Yeah, like literally all of my family is there. My parents, my siblings, my grandparents. Just everyone. And I was finally gonna get to introduce them to Mia, too. She found work at a firm a month or so after I got drafted, and it was like our future was finally set in place and not some unknown thing anymore. So she moved in with me, and it was…honestly amazing.” Paige’s hand tightened its hold when Azzi’s voice broke on the last word, but she didn’t pause her ministrations.

“It was the dream life. Well, for me at least. I was living with my girlfriend, in my hometown, playing for the Liberty that was rebuilding. Life was just so good. We went on like that for three years, and it was seriously the happiest I’d ever been.” She paused, to drink some water. Azzi was very grateful that Paige had been silent this whole time. It seemed as though she understood this was something she needed to get off her chest, and that interrupting her would make it a lot harder. 

“Then…everything sort of changed when we went to Mallorca. It was a vacation I booked for the two of us during the offseason, because things were getting heated at her job, and I just wanted to get her away from that to just relax, y’know? I thought I was doing a good thing. For us. I still think it was. We spent two weeks there, had a lot of fun, and then we flew back separately cuz I had a Jordan shoot coming up in Oregon, but she insisted on immediately going back to New York instead. I didn’t know that she’d- I didn’t think-” 

Azzi swallowed thickly, tilting her head back. There they are, the tears. Everything always came back to this moment; it was just so hard for her to talk about. She blinked rapidly to will the tears away and forced herself to continue.

“Hey,” Paige said, voice gentle. “You don’t have to keep going.” 

“No, it’s okay. I want to.” Azzi surprised even herself with her words. “Um, anyway, I’ll get back to that part later.” She took another sip of water, only vaguely registering Paige’s grip get even tighter. 

She’s so kind-

“But it was like we were living in a state of blissfulness and not…reality. It all came crashing down, at least on me, when that June, she told me she wanted to take a break. Like, from our relationship. It was completely out of the blue, so I sorta spent a few weeks in over my head about it, wondering what the hell I’d done wrong, cuz all she’d told me was that our relationship was getting boring, and that she wasn’t sure if I was the right fit for her.” She slid her free hand over the wooden table, fingertips delicately brushing the cool surface before beginning to play with the edges of her napkin.

“She told me to try new things, too, and to see if she wasn’t the right fit for me either. So, for a month, she stayed with a friend while I carried on with basketball and felt like absolute shit. Even my teammates noticed, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to tell them what had happened. I know Stewie thought she’d died or something, and she kept telling me stuff like ‘You’ll get through this, Az’.” She breathed out a laugh, sighing. 

“I didn’t even tell Gabby what had really happened. At All Star weekend, I just told her we were going through a rough patch and that I needed to try new things. Honestly, she watched me hopelessly flirt that entire weekend before finally taking pity on me and setting me up with one of her friends that had attended too. It was…the most awkward date of my life. I hated every second of it. It felt so unnatural to just dive back into dating, especially when Mia and I weren’t really broken up yet. I was so drunk, I called her that night, rambling about how much I missed her and wanted to get back together. God, it was so embarrassing when she didn’t say anything back.” 

Paige squeezed her hand again.

“I dunno if it was the phone call that did it for her, or just her evil fucking mind telling her to do it, but we got back together after I came home. She came over one morning and just started apologizing, telling me about how much of a mistake it was and that she didn’t want anybody else either, just me. And I was such an idiot, Paige. I just believed her and took her back.” 

“Azzi,” Paige finally spoke, voice coming out a little raspy. “You’re not an idiot. Not at all. Nobody deserves to be treated like that. Ever. Don’t blame yourself.” 

“I- I know. Thanks. But, hold on, we haven’t gotten to the half of it. We went on like that, as if nothing had happened, for the next few months. Things pretty much went back to normal, and I went off to Miami for Unrivaled in December, before coming back in early March. And then one day, I got home early from our first preseason away game, against Toronto, only to find a bouquet of roses delivered to our door. I thought she’d gotten them for me, at first, but I dunno who I was kidding. She’s never ever gotten me flowers. I brought them inside and found a note tucked inside, and, well, what do you know, it was from some random guy she was cheating on me with.” 

Paige’s hand slackened for a moment before she twisted their hands up so that she could slot her whole hand into Azzi’s. Azzi finally peered up at her to be met with a pained expression. Paige’s eyebrows were knit together, and she was biting her lower lip. 

Oh my god, why do I think that’s hot-

“And then, um, I- oh yeah, I confronted her when she got home from work. She blew up at me, when I accused her of cheating, and said all this shit like ‘I didn’t ever want to be a WAG anyway, Azzi.’ ‘I was only with you for the money while I kickstarted my career’- no, it’s okay, Paige. Really.” She added when Paige covered her face with her free hand. 

“It turns out she’d been cheating on me for a whole year, with some raggedly guy at her company. And that’s why she’d wanted to break it off with me, at least initially, until she realized he was broke as hell and that she still needed me for the money. That wasn’t even the worst part- I could’ve gotten over her eventually, if she had just cheated on me. No, I’m not tryna downplay it, I know she did me really dirty and that I didn’t deserve it.” She said when Paige opened her mouth to speak.

She continued, giving Paige’s hand a little squeeze before loosening her grip to start playing with her fingers. Paige looked over at their intertwined hands and straightened hers, to let Azzi do it, before looking back at her. 

“She…kinda lied to, like, everybody I know about it.” “What?” Paige interrupted, blurting the word out. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you continue, but what the actual fuck?” 

“I know, I know. It was…yeah. She went around to all of our mutuals saying that I had mistreated her during our entire relationship, and that when she had wanted to break it off, I didn’t let her and made her get back together with me.” She ignored Paige’s gasp, a smile ghosting her face, continuing, “She fed my family all of her lies, too. That’s what did it for me. I had gone to my parents place some weekend after the whole thing had gone down. I wasn’t even planning on talking about it, cuz I honestly just needed to relax after what I’d been through. But I- they didn’t even let me in the door.” 

Paige locked their fingers together again, whole palm beginning to caress Azzi’s, who tipped her head back and blinked at the ceiling.

“My dad started yelling through the door, telling me to ‘get lost’. He said that Mia had already swung by and had told them everything. I guess she’d given them the whole ‘Azzi’s a manipulator’ speech, and he’d believed everything she said. I don’t even know what happened after that, all I remember are a bunch of tears as I somehow crammed into a cab and made my way over to practice.”

“You had practice?” Paige interrupted again, seemingly unable to help herslef. “She did all this during your season!?” 

“Yes. I mean, it was technically still preseason, but- the timing seriously couldn’t have been any worse. But- my family-”

Paige squeezed her hand again, “Sorry, yeah. Go on.” 

“My mom called me that evening, after coach had let me go home early. Thankfully, she hadn’t believed a single thing Mia had said, but she was the only one. Mia had gone around everywhere, apparently, spreading her bullshit. She’d gotten to my siblings, parents, grandparents, even, and literally all of our friends in New York. Since my mom was the only one who believed me, there was a huge rift in our family. They started turning against my mom, too, at least that’s what I heard from her, over the phone. And my dad kept sending me texts like ‘Look what you did’, ‘You ruined our family’, and I honestly couldn’t do it anymore. She had completely ruined my trust, but also all of the relationships I had around me. I only had my mom.” She sighed, looking back down at Paige, whose own eyes were watery. 

“I’ve changed for the better. I know that. I started going on more walks, facetiming Gabby more, being…lighter than I had been in a while. But I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore. I requested a trade on the dl. Like, super secret. I didn’t tell any of my teammates. Not even Stewie or Sab. Only my coach and agent. I was so paranoid that they’d leak the news, and word would get out about the insane narrative about me that was running through my inner circle. I lost so much sleep- I’ll never forget the nightmares I had of the whole world turning on me once they heard the news. I only told my teammates once I had finalized the arrangement with my agent, and understandably, a lot of them were upset with me. I wouldn’t say I left on bad terms, but it was a little…uncordial. I’ve been meaning to text Stewie for ages, actually- I need to do that tomorrow or something.”

“But, yeah. My mindset was that this whole move was a sort of ‘reset’ for my life. I’ve…been having a hard time surrounding myself with new people. After losing, like, all of my friends and family. I haven’t talked to my dad in weeks, and though my mom checks in all the time, I need to branch out here in Cali. I’m not, like, alone. I know. I have Gabby, Janelle, Veronica, you-”

“Az,” Paige said, voice breaking. “You’re so fucking brave.” 

Oh. 

“You’re so brave for saying this out loud. You’re so brave for admitting that Mia changed you. You’re so brave for coming to terms with the trust issues she gave you. You’re so fucking brave for changing it up.” She took a deep breath, “I’m really proud of you.” 

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut just as her they began to water over, bringing her hand over her eyes. 

She’s saying I’m brave for ALL of it. She’s…proud of me. 

Azzi fought back the emotions she was feeling before opening her eyes and wiping them, looking back at Paige, who was wearing a warm smile. 

“Can I ask you something?” Paige said. “And, I mean it, like, in a completely, uh- non-offensive way-”

Azzi smiled at this, still blinking rapidly, “Shoot.”

“Do you feel lonely?” 

Azzi barked out a laugh. She hadn’t expected Paige to be so blunt, even though she knew she didn’t mean it like that. 

“Not in a bad way! I swear. I mean, like, despite you having your teammates and Gabby, especially cuz of the whole family and friends in NYC aspect-”

“It’s okay, I know what you mean, P.” 

Paige’s cheeks turned red as she stopped her rambling. 

“I mean…kinda.” Azzi sipped some water, blushing for an entirely different reason. “I’ve been trying to get out a lot, at least for the first week I was here. But it’s mostly been with the team, yeah. I have been a little…lonely.”

“Az, you have me. Promise” 

Azzi’s heart stuttered. Literally stuttered at this. She felt her breath catch as she looked up into Paige’s eyes, who continued to gently caress her hand. 

“P-”

“Here’s your food, guys. Sorry for the wait! We’re a little shortstaffed at the moment.”

Their waiter had returned with their dishes, and began setting them down on the table, breaking the moment. 

“Oh, um, thank you.” Azzi said, cringing at how awkward it came out. 

“No problem. Flag me down if you guys need anything else.” He handed them two straws before heading back towards the kitchen. 

Paige drew her plate closer to her, giving Azzi’s hand one last squeeze before gently untangling them. “Mmm, I’m so hungry, bro. These tacos look the fuck good.”

Yeah, yeah. Tacos.

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

“I had a really good time.” Azzi’s voice was quiet as they made their way back to Paige’s car. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of the borrowed sweats she was wearing, and she was looking down at the sidewalk as she spoke. 

“Me too, princess.” Paige said, who was walking beside her. 

Azzi bit her cheeks again as Paige held the door open for her. I’m never gonna get used to that-

She watched Paige round the car as she leaned back against the car door, the back of her head meeting the glass with a small thump. 

Paige started the car in silence, then threw an arm behind Azzi’s seat, twisting her upper body to get a better look through the rear window, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Holy shit. 

Azzi let her gaze wander over Paige’s features (again). It went from her toned forearms that peeked out from under her rolled-up sleeves, to the strain of her neck, over to her chiselled cheekbones, and her pink lips…

Even in the low lighting of the car, Azzi could easily make out that Paige was gorgeous. But it wasn’t that she was just pretty. 

Paige had been so understanding, and so damn respectful the whole night, too. This whole day was…Azzi felt unbelievably comfortable around her already, and had truly enjoyed the time she’d spent with her. 

She thought back to what Gabby had told her about Paige, how she had misinterpreted her interest as lust, and about how there was so much more to Paige than she’d first realized.

She’s so sweet. Really pretty too. And I already feel so happy around her…fuck. I like her.

She sighed as she watched Paige start to back out of the parking spot, wrestling with her thoughts. 

Should I tell her? I mean, if she already likes me, too, then what am I doing waiting around? Should we…start dating?

All that was in her way of pursuing this new, albeit scary thing with Paige, was…well, Mia. 

They’d hardly been broken up for three weeks, at this point. Azzi kept getting reminded of her when she’d be out with friends, when she’d make breakfast in her new apartment, when she’d be unpacking…quite often, unfortunately. She knew she wasn’t 100% over her just yet. 

But I can’t let what happened with Mia define my life. I need to move on. 

And what’s that saying, something about the best way to get over someone being to get with someone else?

Should I…do something? I think I really like Paige. Fuck, okay. What was the other shit Gabby told me about her- 

Before she could second guess it, Azzi blurted out, “Do you wanna get ice cream?” 

Paige abruptly hit the brakes, making both of them jolt forward in their seats. She snapped her head towards Azzi before putting the car in park, breathing out a laugh. 

“Ice cream?” 

“Yes.” Azzi said, voice somehow resolute. See, I’m good at this. “You like ice cream, right? D’you wanna go get some?” 

Paige squinted her eyes at her. “And how do you know that?” 

“Lucky guess, or something.” Azzi looked away, feigning nonchalance. “Do you want to or not, P?” 

“Yeah, yeah, come on. I never say no to ice cream.” 

“Do you know any good places? I haven’t been yet, in Cali.” 

“Oooh, yes I do. I’m sorta an ice cream enthusiast. I dunno what’s open right now, but let’s see.” She pulled out her phone, opening Beli. 

Azzi smiled at the sight, watching Paige’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. 

“There’s this really good place, like, 10 minutes away. Is that fine?” She looked up at Azzi, her eyes sparkling in the light of her phone. 

“Mhm.” AGAIN, no game my ass, VB.

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

The two of them were sitting on the curb near where they’d parked, both indulging in their ice cream. 

“Mm, this is really good, P. How’d you find this place?” Azzi said as she ate another spoonful. 

“I honestly think I’ve been to, like, every ice cream place in the bay.” Paige laughed, sticking her spoon in her nearly-empty cup. “This one’s one of my favorites. It was one of the first I tried when I got here.” 

“Well, it’s one of my firsts here, too, so thanks.” 

“Sure, your first, but you got the most plain-ass flavor, Az.” 

“I did not!” Azzi said indignantly. “You got the weirdest flavor ever. You can’t say shit.” 

Paige laughed again, leaning back onto one of her palms as she turned towards Azzi. “It’s not weird, come on. It’s so much better. Compared to boring vanilla, at least.” 

Azzi shook her head as she brought another spoonful up to her mouth. “Stop that- it’s not boring! I can’t believe you wouldn’t take a bite of mine earlier. There’s no way you don’t like vanilla.”

“I don’t dislike it-”

“Exactly. You’re just crazy.” Azzi said, nodding once. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t get toothpaste with chocolate chips, at least.” She mocked, cocking her head at Paige. 

Paige playfully rolled her eyes before sitting back up and grabbing her spoon. “Toothpaste is crazy. I dunno what you’re on about. Mint chip is bomb, thank you very much.” 

Azzi’s lips curved around her spoon, eyes crinkling. “It’s nasty, P.” Her voice came out muffled. 

“Whateverrr.” 

This is so…fun. I can’t believe I met someone like her. It really is so…perfect. I needed to move on from Mia, and this opportunity was literally handed to me on a silver platter- 

Azzi sighed again as she watched Paige collect what remained of her ice cream onto her spoon. She was biting her lip between her teeth, concentrating on scraping the edges of the cup, her shoulders looking as loose and relaxed as Azzi felt. 

Hmm.

Her face was barely visible beneath the streetlight, but she looked almost ethereal in the low lighting. More loose strands of golden hair had slipped out from under her cap, framing her face in what was a messy contrast with her sharp features; the warm glow of the light accentuating them on one end and dissolving into shadows on the other. 

She’s so beautiful. 

She continued tracing her features with her gaze, hardly noticing when Paige turned towards her. 

“Wassup?” Paige asked, taking the last bite. 

Azzi turned away, chucking her spoon into her cup. “Nothing, nothing.” She muttered, the fingers of her free hand beginning to pick at her skin again. 

Oh my god, stop getting so nervous. 

“You’re so weird.” Paige's voice came from beside her, followed by a giggle. 

You can do it. 

Azzi tapped her fingers on the edge of her cup, unable to shake her nerves. 

What am I even waiting for? 

She swallowed once before setting her cup down on the pavement and turning towards Paige.

Oh, what the hell-

Azzi surged forward and kissed her. 

She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach the instant their lips met. Her mouth was cold against Paige’s, having just had a bite of her ice cream. Azzi brought a hand up to cup her jaw, thumb gliding across her cheekbone as she pulled away, just enough to breathe, though she remained close. 

Azzi felt a warm puff of air hit her lips as she felt Paige’s lips part against hers, their noses bumping. She couldn’t help but smile, tilting her head slightly before slowly leaning in again to place another gentle kiss, this time on her upper lip. Then another on a spot right next to it.

She opened her eyes for a moment to let her thumb find Paige’s lower lip and pulled it gently to the side before leaning back in and placing a sensual flurry of light kisses along her upper lip until she reached the corner of her mouth, her attention lingering there. Her hand slid further back until her fingertips tangled into the baby hairs that had long escaped Paige’s messy bun.

She’s so soft…so-

Oh my fucking god, she’s not kissing me back. 

She paused at the realization and abruptly broke the kiss, eyes fluttering open. She pulled her head back and quickly drew her hand away too, as she felt all of the warmth leave her body. 

Holy shit, did I read this wrong!?

Paige was completely still, lips parted, and her eyes remained closed. She was sitting so rigidly, one hand still wrapped around her empty cup, that Azzi thought she looked almost frozen in time. 

But then Paige let out a sound that couldn’t be described as anything but a fucking whimper before she opened her eyes, set her cup down, and grabbed Azzi by the chin, pulling her into a searing kiss. 

Holy shit-

Paige’s fingers were cold. So cold against her warm skin. But it felt so fucking good. Heat rushed back into Azzi’s chest as she let out a small noise of surprise while kissing her back. Both of her hands came up to Paige’s neck, her fingers lacing together. She settled her palms, this time, against the soft baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. 

She sighed into the kiss when she felt Paige’s other hand tightly grip her waist over the thin fabric of her top, pinky dipping under the hem of her sweatpants…

No, wait, they’re literally Paige’s sweatpants. We’re making out and I’m wearing HER sweats-

Paige brought a leg up onto the sidewalk, tucking her foot beneath her other leg as she fully turned her body towards Azzi. She briefly let go of her chin to drag her closer by the waist before bringing her hand up to cup her jaw, never breaking the kiss. 

Azzi quite literally jolted at the feeling before smiling shyly against Paige’s lips at how much the action had…well, turned her on. 

That was so hot. Her taking over in general is so hot. Having the roles be reversed is so…refreshing-

Paige’s fingers were almost digging into the soft flesh beneath Azzi’s jaw, but Azzi paid it no mind, instead revelling in the feeling of Paige’s warm chest now pressing up against hers. She could even feel the soft scratch of Paige’s necklace against her collarbone, the sting of it getting lost in the other sensations she was feeling all over.

Then her mind uselessly supplied her with an image of her and Mia, all cuddled up under the sheets in their New York City apartment, for what had been the last time before their breakup. Azzi remembered feeling so…broken. How she’d done everything in the world to prove to Mia that she was all in with her. To show her that there was no one else for her, and that Mia was the only one she could be with. 

I’m so fucking naive. She thought as Paige’s thumb began rubbing her cheek. Why did I ever trap myself in that relationship- 

Azzi scooted even closer, dropping one of her hands onto Paige’s shoulder before reaching under the collar of her hoodie and starting to toy with her bra strap.

This, with Paige, is…everything. I don’t think I ever felt an ounce of…this…when I was with Mia. And this is our FIRST kiss-

Why am I even thinking about her? I should-

But Paige silenced her thoughts by plunging her tongue into Azzi’s mouth, parting her lips with determination. 

Azzi felt heat pool low in her stomach and let out a groan when their tongues met. Paige swallowed it whole, making a faint sound of her own as her hand slid down Azzi’s neck, nails dragging along her side, to rest on the small of her back. 

God. This is how it’s supposed to feel.

She dug her nails into Paige’s scalp as her other hand reached further down Paige’s hoodie, along her bra. She slid her tongue into Paige’s mouth, matching her strokes in a lazy rhythm. It felt so foreign, matching someone’s pace instead of setting her own, but she welcomed it nonetheless.

They finally broke apart when they could no longer ignore the need for air, both drawing in ragged breaths. 

Azzi looked up at Paige through darkened eyes, licking her swollen lips.

And maybe mint chocolate chip isn’t SO bad…

authors note: hello, I hope you guys enjoy reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it. :) like always feel free to come to my inbox to tell your thoughts on this story.

…

A loud strike sound came from the sky as it grumbled. Another fall of heavy rain fell onto Azzi's— already soaked—body. The bright glow of the full moon reflected onto her body, along with the other headlights that came from the cars passing her.

Azzi was currently standing on the side of the highway with the front hood of the car up and propped against a metal stick. "Fuck," she cursed under her breath. A gust of wind flew through the air causing her body to shiver.

Of course, this damn car would break down in a middle of a thunderstorm, Azzi thought. She stared at the unknown parts in front of her— lost, not knowing what to even do.

She let out a sigh that was filled with annoyance. Azzi closed the hood of the car and walked over to the driver's door and got in. She whipped her wet hands onto her jeans before she grabbed her phone and dialed the closest dealership to her.

After two ringers someone picked up the phone. "Hello?" Azzi said, her heart pumped rapidly with adrenaline as she talked.

"Hello, this is Paige Bueckers speaking, how may I help you?”

