Lost in the Woods

A/N: This has accidentally become a mini series. I have one more part to post lol. This chapter is suuuper smut heavy – all the pregnancy smut I couldn’t put in Love on Fire 😂 anywho, I hope you love it!!! xx Elle

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The first thing Paige did after Azzi showed her the positive test was pull out her phone and start researching.

"Baby, it's two in the morning," Azzi laughed, watching her wife’s face illuminated by the screen's glow.

"I need to know everything," Paige muttered, scrolling furiously. "What you should eat, what you shouldn't eat, what vitamins – wait, are you taking prenatal vitamins? We need prenatal vitamins."

"Paige –"

"And folic acid. That's important, right? I'm pretty sure that's important." Paige looked up, eyes wide with determination. "I'm going to take such good care of you."

And she did.

Azzi woke up the next morning to find Paige already in the kitchen, surrounded by cookbooks and her laptop open to at least fifteen tabs about pregnancy nutrition.

"I'm making you breakfast," Paige announced. "Eggs for protein, whole grain toast, berries for antioxidants, and orange juice for vitamin C."

"You hate cooking."

"Yeah, I love you. And I already love our baby," Paige set the plate down with such reverence that Azzi's eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Oh my god, I'm already crying about breakfast."

"Hormones," Paige said with a proud smile, like she’d become an expert in pregnancy overnight. Honestly, throughout the months of trying, she probably had

Her obsession only intensified. Paige downloaded three pregnancy tracking apps and set reminders for everything – how much Azzi should eat, how much she should rest, when she should take her vitamins, if capsules were better than gummies. She bought out half of Target's pregnancy section before Azzi was even eight weeks along.

"Baby, we don't need seventeen different kinds of belly butter," Azzi said, staring at the shopping bags covering their bed.

"Yes we do. Different ones have different ingredients. This one has cocoa butter, this one has shea butter, this one has vitamin E –"

"Paige."

"I don't want you to get stretch marks!" Paige looked genuinely distressed. "Not that stretch marks are bad! Stretch marks are beautiful! Your body is doing an amazing thing! I just want you to be comfortable and –"

Azzi pulled her into a kiss, effectively shutting her up. "I love you," she whispered against her lips. "You're going to be the best mom."

Paige's eyes went soft. "We're really doing this."

"We're really doing this."

They told no one for the first twelve weeks. It was their secret, their private joy. Paige would rest her hand on Azzi's still-flat stomach and talk to their baby, telling them about their day, about how much they were already loved.

Azzi would watch her wife with overwhelming tenderness, thinking about how lucky their child was going to be.

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At thirteen weeks, they went in for the sonogram.

Azzi lay on the examination table, Paige gripping her hand so tightly it almost hurt. The technician spread the cold gel across Azzi's stomach, and then –

There it was.

Their baby. A tiny, perfect shape on the screen, heart beating strong and steady.

"Oh my God," Paige breathed. "That's our baby."

Azzi couldn't speak. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the screen, at the miracle they'd created together – Paige's egg and Azzi’s body bringing their baby into existence.

"Would you like to know the sex?" the technician asked gently.

They looked at each other. They'd talked about waiting, about being surprised, but –

"Yes," they said in unison.

The technician smiled. "It's a boy."

Paige made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "A boy. We're having a son."

Azzi turned to look at her, and Paige was crying too, smiling so wide it had to hurt.

"Our son," Azzi whispered. "Your DNA. My body. Our baby boy."

Paige leaned down and kissed her, soft and reverent. "I love you so much. Thank you for carrying our baby. Thank you for –" Her voice broke. "Thank you for making me a mom."

"Thank you for making me one too."

They held each other in that small examination room, their son's heartbeat filling the space, and Azzi thought she'd never been happier in her entire life.

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"You sure you want to come?" Paige asked for the third time as they got ready for the game. "You don't have to –"

"Paige." Azzi turned from the mirror, where she'd been adjusting Paige's jersey over her small but unmistakable bump. "I want to be there. I want to watch you play."

Paige's eyes darkened as they traveled down Azzi's body–the jersey stretched across her fuller breasts, the gentle swell of her stomach visible beneath the fabric, the way the material draped over her changing curves.

"You look..." Paige's voice was rough. "Fuck, Azzi."

"What?" Azzi smiled, knowing exactly what.

"You're wearing my jersey." Paige crossed the room slowly, predatory, and she knelt before her wife. "Pregnant with my baby. Wearing my ring. Everyone's going to see you. Everyone's going to know you're mine."

Azzi ran her hand over her wife’s slick ponytail. "I am yours," she said softly, and Paige's hands settled on her bump, possessive and gentle at once.

"Yeah, you are." Paige kissed her belly, eyes dark as she looked up at her. "Let's go before I decide to keep you home."

The arena was packed. Azzi settled into her courtside seat and immediately felt the cameras on her. She was used to media attention, but this was different – she was visibly pregnant now, glowing in Paige's jersey, and the commentators noticed immediately.

"And there's Azzi Fudd courtside tonight," the announcer said warmly. "Looking absolutely radiant at about five months pregnant. The couple announced they're expecting a baby earlier this week. Congratulations to them both."

The camera lingered on her, and Azzi smiled and waved, one hand resting protectively on her bump.

On the court, Paige was warming up. She looked toward the stands, found Azzi, and froze.

Azzi watched her expression change – saw the moment Paige registered what she was seeing, saw the way Paige's jaw clenched, saw the possessive heat that flared in her eyes even from this distance.

Paige pointed directly at her, mouthed something that looked like "mine," and Azzi felt heat pool low in her belly despite being in a crowded arena.

The game started, and Paige played like a woman possessed.

She was everywhere – stealing the ball, aggressively driving to the basket, hitting three after three with deadly accuracy. She was physical, dominant, and absolutely unstoppable. Every time she scored, she'd look toward Azzi, and Azzi could feel the intensity of that gaze like a physical touch.

"Bueckers is on fire tonight," the commentator said. "Absolutely on fire. Twenty-eight points already and we're only in the third quarter."

Azzi couldn't take her eyes off her. Paige was magnificent – all power and grace and controlled intensity. Watching her play had always turned Azzi on, but now, pregnant with their child, it was almost unbearable. She wanted Paige's hands on her. Wanted that intensity, that dominance directed at her body.

The game ended with the Wings winning by twenty. Paige had dropped forty-two points, her highest of the season.

She jogged over to where Azzi was sitting, leaned down, and kissed her hard enough that the crowd went wild.

"Locker room," Paige said against her lips. "Now."

Azzi’s eyes widened, "Paige, you have press –"

"I don't give a fuck about press." Paige's hand found Azzi's bump through the jersey. "I need you. Right now."

Azzi's breath hitched. "Okay."

They made it to the locker room – empty because everyone else was still doing media, signing autographs, all the other obligations. Paige locked the door behind them and immediately pressed Azzi against it, kissing her desperately.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" Paige breathed against her mouth. "Sitting there in my jersey, pregnant with my baby, everyone seeing you're mine?"

"I'm yours," Azzi gasped as Paige's hands slid under the jersey, cupping her full breasts. "Always yours."

"Damn right." Paige's thumbs brushed over Azzi's nipples, and Azzi moaned. They were so sensitive now, every touch almost too much. "Look at you. So fucking beautiful carrying our son."

"Paige, please –"

"Please what?" Paige's mouth moved to Azzi's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"You. I need you."

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark with desire. "Watching me play got you wet, didn't it?"

Azzi nodded, beyond embarrassment. "You were so – God, you were incredible. So strong and – I couldn't stop thinking about –"

"About what?" Paige's hand slid down to cup Azzi through her leggings, and Azzi's hips bucked forward. "About me touching you? Fucking you?"

"Yes," Azzi whimpered.

"I've been thinking about it all game." Paige's fingers pressed harder, and she could feel how wet she was even through the fabric. "Thinking about getting you alone. Getting my hands on this perfect body."

She pulled Azzi's leggings and underwear down carefully, reverently, then lifted the jersey to expose Azzi's bump. For a moment, she just looked – her hand splayed across Azzi's stomach, feeling their son move beneath her palm.

"Our baby," Paige whispered. "You're growing our baby."

"Your DNA," Azzi said softly. "Inside me. Part of you."

Paige made a rough sound and dropped to her knees.

"Paige –"

"Let me taste you." Paige's hands gripped Azzi's hips, steadying her. "Been thinking about this all fucking game."

She leaned forward and licked a long stripe up Azzi's center, and Azzi's head fell back against the door with a thud. "Oh my God –"

Paige's mouth was relentless. Tongue circling Azzi's clit, then dipping inside her, then back to that perfect spot that made Azzi see stars. One hand stayed on Azzi's bump, possessive and grounding, while the other gripped her thigh.

"So wet for me," Paige murmured against her. "Always so wet. Pregnancy makes you so sensitive, doesn't it?"

"Yes – fuck, yes –"

"Love how you taste." Paige sucked Azzi's clit into her mouth, and Azzi's hands flew to her hair, gripping tight. "Love that you're mine. That everyone knows you're mine."

"Yours," Azzi gasped. "Only yours – oh God, Paige, I'm –"

"Come for me, baby. Come on my tongue."

Azzi shattered, crying out Paige's name, her whole body trembling as Paige worked her through it, gentle now, reverent.

When Azzi could breathe again, Paige stood and kissed her deeply, and Azzi could taste herself on Paige's lips.

"I love you," Paige whispered. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too." Azzi's hands found Paige's face, holding her close. "But I'm not done with you."

"Baby, you don't have to –"

"I want to." Azzi's hand slid down Paige's body, cupping her through her basketball shorts. "I want to feel you come. Want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Paige groaned. "Azzi –"

"Please." Azzi kissed her neck, her jaw. "Let me touch you."

They moved to the bench, and Azzi straddled Paige carefully, mindful of her bump. Paige's hands immediately went to Azzi's hips, steadying her, and Azzi could feel how wet Paige was through her shorts.

"You're soaked," Azzi murmured, grinding down. "Did playing for me do this? Knowing I was watching?"

"Yes," Paige admitted roughly. "Couldn't stop thinking about you. About this."

Azzi reached between them, sliding her hand into Paige's shorts, and Paige's hips jerked up at the contact.

"Fuck –"

"I love watching you play," Azzi said, fingers finding Paige's clit and circling slowly. "Love seeing how strong you are. How dominant. And knowing you come home to me –" She pressed harder, and Paige moaned. "Knowing this is mine."

"Yours," Paige gasped. "All yours – God, Azzi –"

Azzi slid two fingers inside her, and Paige's head fell back, exposing the long line of her throat. Azzi leaned forward, as much as her bump would allow, and kissed her neck, her jaw, while her fingers worked steadily.

"You played so well tonight," Azzi whispered. "So fucking well. Made me so proud. Made me so wet watching you."

"Azzi –"

"Everyone could see I'm yours." Azzi's thumb found Paige's clit, and Paige's hips started moving, riding her hand. "Pregnant with your baby. Wearing your jersey. Your wife."

"My wife," Paige repeated, voice breaking. "My beautiful, perfect wife –"

"Come for me, baby." Azzi kissed her deeply. "Let me feel you."

Paige came with Azzi's name on her lips, trembling and gasping, and Azzi held her through it, whispering how much she loved her, how perfect she was.

They stayed like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air.

"We just had sex in the locker room," Azzi said finally, and Paige laughed.

"Yeah, we did."

"You're going to be so late for press."

"Worth it." Paige's hand found Azzi's bump again, and their son kicked against her palm. "So fucking worth it."

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At twenty-four weeks, Azzi flew to Phoenix for Paige's away game, and the media went crazy.

"Azzi Fudd making the trip to support her wife," the announcer said as the camera found her courtside. "Six months pregnant now and absolutely glowing. That's dedication right there."

Azzi was wearing Paige's away jersey – white with blue trim – and her bump was prominent now, impossible to miss. She'd had to get the jersey specially tailored to fit, and Paige had nearly lost her mind when she'd seen it that morning.

"You're going to kill me," Paige had said, staring at Azzi like she wanted to devour her. "You know that, right? You're going to kill me."

"Then you better play well," Azzi had teased. "Make it worth my while."

Paige played out of her mind. Thirty-eight points, twelve assists, and she was physical –boxing out, fighting for rebounds, taking charges, playing with an edge that had the commentators remarking on her intensity.

"Bueckers is playing especially aggressive tonight," one said. "Playing with something to prove."

After the game – another decisive win – Paige found Azzi in the tunnel.

"Hotel," she said simply. "Right now."

They barely made it through the door before Paige was on her, kissing her desperately, hands everywhere.

"You flew here," Paige said between kisses. "Six months pregnant and you flew here for me."

"Of course I did." Azzi's hands worked at Paige's clothes, still damp with sweat from the game. "Wanted to watch you play. Wanted everyone to see I'm yours."

"You are." Paige's hands slid under Azzi's dress–she'd changed after the game–and found her already wet. "Fuck, baby. Already?"

"I've been wet since the second quarter," Azzi admitted breathlessly. "Watching you play like that, so aggressive –"

Paige groaned and walked them backward toward the bed. "You like when I play rough?"

"I like when you play for me." Azzi pulled Paige's shirt over her head, revealing her sports bra and the lean muscle beneath. "Like knowing you're mine."

They fell onto the bed together, and Paige was careful, so careful, as she positioned Azzi on her side, one leg hitched over Paige's hip.

"This okay?" Paige asked, fingers teasing between Azzi's legs.

"Perfect," Azzi gasped. "Please –"

Paige slid two fingers inside her, and Azzi moaned, rocking back against her hand. Paige's other hand came around to rest on Azzi's bump, feeling their son move beneath her palm.

"Look at you," Paige murmured in her ear. "So beautiful like this. Taking my fingers so well. Growing our baby."

"More," Azzi whimpered. "Please, more –"

Paige added a third finger, and Azzi cried out, the stretch perfect, overwhelming.

"That's it," Paige encouraged. "Take it, baby. Take everything I give you."

Her thumb found Azzi's clit, circling in time with her thrusts, and Azzi was already close, wound tight from watching Paige play, from the flight, from everything.