Azzi bit her lip. "Um…so I'm kinda like stuck on the side of the highway and my car won't start. Usually, I can hit the dashboard a few times and then it will turn on but it's not working." Her voice shook as she talked through the speaker.

A faint laugh was heard at the other end. "Do you want me to come get you? We do offer a towing service so we can get your car and bring it back to the shop. But there will cos—"

"Paige. Just come get me. I’m scared right now because these cars beside me are flying by and I'm cold." Azzi said, cutting Paige off. Her voice was stern but also filled with anxiety that she wasn't trying to show.

"Okay, what highway are you on?"

"Highway I-34. Now, please hurry," She pleaded. The rain outside was getting worse and another strike of lightning sparked in the dark gray sky.

The sound of a loud door closing came from the other end. "Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? I'm on my way now," Paige rasped out before the engine of her truck roared.

"Yes, please," Azzi said softly.

A few minutes of silence had passed by. Azzi's eyes stared outside the window beside her, watching all of the chaos that was happening on the road. "What kinda car do you drive again? I'm just now merging onto the highway so it shouldn't take me long to get you."

"I'm pulled over on a side of a bridge. My car is white and it has a huge dent beside the license plate. I'm also right in front of this green sign that says, 'exit 412 is in 1.5 miles.'"

Paige let out a hum in understanding. "Okay, I know where that is. I'm speeding right now so I should be there in about five minutes."

The sound of Paige's voice sooth Azzi's anxiety a little. "Okay," she said. Azzi closed her eyes for second listening to the sound of Paige breathing on the other end of the phone.

The brunette didn't even know she had fallen asleep until she woke up from a knocking sound coming from her window. One of her hands shot up to rest just above her racing heart. Jesus, she thought.

Azzi turned her head over to the window and jumped a little when she saw a figure standing outside of her car with a hoodie over its head.

Oh, wait, Azzi thought to herself when she realized it was Paige. She grabbed her phone, and purse and opened the door.

"Fuck, you scared me in there. I thought you had passed out," Paige said, reaching her arms out to help Azzi out of the car.

Once Azzi's feet planted on the ground Paige took her hands off of the girl's waist. She inched her hands down to pull the oversized hoodie she had on over her head. Paige then pulled her hoodie over Azzi's body that was shaking. The brunette was in nothing but jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.

"Here you go," Paige said, not even batting an eye at how the rain was soaking her clothes. The bright orange hazard lights of Paige's tow truck reflected onto their bodies causing Azzi to squint a little.

Azzi smiled up at the blonde, making her dimples pop out. "But, wait-. Now you are getting soaked," she said referring to the way Paige's white shirt was now see through and hugging her body.

Paige shook her head. "It's fine don't worry about it." She brushed off. "Here, go sit in the truck while I hook your car onto the back of mine. I don't want you being out in the rain anymore longer you're going to get sick."

The brunette's cheeks turned a faint rosy, red color at that and her breath was caught in her throat. "Okay," she said she was too tired to even argue that Paige will—more than likely—get sick as well.

When Azzi got into the truck it smelt faintly of men's cologne. She turned her head over the passenger seat watching as Paige hooked her car up to the trailer. Her eyes lingered on the way Paige's arms flexed. They trailed down to the blonde's stomach where you could see the girls faint abs that were on display through her shirt.

Fuck, she's hot.

She bit the inside of her lip watching Paige like she was the most interesting and beautiful person she's has ever seen. Her eyes widened a bit when Paige started walking over to the drive side of the truck.

Azzi sat upright in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. She dropped her eyes down to her lap, picking at her cuticles and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. When the door opened, she cocked her head over to Paige, watching as she held the handle on the side of the door to get in the truck.

Paige let out a grunt when her ass hit the seat. "You do know that the back window isn't tinted right?"

Oh, fuck me, Azzi thought.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Azzi huffed out. She kissed her teeth and frowned at Paige. "I was just trying to make sure nothing bad was gonna happen to you," she lied.

The blonde just shot Azzi a look. "Right," Paige said, before she shifted her truck into drive and put on her left turning signal.

Azzi tapped her fingers on her thighs not really knowing what to do. She just met the girl, and she already got caught checking her out. But in all honesty, she was just admiring the view.

Paige cleared her throat, "so…what's your name? I don't think you told me it yet," she said, breaking the silence.

"M' names Azzi." One of her legs started to bounce up and down while she bit her bottom lip until it stung.

"Oh! Like Jenifer Azzi."

The brunette tilted her head to the side. She looked at Paige with a confused look. "Who?" She asked.

Now it was Paige's turn to become embarrassed. "Sorry, it's just I'm a really big fan or women's basketball and that's a basketball player," she explained.

"Ohh. Now that you say that I remember my parents telling me multiple times that they name me after her. They are also fans of women's basketball and the WNBA." Azzi said softly. The painful beating in her chest started to calm down as she felt herself start to become comfortable.

Paige took her eyes off of the road to look at Azzi for a second. She shot her a smile so big that it made her nose scrunch up.

Can this girl get any cuter?, Azzi thought at how cute Paige looked with her nose scrunched.

"That's so cool," Paige said. Her voice was filled with excitement. The conversation between them started to flow more to where the two were laughing at each other's jokes.

When Paige pulled up to the dealership, she put her truck in park and looked at Azzi. "Wait here," she said, before she got out the car and walked over to Azzi's passenger door. She opened the door and helped Azzi out of the car like she couldn't do it for herself.

"Thank you," Azzi said.

They walked side by side over to the entrance door. Paige held the door open for Azzi allowing her to walk into the dealership first before she trailed behind her. "Okay, let's get you some clean clothes," Paige said, grabbing onto Azzi's hand to walk her over to her office—well that's what Azzi assumed they were going.

Azzi shivered as she stood in front of Paige's desk. The room was ice cold from the air conditioner that was in the wall. She watched as Paige went behind her desk and pulled out a pile of clothes that were neatly folded in one of her desks draws.

"You have extra clothes in your office?" Azzi asked as she reached out to take the clothes Paige held out for her.

Paige nodded her head. "Yeah, sometimes when I'm working on cars and I'm by myself I change into more comfortable clothes only when what I'm doing is not anything dangerous to wear I need protective clothing. And when I'm doing oil changes things can get…messy so I just have an extra pair just in case to be safe," she explained.

The whole time she talked Azzi couldn't help but admire the way her arms flexed uncontrollably. "That makes sense," Azzi responded. What didn't make sense was how she was already down bad for this girl she had just met. It was unlike her and it honestly confused her on why her body was acting this way.

Am I ovulating? Azzi thought, thinking of reasons on why she was acting like this. She made a small mental note in her head to check her Flo app when she goes to change.

"The bathroom are down the hall to the right," Paige informed. She pointed out down the hall that they could see through the glass door of her office. "And I will be in here," she then pointed at the service department." she then said pointing to the door that was on the left side of them.

Azzi nodded her head. "Where do you want me to go after that?"

Paige smirked. "You can wait out in the lobby, or you can go me while I work on your car. Either one is fine," she said with a shrug.

"Okay," Azzi said. She gave Paige one last smile before she opened the door and headed to the restrooms. The brunette took about ten minutes in the bathroom to change into the gray baggy sweats Paige gave her and a black wife beater.

She held her wet clothes in her arms as she made her way back into Paige's office and to the door that would lead her to Paige. Azzi sat her clothes down onto a chair that was up-against a wall. She eased her way over to Paige who was in front of her car where her hood was popped open.

"Do you think you know why it won't start?" Azzi asked.

Paige jumped a bit. "Shit-, you scared me." Her arms and fingers were coated with oil, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail.

"Sorry," she apologized. Azzi stopped to where now she was standing beside Paige. The raided pounding that was in her chest earlier was now back from how there arms touched.

"I'm pretty sure it's your battery. I'm gonna have to replace it. With how the battery looks I can tell that you have jump started your car many times and that can cause your battery to become weak."

Azzi's cheeks flushed, "ooh, that makes sense." She lied.

Paige turned her head to look over at Azzi because of how unconvincing her voice sounded. "You don't understand a word I'm sayin', huh?" Paige let a small laugh at the end of her sentence. Her arms were now crossed in front of her chest as she bit the bottom of her lip to hold back a small grin.

"Damn, was it that obvious?"

Paige laughed at the pout that formed on Azzi's face. "Yeah, but it's okay. Do you wanna help me while I replace your battery?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow at that. "By doing what? I don't know shit about cars," she said blankly causing Paige to let out another laugh, but this one was louder and more real. "Plus, I can't get my nails dirty. I have a photo shoot in a few days, and they would lose their minds if my hands and nails get fucked up." She added on, looking down at her nails.

"Ma, that's why we have gloves. They will protect your precious hands, and we have goggles that will protect your eyes and most of your face." Paige didn't even register the nickname she said to Azzi it just slipped out like it was natural. It felt natural to call her that.

The brunette bit her lip. "I guess. But if anything happens you're taking the blame for it," she said with a fake serious tone.

Paige put her hands up in surrender, "for sure," she said before she walked off to grab the safety equipment, and her toolbox.

After ten minutes had passed by Azzi was more off to the side by a blue toolbox dressed in protective gear. her eyes were locked on Paige's arms, daydreaming and imaging how they would feel if they were wrapped around her neck.

"Ma, can you hand me the socket wrench?" Paige called out. She extended her free hand out and opened her palm for Azzi to place the tool in.

Azzi blinked. "The what?" She asked, her brows were wrinkled. She looked at Paige and then down at the toolbox just starting at the tools—that she did not know the name of.

Paige stopped what she was doing to walk closer over to Azzi. She rammed through the toolbox, "this is what it looks like," she said holding the tool up to Azzi so she could see better.

"Ohh, I'm sorry. I'm not really good at this whole knowing the names of the tools and knowing what they look like game," Azzi apologized.

The blonde shrugged her shoulders, "it's okay mama. We can work on it," she said before she went back to changing the battery.

Azzi stared down at the concrete floor below her lost in her own mind. What does she mean that? she thought. Eventually, Azzi had shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Stop assuming things Fudd, she thought before bringing her attention back onto Paige to admire the view.

It wasn't until five minutes later Paige said something again. "Can you hand me the flathead screwdriver, princess?" She asked, already holding her hand out but didn't take her eye off of the parts in front of her.

The brunette looked down in the toolbox and grabbed the screwdriver. She placed it into Paige's hand without saying anything; she just watched the mechanic beside her.

Paige turned her head to look at the tool in her hand. "Good job, mama," she praised, referring to Azzi giving her the right tool.

Azzi's cheeks burned at the praise. Her heart went into a complete stop while she just froze. She stayed like that until Paige was done fixing her car. The praise repeated in her head multiple times causing her ears to ring.

The loud noise that came from Paige closing her hood brought her back to life. "Alright, that should do it," she said as she took off her gloves and goggles.

"It's good?" Azzi asked, her words were shaky.

The blonde nodded her head once. "Yep. It shouldn't give you anymore issues," Paige trailed off as she examined Azzi's car, "I hope…" she added.

"What do I do if it does give me issues?" She asked. After Azzi had said her question her cheeks burned an even more red color at how stupid the question was.

Paige turned her head at Azzi and licked her lips. "You go to the nearest repair shop, duh," she teased. Before Azzi could say anything Paige quickly added: "sorry ma, you walked right into that one but if anything does happen, I can fix it, I got you."

Azzi relaxed a bit at Paige's words. "Thank you," she said politely, rocking a bit on her heels out of awkwardness. "Do you have a business card I can take? Just in case if something does happen."

The blonde smiled as she reached into her pocket and handed Azzi her business card. "Do you feel comfortable driving in the rain?"

"Yeah, I should be fine. I live like five minutes away from here."

Just as Paige was about to start walking Azzi out a realization hit her. "Wait-, I need to pay you," Azzi said stopping dead in her tracks.

"nah-, don't worry about it. It's free," Paige said, waving her off.

Azzi raised an eyebrow and gave Paige a look. "What? That doesn't even make sense," she brought her hand up to scratch her head.

Paige rolled her eyes and gave Azzi a look. "Ma, just say 'okay.' I'm not gonna argue about this with you. I already made my decision," her voice was hard and filled with seriousness.

"Fine. But can I at least pay for the towing fee," she pleaded, rolling her eyes up at Paige and pouted.

The blonde narrowed her eyes while she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Write down you're address so I can mail you the bill." Paige walked over to grab a pen and paper so Azzi could do as she said.

Azzi smirked and took the pen and paper. She did what she was told and handed it back to Paige. "Thank you again for helping me." She said, once she and Paige finally made it back to the service department where her car was.

Paige nodded her head and gave the brunette a smile. "Of course, Azzi. It was nice meeting you," she said, shaking hands with the girl before they parted ways.

From Paige's office window she watched as Azzi drove off. She let out a sigh and crumbled the paper that had Azzi's address on it and threw it away. Paige packed up her things and walked out to her car. Her head was pounding from exhaustion. her shift had ended right as Azzi called her pleading for help and how could she say 'no'.

Which she was honestly really happy that she did pick up the phone because of the beautiful girl she had just met.

…

A MONTH LATER

"Caroline, you don't understand that was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." Azzi explained, before she took another sip of her tea. She had been talking about Paige non-stop ever since she left the dealership.

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Azzi. You say that about every blonde headed masc you see out in public," she grumbled.

A small groan fell from Azzi's mouth. She set her own empty mug into her sink, "but she was different and so sweet but also a tease at the same time." She was blushing from just talking about Paige.

"Maybe you should go see her again."

Azzi's eyes widened at that. "Ugh, I want to. I'm just nervous," she explained, crossing her arms around her chest for comfort.

Caroline just gave Azzi a look. "Az. Stop making up excuses and go see her. You know you are gonna regret it if you don't. Just follow what your heart tells you and your gut."

"Damn, that was... actually good advice" Azzi mumbled out, stunned at the words that fell from Caroline's mouth.

"Well, I'm tired of you sulking that you are single but then when you actually meet someone you chicken out and don't make a move. Like I love you, I really do but Azzi the way you are talking about Paige I don't think you should pass this chance up."

Azzi bit her lip, "I guess you're right. I'll go by the dealership today."

Later that afternoon, Azzi had stopped by her mailbox after she was done running her errands. She skimmed through the envelopes looking to see Paige's name on one of them but there wasn't. She kissed her teeth going through that stack again just for extra measures. And she was right Paige never sent her the bill like she was supposed to.

Welp, I guess now I do have an excuse to go to the dealership, she thought.

When she drove home, she ran inside her house really quick to grab the—already washed— clothes Paige had given her that night and the business card that she kept. It was about two minutes into her drive when an unknown warning light came up on her dash.

You have got to be kidding me.

Azzi let out a groan and stepped on the gas. When she got to the dealership she parked her car, grabbed her purse and phone and made her way inside the building. She walked up to the front desk that was right in front of the door. "Hello, sorry to bother but I'm looking for Paige," Azzi said politely to the women who was behind the desk.

The worker looked up from her computer, "do you have an appointment?" she asked in a not so nice way.

"Um, no I do not." Azzi responded weakly. The way the elder women was looking at her made her throat tighten.

"Sorry ma'am but you have to have an appoint—," the worker was cut off by another voice interfering with their conversation.

"Azzi?" Paige asked.

When Azzi turned her head over to where Paige's voice was heard her breath hitched. Paige had on a backwards hat. And had her hair in a low messy bun. She licked her lips at the sight. "Hey, sorry do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you."

Paige nodded her head. "Yeah, I have a second. Let's go to my office," she said, waving Azzi over to follow after her.

Azzi walked behind Paige and once the blonde closed the door behind her, she dropped her act. "Paige," she hissed crossing her arms over her chest while she gave her a grumpy look.

"What's wrong, ma?"

The brunette ignored the fuzzy feeling of Paige called her that nickname. "Why did you never send me the bill like you said you would?"

Paige let out a small laugh. "Damn, I didn't know you were gonna be this upset." She mumbled underneath her breath causing Azzi to narrow her eyes at her.

"M'sorry, I forgot." She lied with a shrug.

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Well now that I'm here, I can just pay for it upfront." She said, unzipping her purse to grab her wallet.

The blonde quickly walked over to Azzi and stopped her from taking her wallet out. "Nah-, don't worry 'bout it. It's fine I promise."

Azzi rolled her eyes up at Paige and just stared at her. "But I want to pay for it Paige," she said softly way softer than she was just talking a few seconds ago. Azzi was too focused on how there was no space in between them to even realize that Paige was still holding onto her wrist.

Paige's eyes fell to her lips then back up to her eyes. "Fine. I guess you can pay for it," she grumbled, folding instantly from how Azzi was looking at her. Paige shook her head in disbelief as she walked over to her desk to her computer. She then walked back to Azzi with a phone in her hand that had a card reader.

She clicked a few button before she flipped the phone over to Azzi allowing her to pay. Paige walked back over to her desk to grab the receipt that had printed out after Azzi paid. "Here you go princess." Paige said as she handed her the paper. She made sure to show her annoyance as she talked wanting Azzi to know that she wasn't happy.

"Thank you," Azzi said with a small. She took the paper from Paige hand with a satisfied grin on her face. "Oh! and now that I'm here are you able to look at my car really quick? A random emoji popped up on my dashboard on my way over here and I don't know what it means," Azzi explained.

Paige tilted her head to the side a little in confusion. "Do you mean a warning light?"

"Ohh, that's what it's called."

Paige face palmed her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Azzi, babe. You're actually starting to scare me because you don't know this stuff."

Azzi just rolled her eyes. "Why do I need to know that stuff when I have you?"

The blonde raised both of her brows at the girl in front of her and licked her lips. "I guess that's a fair point. Come on let's go see what's wrong with your car," Paige said before she held the door open for Azzi.

Paige and Azzi walked close together in the parking lot. Azzi had opened the drives door for Paige allowing her to get in and start the car. "It's just telling you that you need an engine oil change."

Azzi let out a sigh in relief, "thank goodness, It's nothing major."

"Yeah, if you want you can come back tomorrow and I can change it." Paige told her as she got out the car.

The brunette nodded her head. "That sounds good. Can I come around one?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll make sure to make you an appointment when I go back inside so the front desk lady doesn't give you any trouble."

Azzi smiled at that. "Thank you so much," she said, wrapping her arms around Paige's waist to hug her. Paige leaned into the hug wrapping her arms around Azzi's neck. She left herself relax at the feeling of Azzi's body against hers.

When they parted, they were both a blushing mess. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow," Azzi said, before she stepped foot into her car.

Paige bit the inside of her cheek. "I can't wait," she replied, giving her one last wave before she walked off.

When Azzi shut her car door she felt like she could finally breathe properly again. She watched Paige walk back into the building not being able to help herself. Azzi then leaned over her consol to unzip her purse. She took out the recipe Paige had given her earlier and inspected it.

Oh, you got to be kidding me, she thought when she saw that Paige had given her a fifty percent discount.

...

THE NEXT DAY

Azzi woke up bright and early the next day. She sat on her couch binge watching her favorite tv show while she waited for time to pass. Once the clock hit eleven am she started to get ready. Azzi picked out a dark brown mini skirt and paired it with a white shirt sleeve button up. The neckline on the shirt was a V-neck causing the valley of her breast to be on display—but not too much.

She put on white fuzzy leg warmers that stopped just under her kneecap. For her shoes she went with a pair of black vintage boots that stopped just below where the leg warmers stopped. For her accessories, she put on some random gold hoops and necklaces. Azzi turned in front of her mirror to look over her outfit one last time before she left the house.

As she walked over to her front door, she grabbed her purse that was hanging on a hook and grabbed her keys. The drive to the shop was smooth luckily no other warning light popped up on her there. Azzi touched up on her lip liner and lip gloss before she got out the car and headed inside the building.

"Hello, I have an appointment at one today," Azzi said kindly to the lady who had gave her trouble yesterday.

The worker behind the desk stopped typing on her keyboard and looked up at Azzi for a split second. "Name?"

"Azzi Fudd." She responded with a small smile. It fell off her face when the worker didn't give her one back. Damn, what is up her ass today?" Azzi thought to herself.

"Okay, you can take a seat in the lobby and Paige should be with you shortly."

Azzi nodded her head once in response. She picked a seat that was in a corner away from the other people who were also waiting. When she sat down, she crossed her legs together and started to flatten out the nonexistent wrinkles on her shirt.

She instantly fixed her posture in her chair when she saw a familiar blonde in the corner of her eye. Azzi lost her train of thought as she took in Paige's outfit. She was in a white tank top that hugged her body. Her arms were painted with—what looked like—oil and the arms of her gray safety coveralls were wrapped around her waist.

When Paige got closer to her butterflies started to swarm in Azzi's stomach. Paige's blonde hair was slicked back into a low bun, and she had the same backwards hat on from yesterday. "Wasssup, ma, you look beautiful," Paige said.

Azzi blushed. "Hey," she said softly. Just when Azzi was about to lean in to hug Paige the blonde stopped her.

"I'm covered in oil princess. I don't wanna ruin your shirt," she explained.

The brunette just rolled her eyes and hugged Paige anyway. "It's fine. I could care less about the shirt," she mumbled, resting the side of her cheek onto Paige's chest before pulling away after a second.

Paige bit back a smile. "So…do you have your keys on you so I can move your car?" Her voice wasn't filled with the confidence it always has it was shy and filled with nervousness.

Azzi reached in her purse to give her keys to Paige. "Here you go. Do you want me to wait in the lobby while you work on it?"

"I mean, you can go in the shop with me if you want. There's no one in there except me for right now." Paige offered. Her face was a vibrant red color as she spoke.

"I won't be a bother if I go with you, right?"

Paige just gave Azzi a look. "Be for real ma, you would never be a bother. Here you can go wait in my office while I get your car in the shop," she said, reaching into her pant pocket and placed a silver key into Azzi's palm.

"Okay," Azzi responded before they parted ways. She waited patiently in Paige's office and practically ran out the office when Paige got out of her car.

"Do you wanna be my little assistant for a bit?" Paige asked Azzi as she walked around the shop to grab the tools and supplies she needed.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek her eyes watches as Paige moved effortlessly around the room not knowing what she was doing to her. How can someone look so hot without even trying?

"Azzi," Paige said with a stern tone in her voice. A small pout was on her face from the brunette ignoring her.

Azzi jumped. "Oh shit-, sorry I zoned out. What were you trying to tell me?"

Paige just shook her head and let out a small laugh. "I asked if you wanted to be my assistant for a second." She repeated for the second time.

"Oh, yes, of course. I would like that," Azzi automatically regretted her words when they left her mouth. She mumbled out a small 'fuck,' silently hoping that Paige didn't take her words the wrong way.

The blonde smirked. "You would like that? Being my helper?" A small grin was on her face while she looked at Azzi. The brunette could tell just by looking at Paige's eyes that there were many thoughts swarming in her head.

Well, yes actually, Azzi thought. I would actually love it.

Azzi raised one of her eyebrows. "Yeah," she trailed off not really knowing what Paige was going on about. "I like being able to help people whenever I can. I actually love helping people. It's one of my favorite things to do," she added on, trying to clarify what she meant. Her voice was filled with innocents.

Paige's grin deepened. "Yeah? Are you like that in every type of situation you're in?" She said as she licked her lips.

Azzi tilted her head to the side staring at Paige with a confused look as she tried to figure out what she was talking about. After a second it hit her causing her body to freeze up and her face all the way down to her neck turned red.

She was at lost for words. Azzi eyes bulged out of her head. She cleared her throat to find her voice, "do you wanna find out?" Now it was her turn to have a shit eating grin on her face.

Paige bit the bottom of her lip until it hurt. Her blue eyes looked up and down at Azzi bluntly checking the girl out in front of her not caring about Azzi catching her. "Anyways, let's fix your car it's not gonna fix itself," she said, changing the subject.

She probably wouldn't have a job if she didn't change the subject. Well, unless they went into her office and shut all of the blinds-, Paige had to quickly shut that thought off before she actually went through with it.

Paige rested her back against a gray creeper and pushed herself underneath Azzi's car. "Hey ma, can you pass me that black bin that is beside your feet?" Paige called out.

Azzi did the best she could to push the bin further over by Paige's waist. "Sorry, my skirt is too short for me to bend over," she apologized.

"It's okay," Paige brushed off. She grabbed the side of the bin and put it directly under the plug that held bad oil. Once all the oil poured into the bucket she lightly pushed back towards Azzi. "Be careful I don't want that oil to stain your shirt."

"I will," Azzi said softly as she carefully pushed the filled bucket over to the side out of everyone way.

She helped Paige up from her creeper when she wheeled back from underneath the car. Azzi let go of Paige's hand to hold the side of the girl's face.

Her thumb whipped across Paige's cheek and without even realizing she had pulled Paige closer to her with only an inch and a half between them.

Azzi didn't even bat an eye at the closeness until she looked up and made eye contact with Paige's hooded eyes. "Sorry, you had oil on your face. I was tryin' to help," Azzi mumbled. Her breath hitched at how Paige's eyes dropped from her lips and stayed there.

When she licked her bottom lip Paige's eyes followed her tongue. Azzi moved to place her left hand onto the side of Paige's neck while her other one still held onto the girl's face. "Can I kiss you?" Azzi asked.

Paige nodded her head and launched herself forward closing the gap between them. She kissed Azzi like her lips were made of glass. The brunette followed her slow pace allowing Paige to take the lead and call the shots.

The pace changed when Paige grabbed onto Azzi's waist and pulled her front closer to her. She rested her hands low on Azzi's hips whipping her tongue over Azzi's bottom lip silently asking for entrance.

Azzi let out a small whimper before she opened her mouth giving Paige's tongue access to explore every crevice in her mouth. A small trail of saliva trailed down the corner of Azzi's lip and onto her chin.

Another moan was heard from Azzi's mouth and swallowed by Paige's as their tongues tied together. The brunette pulled back for a quick second taking a breather. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell rapidly as her lungs desperately fought for oxygen.

When Azzi opened her eyes, she looked down at Paige's lips admiring how puffy and red they were. There was a red wine color stain around the blonde's mouth from Azzi's lips combo transferring over to her mouth.

It took Azzi's mind a second to process everything that had just happened. "Oh, crap, I'm so sorry," she apologized, her eyes were now filled with fear.

Paige licked her lips and tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean? Why are you sorry?"

"I just kissed you," Azzi said, her voice was filled with panic. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Paige just laughed. "Azzi, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I promise and I enjoyed the kiss," she admitted with a smug look.

Azzi let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god, I got scared for a second."

"Did you enjoy the kiss?" The mechanic asked looking deep into Azzi's eyes in the process.

The model let out a small hum while she tapped her chin with her pointer finger. "I think you are gonna have to kiss me again before I answer that question. I need another taste," she stated, with a wide grin.

The blonde playfully rolled her eyes. "I guess," she mumbled acting as if the first kiss didn't leave her boxers a sticky mess. Paige grabbed onto the side of Azzi's face to drag her towards her face. This kiss was more harsh, deep, both of them were fighting for dominance this time.

The pace left Azzi speechless and dazed. Before they pulled away completely Paige sucked on Azzi's tongue and bit at her bottom lip. She pulled away with a smirk knowing exactly what she was doing to the girl in front of her.

"How was that?"

Azzi licked her lips. Her lip combo was completely gone along with some of her self-control. "Amazing. 10/10. Would you like me to go on the dealership website and leave a review on how good of a kisser you are?"

Paige rolled her eyes and fought back a smile. "Hmm, no because then all my customers are gonna think I give out kisses for free."

"Oh, they aren't?"

Paige just narrowed her eyes at Azzi. "For you it's different." Her tone was serious as she talked.

Azzi nodded her head in approval. Those words did something to her making her heart double in size and the ache in between her legs worse. She wrapped her arms around Paige's neck to pull her into a hug.

They stayed in that position until Paige opened her mouth again. "Don't get me wrong I love touching you but I gotta finish up with your car. I have another client coming soon," Paige said making Azzi pout a little.

"Okay, I won't bother you anymore."

Paige's eyes widened at Azzi's words. "Nah-, you're not bother me you're distracting me. And it's hard for me to focus when you look like that and looking at me with that look in your eye.

Azzi felt a wave of confidence wash over her body from the effect she had on Paige. "Oh, and also I'm paying for this service. Without a discount this time," she clarified.

"Fuck, I didn't think you were gonna notice that." Paige grumbled out as all the color drained from her face.

"I did and you better not do it again this time."

The mechanic put her hands up in surrender. "Alright, I won't do it again," she lied.

...

The ache in Azzi's feet shot up to her legs. She walked on her tip toes to her car from her heels being sore. The three-hour photo shoot she just finished really did a toll on her body—mainly her feet from the heels she had to wear the whole time.

She reached into her purse to grab her keys. When she opened the door of her car, she let out a groan when her bottom hit the seat cushion. Azzi's few seconds of peace only last about two minutes. When she went to start her car a loud screeching noise was heard from the car refusing to start.

Azzi let off the break with a groan. After a moment she tried to start her car again only for it to make an even louder noise that sounded nothing but expensive. A small cry came from her lips out of defeat.

Without hesitation she reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She clicked on the dealership Paige worked at and hit call. The phone rang for a second time before someone had pickd up the call.

"Hello, my name is Paige how can I help you today?" She said in a friendly manner on the other end of the phone.

"Paige?" Azzi said softly into the speaker.

Paige tone instantly changed at how stressed and weak Azzi's voice sounded. "Azzi? You okay ma? Why do you sound like that?" Panic filled the mechanic's voice.

"My car is not starting again."

"Have you ever considered getting a new car? This one has given you so much trouble recently."

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Paige," she groaned into the phone. "That's not important right now. Can you come get me please?"

"Yeah, are you wanting to come back to the shop or do you want me to take you home?" Azzi could hear Paige start her truck on the other end of the phone it was the same noise she heard a month ago.

"So…how's your day been?"

Even though Azzi was not in the best mood she couldn't fight back the smile that formed on her face. "Stressful. The shoes they had me wear for a photo shoot hurt so bad and they wouldn't let me take them off. Not to mention that the dress I was in was so uncomfortable," she complained.

"That sucks I'm so sorry ma. Also where are you at exactly? I kinda got distracted and I had to pull over for a second."

Azzi palmed her face mad that she forgot to tell Paige where she was. "Fuck I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I'm so tired right now. I'm behind the northwest mall. It's those big tan building that are off to the side."

Paige made a noise. "I thought that shit was abandon building because I've never seen anyone there." She said as she pulled out of a random parking lot to head that way.

The brunette let out a small laugh. "Honestly, I thought the same thing too. I was so sketched out when I first came here for one of my shoots," Azzi explained, looking out the window. The dark gray clouds that were coming her way caught her eye.

Fuck, please don't start pouring, Azzi thought to herself. She let out a loud sulking noise when rainwater started to splatter onto her car right after she thought that.

"You okay?" Paige asked, her voice filled with question.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine. It just started raining."

"Do you have a jacket? I'm pulling up so I should be there in a second."

Azzi throat bobbed. "No, I don't have a jacket," she said softly as if Paige was going to get mad at her.

"It's okay I have one in my truck you can use," Paige told her just as she pulled up into the driveway.

The model watched as Paige got out of the truck with a hoodie in her hands. She was wearing a plain white shirt with some dark navy baggy jeans. Like ways she had a black backwards hat on, and her blonde hair was slicked back into a low bun.

Azzi had come to the conclusion that she needed to burn that damn hat. She doesn't know how much longer she is gonna be able to control herself with how good Paige looked with it on. Azzi got out the car and walked over to Paige to meet her halfway.

Both of the girl's fell into each other's warmth. Azzi had a huge smile on her face while she buried it into Paige's chest. The moment didn't last long because of how the rain started to pick up branching their clothes.

"Wait-, you said your feet are hurting," Paige said out of nowhere. She broke the hug and picked Azzi up by the back of her thighs.

Azzi let out a small laugh as she wrapped her legs tighter around Paige's body. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Paige's neck as the mechanic walked her to her truck and was somehow able to open the door with Azzi still in her hands.

"Wait here. I don't want you getting even more wet." Paige said, as she helped Azzi into the passenger seat.

"I already am wet."

Paige's head shot up at Azzi's words. The brunette rolled her eyes from being able to read what Paige was thinking just by the look on her face. "Not like that dummy. I was talking about my clothes," she grumbled.

The blonde let out a small laugh and just shook her head. "I didn't even say anything," she argued.

Azzi rolled her eyes to the back of her head. "Your facial expression said it all."

"Whatever. I'll be back. Let me go hook your car up so I don't become even more wet." Paige teased with a playful wink. She didn't let Azzi say anything back she just shut the door and walked to the back of her trailer.

God, she's so annoying.

When Azzi had turned her head over the seat to watch Paige through the back window deja vu hit her. She licked her lips while the night that they met replayed in her head. It was this moment she realized that her feelings towards Paige were stronger. Questions flowed through her mind of what would happen if she and Paige got together.

Would she be with my at my photo shoots and support me?

Does she want pets? maybe a dog or two?

Would she want to live in the forest with nothing around us but nature like I want to?

Her daydreaming was broken by Paige. "Azzi, you with me?" she said, snapping her fingers in front of Azzi's face.

"Oh, yeah sorry. Just lost my train of thought," she brushed off and shook her head.

...

A WEEK LATER

The smell of nature and rain filled through the air around Azzi. A faint layer of fog surrounded her body and the tall evergreen trees she was walking beside. An oversized black hoodie was pulled over her head—Paige's hoodie to be specific.

She paired the hoodie with dark navy leggings that hugged her legs in every which way. A loud crackle of thunder made her jump. The noise was so loud that she could hear it through her noise cancellation headphones.

Azzi hated thunder the loud noise never failed to spark her heart rate and make her panic. She turned herself around on the trail to start walking back in the direction of where her car was parked.

Today was one of her free days where she could get away from her job and just live her life. The second she had woken up this morning going on a trail filled her mind. Azzi mumbled a small 'fuck,' when the rainfall started to get worse.

The brunette wrapped Paige's hoodie tighter around her. the smell of Paige filled through her noise which helped calm her heart rate a little from the comforting smell. Azzi quickened her pace and was now basically jogging to her car.

She quickly unlocked her car and got in. Azzi pressed on her break and the start button in a hurry her body was shivering from how cold she was. "No!" she groaned when her car started to make that small screeching noise.

Please, please, please, Azzi thought to herself.

Azzi moved her hand off of the start button to bang on the dashboard. Her hand ached at how hard she was hitting most of it was out of anger and annoyance. The brunette tried one more time and this time the car made a popping noise that didn't sound good.

Tears started to swell in her eyes. She cursed silently at her attachment issues and her stubbornness that always finds its way to bite her in the ass. Azzi just looked out her window in defeat not even knowing what to do.

When she grabbed her phone but then threw it down in her lap when she realized she had no signal. Two minutes passed by of her looking out her driver's window her vision was blurry from tears that ran down her cheeks.

The air that was in her lungs hitched when Paige came into her view. She was still outside walking a dog. Azzi quickly whipped her eyes and face before she got out of her car.

"Paige!" she screamed.

Paige snapped her head over to the direction Azzi's voice. She tugged on the leash that was in her hands signaling to dog to start walking with her. "Azzi? What are you doing here?" she asked when she got closer to the model.

Azzi pulled the sleeves of Paige's hoodie to cover her hands. "I went out for a walk but then it started raining and now my car won't start," she complained talking over her words a little.

"Question does your car ever start? Or does it just choose the days it wants to?"

The brunette shot Paige a look. "Now is not the time to crack jokes," she grumbled.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Do you want me to take you home? Ion got my truck or anything today." She explained, tightening her grip on the leash while she nodded her head over to her car.

Azzi bit her lip and nodded her head. She opened her car door again to grab her things and then closed it. "Yes please," she said softly, her eyes looked down at the husky that was staring at her. "Is that your dog?"

Paige nodded her head with a smile. "Mhm. Her name is Luna. She's low-key a bitch to other people but me so I'm—" she cut herself off when she saw Luna put her ears back and her tail in between her legs as she walked closer to Azzi.

"Awe. Hi baby girl. You're so pretty," Azzi said in a high-pitched voice. She squatted down to pet Luna's head.

The mechanic just watched Luna move even closer to Azzi snuggling her head into Azzi's chest. Paige's eyes were wide from not being able to believe what was happening in front of her. "Well, that's new. She's usually very iffy with new people. Sometimes she'll growl but she loves you."

Azzi just smirked. She looked up at Paige and then back down to Luna. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry that you have Paige as your owner. She's already annoying as it is I can't imagine how she would be as a mom."

Luna had nodded her head a bit and rolled her big icy blue eyes up at the brunette. She looked like she had understood everything that Azzi had said.

Paige's mouth just dropped at Azzi's words. "Wow, that's actually crazy," she said as she shook her head. "I'm a very good mom, thank you very much." She pouted crossing her arms around her chest.

"I think Luna would disagree." Paige jaw had dropped even more at Azzi's words.

"Okay, let's get in the car before you hurt my feeling even more," Paige huffed out acting as if the model had stuck a knife into her chest directly where her heart was.

Azzi rolled her eyes and gave Luna one last ear rub. When she got up, she walked over to Paige and pressed a small peck onto her check. "I'm just messing with you." She mumbled pressing another peck onto the blonde's skin and then pulled away.

Paige licked her lips and stared at Azzi for a second before she had to look away. She interlocked her free hand and Azzi's together as they walked over to her car. The car was a black Porsche that looked breathtaking.

The mechanic had let go of Azzi's hand to open the passenger door. She pulled the passenger seat forward and snapped her fingers telling Luna to get inside the car. When she moved the seat back, she looked at Azzi with a smile, "here you go princess," she said, stepping out of Azzi's way so she could get inside the car.

After she closed Azzi's door she walked over to the driver's door and got in. 'Do I wanna know' by arctic monkeys started playing through the speakers in the car. Paige's cheeks flushed as she scrambled to lower the volume of the music.

"No, don't do that. I love this song," Azzi said moving her hand on top of Paige's to turn up the volume but not too much to hurt Luna's ears.

Paige just gave Azzi a sappy smile in response before she started driving. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the song while she hummed along to it. A loud alert sound that came from Azzi's phone broke the comfortable silence in the car.

Luna had sat up from laying her belly and her ears moved back at the noise. Azzi hissed clicking the button on the side to stop the noise. She turned in her seat to pet Luna's head, "I'm so sorry honey." she apologized. The sad look that was in Luna's eyes crushed her heart.

"What was that?" Paige asked, taking her eyes off of the road to look at Azzi for a split second.

Azzi looked down at her phone, "it was a flash flood alert," she responded. Her fingers moved on her screen to see more information, "fuck and where I live that area is in the red. Which means it the roads are completely flooded and not drivable.

The mechanic made a small hiss sound with her mouth. "Do you wanna come to my house?"

The car fell silent again. The brunette bit her lip and nodded her head. "Yes, please," she responded, reaching her arm towards the back of the car to start petting Luna again.

Paige's house was surrounded by big evergreen trees, shrubs, and all other different kinds of plants you would find a middle of a forest. Azzi's jaw dropped slightly in awe, "Paige, your house is gorgeous," she said.

"Thank you. I've always wanted to live in a cottage out in the woods away from everyone else. It's so peaceful and the nature around me just makes me so happy. And I've always wanted a husky so when I moved out here, I got Luna because I didn't want to be alone. She keeps me in check in a way and also gives me company because she has such a sassy personality." Paige rambled, pulling up into her driveway and then parked her car.

Azzi didn't take her eyes off of Paige's house. "When I tell you everything you just explained is my dream too," she said, reaching her hand out to grab onto Paige's arm out of how excited she was.

Paige smiled at that. She couldn't help herself when her eyes moved from the brunette's eyes to her lips. Just when she was about to lean further in Luna started crying. Paige took her eyes off of Azzi to look in the back. "Oh, crap, I forgot I told her I would give her a treat if she was good. Sometimes I swear that she understands everything that I tell."

The brunette laughed. "She's just a baby," Azzi said, grabbing her things and then opened the door.

"Nah-, she's a spoiled brat," Paige grumbled before she yelped. Luna had gotten out the car and pounced onto Paige making her stumble a bit but not a lot.

Azzi laughed at the whole scene holding onto her stomach. She and Paige walked side by side into the house with Luna in front of them.

When Paige opened the front door the smell of pineapple filled her nose. It wasn't a strong enough smell to give you a headache; it was light. Yellow lights filled all throughout the house. Paige grabbed onto Azzi's hand and leaded her to the kitchen.

She grabbed a bag that made Luna's ears stand up and her tail wagging side to side. "Here give this to her," Paige said, dropping the treat into Azzi's hand.

the model nodded her head and did just as Paige told her to do. "Good girl," Paige whispered from behind her when she gave the treat to Luna. Her sentence made Azzi snap her head over to Paige her cheeks were a pink color, and her eyes were wide and dilated.

Paige met her gaze with a raised eyebrow. "I was talking to Luna…"

"Then why did you mumble it in my ear like that?"

Paige just smirked in response and shook her head a little. "Do you wanna shower? Your clothes are dirty. I can wash them for you." Paige said, changing the subject, rocking back in forth on her heels.

"Oh? So now your gonna change the subject because I called you out?" Azzi responded while she followed Paige to her bathroom.

"Yeah, pretty much," the blonde said as she dug through her draws to find Azzi some comfy clothes.

Azzi just rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Your mom really is something else, huh?" she said to Luna who was by her leg and resting the side of her face on Azzi's thigh.

Luna let out a huge huff as if she agreed. Azzi laughed at that and scratched her head.

"Are you guys talkin' shit about me?" Paige asked with a pile of folded clothes in her hands.

"Yeah, we are." Azzi responded without hesitation.

Paige playfully rolled her eyes as she set the clothes on the counter by the sink. "Whatever," she mumbled. The mechanic let out a small whistle when she walked back to the door, "come on Luna. Let's go."

Luna didn't move she looked at Paige for a quick second and then rolled her eyes. Paige let out a dramatic gasp and her hand went to her chest resting just above her heart. "Wow. Okay, whatever be two faced."

Azzi giggled. Her face was starting to hurt from how much she had been smiling the past ten minutes. "Can she stay in here with me?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, that's fine. And the towels are underneath the sink," Paige told her before she shut the door.

The brunette and Luna joined Paige in the living room twenty minutes later. The shorts Paige had given her were rolled up at the hips making them shorter. And the tank top she had on showed every muscle in her arms causing Paige to stare.

Paige's vision blacked out for a second when Azzi yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Her eyes dropped to the sliver of Azzi's stomach that was now on display from the action. She has abs? Paige thought, her hands were balled up into fists trying to stop herself from doing something impulsive.

"I'm tired. Can we go to bed?" Azzi asked, letting out another yawn.

"Yeah, you can take my bed and I'll take the couch."

Azzi's face scrunched at that. "No. I'll take the couch." She argued.