"I'm – Paige, I'm –"

"I know." Paige's lips found her neck. "I can feel you. So tight around my fingers. You going to come for me?"

"Yes! Oh my God, yes!"

"Come, baby. Let me feel it."

Azzi came hard, clenching around Paige's fingers, and Paige worked her through it, whispering praise and love against her skin.

When Azzi could breathe again, she turned in Paige's arms and kissed her deeply.

"Your turn," she said, pupils blown wide.

"You don't have to –"

"I want to." Azzi pushed Paige onto her back and straddled her thigh, careful of her bump. "Want to make you feel good."

She ground down, and Paige groaned at the wetness she could feel even through her shorts.

"Azzi –"

"Take these off," Azzi commanded, tugging at Paige's shorts, and Paige obeyed immediately.

Once Paige was naked beneath her, Azzi positioned herself so she could grind against Paige's thigh while her hand worked between Paige's legs.

"Fuck," Paige gasped as Azzi's fingers found her clit. "Baby –"

"You're so wet," Azzi murmured, circling slowly. "Did I do this? Watching me in the stands? Feeling how wet I am for you?"

"Yes – God, yes – couldn't stop thinking about you –"

Azzi slid two fingers inside her, and Paige's hips bucked up. "About this?"

"About getting you alone. About touching you. About – fuck –"

Azzi set a steady rhythm, her own hips moving against Paige's thigh, and they moved together, breathing each other's air, lost in sensation.

"I love you," Azzi whispered. "Love watching you play. Love being yours."

"Mine," Paige agreed roughly. "Always mine. Azzi, I'm close –"

"Me too." Azzi's movements became more urgent, grinding harder, fingers moving faster. "Come with me, baby. Let me feel you."

They came together, crying out, trembling, and collapsed in a tangle of limbs.

"I love you," Paige said when she could speak again. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too." Azzi's hand found her bump, and Paige's hand covered hers. "Both of you."

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At twenty-six weeks, Azzi sat pouting on the couch. "I can't reach," she whined, staring down at her feet.

Paige looked up from her phone. "What?"

"My shoes. I can't –" Azzi gestured helplessly at her sneakers. "The bump is in the way."

Paige's face melted into the softest expression. "Come here."

She knelt in front of Azzi and gently lifted her foot, sliding on her sock and then her shoe with such tenderness that Azzi felt tears prick her eyes.

"You don't have to –"

"I want to." Paige tied the laces carefully, then moved to the other foot. "I'm going to do this every day until our son is born. And then after, if you let me."

"I love you," Azzi whispered.

Paige looked up at her, still kneeling, and pressed a kiss to Azzi's bump. "I love you too. Both of you."

That night, Paige made love to her slowly, reverently, kissing every inch of her changing body.

"You're so beautiful," Paige murmured against her skin. "So fucking beautiful."

She worked her way down Azzi's body – kissing her neck, her breasts, so sensitive now that Azzi gasped at every touch, her bump, and then lower.

"Paige –" she moaned loudly.

"Let me worship you," Paige said, settling between her legs. "Let me show you how perfect you are."

Her mouth was gentle at first, teasing, but Azzi was already so worked up that she was begging within minutes.

"Please – please, baby, I need –"

Paige gave her what she needed, tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, and Azzi came apart with Paige's name on her lips.

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A couple of weeks later, Azzi woke up at three in the morning with an overwhelming craving for pickles and ice cream.

Not together. She wasn't a monster.

But she wanted both, desperately, immediately.

"Paige," she whispered, shaking her fiancée's shoulder. "Paige, wake up."

"Wha –" Paige blinked blearily. "Baby? What's wrong? Is it the baby?"

"I need pickles."

Paige stared at her. "What?"

"And ice cream. The chocolate peanut butter kind from that place downtown. I need it right now or I'm going to die."

"It's three in the morning."

"I know." Azzi felt tears well up. "I'm sorry, I know it's ridiculous, but I just – I need –"

"Hey, hey." Paige sat up, cupping Azzi's face. "It's not ridiculous. You're growing our baby. If you want pickles and ice cream at three in the morning, I'll get you pickles and ice cream at three in the morning."

She was back forty-five minutes later with a jar of dill pickles and a pint of ice cream, plus chocolate croissants from the twenty-four-hour bakery and a stuffed elephant she'd seen in a shop window last week but had forgotten to bring in the house.

"For the baby," Paige said sheepishly, setting the elephant on Azzi's lap.

Azzi burst into tears.

Paige’s eyes widened in panic. "Oh no! What – did I get the wrong kind? I can go back –"

"You're perfect," Azzi sobbed. "You're so perfect and I love you so much and our son is so lucky to have you as a mom."

Paige climbed back into bed and held her while she cried and ate pickles, and then – because pregnancy hormones were wild – Azzi was suddenly kissing her desperately, pickle juice still on her lips.

"Baby –" Paige laughed against her mouth. "What –"

"I need you," Azzi said, already pulling at Paige's clothes. "Right now."

"You just ate pickles –"

"I don't care." Azzi straddled her, grinding down. "I need you inside me."

Paige groaned, hands going to Azzi's hips. "Fuck, okay. Okay, baby."

They made love at four in the morning, Azzi riding Paige's fingers while Paige's other hand cupped her breast, and it was messy and perfect and exactly what Azzi needed.

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Azzi stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, trying to button her favorite maternity jeans.

They wouldn't close.

She tried again, but the button wouldn't reach the buttonhole.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no –"

"Baby?" Paige appeared in the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing fits!" Azzi's voice cracked. "Even my maternity clothes don't fit and I look – I look –"

"Beautiful," Paige said immediately, crossing the room. "You look fucking beautiful."

"I look huge like a walrus!"

"You look pregnant." Paige's hands settled on Azzi's hips, turning her to face the mirror. "You're seven months along, growing our son. Look at you."

Azzi looked. Her stomach was round and prominent now, her breasts fuller, her hips wider. She looked so different from the woman she'd been nine months ago.

"I'm only going to get bigger," she said miserably.

"I know." Paige's voice was rough. "It's so fucking hot."

Azzi blinked. "What?"

"You're carrying my baby." Paige's hands slid around to rest on Azzi's stomach. "My DNA is inside you. You're growing our son with your body. Do you have any idea how sexy that is?"

"Paige –"

"I'm serious." Paige met her eyes in the mirror. "I've never wanted you more in my life."

And Azzi could see it was true. Paige's eyes were dark, her breathing slightly uneven. She was looking at Azzi like she wanted to devour her.

"Really?" Azzi asked softly.

"Really." Paige kissed her neck. "You're a fucking goddess."

Azzi felt heat pool low in her belly. "Show me."

Paige didn't need to be told twice. She turned Azzi around and kissed her deeply, hands roaming over her body – her breasts, her bump, her hips.

"Bed," Paige murmured against her lips. "I want you on the bed."

They made love slowly, Paige taking her time, kissing every inch of Azzi's body and telling her how beautiful she was, how perfect, how much she loved her.

When Paige finally slid her fingers inside her, Azzi was already trembling, wound so tight she could barely breathe.

"That's it," Paige encouraged, thumb circling her clit. "Let go, baby. Let me make you feel good."

Azzi came with tears streaming down her face–from pleasure, from love, from the overwhelming emotion of being so completely cherished.

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Paige's team was playing at home, and Azzi was courtside as always, her bump prominent beneath Paige's jersey.

The game was close, tied with two minutes left, and Paige was in the zone. She hit a three to put them up, stole the ball on defense, and drove the length of the court for a layup that sealed the win.

The crowd went wild.

Paige jogged over to where Azzi was sitting and pulled her into a kiss that had the cameras flashing like crazy.

"You're incredible," Azzi said against her lips.

"Come to the locker room," Paige murmured. "I need you."

"You still have press –"

"After." Paige's hand found Azzi's bump. "Please, baby. I need to touch you."

They made it to the locker room – empty again because Paige had asked for privacy – and Paige pressed Azzi against the wall, still in her uniform, still sweaty from the game.

"You're still in your uniform," Azzi said breathlessly as Paige kissed her neck.

"I know." Paige's hands slid under Azzi's dress. "Can’t wait. Need you too much."

She dropped to her knees and pulled Azzi's underwear down, and Azzi's head fell back against the wall as Paige's mouth found her.

"Oh fuck –"

Paige was relentless, tongue working Azzi's clit while her fingers slid inside, and Azzi came embarrassingly fast, crying out Paige's name.

"My turn," Azzi said when she could speak again, and Paige stood, eyes dark with desire.

Azzi worked Paige's shorts down just enough to get her hand inside, and Paige groaned as Azzi's fingers found her wet and ready.

"Fuck – Azzi –"

"You're so hot when you play," Azzi murmured, fingers working steadily. "So strong and aggressive. Makes me so wet watching you."

"Yeah?" Paige's hips were moving now, riding Azzi's hand. "You like watching me?"

"Love it." Azzi's thumb found Paige's clit. "Love knowing you play like that just for me."

"Always," Paige gasped. "Always for you, Azzi. Fuck, I'm –"

"Come for me, baby."

Paige came hard, trembling against Azzi, and Azzi held her through it, whispering how much she loved her.

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Azzi woke up to Paige's hands on her breasts, cupping them gently through her sleep shirt.

"Paige?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Sorry," Paige whispered. "Couldn't help it. You're so beautiful."

Azzi turned in her arms, and Paige's hands slid under her shirt, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

Azzi gasped. They were so sensitive now – every touch almost too much but also not enough.

"Does that hurt?" Paige asked, immediately gentling her touch.

"No," Azzi breathed. "Feels good. Really good."

Paige's eyes darkened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Azzi arched into her touch. "Don't stop."

Paige worked her shirt off and took her time, kissing and sucking gently while her hands roamed over Azzi's body. When her fingers finally slid between Azzi's legs, Azzi was already soaking wet.

"God, you're so ready for me," Paige murmured.

"Always ready for you," Azzi gasped as Paige's fingers slid inside. "Always want you to– oh God –"

Paige made love to her slowly, drawing it out, until Azzi was begging and trembling and coming apart over and over with Paige's name on her lips.

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The shower was running hot, steam filling the bathroom as Paige carefully washed Azzi's body.

Her hands were gentle as they moved over Azzi's bump, soaping and rinsing with such tenderness that Azzi felt tears prick her eyes.

"I love you," Paige whispered, pressing a kiss to Azzi's shoulder.

"I love you too."

Paige's hands moved higher, cupping Azzi's breasts, and Azzi's breath hitched.

"Paige –"

"Let me take care of you," Paige murmured, and her touch became less about washing and more about pleasure.

She worked Azzi up slowly, hands on her breasts, her bump, and then finally between her legs until Azzi was gasping and trembling.

"Please," Azzi whimpered. "Please, baby –"

Paige slid two fingers inside her, and Azzi's head fell back against Paige's shoulder as she rode her hand, water streaming over both of them.

"That's it," Paige encouraged. "Take what you need."

Azzi came with a cry, and Paige held her through it, whispering how beautiful she was, how perfect.

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Azzi made the trip to Seattle despite being eight months pregnant, and the media couldn't get enough of it.

"Azzi Fudd continues to be the most dedicated WAG in the league," the announcer said. "Thirty-three weeks pregnant and still traveling to support her wife. That's love right there."

Azzi was wearing Paige's jersey – another one that was specially tailored to fit her prominent bump – and she was glowing, radiant, completely at ease despite the cameras.

Paige played like a woman possessed. Forty-one points, and she was aggressive, physical, playing with an intensity that had everyone talking.

After the game, in their hotel room, Paige couldn't keep her hands off her.

"You flew here," Paige said, kissing her desperately. "Eight months pregnant and you flew here."

"Wanted to watch you play," Azzi said, already working at Paige's clothes. "Wanted to see you win."

"I won for you." Paige's hands found Azzi's bump. "For both of you."

They made love carefully, Azzi on her side with Paige pressed against her back, and it was slow and deep and perfect.

"I love you," Paige whispered as Azzi came apart around her fingers. "I love you so much."

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Azzi woke up to Paige's hands on her feet, massaging gently.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Your ankles were swollen last night," Paige said. "I'm helping with the circulation."

Azzi's heart squeezed. "You don't have to –"

"I want to." Paige's thumbs pressed into her arch, and Azzi groaned. "Feel good?"

"So good."

Paige worked her way up to Azzi's calves, her touch firm and sure, and Azzi felt herself relaxing completely.

But then Paige's hands moved higher, to her thighs, and the touch changed from therapeutic to sensual.

"Paige –"

"Let me make you feel good," Paige murmured, and her fingers found Azzi already wet.

"We just – we had sex last night –"

"And?" Paige's fingers circled her clit. "You’re lucky I don’t fuck you every time I look at you. I can't get enough of you like this. So soft. So full. So fucking mine."

She made Azzi come three times before finally letting her rest, and Azzi lay there afterward, completely sated, thinking about how lucky she was.

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At thirty-four weeks pregnant, Azzi probably should have been at home with her feet up.

Instead, she was courtside at Paige's playoff game, like always, and cheering louder than anyone else in the arena.

"And there's Azzi Fudd," the announcer said, camera panning to her. "Looking absolutely radiant as she supports her team and her wife in the playoffs. The couple is expecting their first child in just a few weeks."

Azzi waved at the camera, grinning, one hand resting on her bump.

On the court, Paige looked up at the jumbotron and saw her. Her whole face lit up, and she pointed directly at Azzi, mouthing "I love you."

Azzi mouthed it back, and the crowd went wild.

"Cutest couple in the WNBA," the announcer said. "No contest."

Twitter was losing its mind.

azzi fudd is literally glowing

paige pointing at her pregnant wife I'M SOBBING

they’ve probably been dreaming of this since HIGH SCHOOL. never give up on your dreams kids

the way paige looks at azzi... that's LOVE

azzi in paige's jersey with the baby bump is the cutest thing i've ever seen

they're going to be such good moms

Paige played out of her mind that game – like she did anytime Azzi was in the crowd – dropping thirty-five points and leading her team to victory. After the final buzzer, she jogged straight over to where Azzi was sitting and leaned over the barrier to kiss her.