Paige's gaze hardened, "Ma, don't try to argue with me. You can take my bed. It's okay." She said before she started to situate the pillows that were on her couch for her to sleep on.

the model walked over to Paige and wrapped her hand around the girl's wrist. "I'm going to take the couch," Azzi's voice was more deeper this time.

The mechanic ached one of her eyebrows. She ignored how turned on she was feeling at the moment from how deep Azzi's voice was. "How about we both take the bed? So, we can stop arguing."

Azzi thought about Paige's words for a second. Her eyes lingered on Paige's face—mainly her lips. "Okay," she said, turning around to walk in the direction she just came from. A faint sound of a whistle came from Azzi's mouth making Luna automatically follow her without hesitation.

"Oh, but your gonna follow her when she whistles?" Paige grumbled from behind Luna.

Luna laid in the middle of the bed with Paige and Azzi on each side of her. Azzi took the closest side to the wall while Paige took the closet side to her nightstand. Somehow during the night Paige's arms had moved from underneath her pillow to Azzi's waist.

Paige was spooning Azzi from behind with her face buried in Azzi's neck. The feeling of Azzi pressing back more into Paige's chest woke her up. She licked her dry lips and blinked her eyes slowly.

She moved her head back into Azzi's neck when the brunette had stopped moving for a second. When her lips dragged over the model's skin accidently a soft and faint whimper came from Azzi's lips.

The mechanic's eyes widened in shock. Her body froze up and the noise sent shivers down her spine. Paige bit the inside of her cheek hard she didn't move until another noise came from Azzi's lips while the girl grinded her hips backwards.

Oh, fuck me.

Paige bit the bottom of her lip while she decided on what to do in this situation. Her heart fell to her stomach when she heard: "Hmph—Paige," from Azzi's mouth.

She squeezed her legs together at the moan and the ringing in her ears started to become louder. Fuck it, Paige thought, moving her body a little to sit up.

"Azzi," Paige said softly. The sound of her voice echoed throughout the darkness in her room. Azzi didn't move; she just kept letting out soft whimpers that were starting to drive Paige insane.

"Azzi," she repeated but this time her voice was more firm.

The brunette moved a little and turned towards Paige. "Paige? Why are you up right now?" she asked, her voice was raspy as she spoke. Azzi blinked a few times every ounce of tiredness left her body from the feeling of Paige staring at her face.

Paige shook her head a little. "Your something else," she mumbled lower her face closer to Azzi's. She stopped when their faces were an inch apart. "Can I kiss you?" That question hung in the air for a minute as Azzi processed her question.

Without a warning Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige's neck and dragged her down to connect their lips. The blonde moaned into the kiss her right hand trailed down from the brunette's stomach to the back of Azzi's thigh.

She bent Azzi's leg up in the air a bit caressing the girl's soft skin by running her fingers up and down. The model's fingers played with Paige's hair as the kiss deepened. A muffled moan was heard throughout Paige's room when the blonde ran her tongue over Azzi's bottom lip.

Paige's hand started to knead at Azzi's skin out of hunger. She moved the muscle of her tongue into Azzi's mouth when the brunette gave her access. The kiss started to become sloppy—messy even and Paige's patients was thinning by the second.

the atmosphere around them changed when Azzi wrapped her lips around Paige's tongue and sucked on it before she pulled away. Azzi's chest felt like it was on fire as she tried to control her breathing.

"What were you dreaming about?" Paige asked, licking her swollen lips while she stared into Azzi's soul.

Azzi's throat bobbed and she licked her lips nervously. "I was dreaming about getting a dog. Why does that matter?" she lied. The second her words left her lips she regretted it with how Paige's gaze hardened.

Paige's tightened her hand on the back of Azzi's thigh. "So, moaning my name was involved in you getting a dog?"

The brunette felt her soul leave her body. "What do you mean?" Azzi asked, her voice shook.

The mechanic just blinked once. "I woke up to you moaning my name. Do you wanna keep acting like you don't know what I'm talking about still or do you wanna help me with the aching pain in between my legs?"

Azzi bucked her hips up at Paige's words. "Yeah? You like the idea of you pleasing me?" Paige teased with a smug look. The way Azzi was still trying to buck her hips up to get some type of pleasure didn't go unnoticed by her.

The brunette nodded her head in response.

"Nah-, don't do that shit. Use your words."

The mess in between Azzi's legs worsened at the way the girl above her was talking to her. "Yes, I like the idea of pleasing you. The thought of making you feel good has been circling my mind ever since our first kiss." she mumbled out, her lips were quivering a bit.

Paige smirked. "Good girl. I love when you obey me." She said, sitting up fully and taking her hands off of Azzi's body.

She rested her back against the headboard of her bed. Paige didn't hesitate to take off her shorts in boxer all at once. She threw them off the bed and opened her legs. "Come here," she rasped out, tapping the empty stop in between her legs.

Azzi launched herself forward crawling into the space on her hands in knees. She was on laying on her stomach with her face hovering above Paige's heat. Her arms were wrapped around Paige's thighs.

The brunette's eyes looked down her eyes gawked at the how the moonlight shining through the window beside Paige's bed and reflected onto Paige's arousal. her mouth watered at the sight she moved her head forward as if she was stuck in a trance.

Just when she was an inch away from having Paige's slick in her mouth Paige stopped her by holding the side of her face. "Say please," she commanded.

Azzi rolled her eyes up at Paige. "Please," she whined.

A proud grin was now on Paige's face. "Good girl, now you can taste me."

Azzi stuck her tongue out collecting the slick that had gathered onto the blonde's folds. The moan that came out of her mouth made Paige's eyes flutter. "You taste so good," she whispered, sucking on her tongue for a bit to taste the remaining slick that was still there.

The sharpness of her nails dug into Paige's skin while she ran her tongue through Paige's folds again and repeated the action. Azzi's eyes were closed shut and she moved her head even closer to Paige's cunt. The tip of her nose rub slightly against the mechanic's clit causing her to let out a soft groan.

Paige eyes rolled back and one of her hands grabbed at Azzi's curly hair. "Azzi. Stop teasing me and just get to the point already," she snapped.

The brunette just ignored her continuing to lap at her folds. A whine left Azzi's lips when Paige pulled her head away from her center. "Azzi. Be a good girl and follow my instructions. Don't ignore me ma."

Azzi licked her lips. "Okay I won't do it again," she apologized, stuffing her back into Paige's heat. This time she went straight for the blonde's clit flicking it lightly with the tip of her tongue. She smiled into Paige's pussy when Paige's body shivered at the action.

She pulled back a little to spit a glob of spit onto Paige's clit. Before Paige could complain at the loss of her tongue she lapped at her clit harder and flattened her tongue. Her hands stopped Paige from trying to close her legs at how good the sensation felt.

Azzi tugged at Paige thighs trying to bring the mechanic even closer to her mouth. The taste of Paige was just so addicting it made her feel feral. And the loud moans that were now falling from the blonde's mouth when she wrapped her lips around her clit wasn't helping one bit.

Paige bucked her hips put shoving her cunt more into Azzi's face. Her hands were now both gripping the sheets and her head was tilted back resting on the headboard. "Fuck, You're such a good girl f'me." She groaned.

The mechanic opened her eyes and looked down in between her legs. She clenched around nothing at the sight of Azzi devouring her like she was the best thing she's ever tasted. Paige smirked at how Azzi groaned against her from her praise. The sound of sheets ruffling made her look put to see that Azzi was squeezing her legs together.

A huge grin fell on her face. "I fucking knew you had a praise kink." she grumbled out. Her voice was lighter and shakier now from Azzi sucking her nerves harder.

Paige's legs started to shake around the brunette's head. She shut her eyes again at the feel of her release forming in her lower stomach. "Fuck-, you keep eating me like that m'not gonna last much longer," she whimpered.

She slouched her body more into her bed and tried to move her hips away from Azzi's mouth when she was on the edge. It was no use though she stayed in place right where she was and just took it.

Azzi let go of Paige's clit and a wet noise came from her mouth from it. "Oh, fuck Azzi," Paige moaned so loud that it made Azzi's ears ring and her cheeks burn. Ignoring the aching pain from her jaw moving so much so pushed through flicking her tongue of Paige's penetrating clit until the girl came.

Without even hesitation Azzi licked up all of Paige's juices and didn't pull away until Paige was crying. "Wait-, give me a second," Paige begged tears fell from her face because of overstimulation.

The model pulled away and licked her lip. She lowered her head to press messy kisses on Paige's inner thigh giving the girl time to come down from her high.

A low and scratchy laugh fell from Paige's lips once she was finally able to breathe right. "Damn, you ruined me," she sniffed, whipping away her tears with a small smile.

Azzi rolled her eyes up at Paige and gave her a small grin. "Yeah, I did," she agreed running her the tips of her fingers up and down Paige's legs. "Do you think you can go again?" Azzi asked, biting her lip.

"I think so, but I won't last long."

The brunette just shrugged her shoulders at that. "that's fine it's actually even better. I'll get to have your juices in my mouth sooner."

Paige's entrance clenched around nothing at that. "Shit-, you can't say stuff like that," she groaned feeling her clit pulsate in the need of more stimulation.

"Why? It looks like she loves it," Azzi said, referring to how Paige's clit was throbbing and crying for more. To make a point Azzi moved her head back over Paige's bundle of nervous and flattened her tongue against her clit. She smirked at how she could actually feel how turned on Paige was and from how she needed more.

The blonde's mouth fell open at Azzi's action. A long and drawled out moan came out of her mouth while her spine arched. The next action had shocked her Azzi pushed two fingers into her entrance without a warning.

Her walls happily welcomed the brunette's fingers her walls had even squeezed around Azzi's digits as if it was giving them a kiss. "Fuck do you hear that shit?" Azzi groaned, referring to the wet noises that were coming from Paige's entrance while she fingered her.

"She loves me huh?" Azzi asked, using her thumb to rub Paige's puffy clit in a circular motion.

Paige hissed in response. More uncontrolled tears fell from her face as she rocked herself forward trying to get Azzi's fingers deeper. "Fuck-," Paige cried, moving her hand to grab onto Azzi's hair.

She pulled the girl up from in between her legs bringing her into a kiss. Paige moans muffled out into Azzi's mouth from the brunette not stopping. She curled her fingers up to hit Paige's g-spot making the blonde pull away from the kiss.

"It feels so good," Paige whimpered, sucking on her swollen bottom lip and rested her temple on the side of Azzi's face. Her legs were now trembling and her legs closed together but that didn't stop Azzi.

Azzi smirked at how her fingers started to slip in easier. "God, it's almost like this pussy was made for me." She groaned watching the way Paige's stomach rose and fell. "Look at this shit-, taking my fingers so good," Azzi egged on.

"Stop talking like that," Paige hissed, feeling the coil in her stomach forming from the dirty words falling out of the brunette's mouth.

"Why you close to making a mess on my fingers?"

"Mhm," Paige hummed. Her hands were now grabbing at Azzi's chest that was still covered by her shirt. Her eyebrows frowned at that realization. "Can I?" She asked, her hand was at the neckline of Azzi's tank top ready to slip in at any moment.

Azzi licked her lips. "Of course honey, you don't even have to ask."

Paige yanked the hem of Azzi's shirt down not caring about stretching it out. Thankfully Azzi wasn't wearing a bra, so she was able to latch her lips around one of the girl's nipples. The model hissed a little at the pain she moved curled her finger more working through the way Paige's walls fluttered around her.

The whimper that fell from Paige's mouth vibrated against Azzi's skin. She bucked her hips upward and gushed all over Azzi's digits with no warning. Her body shook from the after math while her legs clamped shut together even though Azzi's fingers where still in her.

She let go of Azzi's nipple with a cry. "Okay-, okay, no more," she breathed out.

Azzi released her fingers and brought them up to her mouth. She licked them clean letting out a groan at the taste of Paige's slick on her tongue. The brunette just rested one of her palms on Paige's stomach and cradled Paige into her chest.

"You did so good for me,"she whispered, kissing Paige's sweaty forehead. Sweet nothing fell from her lips and into Paige's ear until the blonde stopped shaking and eventually calmed down. Her nails ran up and down Paige's back as she allowed Paige to such on the skin around her nipple.

"Here let's get you more comfortable," Azzi whispered, laying Paige on her back so her head was propped up against a pillow. Right when her feet touched the hard wood of Paige's floor the blonde reached out and grabbed Azzi's wrist.

"Where are you going?" She asked, her voice was filled with tiredness.

"I'm going to get a rag so I can clean you up. I'll be back in a second," she responded and walked away to head into the bathroom. When she walked back into the room Paige was half asleep and barley wake.

Paige let out a small hiss from the rag making contact with her oversensitive heat. "I'm sorry," Azzi apologized, carefully cleaning up Paige's inner thighs. After she was done cleaning Paige up and crawled back into the bed and snuggled up with Paige.

"So…does this mean I'm your girlfriend now?" Paige asked, snuggling closer into Azzi's warm body.

Azzi ran her fingers through Paige's messy hair. "If you want to be then yes," she responded, massaging the tense muscles in Paige's shoulders.

Paige tangled her legs with the brunette's. "Of course I want to be your girlfriend," she responded in a slight sassy tone.

The model just laughed at that. She stared up at Paige's ceiling silencing listening to the sound of Paige breathing. "So.." Azzi trailed off after a few seconds of silence, "does this mean I get free service on my car now?"

"I've been giving you free services what do you mean?"

"Okay but like still."

Paige just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly what it means. And tomorrow we are gonna look for you a new car." She muttered into Azzi's skin.

Azzi let out a sigh in relief. "Thank god. I was actually so close to getting rid of it before I met you. I just needed an excuse to see you, so I kept it." Azzi confessed, causing Paige to lift her head out of the brunette's chest to look at her.

"Really?"

Azzi bit her lip. "Well, I also did have an attachment to that car so that was another reason. But you were the main reason on why I kept it. And I'm so happy I did," she said, wrapping her arms tighter around Paige body.

A faint noise of nails clicking against the floor made the room so silent again. Azzi held onto Paige out of fear, but it only lasts for a second before Luna jumped up on the bed. "Oh, hey honey, where have you been?" Azzi asked the dog as if she could respond.

Luna parked herself beside Azzi resting her head on her shoulder blade. "I missed you. I'm sorry for being loud. well, actually, it was your mother who was being loud. Not me. I wouldn't be surprised if she was echoing throughout the whole house"

Paige let out a sleepy groan in response. Azzi just laughed. "You know I'm right don't even try to argue. But it's okay because it was very sexy. I would pay to hear those noises come out of your mouth again."

Before Paige could respond to her Luna let out another exhale simply reminding them that she was still there. Azzi cocked her head over to the dog, "oh, I'm sorry Luna. I didn't mean to talk like that around you," she apologized, earning a small and slight slap on her chest.

"Go to sleep, Azzi," Paige snapped.

...

Azzi Fudd wanted nothing more than a clean slate; a new opportunity. To spread her...purple wings.

The exciting trade created more commotion than just ESPN headlines, spreading...internally?

The Golden State Valkyries PR Manager, Paige Bueckers, had long been obsessed with the girl before the trade had even occurred. It takes all of her energy + a little help in Ballhalla to make Azzi even bat an eye(lash).

Azzi had always been reserved, thoughtful, and rather nonchalant. 

And Paige was…um…but she forms a plan. 

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

It was their first home game of the season, with a sold-out home crowd of 18k+ fans in Ballhalla. The arena had been erupting for every single play, whether it was a Gabby Williams steal, a Kiah Stokes block, or an Azzi Fudd three. 

Azzi was surprising even herself with how well she was playing. She’d been expecting to have a rough start to her season, like her rookie year, since it was a completely new team and environment.

But she was doing…alright. She supposed it had to do with her landing on a more well-established and title-contending team than her first with the Liberty, currently surrounded by pieces like Veronica Burton and Gabby Williams, who were all-star-caliber athletes. 

She had racked up a respectable 8 points, 2 rebounds, and 2 steals. It was only midway through the second quarter, so she had plenty of time to really explode later in the game, before the bench would get minutes.

They had a decent lead, up 25-18 against the Seattle Storm. It was Gabby’s former team, so she felt especially happy after sending a crisp pass to Gabby, who proceeded to drain her three-ball. She held out three fingers down by her right leg and smiled at Gabby as they jogged back towards their basket before locking back in.

“Switch! Kai, switch!” She yelled out, going under Malonga’s screen. 

That was another thing she was surprised by, just how seamlessly they seemed to work on defense together. She could not have reliably switched with half of her Liberty teammates during her rookie season. She was quite impressed with her new teammates' defensive abilities, despite knowing the Valkyries had always been pesky defenders, from when she’d scouted and played them when on the Liberty.

She took a few steps to her left, while still keeping a hand reaching out towards her defender, as she invaded the space of Dom’s drive. She managed to get her fingertips on the edge of the ball and was rewarded for her efforts with a steal, as the ball came tumbling into her abdomen. She started sprinting with the ball and had made it to about half court until she started surveying her surroundings. She noted that Veronica was a few steps behind her, to her left, and that Veronica’s defender was right on her heel. She twisted her head forward again to see where her own defender was now, trying to gauge whether she should just go for it herself on the fast break.

But right as she did so, her gaze caught on something in the audience. In the first row near the scorer's table. 

Blue eyes.

Azzi had no idea what had come over her, but her gaze remained fixed on those striking blue eyes as she dribbled forward almost mindlessly.

Understandably, with her attention elsewhere, the ball was simply stolen right back from her, and the Storm rushed on the fast break. Her gaze was wrenched back towards her teammates when she heard multiple people yelling her name, and she saw Veronica backpedalling while throwing her a ‘wtf?’ look.

Um, yeah. What the fuck?

Never in her (admittedly short) career as a WNBA player had Azzi been distracted in such a way. She loved her fans dearly, but never spared them a second thought when she was on the court. She was always locked in. In fact, she was kind of known for that in the basketball world.

So why the hell did she just get distracted, looking at…was that Paige?...of all people? 

Her thoughts were disrupted by the piercing screech of a whistle from the referee she was now standing beside. The Storm had scored off of Azzi’s turnover, converting her mistake into a three-pointer, and Natalie had called for a timeout. 

The Valkyries jogged over to their bench, all avoiding Natalie’s fiery gaze that was (understandably) narrowed in on Azzi.

“Azzi, I’m not sure what the hell was, but that can’t happen again. Got it?” 

Azzi gave her a small nod of affirmation, still avoiding her gaze. 

“Alright, coaches, let’s huddle up real quick.” She called out to the staff as she gestured for the players to huddle up by themselves. 

It was a new system for Azzi. The Liberty had always had their coach planted in front of their bench during timeouts, with the five that had just come off the court resting. Their coach would go through a few things they wanted to correct, and then would typically draw up some plays on their clipboard. The Valks, on the other hand, liked to have the coaches and players discuss amongst themselves first, before coming together in a big huddle.

Azzi took a seat between Gabby and Veronica, gratefully accepting a Tetra Pak of coconut water from the staff over her shoulder. “Thank you-”

“What was that?” Veronica asked, squirting a stream of water into her mouth from her Gatorade bottle. She swallowed. “Like, genuinely, what the hell was that?”

“Yeah, what? I’ve literally never seen you do that in my life, Az.” Gabby added, frowning. 

Azzi looked at each of them before she landed on, “Nerves, I guess? I dunno.”  

She didn't see the two of them giving each other a look before they decided to drop it. 

Azzi took a sip of coconut water, swishing it around in her mouth. 

It was totally Paige, wasn’t it? Of course it is- those were her bright-ass eyes. I mean, they’re kinda pretty...holy fuck, stop thinking about Paige.

The refs blew their whistle again after Natalie reinforced the idea of being more ‘focused on the ball and your surroundings’, making sure to give Azzi some extra eye contact during her speech. 

She'd called out their lack of rebounding, too, which had boxing out at the forefront of Azzi’s mind, pushing away all thoughts of…whatever the hell that was. 

They jogged back onto the court and into position, Gabby giving her a comforting pat on the back as she passed by. 

They were running a play for Azzi, out of the timeout, to get her three-ball going. It was pretty simple: 

She’d inbound to Veronica in the corner, who’d dribble around Gabby and Dom and get the ball back to Azzi once she relocated, free from Skylar Diggins after she’d hopefully get stuck on the double-screen from Janelle and Kiah. 

Azzi inbounded the ball to Veronica and casually walked back onto the court before sprinting around both Janelle and Kiah. She turned around at the other end of the court, behind the arc, with her hands up in front of her, ready to catch the incoming pass. She quickly glanced towards the hoop and saw that the screens had thankfully worked. Skylar was stumbling towards her, but in the paint. Azzi looked over at Veronica, who was now at the top of the key. 

Now just catch and shoot the open three. Come on... 

Blue eyes. 

Azzi’s gaze had moved just beyond Veronica’s figure, above the scorer’s table, and…right back onto Paige’s eyes. Her breath caught at the realization that Paige was staring right at her, and she briefly allowed her gaze to wander. Paige was leaning forward in her seat, her elbows resting on her knees, chin sitting on top of her intertwined hands. She was wearing her blonde hair down today, golden strands framing her face. 

She looks so soft again…

SMACK

Veronica had passed Azzi the ball, clearly thinking she was ready for the pass, as she had literally been facing Veronica, but Azzi was still completely distracted. And so the ball simply collided with her face. 

“Ow! Fuck-” 

Skylar grabbed the ball that was now just bouncing by itself in front of Azzi and sprinted the floor with it, easily making the uncontested layup as Azzi didn't move. She stood in place, clutching her face in her hands. 

The ref nearest to her blew her whistle just as Azzi crouched down, still holding her face. She felt pain radiating up the bridge of her nose. 

Did I just break my nose!?

“Azzi, what the fuck? Are you okay?” Gabby had jogged over to her and crouched down beside her. She put an arm around her shoulders, leaning closer. “What was that!?” 

Azzi checked her hands for blood, which there was plenty of, unfortunately, before responding, “Um, I dunno- can I get a towel, please?” 

Veronica came jogging over to her other side, bending down to hand her one of their white Gatorade towels as blood continued to pour out of Azzi’s nose. 

“Azzi, dude, are you good?”

“Yes, yes, ‘m fine,” Azzi said in a nasally voice, pressing the towel against her face as she slowly got up, gratefully grabbing the arm Gabby held out to stabilize her.

“But, like, why’d you zone out? We were running the play correctly, right?” Veronica asked, starting to walk alongside them with a frown. 

“Yeah, no, the play was totally fine, I just…got distracted.” Azzi gingerly dabbed the towel on her nose, becoming slightly concerned about the growing red stain. 

“By wha-”

“Azzi! Come here, we got some plugs for you.” One of the athletic trainers called out to her from the sideline. Azzi looked up to see her holding up two cotton plugs. 

“Thanks, Sophia,” Azzi mumbled when she got closer, letting go of Gabby to take them. She gently pushed them up her nostrils, wincing when they caused some discomfort.

She felt more than saw Natalie come over. “Fudd.” 

Fuck.

“First of all, are you okay?” 

Oh.

“Yeah, I’m alright, thanks Nat.” She resisted the urge to tilt her head back, vaguely remembering having read something about that not being what you’re supposed to do with a nosebleed.

“Okay, good. Then I can yell at you without feeling guilty.” Natalie said, crossing her arms.

Fuck.

“What the hell was that!? Were you even looking for the pass from VB? We literally drew up the play, and everything else was in place! The double screen worked perfectly and Sky was stuck in the paint. You were wide open!” 

Azzi grimaced again, shooting Natalie an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, I know I keep hesitating-”

“Hesitating? You were literally staring off into the distance when V passed to you. What were you even looking at?” Natalie huffed agitatedly.

“Um-” Fuck. “Sorry, yeah, I did get distracted. I thought I saw someone in the crowd-” 

“I don’t care if you see a fucking unicorn courtside, Fudd! Pay attention when you’re on the court! We can’t have you be all distracted. We’ve been a championship-contending team since our franchise was established, and I am not having you fuck that up because you saw some hot guy in the stands!”

Azzi straightened up, blushing at the insinuation that wasn’t true (well, just the ‘guy’ part, but-), “Woah, woah, wait! It wasn’t- look, coach, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll keep my eyes on the ball. I swear this was a one-time thing. I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

Natalie’s rigid posture loosened a bit, but she kept her eyebrow raised. “It better not, Fudd. It looked real similar to when you lost the ball earlier.” 

“I know, yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll lock in. It won’t happen again.” She nodded solemnly, offering her a small smile. 

“Okay, go get some water too, kid. Nose alright for real?” 

Azzi experimentally felt the bridge of her nose, pinching it between her thumb and index finger. It didn’t hurt that much anymore. It didn’t seem broken or anything, thankfully. Likely just a nosebleed. “I will. It seems fine, thanks.” 

She made her way over to the bench again, sighing as she dropped into the open seat beside Gabby. 

Gabby looked over at her but decided not to comment, settling for an expression of ‘the fuck was that?’ instead. 

Janelle wasn’t so forgiving, though, who was sitting on the other side of Gabby. She leaned forward in her seat. “What were you staring at? I thought you were known for being so locked in or something. Family in the crowd?” She took a sip of water. 

Gabby looked at her more intensely, raising both her eyebrows. 

Azzi looked down and started wiggling her toes, watching the material of her shoes shift slightly from the action. 

I’ll never hear the end of it if I tell them the truth, bro. Hmm, I’ll be vague-

“Azzi?” 

“I saw something, and it, like, distracted me, yeah.” 

“Yeah, probably Paige or something.” Gabby laughed, nudging Azzi’s shoulder.  

Dude. Why am I so unlucky.

Azzi could feel heat rush to her face at Gabby's words, so she took her time again to respond, reaching down to unnecessarily mess with her shoes. She reached up to delicately feel her nose with her other hand.

Gabby impatiently nudged her foot. “What, did you actually see her?” 

She looked over at her. Then at Janelle, who was smiling. 

This is so embarrassing. Do I lie? 

But Azzi wasn’t much of a liar. “Ugh. Okay, you guys can’t laugh. Promise?” 

She looked between them, who were already struggling to keep their faces straight, and waited until they both nodded in agreement.

“I…did see her.” She mumbled, turning towards the court. 

Azzi heard Janelle let out a little gasp before saying, “No way, really? Is that why you’re red?” 

Fuck.

Gabby immediately started snickering, earning her an elbow to the ribs from Azzi. “Really!? It was actually her?” 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” Azzi’s head snapped toward them, red cheeks and all, frowning. 

Gabby laughed again, “Nah, I take it back. Did you really see Paige?”

“...maybe.”

“And just seeing her made you do all…that?” Janelle joined in on the teasing, laughing too. 

“Twice?” Gabby added with a grin. 

Azzi sighed. There really wasn’t any way to get out of this one. “Yes, okay? I’ll stop looking her way. Don’t lecture me. I know I need to lock in.” 

Gabby snorted. “Girl, we don’t care about that.”

“Yeah, as long as you end up shooting those open threes, Az, it’s okay if you get a little distracted by Paigey.” 

“Oh my god, stop.” Azzi groaned, pressing her palms against her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before looking over. “I don’t care if you guys tease me, but can you do it after the game? Please?” 

Gabby and Janelle both took a moment to school their expressions before Gabby finally said, “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s all lock in.”

Natalie and the rest of the coaches walked over to them, and Natalie took a seat on the floor in front of them, clutching her clipboard, as the rest of them huddled around behind her. 

“Alright, next time y’all come down the court, we’ll run the same play, k? But for this inbound…

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, right?” Gabby whispered beside her. 

Azzi felt the heat return to her cheeks despite herself, but chose to ignore it. She clenched her jaw and nudged Gabby with her knee instead, focusing her attention on the clipboard Natalie was now gesturing at.

“I’m just sayinggg. Ow!”

The whistle was blown again, and they stood up together. 

…alright, Valks on three, ready? 1, 2, 3,”

“VALKS!”

Janelle tapped her shoulder and said a quick, “Okay, hope you’re good for real, Az,” before jogging to the other side of the court.  

“Thanks, Ja!” Azzi called out after her, turning back towards Gabby. “Is it still bleeding?” She asked, gently pulling the plugs out of her nose, tilting her head up while grimacing slightly.

“Nah, it looks fine, don’t worry,” Gabby said, narrowing her eyes and leaning closer. “Not bleeding anymore, I don’t think.” 

Azzi handed the plugs to the gloved trainer, thanked her, and she and Gabby slowly made their way onto the court together. 

“You think Paige knows?” Gabby said to her under a covered mouth while Azzi adjusted the spandex under her shorts.  

“Knows what? That I was busy staring at her during a play and then got hit in the face?” Azzi grimaced again, shielding her mouth from the cameras as well. 

Gabby giggled, “No, that you’re clearly into her, too.” 

“Gabby!” Azzi slapped her arm, only making Gabby laugh even harder. “I am not! And you said you’d stop!”

“Whatever you say, Fudd. Whatever you say.” 

But as Azzi briefly thought about Paige again, she couldn’t help but notice that she definitely felt something for her. Especially after last night…

The whistle blew again to indicate that Veronica could inbound the ball, and they broke apart, heading to their spots. 

Stop. Lock the fuck in.

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

“…was just a fantastic pass in the 3rd quarter. After those moments where we saw you freeze for the first time in your career, in the second, it was great seeing you really…lock in, I guess, in the second half. 9 assists in your first game here, especially as a shooting guard, is seriously impressive."

Azzi closed her eyes and exhaled, ignoring Gabby’s foot kicking hers under the table in the media room, which was presumably paired with her classic smirk.

"I’m wondering about the team’s seemingly remarkable passing abilities, where you specifically, Azzi, were able to focus so well and find the hot hand, even in such a new and distracting arena like Ballhalla-“

Another voice chimed in, “Yeah, Az! You know, with all the purple feathers, and say, hot blondes in the building, how do you remain focused?”

Paige was going to kill Janelle, who’d crashed their presser and had somehow been given the second microphone. She'd mouthed ‘don’t’, right before she spoke, but of course, she didn’t listen to her. She heard Gabby let out a small laugh.

Mm, she’s right though, I am a hot blonde. 

She turned to her right upon hearing Gabby burst out laughing, immediately preparing to take control of the situation. Gabby, however, was staring straight at Paige. So was Azzi. “Did I just say that out loud? Fu-“ she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes widening, and let out a muffled, “I mean-“

“Thank you for commenting on our passing, Matt. I think we were able to…

The fading laughter in the room answered Paige’s question as Azzi started answering. She didn’t spare a glance at Paige throughout her entire response.

…and to you, Ja, it really is remarkable that I stay focused when you’re bothering me 24/7.” Azzi ended, turning to smirk at her.

Bless her media training.

“And…that’s all the time we have today, thank you.” Paige stopped the timer and got up, shoving her phone into her back pocket and smoothing her slacks before she busied herself turning all of the microphones off, looking anywhere but at her right.

She could hear Azzi and Gabby bickering as they left the room, amidst the chatter amongst the reporters, and, right as the pair rounded the corner, a distinct slapping sound followed by an “ow!” from Gabby. 

Paige caught a wink from Janelle when she finally chanced a glance upward, before immediately returning her gaze back to the microphones she was unplugging, swallowing dryly.

She felt a buzz in her back pocket and took her phone back out.

Janeeel: 

so have u made the plan yet?

PB:

no?

idec rn why the fuck did you do that

Janeeel:

😜

bro.

make the plan Paige

season’s only so long

PB:

after THAT?

idk if i can ever talk to her again

or see her, even

Janeeel:

omg stop she def thinks it was cute or smth

PB:

…

there’s no way

Paige glanced up again and saw that the whole room had cleared out. She double-checked that she’d taken care of all of the audio equipment before sinking back into her chair with a sigh. She ran her fingers through her hair with one hand as she continued texting Janelle with the other. 

PB:

what happened earlier tho

Janeeel:

when

PB:

like when she froze on the court

i’ve never seen her do that before

like

when she was at NY i mean

Janeeel:

u watched her THAT closely?

gay ass

PB:

literally shut up

i’m putting your name down for media tomorrow

Janeeel:

no wait

PB:

too late

She stood back up and cracked her neck before looking around the room as one last check. She picked up her backpack from behind her seat and headed out of the room, turning the lights off behind her, and opened their thread again.

Janeeel:

bruh

i’m not telling u what happened to Azzi then

PB:

ok fine i won’t make u do media tmr

She started walking up the stairs and eventually made her way to her office on the second floor, flicking the lights on and shutting the door behind her.

Janeeel:

yay ur so easy

ok so idk how you’re not putting two and two together but she literally saw u in the stands and got distracted

so…

PB:

wait that’s what i thought happened

but like

i didn’t know if i was seeing things

Janeeel:

seeing what?

gay asssss

PB:

ur back on the list btw

Janeeel: 

stop

ik ur stupid but u can see she likes u right?

like if she’s never been distracted before

in her entire career

and YOU distracted her tonight

she’s definitely into u

Paige set her backpack down on her chair and took out her computer, placing it on her desk. She moved the backpack to the floor, against the edge of the desk, before sitting down in the office chair and sighing.

PB:

man idk

im scared

Janeeel:

so make the plan then

PB:

idkkkkkkk

Janeeel:

ur so stupid

make the fucking plan Paige

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Paige set her phone down on top of her laptop and sat back in her chair. She brought her hands up behind her head and kicked her legs out under the desk, crossing her ankles.

A plan. Okay.

She sat up again and looked at what was on her desk. 

A stack of papers she’d been meaning to take care of, a cup full of pens, her laptop and phone, colored sticky notes… 

That’ll do.

She grabbed a pad of sticky notes and a pen, pushing her laptop forward to make room on her desk to write, before realizing she had an entire empty surface on her right, thanks to the massive L-shaped desk her office had come with. 

Paige hadn’t woken up one day and decided to be a PR Manager. Well, sort of. She'd initially moved to California eight years ago. She'd finished high school here before starting her pursuit of an engineering degree at Caltech. After a single semester of Calc III and Orgo, though, she realized that was definitely not the career path for her. Her GPA thanked her. 

She spent winter break of her freshman year in her dorm conducting extensive research into what other major she could pursue at Caltech. It took her a while to land on one, but after realizing that she had some interest in the corporate world, she decided to pursue a general communications major. At least, at first. 

She applied to change her major on Christmas Day, as she was away from her family anyway. She'd filled out the form as intricately as possible to do her best to ensure that she’d be accepted into the business program for the spring semester, despite it being such a late application. 

Paige got quite lucky, she thought, since she was accepted into the program and was able to start her business journey that year. 

She found the classes to be much more engaging and interesting, and was very glad that she had changed her career path in time. Her sophomore year was when she decided to pursue a double major, and she added a minor during the fall semester of her junior year. 

Those four years had passed quickly, and Paige found herself reading an email during winter break of her senior year in the same dorm. It had detailed the internship she had been accepted for: An opportunity to work with the WNBA’s Golden State Valkyries’ PR team. 

She worked with them remotely for a few months before graduating and was eventually offered a promotion to work full-time as their PR Manager. The move went smoothly, and Paige found herself absolutely loving her post-graduation life. 

When she had come in to work at the facility in Oakland, she’d been shocked to see how fancy it was. The entire facility was quite new, of course, as the Valkyries were a very recent addition to the WNBA as an expansion team, but the fact didn’t dampen just how impressed Paige was during her tour. 

When she’d been shown her office, she had been even more surprised to see that it was absolutely massive. There was plenty of floor space, and even a small couch on one end perched atop a fluffy rug, as well as a smart whiteboard that hung on top of it. 

…so, yeah. After her whole college journey, she now got to sit in this fancy office chair behind a certainly-overpriced mahogany, adjustable L-shaped desk, in the heart of the bay, as the Valkyries PR Manager. 

She clicked her pen and brought the wad of sticky notes closer to her. 

Right, the plan.

Honestly? Paige wasn’t feeling very confident about the whole thing. She knew that she probably had somewhat of a chance with Azzi, that much the whole bench thing had confirmed, but she wasn’t convinced it was a…very big chance. She really couldn’t tell if Azzi was still hung up on her ex or not. 

I mean, she literally cuddled with me-

Yeah, that was true. Sure, Paige had initiated the contact, but Azzi had fully rested her head on Paige’s shoulder. Nevermind that she’d gotten so nervous in the moment that she almost forgot how to breathe; the point still stands. And she had literally nuzzled into her shoulder when Paige suggested they should head back. That was surely a sign that Azzi was at least a little into her, right?

And there was the whole thing that had gone down at the game, earlier. 

Azzi had definitely caught her eye when she was on the court, and definitely just froze in place. Paige hadn’t lied to Janelle, in their texts. She, truly, had never seen Azzi do that before. It was actually something the media constantly praised about her game; how she was always so damn focused.

There was also the whole ‘I am a hot blonde’ thing that had just happened, too. And, well, there wasn’t much saving that one. Paige cringed when thinking about it, lowering her forehead onto her desk and closing her eyes.

Stupid. 

But it would be okay. This was why she was sitting in her office at 10 pm, making the whole plan-thing, right? 

She let out a deep exhale before lifting her head, clicking the pen twice. 

Hmm, ‘how to hit on Azzi Fudd’? 

She wrote it down. 

Nah, that doesn't look right. 

She crumpled it up and threw it in the bin under her desk.

Maybe not ‘how to’. What about “Hitting on your coworker; a plan’?

She didn’t even bother writing that one down. It was a definite no. 

She rubbed her eyes, making sure to angle the pen away from her face. It was getting late. She really needed to get this over with and go to sleep. 

Ooh, I know-

She wrote it down on the pad before ripping the sticky note off of the stack and standing up. She turned around and walked around her chair and over to the whiteboard before realizing that someone could literally walk in at any moment and see this nonsense in her office, so she turned back, deciding to put it somewhere more…private. 

Her desk had a compartment that pulled out for a keyboard, if she were to use a PC, but it was currently unoccupied. She walked back over to her desk and opened the drawer. 

Yeah, still empty. 

Paige placed the sticky note down on the far end of the drawer, right in the center. It was just barely visible if you pulled the drawer out as far as it would go. 

Perfect.

It read:

10 steps to bag Azzi Fudd

Now to…actually come up with those ten steps.

She yawned, cupping her mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the pen. She tapped her phone to check the time. It was 10:46 pm. She needed to hurry up and go to bed.

After a good thirty minutes, Paige had finally finished detailing the ten steps to bag Azzi Fudd on separate sticky notes and meticulously placing each of them in the compartment. She smiled almost sinisterly at her completed work. 

Perfect. 

She wheeled her chair back to admire it, staring at the one on the far left for a long moment before letting out a sigh. This was going to be a long journey.  

She stood, pushing the drawer all the way in, and packed her belongings, slinging her backpack over one shoulder before leaving her office. She turned the lights off and closed the door behind her as she started fishing her car keys out of her bag. 

One step at a time.   

⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・ﾟ

Azzi, Gabby, Veronica, and Janelle were heading to the sauna after the game. The Valks had beaten the Seattle Storm, 94-78, and the team had decided to celebratorily splash both Azzi and Natalie in the locker room with water afterward. The trio had waited for Azzi to dry herself before they all piled into Gabby’s car, who drove them over to the training facility.

Gabby wrenched the door open to the sauna and made her way inside, the rest of them following behind her. She took a corner seat, and Veronica and Janelle sat on either side of her. Azzi opted for the other bench because she still despised getting other peoples’ sweat on her. 

“Like I said before, you’re so weird, Fudd. We literally play basketball together.” Gabby said, rolling her eyes as Janelle and Veronica both laughed.

Azzi wiped her forehead with her towel and inched away from them to make a point before responding, “We play together, sure, but you’re still gross, bruh.” 

“Sooo,” Janelle started, leaning towards Azzi. 

Azzi closed her eyes. She knew where this was going. 

“About the game…” 

“Yesss I’m so glad we won by 16! VB,” Azzi turned to look at her, adding, “You’re my favorite floor general,” with an exaggerated smile, holding up a heart with her hands and cocking her head to the side. 

“Aw, thanks, Az-”

“Not that, bro. What the hell was that moment with you and Paige?” Janelle said impatiently.

“Her what? Paige?” Veronica looked between her and Janelle, confused. 

“She’s in love, bro. That’s the first time she’s ever zoned out in a game before.” Gabby explained, laughing. 

Azzi threw her towel at Gabby before requesting it back, barely catching it as Gabby chucked it hard at her and splayed it over her lap. “Okay, that’s crazy to say. I’ve talked to her, like, twice.” 

“But you zoned out because of Paige? What happened?” Veronica asked, still looking confused. 

“Bro, you are not getting out of this. You’ve literally never done that before.” Gabby added. 

Azzi sighed as Janelle continued laughing.

Can I just hop out of the sauna now? No, they’d probably follow me. Idiots. 

“I don’t even know. I, like, caught her eye or something, and it made me…freeze.” Azzi looked down at her towel and started playing with one of its corners. 

Maybe cuz they’re so fucking blue-

“You glanced at blondie and forgot about the game you were playing in?” Veronica started laughing too. “You’re that down bad already?” 

She threw her hands up, “I literally am not! I never said I like her! Y’all are idiots.” She added, scoffing, when they laughed even harder. 

“Mhm, sure you don’t. But can you be real with us for a sec, Az?” Gabby asked seriously, tilting her head back until it made contact with the wood behind her. 

“...okay.” Azzi looked over at her as the three of them (finally) stopped laughing.

“Do you think she’s cute?” 

Oh-

“I- um- honestly, kinda? I dunno-” Azzi felt herself blush as she rambled on, catching Gabby’s amused expression. “Okay, yeah, yeah. I think she’s cute, yeah.” 

“Sooo you’re into her?” She asked, smirking. 

“That’s what it sounds likeeee.” Veronica added very helpfully. 

“No, like- y’all don’t get it.” Azzi grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Get what?” 

She closed her eyes again. “I don’t like her like that! I hardly know her, like, for real. She’s hot, sure, anyone with eyes can see that. But I don’t know much about her cuz we haven’t talked that much-” 

“Oh my god, ‘she’s hot.’ ‘anyone with eyes can see that.’, you’re whipped as fuckkkk.” Azzi blinked her eyes open to glare at Gabby, whose hands were still holding up air quotes. 

She clapped her hands together before resting them in her lap. “But I told you some stuff about her your first night here, didn’t I? You know some shit about her.”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess she told me a little more about herself last night, too, but-”

“Last night?” Gabby interrupted her, eyes widening. 

Oh shit.

“Wait, what? You two talked last night?” Janelle asked, reaching her arms up and lacing her fingers behind her head. 

Fuck.

“Um- yeah, we…talked.” 

“When? Where? Spill.” 

“Uhhh-”

Azzi sighed again. She recounted last night’s events to the three of them, who were definitely way too interested for Azzi’s liking, starting with the awkward encounter in the elevator and the awkward walk up to the hill. 