"That was for you," Paige said, hand on Azzi's bump. "Both of you."

"You were amazing," Azzi said, eyes shining.

"I had good motivation." Paige kissed her again, and the cameras caught every second of it.

The next game, Azzi was there again. And the game after that. She became a fixture at the playoffs, the most photographed WAG in the league, always glowing and beautiful and so obviously in love.

Paige would find her in the crowd during timeouts, and they'd share these private smiles that made everyone watching feel like they were intruding on something sacred.

"She's my good luck charm," Paige told reporters. "Her and our baby. They're everything."

The sexual tension between them was palpable even courtside. The way Paige looked at Azzi – possessive and hungry and so full of love – had fans swooning.

And after every game, they couldn't get home fast enough.

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Paige's team won Game 2 of the semi-finals, and Paige had played brilliantly – thirty-eight points, ten assists, seven stocks.

In the car on the way home, Paige's hand was on Azzi's thigh, inching higher.

"Paige," Azzi said breathlessly. "We're almost home."

"I know." Paige's fingers found the edge of Azzi's underwear. "Can't wait."

"The driver –"

"Can't see anything." Paige's fingers slid beneath the fabric, and Azzi gasped. "You're so wet, baby."

"You – God – you played so well –"

"For you." Paige's fingers found her clit, circling slowly. "Always for you."

Azzi bit her lip to keep from moaning, her hips moving subtly against Paige's hand.

"That's it," Paige murmured. "Take what you need."

Azzi came just as they pulled into their driveway, trembling and gasping, and Paige looked incredibly smug.

They barely made it inside before Paige had her against the wall, kissing her desperately.

"Bedroom," Azzi managed. "Please –"

They made it to the bedroom, and Paige made love to her thoroughly, worshiping every inch of her pregnant body until Azzi was boneless and sated.

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"You sure you should be flying?" Paige asked for the tenth time as they boarded the plane to New York.

"I'm fine," Azzi said. "The doctor cleared me. I want to be there."

"But –"

"Paige." Azzi took her hand. "I want to watch you play. I want our son to be there for his mama's game."

Paige's expression softened. "Okay. But if you feel anything, anything at all, you tell me immediately."

"I promise."

The game in New York was intense – Game 4 of the semifinals, and Paige's team needed the win to advance.

Azzi sat courtside, her bump prominent and impossible to miss, and the cameras loved her. She was glowing, radiant, completely at ease despite being nine months pregnant.

Paige played with raw intensity, knowing Azzi was there, knowing their son was there. She dropped forty-two points and led her team to victory, securing their spot in the finals.

After the game, she found Azzi in the tunnel and kissed her deeply, not caring about the cameras.

"We're going to the finals," Paige said against her lips.

"You're going to the finals," Azzi corrected. "You were incredible."

"I had my good luck charm." Paige's hand found Azzi's bump, and their son kicked against her palm. "Both of them."

That night, in their hotel room, they made love slowly, carefully, both of them aware that this might be the last time before their son arrived.

"I love you," Paige whispered as she moved inside Azzi. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Azzi gasped. "Both of you – fuck, Paige –"

They came together, trembling and gasping, and held each other afterward, feeling their son move between them.

"He's going to be here soon," Azzi said softly.

"I know." Paige kissed her forehead. "I can't wait to meet him."

"Me neither."

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It happened during Game 4 of the finals.

Azzi was thirty-eight weeks and three days pregnant, and she'd insisted on coming to the game despite Paige's worried protests.

"I'm fine," Azzi had said that morning. "The doctor said I could go. I'm not missing your game."

"But what if –"

"Then we'll deal with it." Azzi had kissed her firmly. "I want to be there. I don’t wanna miss the big game."

So there she was, in the box this time – Paige didn’t want to take any chances, even though she’d been with the masses. It was in middle of the second quarter, when she felt the first contraction.

It wasn't bad. Just a tightening, a slight discomfort. Braxton Hicks, probably. She'd been having them for weeks.

But then ten minutes later, there was another one.

And ten minutes after that, another.

Azzi shifted in her seat, trying to stay calm. It was fine. It was probably nothing. She wasn't due for another three weeks.

The fourth contraction made her gasp.

"You okay, honey?" A Wings staffer next to her asked, concerned.

"Fine," Azzi managed. "Just – the baby's moving a lot."

But the contractions kept coming, getting closer together, and by the start of the fourth quarter, Azzi knew.

She was in labor.

"Shit," she whispered.

She looked at the court, at Paige running the offense, completely focused on the game. They were up by eight. There were eleven minutes left.

Azzi could wait eleven minutes.

Another contraction hit, stronger this time, and she gripped the armrests of her seat, breathing through it.

Okay. Maybe she couldn't wait eleven minutes.

She caught the eye of one of the team staff members and gestured him over.

"I need to go," she said quietly. "Don't tell Paige. Not until after the game. Please."

"But–"

"Please." Azzi's voice was firm despite another contraction building. "She needs to focus. I'll be fine. Just – just get me to the hospital quietly."

They snuck her out through a side entrance, and Azzi labored in the car on the way to the hospital, contractions coming every seven minutes now, breathing through each one and thinking about how Paige was going to kill her for not saying anything.

Azzi was admitted to the hospital at 9:47 PM, already four centimeters dilated.

The game ended at 10:15. The team won by twelve, securing the championship.

Paige didn't find out Azzi had left until she was in the locker room, and then she was running, still in her uniform, not even showering, sprinting through the hospital corridors until she found Azzi's room.

"Oh my God," Paige burst through the door. "Oh my God, baby, I'm so sorry –"

"You won," Azzi said, smiling despite the contraction that was currently making her want to die. "I saw the score. You won the championship."

"Fuck the championship!" Paige was at her side immediately, taking her hand. "You're in labor! You should have told me!"

"You needed to focus – oh God –" Azzi squeezed Paige's hand as another contraction hit.

"Breathe, baby. Breathe with me."

They breathed through it together, and when it passed, Azzi looked at Paige with tears in her eyes.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know." Paige kissed her forehead. "But you're the strongest person I know. You can do this. We can do this."

"We?"

"We." Paige's hand settled on Azzi's bump. "The three of us. We're a team."

Labor progressed slowly. Six centimeters at midnight. Seven centimeters at 1:30 Eight centimeters at three AM. Nine centimeters at four.

Paige never left her side. She held Azzi's hand through every contraction, breathed with her, whispered encouragement and love.

"You're doing so good," Paige murmured. "So good, baby. I'm so proud of you."

"I can't – it hurts –"

"I know. I know it hurts. But you're almost there. Our son is almost here."

At 5:23 AM, Azzi was finally fully dilated.

"Okay, Azzi," the doctor said. "Next contraction, I need you to push."

Azzi looked at Paige, terrified.

"I'm right here," Paige said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. You've got this."

The contraction came, and Azzi pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

"I can see his head!" the doctor announced. "One more big push, Azzi!"

"You can do it," Paige said, tears streaming down her face. "One more, baby. Bring our son into the world."

Azzi gathered every ounce of strength she had left and pushed.

And then –

A cry.

A beautiful, perfect, piercing cry.

"It's a boy!" The doctor said, and suddenly there was a tiny, screaming baby being placed on Azzi's chest.

"Oh my God," Azzi sobbed. "Oh my God, he's here. He's really here."

"He's perfect," Paige whispered, staring at their son in awe. "Azzi, he's perfect."

The baby had Azzi's nose and Paige's eyes – or maybe it was too early to tell, but Paige swore she could see it. He was pink and wrinkled and screaming, and he was the most beautiful thing either of them had ever seen.

"Hi, baby," Azzi whispered, touching his tiny hand. "Hi, Bryce. We're your moms. We love you so much."

Bryce wrapped his tiny fingers around Azzi's, and both women burst into fresh tears.

"Bryce Timothy Bueckers-Fudd," Paige said softly. "Welcome to the world, little man."

The nurses cleaned him up and did all their checks, and then they placed him back in Azzi's arms. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, one arm around Azzi, the other hand gently touching their son's head.

"We made him," Azzi said wonderingly. "We made a whole person."

"You made him," Paige corrected. "You carried him. You brought him into the world. You're incredible."

"We both made him." Azzi looked at her fiancée. "Your egg. My body. Our love. He's ours."

"Ours," Paige agreed, kissing her softly.

Bryce made a small sound, and they both looked down at him, completely entranced.

"I can't believe he's real," Paige whispered.

"I know."

They sat there as the sun rose, the three of them together, and Azzi thought about the conversation they'd had as teenagers – about having kids young, about building a family, about living their dream.

This was it.

This was everything they'd ever wanted.

Their son. Their family. Their love.

Perfect.

A/N: I wrote this at least a month ago. I forgot to make a banner/header thing for it, so I'll do that when I post part two. In honor of Azzi being the cutest ever with Shemar Moore's daughter, and Paige starting at her with insane heart eyes, I give you "The Dream". I hope you love it! xx Elle

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The FaceTime screen glowed in the darkness of Azzi's bedroom, casting her face in soft blue light. It was 2:47 AM according to the timestamp in the corner, but neither of them had mentioned sleep yet. On the other end, Paige was bundled under her comforter, her blonde hair messy and falling across her shoulders, her eyes bright despite the late hour.

"You're going to get in trouble," Paige whispered, though there was no real concern in her voice – just the familiar teasing that came with late-night calls they'd been having for months now.

"My parents are asleep," Azzi replied, equally quiet, as if volume mattered through a screen. She adjusted her phone against her pillow, getting more comfortable. "And you're one to talk. Don't you have to be up earlier than me?"

"We're still an hour behind, so it won't be that bad." Paige said, biting her lip. "Besides, I'm not tired. I wanna talk to you."

There was something about the way she said it, the slight vulnerability underneath the confidence, that made Azzi's stomach flip. They'd been doing this for a while now, these late-night calls where the rest of the world fell away and it was just the two of them. But tonight felt different. Tonight, Azzi could feel something shifting between them, something bigger than the usual conversations about basketball and school and the people around them who didn't quite understand.

"I've been thinking about something," Paige said, her eyes dropping to her comforter for a moment before finding Azzi's again. "And I don't know if this is weird to say, but... I want to say it to you."

Azzi's heart rate picked up. "Okay," she said softly. "Tell me."

Paige took a breath, and Azzi watched as a blush crept up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. It was beautiful – the way Paige looked when she was nervous but determined. "I think about the future a lot," she started. "Like, our future. Not just... you know, the next game or the next season. But like, actually our future."

"Me too," Azzi admitted, her own cheeks warming.

"I want..." Paige paused, seeming to gather courage. "I want to marry you first. Like, actually marry you. And I want us to go to the same college – I don't care where, as long as it's together. And I want us to win championships. Like, a lot of them. Three, maybe? I want us to be unstoppable together on the court." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice getting softer but more certain. "And then I want us to both go number one in the draft. I want the world to know how good we are, how good we are together. And after all of that – after we've built our careers and proven ourselves and lived that dream – then I want kids with you. Late twenties, early thirties, you know? When we're ready to step back and focus on us and our family." She laughed nervously, but her eyes were steady on Azzi's. "I want to do all of it with you. Everything. Is that crazy?"

Azzi felt her breath catch. She'd thought about it too, more than she probably should have at fifteen. But hearing Paige say it out loud, seeing the hope and vulnerability in her eyes, made it feel real in a way it hadn't before.

"No," Azzi said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her chest. "It's not crazy. I want that too."

Paige's face transformed, relief and joy flooding her features. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Azzi confirmed. "I want to spend forever with you. I want," she trailed off, trying to find the words for the images that had been living in her head. "I want to build something with you. A life. A real one."

"Tell me what you see," Paige said, and there was something almost reverent in her tone. "When you think about it."

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the vision come into focus. When she opened them again, Paige was watching her intently, waiting.

"I see a house," Azzi began slowly. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can just... be. I'm thinking Minnesota, maybe? Somewhere with space and trees and a lake or something. Somewhere that feels like home." She paused, watching Paige's expression soften. "And I see us there, but not just us. I see kids running around. Our kids. I see you and me, older, retired from all of this – " she gestured vaguely at the basketball world that consumed so much of their lives, " – and just living. Being a family."

"How many kids?" Paige asked, her voice dreamy.

"I don't know," Azzi said. "Three? Enough that the house is full of noise and chaos and life. Enough that we're busy and tired and completely happy." She felt her own blush deepen. "I see us raising them together. Teaching them things. Watching them grow up. And then it's just us again, but different. Better, because we built something good."

Paige was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "That's exactly what I see too. Except I also see you in the kitchen making breakfast, and I see me reading on the porch, and I see our kids coming to find us because they want to tell us about something they discovered." She laughed softly. "And I see us being so in love that we can't believe we actually got to have this."

Azzi felt tears prick her eyes. "We're going to have it," she said with certainty. "We're going to have all of it."

"How do you know?" Paige asked, but she was smiling, that beautiful smile that made Azzi feel like she could do anything.

"Because we're going to make it happen," Azzi said simply. "We're going to work for it and fight for it and build it together. And the world is so big, Paige. There's so much we can do, so much we can have. We can have this dream and everything else too."

Paige's eyes were shining now, and Azzi realized she was crying too – happy tears, the kind that came from hope and possibility and the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen by another person.

"I love you," Paige whispered. "I know we haven't really said it like that yet, but I do. I love you, and I want all of that with you. The house in Minnesota and the kids and the chaos and the quiet moments. All of it."

Azzi's breath caught. They'd been dancing around it for months, but hearing it said out loud, with such certainty and tenderness, felt like everything clicking into place.

"I love you too," she said, and it felt like a promise. "I'm going to spend my whole life loving you."

On the screen, Paige reached out as if she could touch her through the phone, and Azzi did the same, their fingertips meeting the glass in a gesture that felt sacred somehow.

"We're going to have the most beautiful life," Paige said.

And in the darkness of her bedroom, with the glow of the FaceTime screen illuminating her face, Azzi believed it completely. The whole world was ahead of them, full of possibility and promise. And they were going to build it together.