She conveniently left out her thoughts of Paige looking absolutely mesmerizing in the glow of the moonlight when they had sat together on the bench (Fuck, I’m literally turning just thinking about it-), but felt too guilty about leaving out the whole cuddling part, ending with, “And like- after she asked about how I liked California so far, I like, teared up a lil. So, um, she scooted closer and put her arm around me, like for real, not just over the bench, and started, like, caressing my shoulder, I guess?” 

“AWWW.” Gabby interrupted, smiling, as Veronica and Janelle snickered. 

“Shut up. I will throw my towel at you again, Gabs. And then, okay, this was just cuz I was tired, k? I was getting pretty tired, it was dark out, and, like, I was comfortable…so I dropped my head onto her shoulder…and we were, like, full-on cuddling…” Azzi covered her face in embarrassment as the trio started hollering. 

“OH MY GOD. So you both made a move?”

“And I thought you didn’t have any game.” 

“Azzi, this is so surprising. You’re normally so bad at this shit.”

She uncovered her face, looking over at Gabby. “Oh my god. I’m not that bad at flirting, bro.” She leaned back on the bench, sighing again. “But like, yeah, it was cute. ‘n she was blushing the whole time, I swear. She’s just- she- ugh-”

“This is the same Azzi Fudd who claimed she wasn’t whipped as fuck, by the way.” Gabby deadpanned, making both Veronica and Janelle cackle and Azzi roll her eyes.

“Shut up, Gabby. She’s cute, sure, but I’d need to get to know her better first, before…” Her voice trailed away.

Gabby smirked. “So now you’re against just hooking up with her?” 

“Dude. When was I ever down for that!?” 

“Okay, okay, we don’t needa argue about that.” Veronica butted in, holding out her arms. “So, okay, you think she’s cute, right, Az?” 

“And hotttt,” Janelle murmured under her breath, making Gabby giggle next to her. 

“...maybe.” Azzi said quietly.

“And you’re not opposed to getting with her, right? You just wanna get to know her better first?” Veronica continued to reason.

“Yeah, I…think so, yes.” She nodded. 

“Yay, so you’ll talk to blondie some more, then?” Gabby asked, wiping her face with her towel. 

Azzi took a breath before shaking her head. “Nah.” 

The three of them wore identical confused expressions.

“Alright, you lost me. Why not?” 

Cuz of my evil ex-

“Um, cuz I, like, just got here, to Golden State. I don’t wanna mess anything up by getting with our PR Manager. Like, I’ve been really focused on my career and making decisions that’ll benefit my longevity in the league, this offseason, y’know. I really want to be ‘basketball first’, now that-”

Gabby scoffed and started laughing, interrupting her. “Azzi, what? That sounds like the bullshit we spew to the media. Why’re you saying that to us?”

“Yeah, what was that PR-trained answer?” Veronica laughed, tilting her head.

“I’m being serious, guys.” Three pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly at her. “Deadass! I just wanna focus on my career. Why is that so hard to believe?” 

“Okay, no, you can focus on your career, of course, that’s a great thing, Az.” Veronica said, sighing. “But Gabby told us how much of a lovergirl you are. There’s a piece of you that’s missing right now. And I dunno if blondie’s the one that has it, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to find out.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then they all started laughing, Azzi too. 

“Corny as hell, V.” Janelle said, doubling over.

“Stop! I’m being serious, you guys!”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi started, turning to look at each of them. “I’m just scared, V. What if she doesn’t wanna be with me and I…fuck up our professional relationship or something? I’d still have to see her, like, every day, and that’d be awkward as hell!”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “There already isn’t anything professional about it, Az. She’s been in love with you for years. She literally tried to get me to convince Natalie to let her come to our game at Barclays last year.” 

Azzi flushed again. Oh my god, she was THAT down bad?

“Um- shit, that’s actually really sweet, but still-”

“It’s fine if you wanna focus on your career, of course, that’s great. But it wouldn’t hurt to have some support along the way.” Janelle said, adding as Azzi opened her mouth, “A little extra support. More than just us, bro.” 

Azzi sighed again, closing her eyes and willing herself not to think about what had happened with her family in New York. She tried to relax further into her seat. 

They’re right, it wouldn’t hurt to try…

“If I promise to at least give it a try, will y’all stop bothering me?” 

“Yes.” They all chorused at once, though clearly lying.

Well that was settled, then. Give blondie a try.

it ends, as these things always do, with a picture, with a phone. it’s the digital age after all.

it isn’t her personal. ‘b’ has long learned to be careful with her things, has been careful for a year and then some, has a second one ‘k’ doesn't know the number of that lives in a battered jimmy choo shoebox at the back of her closet - remnants of when her mother ached for her to be a real girl - forced into hiding; a thin glass-metal body, devoid of weight, shameful and small.

so, it starts with someone else's phone, a staffer's, a boy from the comms team who is desperately young, twenty-one and not yet devoid of ambitions, and he finds a photograph he was never meant to, while doing exactly the job he was hired to do: which was to look.

‘b’ leaving a building on the west side at eleven in the evening in a floor-length black khaite coat called roth on the website, a quarter polyamide with a classic collar and open front; a khaite coat that isn't hers. ‘b’ again, four days later, same building, same hour, different coat - mouth fallen open wide at the sky as she laughed, so wide the moon could’ve rolled right down and sat like a pill at the base of her throat. a laugh with a strength that shook her whole face, a high swing of her usually raspy voice, authentic in a way the family's photographers had never once managed to capture in four years of political portraits.

and she has to laugh, really, though she can see the blowup that will reverberate through this townhouse they use as campaign headquarters, yet another detonation; yet another western-kissed bomb. she laughs because she has siblings and they’re all much messier than their mother would like for presidential children, a spill of humanity, caught out in more mortifying ways.

she still remembers last summer when the mockingbirds in her mother’s dust-drowned aviary caught a hook on the word sweetheart, sang a chorus of endearment all summer long: sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart. and then they’d learned her eldest brother was seeing a man twice his years lived, grey at the temple, a mouth that trembled when he said ‘please, sweetheart’ after her brother had sobbed out that he had to let him go.

she hasn’t seen that brother in a week or so.

anyway, the staffer. so, he takes it to someone who takes it to someone else, and by the time it reaches ‘b’s’ mother it has already stopped being a simple good-time photo and has transformed into a liability, a large one; a line item, a problem with tangible shape.

and it’s her mother, so she has to curse at her eldest daughter, storming the house with her claws out. and ‘b’ has to let her draw blood or it’ll never be over. the confrontation happens in ‘b’s’ favorite room, the one with the 290 grand piano (imperial bösendorfer) no one plays and the portraits of several presidents who are decidely not her mother yet but will be again, god willing, in nine months—and ‘b’ stands in the middle of the carpet like a sixth-grader called to the headmistress's office while her mother reads the room the way she reads everything: optics first, feelings somewhere a little further down the line, heart in the grave.

“tell me it isn't what it looks like.”

‘b’ doesn't answer fast enough, and that alone is an answer, and there’s a cleave in her mother's face, a sudden drop that occurs when whatever she's been most afraid of turns out to be true. no softening, never a softening, just recalculating, fast, blank arithmetic spinning; a woman trained in decisions for survival, facing a fact rather than feel it.

“do you ever think? do you ever, for one fucking minute, think about what you do?”

‘b’ closes her eyes, baby blue shut tight, mouth twisting as she feels the ocean rise in her throat. her dad used to call her gaze blue lace agate, chalcedony. he could name all kinds of rocks, did a lot of digging for them.

he died cutting one right wide open.

the backs of her eyes turn from black to that scarlet splatter scored against an emerald geode’s innocent face.

“do you understand what you've done? do you understand what this does to us, six months out, do you understand—”

“i’m always thinking,” ‘b’ says, and that's the mistake, that's the exact wrong thing to say, and her mother's voice goes up and up until it isn't even her voice anymore. it's just sound, raw and furious and completely unfamiliar, the kind of scream ‘b’ has not heard since she was small enough to hide from it behind furniture - curled up against the herculean back of a settee, eyes blank and wide to the wall.

in the aviary off the east hall, where her mother keeps the birds she never has time to enjoy, the mockingbirds catch it. they tend to catch the loudest thing. they will keep it, turn it over, offer it back all week in fragments—a shriek here, furious syllable there—long after the actual fight has been snuffed, hachet still visible in the snow; long after ‘b’ has been sent upstairs to think about what she's done like she’s gone back to nine years old, like she’s never been twenty-two, like there is anything at all to think about that she hasn't already, privately, permanently decided.

she goes back down anyway. she always goes back down. it's the only apology her mother has ever taught her how to give: no use for words, but the body arriving, chastened; ‘b’ in the doorway, white-blonde braid swinging, asking permission to be forgiven for something she intends to do entirely again.

“do you have anything to say for yourself?” her mother demands, and ‘b’ knows the staffers are all huddled outside the door. some of them just can’t stand her.

and she feels like a little girl again, hair loose, barrel curls a shower of gold as her head tilts to the floor and she bores a hole into the shiny tips of her loafers. if only rockwell could paint her now. the reference makes her bottom lip tremble; ‘k’ would like that she made the connection.

she looks up from beneath her lashes, tongue pink and sweet against her teeth, pushing at the front two the way she pushes at ‘k’s when they kiss. behind her, the mockingbirds are still mimicking her mother’s scream from earlier, over and over, a chorus of agony.

she has to keep the smile back as she softens her face and says, “promise you won't be mad?”

she knows she's not in a position to be promised anything.

prologue ii ⊱ ‘from blood, wings’, susie benes, c. 2021.

you have to know this second.

it started as a practicality, and paige turned it into something else before azzi could even notice the shift occurring, agree to its happening.

they needed a way to text that wasn’t a way to text: no names, no nicknames, nothing a stranger could screenshot and place, because paige was already pumped full of paranoia, born and bred of being a public figure whose sentences got decoded by people who were never meant to have read them.

so, it's paige insisting, but then azzi’s idea, actually, the letters; dry and practical the way azzi is dry and practical about anything that frightens her.

“let’s just use initials. how about… ‘b’ and ‘k’? it’s nothing. nobody looks twice at nothing.”

paige considers this for exactly four seconds before she ruins it.

“there’s always something in the nothing.”

azzi’s face falls, and paige feels a roll-over in her chest like fire, dog on its back, a score of disappointment, and she shifts closer so that she can hold azzi by the hand.

“‘b’ and ‘k’,” she tries again, turning it twice over like a coin, testing the weight. “b for baby.”

she says it easy, teasing, watching azzi’s mouth teeter to-and-fro because she wants to smile and won't quite let herself. her lipstick is nearly gone (clinique’s almost lipstick in black honey) and paige wants to kiss the rest off, lick the wax off of her thumb.

“and ‘k’ for—” a beat, theatrical, drawn out for effect. “kryptonite. obviously. you're the only thing that could take me down.”

azzi huffs something that isn't quite her normal laugh, swats paige with the essay draft still in her hand, says something about how paige has clearly spent too much time constructing a bit instead of finishing her final project, and that's the end of it as far as paige’s concerned.

it’s a joke, filed away, the kind of nonsense paige produces when she's pleased with herself and wants an audience.

it is not the end of it for paige.

because what she doesn't say—what she has absolutely no intention of ever saying, not now, maybe not for a long time, maybe not until it's already too late to take back—is that she'd meant something else entirely on the drive over, lying in the back of a car she wasn't supposed to have requisitioned for a “study session,” running the letters over in her head like a rosary.

k for kryptonite is the version she hands over, funny and small and safe, a joke sized to fit in ‘k’s’ palm without cutting her.

k for keeps is the one she actually means. it’s what she’s playing for.

she doesn't examine that too closely. she’s gotten good, ‘b’, at not examining things too closely this past year - at holding a feeling the way you'd hold something too hot, quick, glancing, never quite settling her full weight onto it because she knows herself well enough by now to know what happens when she does.

so she’s ‘b’.

‘b’ is not a person who wants things a little. she has never once, in her entire life, wanted anything a little.

and so she keeps it there, filed under the joke, under kryptonite, under the easy laughing shorthand of two letters on a phone screen, and lets ‘k’ believe it's nothing, because ‘k’ believing it's nothing is the only way ‘b’ gets to keep having it.

that night she texts ‘k’—contact name just the letter, nothing else, the way they've agreed—and stares at it on the screen longer than it warrants, a wave of something silent and enormous moving underneath her like water beneath ice.

and ‘k’ texts back and she forgets, because she’s sometimes messy like that. ‘k’ texts and says, i love you, paige; all formal like she’s written an email.

and ‘b’ puts the phone face-down, because she is paige, because she can’t be anything else, codename shallow, and she tries her hardest to make herself stop.

so, you know, now.

part i. ⊱ stephen mackey, 'we only come out at night', c. 2014. 

paige had no illusions about the university chosen for her.

it was far, tucked into the recesses of northernmost vermont, dead center in a town called orlaith that seemed to exist mostly in fog and the constant wet moan of church bells crying a second too late. a town small enough to be walked end to end before the cold really found you, population somewhere around four thousand, which meant most of her professors could keep a wide eye on her, and paige would be incapable of enacting her disappearance the way she had grown so stellar, over the years, at doing.

it was the ideal scenario for her mother—a presidential candidate campaigning for a second term—who had learned, more than once and always the hard way, that a child was easiest to manage when they were at their smallest and watched by everyone around them, all at once.

paige could already feel the dread of it settling low and cold in her stomach, not unlike swallowing water too quickly, that inside-out-burn as you drown, that particular drag of understanding that you are about to waste away somewhere airless and obstinately beautiful.

because orlaith was beautiful, she would give it that much: slate roofs done up in sea green, pine teal, carbon black, charcoal blue; old maples crisping at the edge, passing into the endless amber, nearly left too long in brine; a cold that arrived early in the year and meant every bit of the business it promised, nothing like the manicured warmth she spent a childhood honing for cameras - god in the flash.

she had managed, somehow, to avoid orientation in the flesh, loath to be beholden to the wasp's-nest hum of whispering and the less-than-subtle staring, her back aching against cherry-wood pews set into the amphitheater like church furniture repurposed for hours of excruciating instruction. so far she had met all but one of her professors, and of those she had met, she liked exactly one: dr. taurasi, who took a single look at her, rolled her eyes, and told her, without any warmth, to sit up straight and produce a report on bergman's through a glass darkly within three weeks whether she liked it or not.

paige had liked it despite herself, the tart plainness of being handled like another student rather than a spectacle.

for now, she was living in her brother's apartment, an arrangement her mother had agreed to with visible reluctance, only because paige had fought for it as though it was the last good thing left to her - because, in a way, it was.

ingemar (mar, to the shrinking list of people who loved him) was technically only her half-brother, the product of their shared father's first marriage, gone from the house years before paige was old enough to know him as anyone but the name pinned and scrawled in shaking cursive on the backs of old photographs. but there had been a strange overlapping window, once—where paige was still small and he, already halfway out the door—and something about those years had stuck to them both, permanent without either of them ever choosing it, or managing to get it off their backs.

he was the only one of her siblings who had never once made her feel like competition, and the only one who had left the family circus entirely and come out the other side looking, if anything, lighter.

he was, in a way, her biggest dream.

ingemar lived with nikolaev. niki, to everyone—his full name a name borrowed from a city on the black sea that neither paige nor mar had ever visited. he was older than mar by a stretch wide enough that their mother had had opinions about it for the better part of a year before conceding, silver threading in at his temples like frost finding a windowpane, and an unhurried, immovable calm about him that made paige understand immediately why mar had chosen to disappear into a life this small and warm. niki called him “inge” or “sweetheart,” and mar blushed at both - pale skin sanded with texture and a mole at his right cheek, neck flushed a heavy insectile red.

their apartment sat above what had formerly been a hardware store, built on orlaith's one real street, drafty, and it smelled, almost constantly, of woodsmoke and the coffee niki made far too strong and refused, on principle, to apologize for. the only time it erred from that profile was when it smelled strongly of the fig bath salts mar used after a particularly hard day.

from what paige understood, niki came from money—some hedge fund family or another—and had urged mar to live, only live, and if he must work then to do something he loved. so, her brother had become a piano teacher, and the apartment showed it.

it was two levels (maybe three if you counted the foyer when you entered), the store now converted, and covered almost feverishly in carpet. there was a small touch of dark wood when you first stepped in, so that shoes could be toed off before continuing to the upstairs. the carpet itself was shagged and pink, or maybe only appeared pink in the light—always soft and yellowed, never harsh. though paige would never confess it, she loved going up and down those stairs, toes curled against the landing and usually shielded by whatever oversized trousers she’d chosen to pair with her sweater of the day.

right as you entered, there was a darkness ahead of you. the lower level, which held a bathroom and some space paige never fully got around to exploring. it had seemed frightening to her at first and then grew steadily more compelling the longer she inhabited the flat, though never any less mysterious.

upstairs, the upper level was flooded with light and held a grand piano. a steinway, black and coaxing, lid kept open and propped so you could see its insides; strings gleaming, ribs pulsing red and black as the students pressed a key here and there. that was always paige’s favorite part, when she sat in quietly on a lesson: the punch of a pedal resulting in the jerk of the body, bone lifting from muscle, all that blood resolving into a melody that flowed beautifully if the child had put in enough time to properly learn it.

the room was surrounded by a spread of furniture either covered in sheet music or frames, glass slipped over the smiling faces of people she didn't know. the musical deluge spilled into the dining room, the kitchen, which paige could see from her perch on the navy suede couch against the far wall—especially when her posture was perfect, back ramrod straight.

they had a dog, a little maltese named suzy, who hated anyone who wasn’t niki or mar. she could never be let out while paige was ghosting through the house, and certainly not on the nights mar invited parents to sit in and watch their children play; a first discomfort and embarrassment for many of them, but a good solution to stage fright all the same.

the day paige first arrived, there was a housewarming invitation from some months back, still propped in its frame on the entry table. niki's doing, sentimental in a register he would never have admitted to owning, cardstock gone soft and pale at the corners. in embossed script, it read: the blessings request the pleasure of your company.

paige had stopped dead in front of it.

blessing was niki's surname, not mar's. they were bueckers’ blood, through and through.

her phone was out of her pocket before her coat was even off, a single photograph sent with no caption, and the reply arrived quickly enough that she knew she'd caught him somewhere unguarded, somewhere he wasn't braced for this unforeseen ambush.

» so you’re the one taking his name, then. « it was not my choice. he had the invites made. i didn't ask him to. » didn't say you did. « p. » you didn’t correct him? « paige. » i didn’t mean anything by it. just saying it's sweet. « well, don't.

she read well, don't three times over, turning it in her head the way you'd turn a stone looking for the smooth side, and knew—the way she knew so much about her family without ever being told forthright—that it wasn't really an order to stop.

it was an old, tired kind of request. their whole family had always spoken about love this way: sideways, at an angle, withheld, terrified of the noise it made once acknowledged. you learned early on to hear the actual sentence underneath the one presented.

what mar meant, she was fairly sure, threading through the single clipped syllable of it, was please don't make me acknowledge this affection, i am not built for it. i have only just learned how not to flinch from its grip; i barely look at it in private.

she saved the photograph anyway. she had a feeling she would need it later: for blackmail, or a moment closer to comfort. possibly both at once.

most things in her family eventually turned out to be both at once.

now she sat nested dead-center of the lecture hall for the single course she had chosen for herself—arth 3692, art history colloquium, a curriculum so extensive it ran the length of the entire sophomore year—taught, apparently, by a newcomer by the name of professor fudd, who was by every account as much an enigma as paige herself and, infuriatingly, rather beloved for it.

every alumnus who had taken her class across the six years she had taught here guarded her like one would guard a priestess, kept her half-secret and precious, closing ranks the moment anyone new so much as asked after her, and had already, in the four days paige had been on this campus, found some way to fault her personally simply for having asked.

for her first day of classes, paige had dressed as though she had arrived somewhere far more highbrow than a lecture hall: oversized fendi sweater in a color like wet bark, pinstriped wool trousers of the same brand pooling loose over polished coal-black loafers, dark leather gloves in the same shade that she had no real reason to keep on indoors except for the fact that she liked the slight rebuke of being fully accesible; a slim gold watch chain at her hip, inherited from a man three generations dead.

she looked, she knew, like she was arriving at a funeral, all of her colors so dark.

she liked that about herself. she had always dressed like a harbinger.

she was unsuspecting of what professor fudd would be wearing when she walked into that colloquium, didn't know yet about that black turtleneck dress, modest at first glance, hem falling well past the knee as if she taught in a convent, the cream curve of the peter pan collar sitting at its neck. didn't suspect the sheer over-the-knee socks beneath it that would only ever be visible in flashes, a slip of dark at the ankle when she crossed the room too quickly or leaned to write something on the board, gone again before anyone could be sure they'd seen it at all.

she didn't know yet that the first time she caught that flash (just a glimpse, just a hint), something in her stomach would flip, would exhale a small, stupid, undignified oh, entirely against her better judgment.

she knew only, sitting there in the amphitheater's flat morning light with her spine straight because dr. taurasi’s voice was still somewhere at the base of her skull telling her to sit up, that she had already decided to act as her default: unimpressed, uninterested.

she would be wrong about that. she was aware, somewhere beneath her familiar fortification, of having been wrong before she had even had the chance to be right.

that peek, that hint—it was the miniature beginning of a sprawling scavenger hunt. she was at the site of discovery, and no one had handed her a shovel. she’d have to lower herself, get on her knees, and feel the twinge in her back as her hands snarled into the dirt.

yes, she’d dig.

the girl didn’t care, and it drove azzi quite mad.

it wasn’t that she was inattentive, exactly. she had never once been caught on her phone, never slouched so far as to be reprimanded, never given azzi the easy satisfaction of an obvious target. it was worse than that. she sat constantly with the aggravating air of one who had already decided the entire enterprise was beneath her, chin propped on one gold-ringed knuckle, gaze fixed somewhere just past azzi’s shoulder as though the real lecture was happening in the middle distance and this one, the one azzi was actually delivering, was simply background noise she was too polite to interrupt.

azzi had taught difficult students before. she had taught bored ones, brilliant ones, cruel ones, sad ones dressed up as bored ones. she had never quite had one who made a show like this, shrouding herself in an outfit of indifference, put on with the same care paige clearly put into everything else about herself.

today’s slide was a photograph of aurelio cabrera y gallardo's san sebastián, the marble saint bound wrist-high to his post, body arched back in a line that could as easily be agony as ecstasy; mouth fallen open on something unresolved between the two, rope biting soft grooves into unmarked stone. azzi had taught this sculpture for six years, this interpretation of saint sebastian, and it had never once failed to snuff out a room—the audience uncomfortable with the detailing of torture and the idea of pleasure found in the act.

azzi allowed the silence to steep, settling backward until the underside of her thighs kissed the cutting edge of her desk. her dark gaze flickered up to where paige was always situated, though today her hair was mussed into two aureate plaits, the braids pinned hastily around her head as though she were a farmer’s daughter. later she would undo them, the mass like nectar poured around her head, and azzi would think of a painting: circle of jean-baptiste regnault, french, ‘danaë’, c. 18th-19th c., detail.

“could someone tell me what themes are being depicted here?” azzi asked, having finally remembered herself, and let the ensuing silence linger a beat too long, waiting to see who would break first.

no one did. paige, predictably, appeared the least inclined of anyone to be the one who broke it. azzi decided, with a perversity that belonged to every teacher who’d ever run out of patience, to aim the next lobby at her.

“alright, you, give it a go. what first stands out to you?”

paige’s eyes came back from the middle distance slowly, almost insultingly slowly, her gaze like pale ice as she assessed azzi in her entirety, face thinly twisted with an expression shy of a challenge but not far from it either.

“well, it's a guy tied to a tree, professor fudd, with a bunch of arrows in him,” she said flatly. “looks like it hurts.”

a current of laughter rippled through the room, grateful for the release. azzi didn’t join it, only crossed and re-crossed her ankles.

“that's a description. i asked what stood out to you, what called.”

“i mean, same thing everyone else does. a martyr. suffering for god, or whatever.” a small shrug, deeply bored, painstakingly put on for an audience of one. “it's not that deep.”

“it is always that deep. never make the mistake of assuming otherwise,” azzi snapped, and something in her own voice caught her slightly off guard, the vehemence. she pushed past it, past the sudden flowering of pink across paige’s cheeks as she minimized under the sudden onslaught of shame. “look again. i’ll instruct you. look not at the wounds, but at his face.”

paige looked, harder this time. azzi observed her study, saw her brow furrow and disrupt her affected disinterest, her face disturbed in the way of a pond's surface holding dead calm right up until a näkki finally moved underneath.

“um, he doesn't really look like he's in pain,” paige spoke slowly, boredom dropping away like a coat. “or, i mean, he does, of course, but it's not just that. his mouth is open like—” she stopped, restarted, selecting her next words with more care than azzi had seen her extend to anything other than a lecture in four weeks.

azzi wondered if she was opening her mouth just like san sebastian, trying to feel her way through his agony.

“like he's somewhere past the objection to it,” paige continued. she sat up straighter without seeming to notice she had done it. “it's a whole conversation, isn't it. god's always pushing. always asking: can i cut a little deeper here, can i take a little more, ouch, look honey, look what you'll get to become if you let me - a saint, a whole halo, your name on a stained-glass window next to mine, somewhere some kid will stare at during a homily, bored to tears in four hundred years.

“you have saints for days built exactly like this. agony and ecstasy…they're not opposites at all, whatever anyone tells you. they're sisters. they used to be sisters. now they're basically twins; nobody can tell them apart anymore, not really, not if you're honest. but honesty doesn’t make the myth.”

she was speaking faster now, words nearly dribbling out, warming to it, rising to it; outrunning whatever guardrails she usually kept up. “that's what's actually being depicted, why the body first draws you in, why his face is hidden, so far back. it’s the illusion. the truth is: he’s not suffering, or not totally, i don’t know—willingness. he’s not fighting his ropes; he's—leaning into them, kind of. like the only way to prove you'd take absolutely everything for someone is to actually take it, in front of witnesses, and let them watch you not flinch.”

the room had gone very quiet in the midst of her analysis. azzi didn’t dare move.

something crossed paige’s face then: an understanding, delayed, a second too late to the realization of how much of herself she’d just handed over to a room full of near-strangers. and the color rushed up her throat in a fast, ungovernable tide—carmine flooding—and she looked down at the desk, at her hands on the flat of it, as if the desk itself had personally betrayed her.

“anyway,” she muttered, duller now, retreating. she sat, making them all wonder when she had stood up. “but it probably isn’t that deep. some things aren’t, i don't know.”

no one else in the room said anything for a long moment. azzi was aware, distantly, of twenty-nine other students she was meant to be teaching at the moment, and of the fact that she had not thought about a single one of them in the last ninety seconds.

“ouch?” azzi repeated, letting a smile play about her mouth. paige glanced up and found its gentle curve before it fled.

“ouch,” she echoed, a confirmation.

azzi nodded, smiling fully now before turning away.

“well done,” she offered, tossed over her shoulder, and it came out quieter than she’d meant it to, quieter than her usual praise, which she engaged in generous volume for lesser insights all the time.

paige’s mouth tugged up, pleased, trying incredibly hard not to look so pleased, and for one second a note of something else underneath that azzi didn’t have time to get a handle on before it was erased. clearing her throat, azzi reached for the syllabus bound and spiraled atop her own desk, an ordinary shape for that of her own authority.

“since apparently some of us do have thoughts that develop past a shrug—five hundred words. pick two works discussed in class from the semester so far and argue for a relationship between them. due in two weeks.”

there was a chorus of pained groans, and azzi relaxed at the familiar sound of her students’ whining, crossing behind to her chair as the theater emptied in the edgeless scrape and shuffle of bags and chairs. paige took her time gathering her things, unhurried, always last, and was nearly at the door—nearly clear—when azzi, not once looking up from the roster in front of her, called out.

“if you want to punish yourself with a dedicated lack of attention and failing this course, that's entirely your business. feel free.” a pause. “but i will punish you for acting as though you're stupid when i need you to rise to the occasion. i only take thirty students, paige. you aren't here for decoration.”

paige stopped in the doorway, turning laggardly, a flicker of emotion playing over her face before she tamped it into an expression like stone.

“are you insinuating, professor,” she said, “that next time you'll humiliate me?”

azzi glanced up then, and held paige’s gaze for far longer than the question strictly required.

“god is always pushing.”

for once, paige had nothing at the ready to say back, her own words turned against her. she stood there a second too long, light coming in behind her eyes; a bulb changed, product of being caught out twice in one hour. and then,

“the first day? i liked your socks.”

azzi froze, her pen suspended in mid-air, mind struggling to clamp down on the conclusion that paige had somehow been privy to what was under her dress. and it was only when the door eased shut on its own weight that she found the ability to look up again, only to find an empty threshold, the door itself cracked open to allow in a shadow of the real world.

hum of the hall outside it, no paige in it at all.

the assignment really was nothing: five hundred words minimum, comparative visual analysis, pick two works from the syllabus and argue for their relationship—and yet.

paige turned in four hundred and twelve words of something so carelessly, infuriatingly good that azzi sat with it open on her laptop for a long time after the rest of the submissions had been graded. she wasn’t quick to anger by nature but close to it now; a body dressed up as anger, wearing it badly, really a cousin. that was the head of the feeling. the heart of it, she found, sitting there in the grey light of her shitty one-bedroom studio with all other essays long finished, was nearer to delight.

and the fury, she'd admit only to herself, was mostly a form of offense, like handing over a gift and watching someone shrug at the wrapping, holding yourself hostage from the urge to rip their throat clean out.

because paige hadn't tried. that was the thing that got her.

azzi had had high hopes for having inspired some real interest in the course since the san sebastián discussion. the way it had piled up on itself, unbidden, overflow spilling from the girl's pert mouth. but now it read as though paige sought to reprimand azzi for forcing her hand at all. her strike back was this essay, in which she'd paired seurat's le cirque with chagall's l'écuyère - a choice that spoke well to a hidden attention to detail, a proclivity azzi hadn't let herself hope for until now.

it wasn't the moonlit lovers everyone reached for when they thought, minorly, of chagall, but the rider mid-air, weightless, her face turned somewhere the viewer could never follow. and the argument—half-formed as it was, half-won as it was—had an organic spine to it: a loose commentary on how both painters used the circus as a place where the body performed function for an audience that would never once wonder whether the function was real, assuming it was because they'd paid for it and so expected a service. how the paintings could be read as studies in the loss of autonomy—le cirque by way of the audience, l'écuyère by way of the rider herself, held to the horse by a man barely visible in the frame—and the commodification of the human spirit that followed from it.

it was a garden of sentences hidden, rather cleverly, in the dirt of an assignment that otherwise fell apart. fruitless, possibly written at two in the morning, one paige hadn't bothered to finish developing, because why would she? it was due at nine, and she had better things to care about than a class she'd chosen as neutral ground in an otherwise fraught schedule.

god, it was like pulling teeth, azzi thought, scribbling madly.

see me after class in red at the top, and underneath it, smaller, because she couldn't help herself: this is not a c+ idea. it is a c+ execution of an a idea, which was arguably an inch too much taken.

paige read the note on her walk to her week's sole biochemistry lab, brows raised, and showed up to office hours highly armed; chin up, ready for a fight she'd decided to instigate and enjoy well in advance. she'd had her hair redone that week, ice blonde, the dye still fresh enough to catch light differently than it had before, and she was dressed, as always, like a symbol of death: black prada turtleneck sweater, wool trousers in a soft slate grey, prada loafers that had never once touched anything undignified, not even a little rain.

azzi had learned by now not to react to any of it, though it cost her something immeasurable and private every time.

her office was small in the way most of the humanities offices were small and underfunded, one narrow window facing the quad, a radiator moaning through the space in ancient argument, and books stacked in tremulous towers that only needed a bare breeze to topple. but it was hers in every visible way a rented room could be.

azzi hadn't planned on anyone being in to see her that afternoon beyond the ordinary trickle of office hours, and so she’d dressed for herself rather than for a lecture hall: black ribbed sweater, mellowed and shapeless with wear, a grey pleated skirt she’d owned since graduate school, tall black calfskin boots, a single thermal glove she'd forgotten to take off after crossing campus, sitting discarded now on the corner of the desk - shed skin.

"i don't see the problem,” was paige’s greeting.

azzi closed her eyes, prayed briefly for strength.

"you’ve gotten a grade that reflects what you were willing to give it," she answered, peering intently at a fresh stack of freshman essays she was trying, with some difficulty, to grade fairly, "which is not the same as what it's worth. sit down."

"i have somewhere to be."

"according to the scheduling office, you have approximately four hours until your next commitment, and we both know it." azzi finally looked up. "sit down, paige, and read this to me."

paige sat, body rigid with discomfort, disgruntled at not being let off easy, a pale hand coming forward to angle the red-marked paper toward herself.

“‘although stylistically distinct, chagall and seurat intersect in their exploration of the performing body as a site of commodification, where individual autonomy is compromised by spectacle. in le cirque, this critique is made explicit through the ever-present audience, whose collective gaze reduces performers to objects of consumption. in l'écuyère, however, the same tension is conveyed more subtly through the central rider, whose body is secured to the horse by the waist, suggesting both physical restraint and dependence.

“‘the man who holds her remains only partially visible, yet his presence reinforces her constrained position, implying a loss of agency even as she occupies the center of the composition. rather than depicting the audience directly, chagall locates the mechanisms of control within the performance itself, where the rider's body becomes the focal point of spectacle and an object subject to another's authority simultaneously.’”

“mmm," azzi said. she leaned back, tapping a long plum nail against the desk's dark face. “and why was this thesis dropped so carelessly into the generally shoddy work you turned in to me, rather than expanded and centered upon? there are places, marked in green, where your work reads as genuinely exceptional. and places, marked in pink, where your care bleeds through. the circus is a pressure point for you. you struggle to stay impersonal about it. why? and why are you ignoring that? this could have been an easy a, paige. honestly.”

and this, this was the part azzi would turn over later, on her stomach in the dark, once things had gone somewhere neither of them had intended. this was the second time she was privy to watching paige’s collapse, her practiced posture faltering, caught unaware by a genuine question posed by someone who plainly intended to wait for a genuine answer as its match.

“um.”

azzi let her gather her thoughts, scratching out another misspelling with a firm drag of her wrist. paige watched the red scar on the page like it might reveal something about herself in this moment.

“my grandfather took me to see one,” she said finally, and it came out a little cracked, her voice lowering as she went on, unable to fully stop it. “a circus. before it all.”

azzi knew paige’s family was of importance, though dean baltazaar had remained tight-lipped about the exact level of it. but she knew no one of consequence with the surname blessing. a search—done once, guiltily, late at night—had turned up nothing but a rather unremarkable piano teacher.

“i don't really remember it. i remember the tent smelled like popcorn and hay, and i remember not being scared during the trapeze part, when every other kid around me was crying. i liked watching people be that good at something dangerous and make it look like nothing.” a pause, her eyes gone somewhere distant and half-lit, chasing the memory. “there was a woman, a wire-walker, who didn't smile once. everyone else up there smiled the whole time, big and practiced, teeth out for the cheap seats, and she just refused. she was so focused on not falling, as if she were the only real thing in the entire tent and everyone else was decoration around her. i think she was hellbent on not breaking her neck.” her mouth twitched, shy of a laugh, no true humor in it. “i liked being dangerous, too, as a little girl. now, too, i guess.”

paige shrugged, already shuttering closed, reaching instinctively for a bit of armor. "i don't know. it's not that deep."

“it's exactly that deep," azzi said, a callback to their lecture interaction, hushed but purposeful, and didn't push further, because she'd already learned this much of the code: that paige gave things up like small animals slinking out of hiding, coaxed forward only if you refrained from reaching for them the second they appeared.

“we'll redo the essay. together,” azzi offered. "over the next few weeks."

paige was surprised by that; azzi could tell, though azzi had always been rather more than what people suspected of her at first glance.

“which is to say, you'll redo it, and i'll refuse to stop letting you redo it," she clarified dryly, “and you'll hate me for pushing you so hard, and you'll learn eventually that i can never let a good thing go once i've seen it properly. you're deeply attuned to this work, paige. you have the mind for it. i won't let you pigeonhole yourself into failure as some act of resistance. there are other ways to stand your ground that don't cost you an a.”

paige said nothing in return, briefly stupefied, and azzi motioned for her to gather her things.

she wasn't in any particular hurry to leave. she had been logging azzi for four weeks now without meaning to, or without admitting that the meaning had ever been separate from the doing. she could have reproduced her from memory if asked, habits included.

azzi’s coffee had gone cold an hour ago at her own elbow, and azzi hadn't noticed, hadn't so much as glanced at it, entirely unbothered by the small deaths of ordinary things around her. paige collected these qualities like stones from a beach—not out of longing, necessarily, nothing so soft as longing—but out of a colder, more helpless compulsion to simply have, to hold some proof afterward that she had been paying the closest attention in the room.

it was on her way out that she saw it: azzi’s purse, paloma philana in wine, tipped where it sat against the desk leg, its contents spilled in a small accident onto the floor: a gas receipt, a set of keys, a slim gold tube of lipstick uncapped and rolling, and beside it a lip liner, the good kind, tip worn soft at the corners, aching for a sharpener.

paige crouched and gathered both.

“you dropped this,” she said, holding out the liner alone, face perfectly arranged, and set it on the desk. the lipstick she kept closed inside her fist, metal growing warm from her own palm the longer she stood there.

azzi took the offered pencil, smiling wide with gratitude. paige stepped away, stopping on her way to the door, gaze swimming up the wall to behind azzi’s head, where a lempicka hung. an original, so well kept that most students assumed it a reproduction; a woman rendered in hard, confident planes of color, chin lifted, entirely unbothered by being looked at.

paige studied it a moment longer, then let her gaze fall back down to azzi, whose face was bent away from her toward the essays.

“you know, you look just like her,” she said into the quiet, not quite looking at azzi as she said it, already half out the door, tossing it back like it cost her nothing at all.

in her periphery, she could see when azzi offered a crooked smile, glancing back at the painting. “never heard that one before.”

paige turned around at that, hand still on the handle.

“you do. it's the mouth. just a little too full.”

that evening, alone in her brother's bathroom with the tap running and suzy scratching faintly at the door, paige rolled up the lipstick and drew it to herself; tracing a careful line across her cupid’s bow in the mirror's unkind reflection. she watched herself become, for just a second, someone else.

she cleaned up the excess with a manicured nail, carving out pigment until her mouth was perfectly outlined.

it wasn't her color.

part ii. ⊱ john simmons, 'hermia and lysander’, c. 1870. 

the first of what would be many walks occurred on a tuesday in late november.

in orlaith, november was a verb. something the year did unto itself, the way a hand closed. winter had begun its long weeping, benighting the early afternoons until they dissolved into a sea of black with stars driven into its face like nails, eventually obscured by the great grey swallow of storm clouds. the threat of snow imminent, the speckle of it fragmented.

on this first occurrence, paige walked into the office without knocking. she’d taken up the habit of never knocking, not once, not even in the earliest weeks of their tutoring sessions, the essay long completed. this was not rudeness—eros didn’t knock either; sappho told us he came like a thief, came like an animal shaking a tree—it was simply that some people experienced every boundary as mere suggestion and paige was one of them, hair grasped back low into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few pieces already come loose; the fraying of a traditional system.

she said, by way of greeting,

“let’s go on a walk.”

this was not a request. ask amy fuller what the difference was between a request and a verdict. she would tell you: tone. though her daughter had cleaved to her father’s side amid divorce, when you peered into the glass from its side, she was her mother all the same.

azzi redirected her gaze from the rather passive-aggressive email she’d been copied into this morning—something to do with the lack of adequate parking space near the humanities building—to the hard line of paige’s jaw, one dark brow arriving well ahead of the rest of her expression.

“good afternoon to you too, paige.”

“good afternoon,” paige mocked, already reaching for her coat off the back of the chair, as though the matter had been settled before the proposal had finished, settled somewhere upstream of this room. “god, azzi. just say hello.”

“professor fudd,” azzi corrected, her lips flattening with irritation. somebody had to hold the line. “i have office hours. another forty minutes of them, to be exact.”

“no one’s coming,” paige returned, not unkindly, simply as fact. “it's tuesday. your tuesday people are the two idiots who dropped last week and the boy who emails you constantly instead of coming in, because he's frightened of you. you told me that yourself.”

azzi opened her mouth to object to the sheer range of presumption: the walk-in unannounced, the diagnosing of her own schedule back to her, the casual theft of an hour she had yet to freely offer. and she did not, in fact, tell paige that herself.

she found, with a rather reclusive irritation, that she had no actual objection ready, only the abstract sense that she ought to have one. paige had a way of doing this to her - arriving at a request already so certain of its reasonableness that arguing against it felt less like the defense of a boundary than being difficult for its own sake.

this is what people meant when they said disarmed. it was not that the weapon had been taken, but that you found your hand already empty when you went to check, and couldn’t remember when it had gone.

paige was, azzi noted, dressed for the walk already. overdressed for a quad-crossing, if she were honest, bundled instead for dense weather. a heavy wool overcoat, cut for a man twice her width and worn close to her silhouette. it had clearly been tailored for her instead of the body it had most immediately been designed for.

sleeves pushed to the forearm, the reveal of her veins, blue lace snake under an ivory swathe of skin; underneath it a plain white undershirt, one you could find folded in a father's dresser drawer. dark trousers, crease down the center, sharp enough to speak to having been pressed that very morning. combat boots, unlaced at the top, somehow erring from appearing sloppy, as though her constant disregard for her appearance was often considered from several angles before being permitted out the door.

for a moment, paige was turned from her and azzi could see the ripple of muscle along the bend of her back. the movement made her stomach stutter, the flex of such obvious youth deterring her from protest.

caspar david friedrich, wanderer above the sea of fog, german, c. 1818.

she assigned the painting in a flash of thought: the back turned, the vastness, the fact that you never did see the man’s face, only his posture, held - the view at his command, under his possession only by virtue of standing in front of it.

azzi had noticed all of this weeks ago. she had told herself, weeks ago, to stop. limited success. she caught on to it all, every symptom of paige’s existence.

the way paige dressed was nearly exclusively from a wardrobe that belonged, by every rule azzi had ever been taught, to the opposing sex: sharp-shouldered coats, ties worn loose and unknotted around an open collar, trousers cut for a body with none of paige’s actual softness. no room for the give of her hips or the gentle expansion of her thighs. on anyone else they would have been borrowed, simply a girl in her brother's costume, a joke about gender, over by morning. yet somehow the woman made all of it look more like a semblance of correction, adjusting for error; as if the clothes had simply been cut for the wrong person all along and paige was only now setting the record straight.

“you can't keep doing this,” azzi told her, without much conviction. she was already closing the laptop.

“doing what, exactly?”