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Six Years Later

The arena buzzed with pre-game energy, the kind of electric atmosphere that Azzi had grown to love during her college career. UConn was playing at home, and the stands were packed with families, students, and die-hard fans. Azzi stood near the tunnel, stretching her hamstrings and trying to focus on the game ahead, but her attention kept drifting to the crowd filtering in.

It was the beginning of their senior season – an exhibition game, technically, but it felt monumental anyway. Azzi was twenty-one now, academically a senior even though this was only her third year playing. And Paige, twenty-two, was finally back. After tearing her ACL last year and missing the entire season, she'd been cleared to play again just weeks ago. Everything they'd dreamed about on that FaceTime call when they were just kids – going to the same college, winning championships together, building their future side by side – had been derailed by injury and rehab and the agonizing wait to see if Paige would come back the same.

But she had. She was here. And tonight, they'd step onto the court together again.

Azzi rolled her shoulders and turned back toward the court when she heard it – Paige's laugh, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the ambient noise. She'd know that sound anywhere.

She looked up.

And her entire world tilted.

Paige was standing near the baseline, maybe twenty feet away, and she was holding a baby. Not just holding – cradling. A little boy, maybe eight or nine months old, with a shock of blonde hair and chubby cheeks. He was wearing a tiny UConn jersey, and Paige had him propped against her hip like she'd done it a thousand times before. She was bouncing slightly, that natural sway that seemed to come instinctively to some people, and the baby was giggling, reaching up to grab at her ponytail.

Paige's face was radiant. Completely unguarded. She was making silly faces at the baby, her nose scrunched up, her voice pitched high in that universal language of baby talk. The little boy shrieked with delight and Paige laughed again, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Azzi forgot how to breathe.

She'd seen Paige in every context imaginable over the past six years. Seen her exhausted after overtime games, seen her crying over injuries and celebrating championships, seen her first thing in the morning with pillow creases on her cheek and last thing at night when she was too tired to keep her eyes open. She'd seen Paige broken and determined through months of grueling rehab, seen her fight her way back from an injury that could have ended everything. She'd seen Paige in every possible light.

But this.

This was different.

This felt like looking through a window into the future they'd dreamed about, except it wasn't a dream anymore. It was real and tangible and right there. Paige looked so natural, so perfectly at ease, like she was made for this. The baby fit against her like he belonged there, and Paige's entire demeanor had shifted into something softer, more tender, more maternal than Azzi had ever seen.

Her chest ached with the force of it.

"That's my nephew," a voice said beside her, and Azzi startled. Morgan was standing there, smiling. "Charlie's kid. Paige has been obsessed with him since he was born. She's going to be an amazing mom someday, huh?"

Azzi couldn't form words. She just nodded, her throat tight.

Morgan walked away, and Azzi stood frozen, watching as Paige shifted the baby to her other hip. A woman, Charlie's wife, maybe, appeared and reached for the little boy, but Paige shook her head, clearly not ready to give him up yet. She was saying something that made the woman laugh, and then Paige was walking toward the stands, still bouncing the baby, still completely absorbed in him.

And then Paige looked up.

Their eyes met across the court.

For a moment, everything else fell away – the noise, the crowd, the impending game. It was just the two of them, and Paige's expression shifted. Her smile softened into something more intimate, more knowing. She'd caught Azzi staring, and from the look on her face, she knew exactly what Azzi was thinking.

Because Paige was thinking it too.

Azzi could see it in the way Paige's gaze dropped to the baby in her arms and then back up to Azzi. In the way her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn't across the distance. In the way her eyes held a question and an answer all at once.

This. This is what we want. This is what we're going to have.

Azzi's heart was pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. She'd known, abstractly, that she wanted kids with Paige. They'd talked about it, planned for it, made it part of their shared vision. But knowing something and feeling it were two entirely different things.

And right now, watching Paige with that baby, Azzi felt it with a certainty that was almost frightening in its intensity.

She wanted this. She wanted to see Paige hold their baby like that. Wanted to watch her make silly faces and press kisses to tiny foreheads and be the kind of mother who made it look effortless even when it wasn't. She wanted to build that life they'd talked about – the chaos and the quiet moments and everything in between.

She wanted it so badly it hurt.

Paige handed the baby back to his mother, said something that made them both laugh, and then started walking toward Azzi. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were bright, almost feverish.

When she reached Azzi, she didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

"So," Paige finally said, her voice low and a little breathless. "That was Morgan's nephew."

"I heard," Azzi managed.

"He's cute, right?"

"Yeah." Azzi swallowed hard. "Really cute."

Paige turned to look at her fully, and there was something vulnerable in her expression, something raw and exposed. "I couldn't stop thinking about it," she admitted quietly. "The whole time I was holding him, I just kept thinking about us. About what you said that night. About having our own."

Azzi's breath caught. "Me too."

"It's not just a dream anymore, is it?" Paige's voice was barely above a whisper. "It feels real. Like I can actually see it now."

"I know." Azzi reached out, their fingers tangling together briefly before they had to pull apart – they were still in public, still had a game to play. But the touch was enough. A promise. A reminder. "I saw you with him and I just... I couldn't look away. You looked perfect, P."

Paige's eyes glistened with glee. "We're going to have this," she said, and it sounded like a vow. "Everything we talked about. We're going to make it real."

And standing there in the arena, with the noise of the crowd swelling around them and the game about to start, Azzi believed it with every fiber of her being. The future they'd dreamed about wasn't some distant, abstract thing anymore.

It was right there, waiting for them. And they were going to reach out and take it.

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Four Years Later

The smell of smoked brisket and mesquite hit them the moment they walked through the door of Hurtado's. It was Saturday evening, just after 6:30pm – they'd left the arena around six, still buzzing from the Wings' win, and made their way straight to their favorite spot in Dallas. The restaurant had that warm, lived-in feeling that made it perfect for a post-game dinner, especially with a kid in tow. Exposed brick walls, string lights overhead, the low hum of conversation mixing with old country music playing from the speakers. The dinner crowd was in full swing now, families scattered throughout, the kind of energy that made it feel welcoming rather than overwhelming.

Azzi was twenty-four now, in her second year with the Wings, coming off a Rookie of the Year season that still felt surreal. Paige was twenty-five, in her third year, making a strong push for MVP. They were living the life they'd mapped out as teenagers, except better, because they were doing it together. And tonight, they were doing something that felt both exciting and slightly nerve-wracking: having dinner with Delilah and her mom, Simone.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Azzi saw a TikTok video of a little girl sobbing because she couldn't meet her after a game. Two weeks since she'd reached out to Simone and arranged floor seats, post-game court access, and an experience that had left Azzi feeling like something fundamental had shifted inside her chest. Two weeks of texting back and forth with Simone, of FaceTime calls where Delilah would shyly wave at the camera before hiding behind her mom.

But this was different. This wasn't the high-energy chaos of a game or the structured environment of an arena meet-and-greet. This was just dinner. Casual. Real. And Azzi found herself wondering if the connection would feel the same outside of all that excitement, or if maybe it had been a one-time thing, a moment that couldn't be replicated.

"There they are," Paige said, nodding toward the entrance.

Azzi's heart kicked up as she spotted them. Simone was holding Delilah's hand, guiding her through the crowd, and Delilah was scanning the restaurant with wide, searching eyes. And then she saw Azzi.

The transformation was instant. Delilah's entire face lit up, and she tugged free from Simone's grip, weaving through the tables with single-minded determination. "Azzi!"

Azzi barely had time to stand before Delilah crashed into her, wrapping her arms around Azzi's waist and squeezing tight. "Hey, baby girl," Azzi said, her voice catching slightly as she crouched down to Delilah's level. "I'm so glad you're here."

Delilah didn't say anything, just buried her face in Azzi's shoulder and held on like she was afraid Azzi might disappear.

Simone reached them a moment later, slightly breathless. "I'm so sorry – she's been talking about this all week. I think she was worried you wouldn't actually show up."

"Of course we showed up," Paige said warmly, stepping forward to hug Simone. "We've been looking forward to this."

"Me too." Simone's smile was genuine, but there was something tentative in her expression, like she was still trying to figure out if this was real. "Thank you for inviting us. You didn't have to – "

"We wanted to," Azzi said quickly, still holding Delilah. "Really."

They were seated in a corner booth, the kind with high backs that made it feel private even in a crowded restaurant. Delilah, predictably, refused to sit in her own seat. She climbed into Azzi's lap the moment they slid into the booth, curling up against her chest like she belonged there.

Simone looked apologetic. "Lilah, you need to sit in your own seat so Azzi can eat."

"It's okay," Azzi said quickly, adjusting so Delilah was settled more comfortably against her. "I really don't mind."

Paige slid into the booth across from them, and when her eyes met Azzi's, there was something soft and wondering in her gaze. Like she was seeing something she hadn't quite expected but couldn't look away from.

They ordered – brisket and ribs and mac and cheese, cornbread and coleslaw, sweet tea for everyone except Delilah, who got lemonade and was thrilled about it. The food came quickly, and the conversation started tentatively but gradually found its rhythm. Simone was warm and funny, and the initial awkwardness melted away as they talked about everything from basketball to Delilah's school to the best BBQ spots in Dallas.

"I have to say," Simone said, spearing a piece of brisket with her fork, "I've never seen her like this with anyone. Not even family." She gestured toward Delilah, who was still nestled in Azzi's lap, happily munching on cornbread. "She's usually so shy. But with you," she shook her head, smiling. "It's like she's known you her whole life."

Azzi felt her throat tighten. She looked down at Delilah, who had barbecue sauce smeared on her chin and was swinging her legs contentedly under the table. "She's special," Azzi said quietly. "Really special."

"She thinks you hung the moon," Simone said softly. "Both of you. She hasn't stopped talking about the game. You guys made her feel like she mattered."

"She does matter," Paige said, her voice firm. "Delilah matters a lot."

Delilah looked up at that, her dark eyes wide and serious. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Paige said, reaching across the table to gently wipe Delilah's chin with a napkin. "You're pretty amazing, Lilah."

Delilah beamed, and then she turned to Azzi, her small hands coming up to frame Azzi's face. "Azzi, when I grow up, I wanna be just like you."

Azzi's breath caught. She didn't trust herself to speak for a moment, so she just pulled Delilah closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're already pretty amazing just being you, baby girl."

Across the table, Paige was watching them. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were dark and intent, and Azzi knew that look. Knew what it meant. She'd seen it before – in quiet moments when they were alone, when Paige's hands were on her and her voice was low and rough with want. But this was different. This wasn't just desire. This was something deeper, something that made Azzi's entire body feel like it was on fire.

Paige was watching her hold Delilah, and she was imagining their own. Azzi could see it in the way Paige's gaze lingered on the little girl in her lap, the way her jaw tightened slightly, the way her fingers drummed against the table like she was trying to keep herself grounded.

Azzi felt it too. That pull. That ache. The overwhelming need to have this – not just borrowed for an evening, but theirs. A child who looked like them, who had Paige's smile and Azzi's eyes, who they could hold and love and raise together.

They'd been talking about it more seriously lately. Not just dreaming, but planning. Looking into options, researching clinics, having the hard conversations about timing and logistics and what their lives would look like. But sitting here, with Delilah curled up in her lap and Paige looking at her like that, Azzi felt the urgency of it settle deep in her bones.

She didn't want to wait anymore.

Dinner wound down slowly. Delilah eventually migrated to Paige's lap, chattering about school and her friends and the new bike she'd gotten for her birthday. Paige listened with the kind of patience and attention that made Azzi fall in love with her all over again, asking questions and laughing at Delilah's stories like they were the most important thing in the world.

When they finally walked out to the parking lot, Delilah clung to Azzi again, her arms wrapped tight around her neck. "I don't want you to go," she whispered.

"I know, baby. But we'll see you again soon, okay? I promise."

"Okay." Delilah pulled back just enough to look at her, her dark eyes serious. "You promise-promise?"

"Promise-promise."

Simone buckled Delilah into her car seat, and as she closed the door, Paige stepped closer to her, her voice low and earnest. "Hey, Simone? I know this was kind of spontaneous, but would you be okay if we made this a regular thing? Like, maybe once a month or something? I think Lilah really loves spending time with us, and honestly, we love spending time with her."

Simone's eyes widened slightly, and then her expression softened into something that looked like relief. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," Paige said. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it. But yeah. We'd really like that."

"I – " Simone's voice cracked slightly. "That would be amazing. She would be over the moon. Thank you. Really."

They said their goodbyes – hugs and kisses and promises to text soon. And then it was just Azzi and Paige, standing in the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights, watching Simone's car pull away.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Paige turned to her, and the look in her eyes made Azzi's knees weak.

"I want that," Paige said, her voice low and rough. "I want to take our kid to dinner and watch you hold them like you hold her. I want to see you be a mom, Az. I want it so fucking bad I can barely breathe."

Azzi's heart was pounding. "Me too."

"Then let's do it." Paige stepped closer, her hand coming up to cup Azzi's cheek. "Let's stop talking about it and actually do it. I'm ready. Are you?"

Azzi didn't even have to think about it. "Yeah," she whispered. "I'm ready."

Paige's smile was slow and devastating. "Good," she said. And then, quieter, almost reverent: "We're gonna make the most beautiful babies, Azzi Fudd."

Azzi laughed, but it came out shaky, overwhelmed. "Yeah," she said again. "We are."

They stood there for another moment, the promise of everything hanging between them, tangible and real. And then Paige kissed her, soft and sweet and full of all the things they didn't need to say out loud.

They were going to do this. They were going to build the family they'd dreamed about since they were teenagers. And it was going to be everything.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

Eleven Months Later

Except it wasn't everything.

It was needles and hormones and waiting rooms with fluorescent lights that made everything feel sterile and cold. It was Paige's eggs retrieved and fertilized, transferred into a surrogate who was kind and patient and everything they could have asked for. It was hope – so much hope it felt like drowning – and then it was nothing.

The first cycle failed on a Tuesday. Azzi was in the middle of practice when the call came through. She'd stepped into the hallway, her hands shaking as she answered, and the doctor's voice had been gentle but final. I'm so sorry. The test came back negative.

Paige had flown in from a shoot that night. They'd held each other in their bedroom and cried, but there was still hope. It's okay, Paige had whispered. We'll try again. This happens. It's normal.

The second cycle failed six weeks later. This time, Paige was the one who got the call. She'd been sitting in her car outside the arena, staring at her phone, and when the doctor said the words – negative, I'm sorry – she'd felt something crack inside her chest. But they rallied. They had to. We knew this might take a few tries, their fertility specialist had said. Don't lose hope yet.

The third cycle failed in January. By then, the hope had started to feel fragile, like something they were holding too tightly, afraid it might shatter. Their surrogate, Michelle, who was warm and steady and impossibly generous, had reassured them over FaceTime. I'm not giving up on you two. We're going to make this work. And they'd believed her. They had to believe her.

But the fourth cycle – the fourth one broke them.

It was March when they got the call. Azzi was home this time, sitting on the couch with Paige curled up beside her, both of them staring at Azzi's phone like it might explode. When it rang, Paige grabbed Azzi's hand so hard it hurt.

Azzi answered. Put it on speaker.

And then the doctor's voice, kind and apologetic and so fucking final.

I'm sorry. It's negative again.

Paige made a sound – something raw and broken – and Azzi felt the room tilt. She didn't remember ending the call. Didn't remember much of anything except the way Paige collapsed against her, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

They'd been trying for almost a year. Four rounds of IVF. Four failures. And Azzi didn't know how to fix this. Didn't know how to make it okay.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

They met Michelle at a coffee shop two days later. It felt wrong, sitting across from her in a sunny corner booth, pretending like the world hadn't just caved in. Michelle looked tired – she'd been through this too, the hormones and the procedures and the waiting – and when she saw them, her face crumpled.

"I'm so sorry," she said before they could even sit down. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't," Paige said quickly, her voice hoarse. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I did." Michelle's eyes were red-rimmed. "I feel like I failed you."

Azzi's throat tightened. "You didn't fail us. You've been amazing. You've done everything right. This isn't – " Her voice cracked. "This isn't your fault."

"It's not yours either," Michelle said, reaching across the table to squeeze Azzi's hand. "You know that, right? This isn't anyone's fault. Sometimes it just... doesn't work."

Azzi nodded, but she didn't believe it. Not really. Because if it wasn't anyone's fault, then why did it feel like the universe was screaming at them to stop? Why did it feel like they were being punished for wanting something so badly?

They talked for another hour – about next steps, about whether Michelle was willing to try again, about what their options were. Michelle was kind and patient and said she'd do whatever they needed. But when they finally left, walking out into the bright afternoon sunlight, Azzi felt hollowed out.

"I don't know if I can do this again," Paige whispered as they sat in the car.

Azzi didn't answer. She didn't know either.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

The spiral started that night.

They were lying in bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight outside. Paige was curled up against Azzi's side, her breathing uneven, and Azzi could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

"Maybe we're not supposed to be parents," Paige said finally, her voice so quiet Azzi almost didn't hear it.

Azzi's chest tightened. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Paige sat up, her eyes glassy in the dim light. "Four times, Az. Four fucking times, and nothing. Maybe the God is trying to tell us something."

"God isn't try – "

"How do you know?" Paige's voice cracked. "How do you know this isn't a sign? That we're not meant to do this?"

Azzi didn't have an answer. Because the truth was, she'd been thinking the same thing. Late at night, when she couldn't sleep, when the weight of it all felt too heavy to carry – she'd wondered if maybe they should just stop. If maybe they were chasing something that was never meant to be theirs.

"I don't know," Azzi admitted, her voice breaking. "I don't know anything anymore."

Paige made a sound – something between a sob and a laugh – and then she was crying again, her face buried in her hands. Azzi pulled her close, holding her as tightly as she could, and they stayed like that for a long time. Two people who'd dreamed of building a family together, now wondering if that dream was ever going to come true.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

It was their fertility specialist who suggested reciprocal IVF.

They'd gone in for a follow-up appointment a week later, both of them exhausted and emotionally wrung out. Dr. Patel had listened to their concerns, nodding thoughtfully, and then she'd leaned forward, her expression gentle but determined.

"I know this has been incredibly difficult," she said. "But I want you to consider another option. Reciprocal IVF. Azzi, you'd carry Paige's eggs instead of using a surrogate."

Azzi blinked. "I – what?"

"It's not uncommon," Dr. Patel continued. "Sometimes, for reasons we don't fully understand, a different carrier can make all the difference. Paige's eggs are healthy. The embryos are viable. But Michelle's body, for whatever reason, isn't responding the way we'd hoped. Azzi, you're young, you're healthy, and your hormone levels are excellent. I think this could work."

Paige looked at Azzi, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Would you – I mean, do you want to?"

Azzi's heart was pounding. She hadn't considered this. Hadn't let herself think about carrying their baby because she'd been so focused on making the surrogacy work. But now, sitting here with Paige looking at her like she was afraid to hope –

"Yeah," Azzi said, her voice steady. "Yeah, I want to."

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

The first round of reciprocal IVF felt different. There was a cautious optimism that hadn't been there before, a sense that maybe this was the path they were supposed to take all along. Azzi went through the prep – the hormones, the monitoring, the transfer – and Paige was with her every step of the way, holding her hand through the procedures, whispering reassurances when Azzi's anxiety spiked.

Two weeks later, Azzi took a pregnancy test.

She did it alone, early in the morning before Paige woke up. She couldn't explain why – maybe she wanted to protect Paige from another disappointment, or maybe she just needed a moment to process it herself first. She sat on the bathroom floor, the test in her hand, and waited.

One line.

Just one.

Azzi stared at it, her vision blurring, and then she was sobbing – ugly, gasping sobs that she tried to muffle with her hand. Because it wasn't just disappointment. It was shame. It was the crushing realization that maybe she wasn't good enough. That her body was failing them. That Paige's eggs were perfect, and Michelle had tried her best, and now Azzi had tried, and it still wasn't working.

What's wrong with me?

She didn't hear Paige come in. Didn't realize she was there until Paige was kneeling beside her, pulling her into her arms.

"Az, baby, what – " Paige's voice broke when she saw the test. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," Azzi choked out. "I'm so sorry. I thought – I thought I could do this, but I can't. My body won't – "

"Stop." Paige's voice was firm, her hands cupping Azzi's face. "Stop. This is not your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault."

"But – "

"No." Paige kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "We're going to try again. Okay? We're going to keep trying. Because I love you, and I want this with you, and we're not giving up."

Azzi nodded, even though she didn't believe it. Even though she felt like she was drowning.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

The second round was harder. Azzi went through the motions – the shots, the appointments, the transfer – but she couldn't let herself hope. Couldn't let herself believe it would work. Paige tried to stay positive, but Azzi could see the fear in her eyes, the way she held her breath every time they talked about it.

Two weeks after the transfer, Azzi woke up early again. She didn't want to take the test. Didn't want to see another negative, didn't want to feel that crushing disappointment again. But she couldn't not know.

She took the test into the bathroom, her hands shaking, and set it on the counter. And then she waited.

One minute.

Two.

She looked down.

Two lines.

Dark. Immediate. Unmistakable.

Azzi's knees buckled. She grabbed the counter to steady herself, staring at the test like it might disappear if she looked away. And then she was laughing – or crying, she couldn't tell – and she grabbed the test and ran back to the bedroom.

Paige was still asleep, curled up on her side, her hair a mess on the pillow. Azzi climbed onto the bed, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst.

"Paige," she whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Paige, wake up."

Paige groaned, blinking up at her. "What – Az, what's wrong?"

Azzi held up the test, her hands trembling. "Look."

Paige stared at it. And then her eyes went wide, and she sat up so fast she almost knocked Azzi over. "Is that – "

"Two lines," Azzi said, her voice breaking. "It's positive."

Paige grabbed the test, staring at it like she couldn't believe it was real. And then she looked at Azzi, and her face crumpled, and she was crying – they both were – and Paige pulled her into her arms, holding her so tightly Azzi could barely breathe.

"We're having a baby," Paige whispered, her voice shaking. "We're really having a baby."

Azzi nodded, burying her face in Paige's neck. "We're having a baby."

And for the first time in months, the weight lifted. The fear and the doubt and the crushing sense of failure – it all fell away, replaced by something bright and overwhelming and impossibly real.

They were going to be moms.

🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍👶🏽🤒🤍

“Well, y’know what they say. Early bird gets the worm.”

Azzi didn’t dignify that with a response, instead just raised her eyebrows at Paige and gestured for her to get whatever she wanted to say over with.

God she was beautiful, even when she very clearly needed a cup of coffee. Her curls were haphazardly pulled back into a bun and her undereyes were still a little puffy from the morning. Paige wished she knew her coffee order so she could bring her some next time.

Paige’s nerves spiked under her attention. C’mon, Paige. Woman on a mission.

“Um, do you maybe wanna get some extra reps in with me tonight?” She asked, suddenly acutely aware of everyone else at the table also looking up at her as she spoke. “I, uh, didn’t realize how much I missed having someone to hit with until yesterday,” she said, quickly adding on, “No pressure though!”

Wow. Way to go, Paige. Jesus.

Azzi smiled at her like the angel she was, shrugging. “Sure,” Azzi responded. “This afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good,” Azzi affirmed, before changing the subject. “Did you end up finishing the pre-calc homework?”

They launched into a discussion about class, the other girls joining in too.

Soon enough, the afternoon arrived, and Paige’s nerve endings felt like they were on fire as she led Azzi across the parking lot to her car.

When they got into the jeep, Paige asked a question that had been weighing on her heavily ever since realizing she had to wear a skirt to school three times a week when school started: “So, been meaning to ask. Do they actually let us wear volleyball shorts when we play, or do we have to compete in smocks?”

Azzi let out a laugh—an actual, real laugh. It was honest-to-God the best sound Paige had ever heard in her life.

Which, of course, had Paige giggling too. Absolutely besotted.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

Azzi snickered again, clearly amused. “No, Paige, they don’t make us wear smocks.”

“Hey. It’s not a crazy assumption. You’ve seen our uniforms.”

“I have, yeah,” she said through giggles.

They got settled in the car, Paige turning on her newly curated Azzi-specific Gospel playlist (conspicuously just titled “August 2024 Gospel” with a playlist cover of a picture she took after school one day of one of the many two-pixel Jesus printouts taped to the wall of St. Anne’s).

The car drive over was nice. Paige lived to learn more about the other girl, and she didn’t seem to mind sharing. She learned that the dog that was at the door the other day was her dog, Stewie, that she’d had for three years. She played both basketball and volleyball when she was younger, but she switched to just volleyball in high school. She used to also run track. 

They still didn’t have a net to hit with at the rec center, so they were stuck doing random two-person ball handling drills. They essentially just did pepper—where one of them serves, the other sets themselves and then hits, and then the other receives and repeats. At this point in her life, Paige had probably spent thousands of hours doing pepper drills.

After about an hour, they took a small water break. “You’re a really good hitter,” Azzi pointed out in between sips.

“Thanks!” she responded, trying and failing not to seem like the compliment wasn’t doing anything to her. “I usually like to play 6-2.”

“Makes sense.”

She continued, “Although I hope Chris doesn’t run 6-2 for the school, because Marissa should not be allowed to start or share the ball on the court with us.”

Azzi snorted. “I think in the past they ran 5-1 and Marissa was the starter.”

“Did they ever score a single point?” It sounded sarcastic, but Paige was being serious. She was genuinely curious. If they ever did score a point, it would truly be a miracle and someone should get into looking to verify actual divine intervention. There was no way that would be possible outside of Jesus Christ himself coming down from the heavens and blessing the volleyball.

Azzi laughed (music to Paige’s ears) and amusedly shook her head. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

They finished up their water break and went back to their drills for another hour or so. They stayed and practiced until they quite literally couldn’t anymore because the rec center was closing for the night and they were getting kicked out. They’d worked on passing, serving, serve receiving, and did some sets and hits. Azzi was amazing. Paige had the time of her life.

——

Saturday, August 17th, 2024 — Westview Rec Center, Anderson, SC

They’d just finished up for the day after spending probably way too many hours practicing hitting and setting with one another. Paige wanted to nail down what type of set Azzi wanted, because they never actually got the chance to practice it during the school practices they’d done so far (which was insane).

They’d finally worn the rec center staff down enough to let them set up the nets to practice on the court, since the courts were otherwise rarely used—which was odd to Paige. Back in Minnesota at least, everyone was always playing pickup basketball games, and it made it crazy hard to get a court for her to practice on.

She’d worked on perfecting the high lofty four set Azzi wanted. Leaving her enough time to read the defense but not wasting too much time that they would be entirely predictable. And, once they nailed down the four set, they started practicing second tempo sets—both a hut and a 32. They hadn’t had enough time to get to the 32, so the girls had plans to work on it further on Monday. Paige had asked about tomorrow, but apparently Azzi had plans after Church she couldn’t skip.

Paige was on cloud nine. Azzi was incredible, and getting to practice with her like that was a feeling Paige didn’t think she’d ever be able to properly put into words.

She was trying really hard not to let herself get hopeful about the whole practically-in-love-with-Azzi thing. Really, really hard. But it wasn’t working. Every second she spent with the girl, she liked her more and more. And she seemed to actually be opening up to Paige a little. Her glares surely did nothing to dissuade Paige—she loved it. Azzi laughed at her stupid jokes now and she was willingly spending time playing with her. Which meant she, at the very least, at least liked her as a friend just a little.

When they finally left the rec center, the sun was setting in the most beautiful sunset. Azzi paused to take a picture of it on their way to the car.

Paige just found herself watching her like a lovesick fool. Taking a picture of the sunset like that is so cute. Paige was so gone.

Once she was done taking the picture, Paige asked, “Wanna get shakes?” while she swung the lanyard with her keys on it in a small circle, fidgeting. Please say yes.

“Sure.” Azzi looked back at her as they continued through the parking lot. Paige felt a dopey smile forming against her will.