“assuming the importance of my time, taking it upon yourself to designate what i'm doing with my afternoon, using me as a way to avoid your other term work.”

paige turned to face her, considered this with the mildest shadow of a smile; humoring a rule she had no intention of ever actually following.

“you could say no.”

“i am saying no.”

“you're putting your coat on while you say it.”

azzi glanced down at herself. half into the coat already. evidence, if anyone needed it, that the mouth and the hands did not always work for the same government.

she told herself, buttoning it, that this was supervision; a professor keeping half an eye on a student prone to disappearing off campus without telling anyone. duty of care, dressed as an afternoon off. she was aware, as she constructed the reasoning, how little weight the joists could hold, how little she could actually bear.

“besides,” paige added, stepping in close. almost lazily, she reached out to fix the scarf at azzi's throat. “i like most of my other term work. we’re reading a short story in professor bird’s class, a joy williams. quite good, surprisingly.”

this close, azzi could smell her: the heady rush of peony, lily-of-the-valley, a bit of green—stephanotis?—a thread of black tea, apple gone warm under water steeped with spices.

“you smell lovely,” spilled outward before azzi could stop it, her fingers curling at her sides as if to claw them back.

too late for that kind of prayer.

“yeah?” paige answered, eyes alive with a sudden light, delighted, halfway to the joke. “it’s called ‘had me at hello.’”

at that, azzi did laugh.

the grounds were halfway to hibernation, bare maples gone black-limbed against a sky drained to the color of skimmed milk, the lake road empty enough that their footsteps were the only solid sound for the first fifteen minutes. snow had not yet arrived, but was clearly rehearsing for it in the close cold.

paige walked with her hands in her coat pockets and, as always, in no particular hurry, matched her pace to azzi’s without seeming to think about it. azzi wondered what it was like to languish in that luxury, to know that you were always afforded time.

halfway down the road, she produced—from seemingly nowhere; perhaps some inner pocket, some infinitesimal, unbroachable logic of paige’s own devising—a slim gold case. she held it out, the object rolling sluggishly about her palm. it was beautiful, a thick beginning, tapered in toward the middle, then flaring out again, a deep engraving of roses embellishing its top, the name of the shade lurking shyly at the bottom in looping, black script.

“here.”

azzi took it on reflex before she’d even registered what it was. a lipstick. new, sealed, a shade lighter and colder than the one she actually wore, a pink that bordered on red, vermilion at the tip but a lush rose closer to the bottom. a shade that she had been brought to tears over, having thought she lost it, having scoured the large shops and the boutiques only to come up empty-handed.

“i’ve—i don't need—it wouldn’t be—”

“i know what it wouldn’t be. i know all of that, but thank you for telling me.” paige was already looking elsewhere at the lake, at nothing, the offering made and immediately treated as though it required no further discussion. azzi suddenly felt chastened. “it's not really about you needing it. it's just yours now.”

azzi turned the case over once in her gloved hand and decided not to inquire further. she put it in her coat pocket instead, where it sat the rest of the walk; a small, unaccountable weight.

“do you know who i am?” paige asked it lightly, conversationally, a question that could have been nothing at all. the wind-up to a wisecrack, an opening for flattery—except that the steel underneath it wasn’t lightweight at all.

she was waiting closely, very still, to see what azzi had to say, would inevitably say.

azzi considered it, genuinely, turning the actual available facts over: the name on the roster, the surname higher staff had kept mum about, the utter absence of anything when she’d searched it in a weaker moment.

“you’re a blessing,” she offered.

something crossed paige’s face then: brief, unreadable, gone before azzi could properly catch it. a door opening a crack onto a room she didn’t yet know existed, and closing again just as fast.

“yes,” paige said.

it wasn't quite a lie. it also wasn't, azzi would understand much later, anything close to the truth.

“the tuesday boy,” azzi said, a little further on, apropos of nothing, mostly to fill the quiet. “the one who emails instead of coming in. how do you know that he's scared of me? i didn’t tell you that.”

“yes, you didn’t,” paige agreed, smiling crookedly, unashamed at her deception. “he told me.”

“you two talk?”

“we’ve…talked. only once,” paige said it without a hint of emotion, decidedly closing the subject rather than continuing it, and something in the way she said it made azzi acquiesce, wisely or not.

she did not ask what, exactly, had been discussed in that one conversation, or why a boy who’d emailed apologetically on multiple occasions in october had simply stopped emailing at all by the middle of november.

azzi filed her unease about it away with everything else about paige she'd decided, for now, not to hold to the light.

it was on the walk back, cutting behind the chapel where the path narrowed, and the last of the other students crossing campus were well out of sight, that paige stopped her with two fingers hooked lightly into the collar of azzi’s coat.

azzi went still. it wasn't quite a touch, barely that, two fingers and the fabric between them. and yet, she felt it the way you'd feel a hand actually laid flat against the skin, every place paige wasn't touching suddenly as loud as the place she was. paige tugged the collar closed properly, adjusting it the way you'd fix something on a child, and stepped back before azzi could decide how to respond to any of it.

“get a better coat,” she instructed. “you're always cold.”

and then she was walking again, already three steps ahead, as if she hadn't just put her hands on a woman ten years her senior in broad daylight and left azzi standing there, mouth ajar, body still swaying into the phantom motion, heart as quick as a hare underneath her scarf.

the following tuesday, there was a butter-yellow garment bag hanging on the top-most hinge of her office door when she arrived.

there was no note and the absence of a return address; the bag otherwise plain except for the calligraphy logo of one of the most expensive department stores in the state. inside, folded and arranged with care: a floor-length espresso colored coat, wool heavy enough to promise certain warmth against the worst vermont winter. below the lapel, where the buttons should have sat on the left, a soft dark lining of vintage mink, worn just enough at the edges to prove it had a history that predated paige by decades. there was a detachable belt lazing about both sides, clearly intended to be the method of closure.

azzi stood in front of the open bag for a long time before she finally touched it. she thought, distantly, of asking someone what a coat like this cost. she knew the number would be torturous. she thought, more clearly, that she did not actually want to know the answer, because the knowledge of it would make it impossible to keep it as she pretended it was: a small thing, a student’s odd, oversized gesture of thanks.

she thought of the lipstick still sitting, unused, in the pocket of her old coat, a better place than the mess of her handbag. she would return it to paige, insistent that she could not take this.

yes, she would.

for a moment, her curiosity won out over propriety, and she slipped the coat on, found it fit her perfectly. her hand slid into the pocket at the right side, the cut talentfully hidden, its seam only noticeable by touch, and felt her finger cut across the top of a square of cardstock. she pulled it free, flipping it over to find words written in a familiar hand.

if i didn’t, you wouldn’t.

that was all.

azzi didn’t need any more to know it was her.

“was niki crazy about you?”

ingemar let his eyes flutter open from where they had slid closed, and side-eyed his sister. often, he and suzy made the same expression. the thought made paige nearly burst, and she lifted a hand, pretending to wipe her mouth free of dinner as she worked to hold her laugh.

“god, you just say anything, don’t you? nothing held back,” mar drawled, accepting the hovering cup of rosehip tea, the accompanying saucer crafted of fine china just like the mug sat atop it. he reached out a hand to niki’s retreating arm, squeezing gently in a silent deliverance of gratitude. “i don’t know, to answer your question. my niki was a vault when we met, as was i.”

“why do you talk like you’re in a fucking movie?” paige groused, and niki smiled, pleased at her annoyance.

“i was,” came the quiet admission, forcing both their necks to crane beyond them, locating niki where he leaned against the kitchen doorway. “exceptionally so, i think. nearly transferred the case when i realized.”

mar had been his client, paige recalled now. oh, the danger, the complexity. but their family never wanted anything they didn’t have to work for.

“how sweet,” paige said drily. mar hit her. “but i meant more—i don’t know. did you ever feel like this tide, this sense of going insane, the slow drag of it. a—a madness.”

“wow, that literature class is truly getting through to you. glad to see the youth impacted by the works of today.”

now paige hit him. niki let out a laugh as mar pretended to be wounded, then disappeared back into the kitchen, the tap running as he returned to washing. it was only when he’d been at the washing for a dish or two that mar turned to his sister, gaze frigid as he hunkered down.

“yes,” he murmured, voice low. “i felt like that. it was like being a car run down, then someone came and fixed it, and i was revving and revving. do you—do you remember that horse you tried to claim as yours when dad paid for your equestrian lessons? how it bucked and threw you, kicked you in the chest with its hindleg, and dad thought you were one short a screw because you kept trying to get back on?”

paige remembered.

she had been eleven, perhaps twelve, a collection of knees and elbows, forever growing faster than her limbs knew what to do with themselves, bones unconvinced of their certainty. every saturday morning, her father delivered her to the stables before sunrise, the paddocks still argent with frost, each fence paling beneath a skin of mist. the horses steamed gently in the cold, their breath rising from dark nostrils, the ensuing smoke like shrine offerings.

even now she could summon the smell before anything else: the dampest hay, saddle soap, sweet feed dissolving into mud, the mineral tang of rusted iron and animal heat. it had lived somewhere deep inside her ever since.

they had assigned her a gelding named samson, chestnut and broad through the shoulders, with a white blaze that wandered crookedly between his eyes as though someone had painted it, brush quavering with an unsteady hand.

he isn't yours, her instructor corrected whenever paige called him mine. my horse. she never abided, pushed on anyway.

everyone else left when lessons finished, but she lingered. paige learned where the muscles beneath his neck softened underneath her fingers, discovered he preferred to be scratched beneath the jaw instead of along his poll, tucked sugar cubes into the pocket of her riding coat until they dissolved into sticky crystals against the lining.

she polished tack she hadn't dirtied, brushed him until copper hairs floated through the stable, set on fire in the afternoon light. sometimes she simply stood in his stall while he ignored her entirely, convinced proximity itself would fix their divide.

surely affection accumulated. surely devotion gained weight. surely living things eventually leaned toward the hand that returned often enough.

samson disagreed.

it happened in less than a second. one moment she was seated deep in the saddle, smug with the certainty that today would bear fruit, and the next her world had turned over. a violent arch of muscle; the impossible suspension before gravity yoked her to the earth’s face. a sudden swell of clear sky, then the mineral kiss of dirt.

the crack of her helmet against the packed earth rang loudly enough that the entire arena seemed to tremble in its aftermath. she didn’t cry; she refused to. she remembered lying there more irritated than anything else, blinking profusely up through the latticework of the roof while adults descended around her in a swarm of polished boots and worried mouths. someone held her shoulders down as another asked whether she knew her own name.

but all paige could see was samson.

he’d trotted several yards away before stopping, calm already. he’d only needed to get rid of her. his ears flicked lazily toward a pigeon perched on the fence, and paige watched as a groom caught his reins with embarrassing ease. he did not appear guilty in the slightest nor triumphant. he looked exactly as he had been, before she'd ever loved him.

the kick had come later.

against every instruction, paige had risen, marched back across the arena, cheeks muddy, lip split, ribs aching with her every breath. her father was shouting now, one hand around the instructor's arm while the other reached uselessly for her. she ducked beneath it.

she remembered the warmth radiating from samson’s flank before she remembered the pain. another flash of that chestnut hide, another explosive coil of cultivated muscle. then the hind hoof met her square beneath the ribs with enough force to empty her lungs all at once.

there was no immediate pain, but an absence. air ripped from her body so visciously, so completely, that she became convinced, for one immaculate second, that she had died.

they carried her out.

she was back the following saturday. and the saturday after.

her instructor stopped trying to reason with her after a month of her tenacity. her father suggested another horse, but she refused. samson never did grow kinder; never once softened because she had remained. he never acknowledged the private mythology she had built around the two of them.

what unsettled her now, years later, was not that he had thrown her. it was that she had never once considered loving him any less. the possibility had not ceased to exist. she had only wondered what she ought to change about herself to make him finally permit it.

“it was like that, but endless.”

paige blinked, brought out of her head, eyes still focused intently on the view outside the window.

blue lace agate, mar thought fondly.

“but it ended, didn’t it?” she asked, and she sounded younger than she really was. “you’re with niki now. he let you on.”

mar laughed, chucking her chin before tossing off the blanket as he stood.

“oh, żabka. i was the horse.”

the slide changed, and azzi’s voice changed with it, somehow denser with love as opposed to the stark professionalism she afforded all other paintings on the syllabus.

john william waterhouse's lamia and the soldier swallowed the screen whole. the room had dimmed, and somewhere above them the projector exhaled into life with a mechanical click of its throat, pale december morning come knocking only to withdraw by various degrees behind lowered blinds. in the darkness, everyone was illuminated by that strange blue-white glow unique to the screen and hospitals, a light that diminished faces while making the dust’s waltz past appear almost celestial. particles drifted lazily through the beam between projector and canvas, rising and falling without urgency, visible only because something brighter insisted upon passing through them.

azzi stepped into that light without seeming to notice. she had exchanged the severe black dresses she’d favored at the start of term for softer fabrics as winter continued to hold over.

today she wore ivory silk, matte where it lay still and suddenly luminous whenever she moved beneath the projector's light. the neckline skimmed the collarbones without ornament, save for a small embroidered moon resting over one shoulder and a pompeian-blue dragon at the hip, gold thread catching now and then like a fish turning beneath water. the hem refused symmetry, dipping lower behind her until it trailed half a thought after every step, as though the dress possessed a slower understanding of departure than the woman inside it. her shoe of choice was a modest, beige kitten heel with a bow shrugging sadly over the straps, top pieces striking meekly against the flooring as she walked.

paige wondered whether the choice had been a deliberate call to the watercolor workings of the piece under discussion. it was impossible not to, standing beneath waterhouse's lamia dressed almost as though azzi had wandered quietly from the painting’s edge. the coincidence irritated paige. she disliked not knowing when something meant something.

there existed no wasted movements within azzi. everything she did possessed the economy of long practice. she uncapped the marker with one hand, rested the cap precisely on the lectern. her lithe, brown fingers folded around her clicker as though they had always belonged there, and paige thought about what it would be like to have those fingers around her arm.

“waterhouse, 1905. lamia and the soldier.”

paige looked dutifully to the painting, then back. then, irritated with herself, returned to the painting.

she sat where she always sat, dead-center, spine straight from four months of dr. taurasi’s voice living permanently at the base of her skull, and did not take a single note.

on the screen: a woman kneeling at a soldier's feet in a wood gone dim and close around them, a hand on his knee, her face turned up toward his in an expression that could either be seen as adoration or the breath held before a bite. often, it felt the same. at her hip, faint, half-shed, the last iridescent scales of a serpent's skin not entirely gone, not entirely human. she’d been caught in the single worst moment of any transformation, the moment where you could still see both things you used to be and were trying, so hard, to cease being.

“the myth predates the painting by roughly two thousand years," azzi continued, pacing the small stage the lectern gave her, hands loose, unconscious, shaping the air as she spoke as if to sculpt the point directly into their young, impressionable minds. “lamia was a woman first. a queen, in some tellings. loved by zeus, cursed by hera for it, and the curse took her children. every one of them, one after another, until grief itself turned her, transfigured her into something else. a serpent from the waist down. a devourer of other people's children, in the crueler versions. but keats’ version, which waterhouse is painting here, gives her one mercy: the chance to become a woman again, just briefly, to love a man who has no idea what she actually is.”

someone near the back asked whether the soldier ever found out. they were at the point of rapture now, fully entrenched in the atmosphere of learning under professor fudd, wholly devoted to her for the remainder of time under her tutelage.

paige watched azzi’s mouth rise in a half crescent, joyous at the question being self-professed rather than forcefully excavated.

“he does, yes,” azzi answered. “that is one facet of its tragedy. the moment he sees her, transparently, glimpsing what she really is beneath the disguise love let her wear—she can't survive it. she doesn't turn into a monster in front of him. she simply vanishes. the myth seems to suggest those aren't different endings.”

the words arrived, meaning did not. paige did not write any of this down, though she knew she should have. this was bound to be on the midterm. she understood every individual component of the sentence, watched each settle neatly into place beside the last like brick inlaid to a wall, yet together they refused to become anything more. they remained only brick.

her attention slipped. nothing so obvious; a shoulder easing quietly from its socket, a tiny displacement that nevertheless rendered the whole limb unusable. her gaze found azzi’s face again with the unconscious inevitability of a compass returning north.

her bracelet had come undone, 18-karat gold if paige had to guess, mother-of-pearl, intricate charms in the shape of clubs interspersed along its thin chain. the clasp had fallen half open, a lobster closure. it had loosened enough to allow the bracelet to fall lower each time she lifted her arm toward the screen, revealing the narrow inside of her wrist before falling obediently back into place.

again.

again.

silly thing to notice. sillier still to notice it repeatedly. paige dragged herself back to the slide.

“…victorian audiences preferred monsters they could desire,” azzi said. “desire became significantly easier to regulate if it first announced itself as something dangerous.”

paige sat very still at that, and thought, with a clarity that frightened her slightly even as it arrived: i understand it. i don't know how to have you.

the desire was not specifically the issue. paige knew how to want things. wanting had never once been the difficult part of her life. she had wanted with ferver, from the horse then onward; wanted her mother’s undivided attention on the few occasions a year she was permitted it, wanted her father back, wanted her mother to lose her cool in front of the cameras so the world could see her as she was instead of always, always finding the angle that made her look like the most reasonable in the room.

desire was easy. it asked nothing of you except the capacity to keep going after being refused. having was the part paige had never been taught.

she watched azzzi’s hands flutter with her enthusiasm, thought about the coat that had sat in her own closet before hanging now in azzi’s; worn, kept, the note read and understood exactly as intended. in her chest there wasn’t triumph at all, though it should have been. it felt closer to what had stained her when she’d stood dutifully at the edge of that stall, age eleven, sugar melting sticky in her pocket, certain that enough proximity would eventually be mistaken for enough love.

pens scratched all around her, and paige blinked, glancing down at her ipad, so starkly different from the performative moleskins bulging at the seams in various totes and shoulder bags. where there should have been a page on keats and waterhouse, there were observations so minute they bordered on absurdity.

no ring. ambidextrous. laughs first through her nose, then out. thirty-two, a birthday in november, already passed. struggles in tall heels.

paige stared at them, heat climbing the back of her neck like ivy of flame.

what was this?

it was not simply attraction. paige knew attraction. attraction had always revealed itself plainly enough, certifying its hold before she'd had time to invent another explanation.

women had beautiful mouths, strong shoulders, clever hands. women had god between their legs, their thighs the stairway to heaven. women had bodies soft as clam meat, pleasure sticky and sluiced all over themselves, their post-coital blush so arresting that many a brand had made cosmetics with its name.

paige had survived twenty-two years perfectly capable of desiring someone without whatever this was. this was…

paige didn't know what you were supposed to do once someone let you close. she only knew, with total confidence, several increasingly elaborate ways to get there.

what happened after the arrival, she thought, watching azzi’s mouth continue to imbue knowledge into the recycled classroom air, is where i've never once had a plan.

professor fudd was still speaking, and paige had absolutely no idea what she'd been saying for the last several minutes. she listened now, or tried to. a slight roughness entered azzi’s voice after sustained speaking. she pressed her tongue briefly against the inside of her cheek whenever searching for a more precise adjective. her eyebrows drew together when a student answered not incorrectly, but when she believed she'd explained something badly herself.

none of these things belonged to paige. none of them had anything to do with waterhouse.

lamia had been given a body to be loved honestly, and the honesty was exactly what had killed it. paige turned that over, disturbed, aware of some private echo in it she didn't yet want to name.

(two-phone shoebox at the back of her closet, an ill-fitting surname she was allowing azzi to believe, b to k, k to b.)

there existed a region of herself she had never previously encountered. and she had intended to leave it unexplored by all, including possibly azzi; a country that had apparently been there all along. what would it be to get close enough to see all of it at once and decide, the way the soldier eventually had to decide, if you were loving something that wasn't fully real?

paige thought, i would rather vanish than be looked at like that.

she thought, a half-second later, with the same unstartled stagnancy she’d brought to every stubborn decision of her whole stubborn life: and i would still get back on that horse tomorrow. i would still get back on every single day there was a horse to get on.

mar was the horse, paige was the rider.

azzi’s gaze swept across the room, checking inventory, cataloguing the glazed inattention that meant she’d lost them. and it caught, for one unremarkable second, on paige, who was not glazed at all, who was watching her with an attention so total it should have registered as alarming and instead registered, in the microscopic millisecond before azzi’s gaze moved past, as something closer to being seen back.

neither of them said anything about it.

there was, that day, nothing yet to say.

on what must’ve been their fifth walk, azzi wore the coat.

she had told herself she would return it—had rehearsed, on three separate mornings, the sentence she’d use to hand it back, something dry and final about propriety and appropriate gifts between a professor and a student. instead, she found herself buttoning it every tuesday without much aplom, the mink at the collar gone soft and familiar against her jaw, warm in a way that made the returning of it feel, each week, a little more like amputation.

it had ceased, somewhere along the line, to feel like an object that belonged to another. it had acquired her shape: the sleeves now bent where her elbows bent, one pocket beginning to collect the lustreless sediment of her days, a receipt from the campus café, a fountain pen cartridge, a peppermint gone soft in its wrapper.

azzi found the realization faintly horrifying. she buttoned it again the day after.

they walked the lake road. the trees had surrendered almost everything by now. bare branches webbed against a white sky, reflected in the water below with enough fidelity that the lake seemed to possess its own winter, another season turned upside down beneath the first. their footsteps disappeared into damp gravel almost as soon as they were made.