“Cool. Cook Out good?”

Paige had discovered the place with her brother the first day they’d moved to Anderson. She was quite the fan of the milkshakes. There were like a million different wacky flavors (half of which had something to do with bananas, which Paige thought was odd, though they were still good).

Azzi hummed in affirmation, following Paige to her car.

She turned her curated Gospel playlist back on as they drove to Cook Out in a comfortable silence, satiated and in good spirits after getting to play the sport they both loved.

Volleyball always got Paige right. No matter what mood she was going into it with, it always cleared her head and lifted her spirits. And yeah, sometimes she felt burnt out or tired from all of the reps. That was just part of playing a sport like she did. But it was impossible for her to get a good workout in on the court and not leave feeling better. It had been the one thing to keep her afloat when her parents were getting divorced, and it was always where she felt closest to God.

It was comforting. Always had been. A sense of belonging engrained into her soul, like she was born to be there. She’d always liked to think that He made her to play.

And sharing the court with Azzi made everything feel even more right. She couldn’t really explain it, and a part of her wondered if she was just making it up placebo-style because of the crush she was harboring.

But there was just something about existing in that space with her that both set her soul on fire and brought her an immeasurable amount of peace. Which she realized was quite an insane thing to feel about someone she’d just met. She consciously chose to ignore how insane it made her sound and opted to trust that God had a plan in whatever it was He was doing.

She’d hoped that plan would end up with them falling in love and accomplishing all of their dreams together and going to Church with one another and living happily ever after in a beautiful little house made just for them and their future family. She almost felt bad for daydreaming about it so much when she knew, deep down, that God would work it out the way He wanted and that the dreams she’d conjured up likely would not match, and that would be okay, but she couldn’t help herself. It happened almost unconsciously.

Paige felt that pit of anxiety that seemed to live with her constantly now churn in her stomach as she was brought out of her thoughts as they got to the Cook Out, pulling into the drive-thru line.

She turned to Azzi as she approached the speaker. “Whatchu want?”

“Ummm,” Azzi said, contemplative. “Can you go first?”

She was so cute. She was biting her lip as she mulled over what to get, eyes tracing back and forth on the menu. Paige would do anything she asked.

“‘Course.”

She fully brought the jeep up to the speaker, rolling down her window and leaning out to speak. The worker’s voice reverberated almost immediately, asking for their order.

“Could I get a Reese’s cup milkshake, and…” Paige ordered, trailing off and turning back towards Azzi, gesturing for her to say what she wanted.

Azzi was still chewing on her bottom lip, clearly not sure what she was going to get.

Paige took matters into her own hands as she turned back towards the speaker, leaning against her car door. “Sorry, can we have a second?”

The worker granted her request and Paige turned back to Azzi, silently watching her deliberate.

“Watchu thinking?”

“Ugh, sorry. I had thought I’d wanted banana fudge, but then you said Reese’s and that sounds good too.”

“If you wanna get banana fudge, we can share my Reese’s.”

“You sure?”

Paige shrugged. Truly, there was nothing she’d rather do in this moment than share her milkshake with Azzi. Except maybe kiss her. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Paige finished ordering and pulled the jeep up to the window, paying for their shakes. As Paige pulled out of the drive-thru and into a parking spot, Azzi asked, “What’s your Venmo?”

Absolutely ridiculous.

“Nah, I gotchu.”

Azzi leaned over and gently swatted Paige’s arm. Her skin buzzed at the contact. “No seriously, Paige. What’s your Venmo.”

She was clearly new here. There was genuinely not a single universe in which Paige would ever let Azzi Fudd pay for anything.

“Nah,” Paige responded petulantly.

Azzi quite literally pouted in her seat. “Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed in response. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

——

Monday, August 19th, 2024 — Zaxby’s, Anderson, SC

Paige was sitting in a booth at the local Zaxby’s, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, making sure to slurp extra loud on her milkshake because she knew it would probably annoy Azzi and get the girl’s attention. Sure enough, it worked, as she looked up from her book and met Paige’s waiting eyes with a glare, kicking at her shin.

“Hey!” Paige exclaimed dramatically, making a show to grab at her leg.

“Stop that,” Azzi said, with a small smile–clearly amused at Paige’s theatrics. Paige tried to hide a smile, dipping a french fry in Zax sauce as she went back to her phone.

Zaxby’s was another Southern delicacy that Paige decided she was absolutely obsessed with. This was her first time going—Azzi insisted—and the seasoning on the fries mixed with the Zax sauce was otherworldly. Literally all she’d gotten was chicken fingers, fries, and the milkshake (only the healthiest meals for an athlete such as herself, of course), and it was amazing. Azzi got the house salad (with ranch) and a small fry (with Zax sauce).

Paige had paid for both of them, of course. And she made sure to make a mental note of what Azzi ordered for future reference.

As she unlocked her phone, a notification was waiting for her from her dearest Chris Koclanes. She clicked on it immediately, eager to see what bullshit he had for her today.

8/27 VS. DARWIN HIGH VB ROSTER

Chris Koclanes <[email protected]>                                 August 26th, 2024, 1:32 PM  ☆  ☺  ⮐  ⠇

to me ⏷

Here is the starting VB roster.

S1: Marissa

S2: Paige

H1: Azzi

H2: Isabella

M: Kayla

M: Virginia

L: Ava

See you tomorrow.

C

Paige choked on her milkshake, eyes practically bulging out of her head.

“What the fuck!” She exclaimed, letting her phone fall down onto the table. She shoved her last fry into her mouth and laid back on the bench, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. What the fuck. What the fuck. 

Paige tried not to get too cocky, but, objectively, Marissa was quite possibly the worst setter she’d ever seen in her life. She’d only known her for a few weeks and even she knew that. She was pretty sure someone who’s never seen a volleyball in their entire life would still know that after having watched the puny girl on the court for longer than three seconds. In their last practice, she literally attempted to serve and launched the ball past everyone and fully out of bounds and into the bleachers to her right. At least ten times. And, if it didn’t end up in the bleachers, it would end up hitting someone on their team in the back. Or the legs. Or the feet. Never the head, because she couldn’t hit the ball high enough to even remotely come within the realm of clearing the net. Which was, like, the entire point of serving. Paige knew five year olds who could serve better.

“What?” Azzi asked, watching Paige’s reaction with a confused look on her face.

“We’re running 6-2,” Paige said, still genuinely in shock. What the fuck. “Stupid fuck ass bitch coach,” she added under her breath, slapping her hands over her face and taking a deep breath.

Not that Paige was opposed to running 6-2. In fact, she was great at it. She was a phenomenal hitter and she really enjoyed getting to play the position when she rotated in front. But this meant she’d have to play opposite hitter with Marissa as her setter. Which meant she’d probably never see the ball. In fact, none of them were likely to see the ball. Because who knows whether Ava could receive it. And if by the grace of God she did receive it, the chances of it making it into Marissa’s hands were slim. And the chances of it going anywhere near a hitter’s hands were practically nonexistent. 

Azzi was silent, and when Paige looked up at her, she had set her book down, grimacing. Paige gestured at her to spit whatever it was out.

“I’m not shocked. Lainey said he likes the whole ‘everyone gets to start because this is for fun’ thing and she’s Cathy’s precious little grandbaby.”

“Do you think he’ll sub her out when she’s front?” Paige asked, though it’s not like it mattered. She may be a terrible hitter, but she was by-far a much worse setter.

“Doubt it,” The incredulous look on Azzi’s face said all she needed to know about her thoughts on the situation. ”Not that it matters. Everyone knows she’s probably better as a hitter anyways, because then you could just not set her.”

“Do you know if any of the other schools in the division are good?”

“I mean, no, not really. But I’m sure they can at least get

the ball across the net,” Azzi lamented. “The same can’t always be said for us.”

“Ugh,” Paige said as she dramatically placed her face down in her hands again.

Azzi took a few more bites of her fries before asking, “You’re gonna play AAU too, right?”

Paige sat up, bringing herself to meet her beautiful eyes. “Yeah. And thank God for that.”

Azzi snorted. “Do you know what team yet?”

Paige was internally giddy at the reminder, so glad that Azzi had brought this up. She had been thinking about it ever since that first day at tryouts when she saw Azzi wearing the team’s hoodie. She couldn’t wait to play with her in a good system with a good coach and good team. 

“Elevation.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, nice, I play for Elevation too,” she said. “The 18U National Elite team?”

“Yeah,” Paige had been playing on National Elite teams for forever. She continued, “Do you like the club?”

“Yeah. Coach Nola is great. And the other girls are good too.”

“Sick. ‘m excited.”

The excitement of playing with the AAU team was almost enough to make her briefly forget about the fact that she was about to share the court as setter with Marissa. Almost.

She tried to tell herself that God was using this as an opportunity to teach her patience and fortitude. That she should try to be Christ-like and love her teammates, regardless of how clearly they were not put on this Earth to play volleyball. She’s sure they all had other great, wonderful talents unique to them.

Well, everyone besides Azzi. She was obviously made for volleyball just like Paige.

Paige wondered if they could just play the two of them. She’d take Kayla, too—she was probably the third best. Bam. Setter, hitter, blocker. Their team would probably fare better playing just them for the entire game three-on-six.

Paige finished up her fries and chicken fingers, closing up the containers and placing them back on the tray. “How does the team usually do in the conference?”

“My freshman year they were about in the middle of the pack.” Azzi put her bookmark in her copy of Anne of Avonlea and closed it, placing her trash on the tray too. “Last year I think they were almost dead last.”

“Geez.”

Paige swatted Azzi’s hands away when she moved to grab the tray, picking it up herself and bringing it over to the trash. She held the door open for her as they left, gesturing for her to go first. “After you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yup.”

They bumped shoulders a few times on their way to Paige’s car. Every touch felt like static on Paige’s skin. She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

——

Tuesday, August 27th, 2024 — Darwin High School, Pendleton, SC

The first game was an away game located about thirty minutes away in Pendleton. 

St. Anne’s didn’t have a school bus service and didn’t have enough money to offhandedly pay for a charter bus, so the team had to carpool to the game. The travel arrangements were incredibly disorganized in Paige’s not-so-humble opinion. 

She was packed into Virginia’s car in the back seat, squished between Ava and Marissa. Azzi was in the front. Paige didn’t understand why she was the one who had to sit in the middle, considering Ava and Marissa were basically a foot shorter and Marissa was also a year younger. Whatever, it was fine. If anyone was going to get front seat privileges, she was glad it was Azzi.

Kayla: How’s the car ride?

Kayla was riding shotgun in Lainey’s car. They had the two of them and then all of the quiet people.

Paige: if i have to hear one more morgan wallen song i’m going to jump out

Kayla: Haha L

Paige refused to dignify that with a response.

Chris was also driving himself separately. Which was fine by Paige, she thinks she’d explode if she had to endure his voice and stupid, stupid comments for an entire hour round-trip. It wasn’t a long drive by any means, but it’d definitely send her over the edge.

Paige wished she could be the one driving. Virginia was a senior, which was why she was being entrusted to cart all of them around. And, not that Virginia was a bad driver, and nor would Paige’s jeep be comfortable for three people to squeeze into the back seat. But she just really liked being the one to drive. 

Also, Paige would’ve played better music.

Virginia was blasting country music. Paige was willing to bet her entire life’s savings (which albeit wasn’t much) that the volume was on purpose so that she didn’t have to suffer through hearing Marissa and Ava talk. All they did was argue with one another because Ava loved to bait her. “Teacher’s pet” Marissa and “brash, aggressively Type B” Ava did not mesh well.

Paige used to swear she hated country music. She still did, mostly. Morgan Wallen could choke. Racist asshole.

She had always claimed the classic “anything but country” music taste. But, in just a few short two weeks, she’d heard it so many times now that it’d grown on her. Slightly. Just a little. Not that she’d ever actually admit it out loud. Luke Bryan was at least tolerable.

The town they had finally arrived in was tiny. Like, so tiny. It probably had more Baptist churches than it did restaurants. Even though she knew Virginia was just trying to keep Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum from arguing, Paige thought country music suited it.

Even though the game was bound to go terribly, and words truly could not describe how much Paige dreaded the thought of being forced to lose, she was excited to experience the thrill of a game coursing through her veins again. 

Even if there was probably no crowd. Or a real gym. Or any internet service. Like, at all.

But the last match she’d played was in Honduras in July. So, safe to say she’d missed it.

Once they finally arrived at the tiny, dingy gym, it’d been the longest thirty minutes of Paige’s life. She all but climbed over Ava to escape the car the second it was parked. Not even the opportunity to stare at Azzi sitting in the front seat had been enough to fix the car ride.

Chris was twenty minutes late, arriving halfway through warmups. Not that they really needed him there. Paige would rather coach the team herself, if she was being honest.

The other team looked quite similar to theirs, minus no Paige or Azzi. They just looked like regular kids who were playing for fun. Which, good for them. All the power to them.

But Paige refused to lose to a tiny school from Pendleton, South Carolina.

Not that she didn’t also attend a tiny school. But, still, it’s the principle of it.

A small girl resembling the likes of the one girl with the braces in Finding Nemo stood to the side of the court and, unfortunately, sang the national anthem to start off the game. There was no sound system in the small gym, not that it mattered because the area was tiny and there was nearly no one there. Paige could still, unfortunately, hear every excruciating second loud and clear. It was like nails on a chalkboard; quite likely the worst Paige had ever heard. She had always been notoriously bad at holding it together during the anthem when surrounded by teammates regardless of whether or not it was good, but it was truly a testament to her strength of will that she didn’t burst out with laughter at the performance. Every time she made eye contact with Kayla or Azzi, she came so close to breaking character. It was so bad.

It was genuinely almost enough of a disaster to pull Paige out of her bubble of focus before the match.

The first rally started with Paige as setter and Marissa as a hitter in the front.

Somehow, they sneaked by with a win in the first set. But everyone besides Paige played like shit. By normal people's standards, Azzi wasn’t playing bad per se. But it wasn’t even close to being on par with what Paige had seen in the prior week. Her timing was off. And, not that Paige would claim to know the girl extremely well after their singular week of friendship, but she wasn’t acting like herself.

Paige had tried to pull her back into the game by joking with her in the huddle, reassuring her after plays, and egging her on, but she still just seemed timid.

Everyone else—Marissa especially—had played just as bad as she’d expected. Marissa had actually managed to hit Paige in the back with a serve attempt. But Paige was too busy worrying about Azzi to care.

After the first set, Chris attempted to berate everyone into playing well, acting as if he didn’t show up twenty minutes late and like he’d actually prepared everyone for success through his practices.

Halfway through his barrage of comments, he snaps, “And, Azzi, I know it’s your first game back from ACL, but get it together.”

What.

Paige’s first thought was that his weaselly ass did not deserve to snap at her like that. Her second was: she was out last year because of an ACL? Jesus.

Paige’s eyes snapped over to the girl’s face, tuning out the rest of whatever the hell Chris was saying, but she wouldn’t meet her eyes.

As they walked back onto the court to start the second set, Paige caught up to Azzi and placed her hand on her back. “You good?”

“Mhm,” Azzi muttered half-heartedly, brushing her off.

Paige didn’t have the time to offer much else, so she gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning to her position to start the game.

They ended up winning, but barely. It came down to the fifth set.

Azzi ended up mostly working out of whatever funk she was in. Paige had tried to meet her eyes and approach her on it to encourage her a few times, but the girl made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it, so Paige took the hint.

By the grace of God the drive back to St. Anne’s didn’t include thirty minutes straight of country music on maximum volume. Instead, it was thirty minutes straight of country music on low volume, which Paige was fine with. Everyone was tired, so the ride was blissfully silent. Azzi had gone home with her parents, so Paige got to ride shotgun in retribution for being in middle seat jail on the way there.

She pulled out her phone.

Paige: hey nice finish today. you good?

She didn’t get an answer until she was back at her house and freshly showered, in her room getting ready for bed. When her phone flashed with Azzi’s name, Paige quite literally dropped her phone onto her foot in surprise. She ignored the pain of her toes and fished for her phone to open up the thread and read what she said.

Azzi: Thanks Paige, you’re so sweet. I’m okay. Next game should be better

Paige was grateful no one was in the room to bear witness to her flushing a truly embarrassing shade of red at Azzi calling her sweet.

Paige: np, always here if you wanna talk!

Azzi: Thank you <3

She wanted to know what was going on in her head so bad. She wasn’t sure what to do to fix whatever was bothering the girl, so she figured the best thing she could do in the moment was pray about it.

She knelt at the foot of her bed and did the sign of the cross before clasping her hands together and closing her eyes. She prayed silently, asking God to keep her healthy and to grant her the strength and courage to play at her best. She prayed that He would take any pain she may be feeling away and that she be able to accomplish whatever her dreams may be and that both the school and AAU seasons would go well.

She finished back up with the sign of the cross again, getting up, plugging her phone in, and sliding under the covers for bed.

——

Wednesday, August 28th, 2024 — Westview Rec Center, Anderson, SC

Paige lugged herself and all of her stuff out of the rec center, looking up as she heard voices still talking in the parking lot. Azzi was leaned up against Paige’s car, her bag on the ground next to her while she talked animatedly to Kayla and a few of the other girls on the team. Paige felt a smile slip onto her face as the tiredness seemingly vanished from her system as she practically skipped over to Azzi and the other girls.

“-And you know he doesn’t actually even know anything about volleyball anyways!” Kayla exclaimed, waving her hands around as she spoke to emphasize her point.

Paige dropped her bag down and slid up next to Azzi against the car. Not quite touching, but definitely close. Because she was obviously just being casual with a good ole’ friend. Soooo casual and so friendly. Her heart definitely wasn’t already beating out of her throat. Nope, not at all.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t even play past the high school level,” Azzi said. Paige’s head snapped over to look at Azzi, an expression of shock on her face.

“Wait, what?” Paige said. “I knew he was ass, but I didn’t know he never played past high school. Jeez.”

“Right?” Azzi said, an incredulous smile on her face as she met Paige’s eyes, bumping her shoulder. Paige’s shoulder felt tingly at the contact.

“How do you even know that?” Lainey said, with a hint of exacerbated laughter in her voice.

Azzi shrugged. “Looked him up.”

“Was he good in high school?” Kayla asked.

Azzi gave her a look. “What do you think?” right at the same time that Ava said “Of course he wasn’t.”

“Right, dumb question.”

The girls continued ranting about their dearest coach in the parking lot for probably another thirty minutes. The gist being: he was awful, rude, terrible, unqualified, and abysmal at running a practice. The list went on and on.

Paige and Azzi continued to rant about him the entire drive home. It was cathartic. Paige was obsessed with her.

Things had been going so well lately in Paige-land that she had almost forgotten the reality of her new life in South Carolina.

She walked into the cafeteria the next morning, ready for her 10:15 a.m. brunch (a grape uncrustable and a bag of cheez-its calling her name—truly a brunch of champions), when she was faced with what was likely soon to be her death sentence: a big paper banner hanging on the wall with the copy paper Facebook Jesuses spelling out the words ‘Homecoming’ in loopy, pink cursive. 

Somehow, in all of her lovesick idiocracy, she’d completely forgotten that dances were a thing that high schools usually had.

“How do you even have a dance at an all girl’s school?” Is the first thing out of her mouth as she takes her seat at the table, squished between Kayla and Azzi. And, granted, she would love it if the dance could just be a little lesbians-only adventure. No boys allowed. Staunchly cootie-free. But even she wasn’t delusional enough to believe that was the case.

“People can invite outside guests if they want, but otherwise it’s a fun girls thing,” Ava supplied helpfully in between bites of her turkey sandwich.

Right.

She was honestly just surprised that a school like St. Anne’s even entertained dances. Genuinely what was the point if the vast majority of girls wouldn’t have a date to bring.

“People bring outside dates? Like—like boyfriends?” Paige questioned.

“Well we can’t go as each other’s dates. That would be so gay,” Veronica supplied (unhelpfully).

She’d had so much fun in the past week that she had almost forgotten that this was a Catholic cult school and it was pretty likely that everyone around her thought she’d go to Hell for liking girls.

Paige thanked God almighty when Cathy’s voice rang back out before Paige had to figure out what in the world to say to that. She was honestly just a little impressed that no one else there had figured out that Paige was gay. She didn’t exactly try to hide it. What, with the chain necklace she always wore around her neck, the gay-looking bun she always put her hair in, and lesbian flag colored bead bracelet Drew made for her as a joke that she always wore.

“Outside guest forms are due to me by September 13th,” Cathy announced. “I must get a physical copy and the date must be approved by me.”

“Ooh, Azzi, better get your outside guest form,” Lainey goaded, playfully nudging Azzi.

Azzi blushed, barely concealing a smile. “Shut up, Lainey.”

Lainey and Ava made obnoxious kissy faces at her, causing Azzi to blush and push them both away.

What.

She’d never once mentioned a boyfriend in their time together in the past week.

There honestly weren’t words to describe how Paige felt in that moment. It was like all of the work she’d done to assure herself that the way she felt was okay and perfectly human snapped, and she burned hot with guilt and shame.

All of the memories Paige had of crying over how wrong she felt, the times her mom would make fun of a gay couple they’d see in passing, and the times her priests over the years would condemn gay marriage flooded back into the forefront of her mind. Fuck.

She tried to calm herself down by telling herself it was ridiculous to feel this way about someone you’ve only known a few weeks and she doesn’t owe you anything, but it didn’t do much. She tried to keep her face blank as she got up from the table.

“You good?” Kayla asked. Stupid Kayla and her stupid ability to be perceptive.

“Yeah. Just gunna go to the bathroom.”

Hello all! I still have shit in my lungs, but this is the best I've felt in days! Physically at least (still severely depressed 🤪) Anywho, I didn't proofread this, but I hope you love it anyway!! xx Elle

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On Monday morning, Azzi found herself taking a little more care in choosing her outfit for the day. Most of her favorites were too much for days where the temperature hit ninety by noon. There were other dresses that were pretty, but she didn’t want to just be pretty today – she wanted to be memorable.

She chose a soft pink, pleated, plaid skirt and an eggshell button up. The baby pink cardigan and white ballet flats tied her outfit together. It was a simple outfit, one that she had a million variations of, but the skirt landed a few inches above her knees. It was the shortest she owned, and it highlighted her long legs.

She curls the ends of her long hair and gathered them all into a tight, high ponytail. A satin bow was wrapped around her locks, knotted perfectly at the back of her head. She smoothed her hair back one more time and frowned.

She wasn’t enough – she just needed…more

Azzi applied an extra layer of mascara, making her lashes look even longer. A few extra swipes of blush. Mixing together two different shades of lip gloss to add more shine.

She tried to convince herself that she just wanted to feel extra pretty today. But she knew the real reason – the sessions started today.

She’d been wanting Paige to just look at her since field day in Mrs. Johnson’s class ten years ago. But she was never loud enough, never magnetic enough to bring the blonde into her orbit.

These sessions were going to be the only opportunities for her to show Paige who she really was.

Guilt flooded her body.

Her father had just spent two hours lecturing his congregation about submission – submitting to God, submitting to men, submitting to fathers and husbands.

And Azzi wasn’t submitting.

Sure, it looked like she was being the same, obedient girl she always was. She did read her Bible and pray this morning, like she did every morning. And if they were at her house, Azzi’s outfit would have been praised by the whole congregation.

But she wasn’t submitting to them, and she was surely not submitting to her father.

Her dad would want her to primp herself every morning to impress her boyfriend, not for her high school’s star receiver.

But her dad wouldn’t accept her for who she was, who she loved, and he never would.

Azzi shook herself out her disappointing spiral and grabbed her backpack. It was much heavier than normal, carrying her own work, as well as the assignments Paige needed to work on.

She grabbed her typical breakfast of strawberries and cottage cheese, grabbed a granola bar, before walking outside.

Today was going to be a great day, she could feel it.

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Jacob Gibson was a pain in Paige’s ass. He never knew how to shut the fuck up. Sometimes, he teased Paige and Tash about being trans because both of them were taller than him. Other times, it was about having a faster 40 time during summer training when she had the stomach flu. Today, he wouldn’t shut up about Friday’s game.

Everyone was heading back to the locker room after practice when he started again.

“Coach only calls routes for Bueckers because he wants the support from all the other libtards in the county.”

Paige rolled her eyes, sick of his rambling.

“If I got half the opportunities she got, that game wouldn’t have been half as close as it was.”

Multiple teammates scoffed loudly at his idiocy.

“That catch should’ve been called back. Should’ve been offensive pass interference. That bitch pushed off.”

Outside of a couple of their teammates, the team ignored his rants. They’d never had a teammate who complained about the play that won them the game, but they all digressed.

But Paige was fed up. Natasha tried to grab the back of her practice jersey, but it was slick with sweat. The blonde was able to slip away and deliver a firm push to his back.

“I’m the bitch? You only got rid of your defender twice all game.” Paige pushed again once he turned around. “I might be a bitch, but it’s crazy that you get outplayed by a bitch every day.” She smirked.

Before Jacob could come back at her, Tash was in between them, pulling Paige away. “Chill, P. He’s not worth it.”

Her temper flared as she looked at his smug face, but she’d have to put T out of the way to get back to him, and she respected her friend too much to do that.

Instead, she yanked away from the shorter woman’s grip and stalked out of the locker room.

She walked out to Natasha’s truck, agitation still coursing through her body.

Who the fuck did Jacob think he was? He is better than me. He is a harder worker. He’s just an ignorant piece of shit. A little boy who –

And that is what made her halt in place. Because that’s what it was.

He was a boy. Something that Paige would never be. Something she never wanted to be.

But that’s why he was allowed to be less than mediocre and still have a starting spot.

“Paige,” she heard a voice call. “You gotta stop letting him get you riled up like that, man.” Natasha looked weary – she was sick and tired of having to step in between the two receivers, always going at it about something.

“Nah, bruh,” Paige huffed in reply. “He always chirping bout something. Wish he would just shut the fuck up for two seconds.”

Tash held back a chuckle. “P, you know why he’s doing it. He’s just insecure.”

“That’s not my fucking problem, bro,” she rolled her eyes. “If he wanted to be better than me, he could just work harder. Like he expects everything to just be handed to him without doing none of the work. I grind my ass off every single day to make sure I’m the best.”

“And nobody’s denying that, Paige. But letting him get you out of character makes it look like you’re just as immature as him.” T brought a hand to her shoulder, forcing eye contact. “Everyone who matters already knows you’re better than him. Start acting like it.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Tash was right. Blowing up in the locker room wasn’t a good look for someone who was supposed to be a leader. She didn’t want to ruin the offers she’d gotten by letting anybody get under her skin. No one was worth that.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sassed, turning towards the passenger door. “I’ll be better tomorrow. Can we stop by Torchy’s? I’m starving.”

“Um, no. You got something you need to do first. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Paige groaned loudly. “Bro, I’m not apologizing to him. He doesn’t even deserve it.”

“That’s not –” Tash paused. “Wait, did you really forget?” At Paige’s blank stare, she continued. “Your tutoring!” She exclaimed.

Fuck. Coach was gonna kill her if she didn’t fix her grades, and she wasn’t gonna be able to do that without a tutor.

Paige broke out into a dead sprint, taking the locker rooms to get back into the main hallways.

It took her a few minutes, but she made it. But the lights were dimmed – there was no one there.

She looked to the ceiling, eyes welling with tears. God, she’d ruined everything.

Then, she saw it. A small glow at the other end of the massive room. She couldn’t see it’s source from her position outside of the library, but she hoped and prayed it was Azzi Fudd.

She pulled the door open gently, not wanting to frighten the girl.

She stepped further into the space, and at the back of the library was her new tutor. She was sitting criss crossed on the floor, which seemed a bit odd to Paige, but who was she to judge. What was even weirded was the girl using the flashlight on her phone to shine a light on the book cradled in her lap.

Paige steeled herself, gathering the courage and willpower to head over to the girl and get started.

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The sound of the media center door closing broke Azzi’s attention on her reading.

She’d been reading – and translating – Tartuffe for her AP French class. It was a fun project – each student got to pick a piece of classical French literature and do a presentation on it. The project was worth thirty percent of her nine weeks grade, and it wasn’t due for another five weeks, but Azzi wasn’t one to put off assignments. Besides, it was a good way to pass the time as she waited for a certain someone to show up for her tutoring sessions.

From her splendid relationship with Jacob, Azzi knew that football practice ended around six on Mondays because they had to watch film before they went on the field. So Azzi set up the table for tutoring at 5:45.

Fifteen minutes later, the table was organized into four sections. The first was for English – two copies of The Great Gatsby were stacked on top of an empty notebook, one that would be just for Paige. They would be talking about literary elements and the layers they added to the plot of the novel. The next was for liberal arts. The first half of the course was dedicated to financial literacy, so Azzi wanted to make sure that Paige understood all of the variables on the formula sheet, and which formula should be used for certain problems. For economics, they only needed to talk about supply, demand, and what could make them fluctuate. Spanish was the final course they’d be working on. She printed out a practice Spanish 1 final she’d made for a client last year – she and Paige would work through it throughout the week, so Azzi could see what she did and did not understand.

For class, she’d already printed the syllabus and highlighted important information – blue for English, pink for math, purple for Spanish, yellow for economics and government, and green would be for chemistry. There was also a list of all of her missing work.

She knew it was a lot for just one day, but she would rather be over prepared than run out of material and look like she didn’t know how to do her job. She was ready for Paige.

But then it was 6:15 and Paige wasn’t there.

Then 6:30. She thought that maybe she just took really long showers after practice.

At 6:45, Azzi decided to get a head start on her own work. Maybe the football player had a meeting with her coach after, needed to go over extra film or something.

When seven rolled around, Azzi promised that she’d wait until 7:30 before getting on her bike and going home. She didn’t know why she thought that Paige would actually want to work with a know it all, goodie two shoes.

Then, at 7:28, when the sky had turned to cotton candy, a throat cleared.

At the entrance to the library was Paige Bueckers. She stood tall in navy sweats and a plain white t-shirt. Azzi could see the places where the water from her hair soaked into the fabric. It wasn’t often that people saw Paige with her hair down – it was almost always in a flawless bun, but Azzi thought she looked beautiful.

She felt her face start to heat at the thought, and immediately told her brain to calm down, desperate to cool off before Paige got to the table.

Azzi didn’t say anything – couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t embarrass her – as the blonde walked towards her.

When she finally made it over, Azzi peered up at her, forcing her teeth to stay clenched so her jaw didn’t drop. She saw blue eyes beneath furrowed brows, eyes that weren’t looking at her, but at the book in her lap instead.

“You’re reading French?” She questioned incredously.

Azzi couldn’t do anything to stop the heat that rushed to her cheeks. “Oh, um yeah. I wanted to work on one of my assignments while I waited,” she smiled softly.

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Paige watched the girl stand and pull out a chair at the table.

Of course Azzi Fudd knew French and knew Spanish enough to tutor someone. Part of Paige envied the girl for having access to the resources needed to speak multiple languages, but more than anything, she hater how pretentious and stuck up she probably was.

Instead of voicing her disdain, the blonde swallowed her comments. Instead, she sat in her own chair.

She saw the papers and books on the table as she approached Azzi, but she wasn’t expecting…this.

The material was separated by subject. Paige could see all of the handouts her teachers had provided as well as printouts with all of the assignments she hadn’t turned in. And the list wasn’t that bad yet, but it was only the fourth week of school.

“You…did all this?” Paige’s voice was airy and full of shock.

She could see Azzi playing with her ponytail nervously. “Well, I spent all of Saturday reading through your syllabi and figuring out the most important topics. Then, I emailed your teachers to get the missing work list. Mrs. Pacheco is being difficult though, so I don’t have the list for chemistry yet. And after I knew that, I just needed to put together some material for us to work on during our sessions.”

Paige forced her face to stay neutral. “You did all of this in one weekend?”

“Yes, I wanted to be prepared.”

Paige was confused. Azzi Fudd, the perfect girl next door, goodie, little church girl had spent her entire weekend to prepare to help her, and she was an hour and a half late for their session.

“You know that’s not normal, right?” Shit, that came out wrong. God, she felt like such a bitch.

Azzi’s smile faltered a bit. “Oh.”

“Why did you do all this?” She asked, trying to fix the joy she’d broken.

Big brown eyes entranced her as Azzi tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? You need the help, and I can help you.”

Then she smiled.

It wasn’t big or anything, but for some reason, Paige knew she wanted to see it again.

“Besides, you’re supposed to be the first girl to get a football scholarship from a big school. We can’t have you missing out on an opportunity like that.” Azzi finished sweetly.

The blonde almost choked on her spit.

For someone homophobic, Azzi seemed really supportive of a girl doing “boy” things.

“Well, thanks. I really appreciate you being willing to help me.”

The tutor visibly perked up before turning back to the organized papers on the table. She frowned a bit before turning back to Paige. “Well, we only have half an hour before we have to be off campus. So maybe we can start with math?”

Paige was shaking her head before she could stop herself. “I don’t think there’s a single math concept that I’ll be able to understand in under thirty minutes.”

Instead of choosing something else, Azzi just stacked the papers from the other classes, small smile still painted across her lips. She slid the math packet over to the footballer. “I have a trick for this. Just trust me.”

The blonde shrugged. Azzi had a good reputation for a reason – it was time to see if she was as good as everyone said.

Azzi moved her chair a little closer to Paige’s. “So how much do you understand about simple versus compound interest?”

“Um, I think interest is like a percentage of what’s added or subtracted to something.” Paige’s cheeks colored. She knew it was more complicated than that, but she had no clue how to explain it. “But that’s probably wrong.”

“No, no!” Azzi beamed. “That’s right! There are just different types of interest, but you’re totally right about the basics.”

Paige’s chest puffed out a bit at the praise. She’d practically been floating through classes, so, even though it wasn’t a big deal, she was proud of getting that one right.

“So simple interest is exactly like it sounds – simple. With that, the interest, I, is just your principal, P, or original value, times the interest rate, r, in decimal form, times the length of time, t, in years.” Azzi wrote as she spoke, making each variable a different color. Paige wasn’t even sure where she pulled the notecard from – it seemed to just appear.

The brunette pointed to the first problem. “So the way these problems are worded can be a little tricky, but once you have a good system, it’ll be super easy!”

At Azzi’s pause, Paige figured she was supposed to read the question. “Charlie borrowed $350 from Liza. He has to pay the money back in 2 years, paying 8% in interest. How much money will Charlie pay?”

“Okay, so what do you think the principal is?”

“He borrowed 350, so I think that would be the principal, right?”

Azzi beamed again, “Excellent!” She underlined the number with the same blue she’d used to write the P on the formula notecard.

“Then, 8% would be the interest rate, so that would be 0.08, then the time is two because he’s paying her back in 2 years, right?” Paige questioned, hoping she said everything correctly.

“Exactly,” Azzi smiled again. “And you told me you weren’t gonna be able to get it. And it’s only been five minutes!” She paused, sliding her calculator over to the blonde. “Now, I want you to solve for the interest.”

Paige plugged the numbers in. Then she cleared the calculator and did it once more to make she it was right. “Is it 56?”

“Perfect job, Paige. But when you look back at the question, does it make sense for 56 to be the final answer?”

Paige reread the question three times before coming up with the answer, “It can’t be 56 because they’re asking for how much he’ll pay her back. And if he borrowed $350, he can’t just give her back 56.”

Azzi moved the notecard closer to Paige. “You’re right, and that’s because 56 is just the interest. To figure out the future value, or A, we have to add the principal and the interest.” She said, writing A = P + I beneath the previous formula.

“Oh, so he pays back $406, right? Because it’d be 350 plus 56.” Paige said, writing the interest and future value equations on her homework.

When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige looked up, scared that she got it wrong. But instead, she saw Azzi sitting up, spine straight and pride clear on her face. “Very good. How about you work on the next two, just to make sure you’ve got a good understanding of simple interest.”

It took Paige five minutes to finish the problems, constantly looking at the formulas to make sure she was doing them right. She had no interest in getting something wrong and having to start over.

After Azzi checked over her work, she pulled out a fresh notecard.

“Okay, compound interest can be kind of tricky, but focus on my tips. So, think of compounding like practicing. Think of the person that works on catches and getting stronger and more coordinated once a week. Now think of someone who do extra work three times a week, and someone who does more every day. It may not make a big difference in a week, or even a month, but over a year? There will be clear differences in all three players, right?”

Paige nodded, appreciating the sports metaphor. “Obviously the one who did extra work every day will have a much bigger advantage because they got in a lot more reps.”

“So that’s what compounding is. You’ll she an ‘n’ in the compound interest formula, and that stands for how many times something is compounded every year. So the higher the n is, the more the interest is. Does that make sense?”

The wheels were turning in Paige’s head, typing the abstract concept of compound interest to something she understood well. “I think so. So, like something that’s compounded weekly would end up having more interest than if something was only compounded monthly. Because there are 52 weeks in a year, but only 12 months.” She looked up, “Is that the right way to look at it?”

Azzi’s doe eyes shined with pride. “That’s exactly the right way to look at it, Paige.”

An alarm broke their eye contact. “Damn, it’s late,” Paige commented, looking at her watch with furrowed brows. “We probably need to be heading out.”

“Yes,” Azzi started, scrambling to collect the materials. She handed the first page of the Spanish practice test and a copy of The Great Gatsby to the blonde. “If you have time, I’d really appreciate it if you could read the first chapter, so we can have a discussion tomorrow. And then I made a Spanish 1 crash course last year, so working on it throughout the week will help me know how I can help you.”

Paige raised her brows at the unofficial homework she’d been given. She didn’t want to do any of it, but if doing extra work was gonna get her to pass, she was more than fine with doing it.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Paige. I think you did a great job today,” she said, slipping her backpack on. “Will six be an okay time?”

“That should be fine,” Paige nodded. “I may be a little late after practice – not like today though, I forgot, and that was my fault.”

Azzi shooed away her excuse, “No worries. I get schedules changing. I’m just happy you showed up.”

The two walked to the front of the school in comfortable silence, not even passing a custodian on their trek.

Tash’s pickup truck was waiting out front – Paige continued straight ahead, while Azzi veered off towards the bike rack.

“Your parents aren’t here?” She questioned.

Azzi looked down at her feet, “No, they’re in Pennsylvania, I think. They travel a lot.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “Have a good night, Paige,” she called sweetly.

Paige looked over her shoulder at the girl unlocking her shiny, pink bicycle. “You, too Azzi.”

As she climbed into the truck, Tash was waiting with a toothy smile. “Soooo, how was your first session with the brainiac?”

“She’s kinda weird. She was reading French – like a regular book in French – like it was just a completely normal thing to do,” she held back a giggle at how outrageous it seemed.

Natasha scoffed, “I didn’t ask you about Azzi. I asked you how tutoring was.”

“Everything is color-coded, T,” Paige grumbled.

Tash looked impressed, “Good. You could use some order. But did she help you with anything? Are you gonna go back?”

“I kinda don’t have a choice,” she paused. “But yeah. I understand the interest thing, and I think I’m gonna show up on time tomorrow.”

Paige let Natasha clown her until they pulled up at her house. She was content to look at the way the trees blurred during the drive and think about the dark-haired girl who had agreed to help her.

Sure, Azzi Fudd was still a good, little church girl who wanted to be a perfect angel. And sure, she was only tutoring Paige because Coach asked her. And sure, she probably thought Paige was going to hell for her sexuality, even though she was nice about football earlier.

But maybe, just maybe, this tutoring thing would work out.

🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈

Azzi was giddy the entire way home.

Not only had she talked to Paige Bueckers without embarrassing her, but the other girl actually seemed interested in what Azzi was saying.

And sure, maybe it was mainly a bunch of stuff she needed to pass her classes, but she actually asked Azzi questions about speaking multiple languages.

There was nothing that could bring the girl down on her cycle home.

Not even the sweat that trailed down her forehead since she refused to remove her cardigan.

Not even the text from Jake where he complained about not being able to see her because she was more focused on “stupid losers” than their relationship.

Even when she opened the door to her empty house.

Even when her footsteps echoed on the cold marble floors.

Even when she cooked steak and rice to make homemade chipotle bowls.

There was nothing that could dim her mood because her crush saw her today.

For thirty minutes, Paige saw Azzi for who she was.

The smile stayed on her face all night.

And she knew it could only get better from here.

Azzi let herself in the house using the spare key Peter had given her. Her twelve hour shift in the ER had been brutal, the moment she stepped into the warmth of the house, her exhaustion seemed to melt away.

Peter was still stuck at his office downtown until late, and Paige was still on campus.

Azzi dropped her bag on the entryway bench and headed upstairs to change out of her scrubs. As she walked past Paige’s open bedroom door, she paused. The room wasn’t incredibly messy, but there was a giant, overflowing wicker basket of laundry sitting near the closet, topped with a mountain of hoodies and mismatched socks.

Azzi smiled softly, affection washing over her. Poor baby, she thought, remembering Paige the night before talking about how overwhelmed she was with school.

Without a second thought, Azzi grabbed the heavy basket and hauled it down to the laundry room. For the next two hours, she hummed to herself as she ran the loads. Once everything was warm and fresh out of the dryer, Azzi carried the clean clothes back up to the kitchen island, meticulously folding every single item into neat, perfect stacks.

She was just finishing up the last sweatshirt when she heard the front door click open.

Paige walked in, looking completely drained. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, her bag looked like it weighed a hundred pounds, and her eyes were fixed on the floor. "Dad?" she called out, her voice raspy and tired.

"In the kitchen," Azzi called back gently.

Paige rounded the corner, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Azzi standing at the island. Her eyes traveled from Azzi to the perfectly folded laundry covering the counter.

"You..." Paige blinked, her brain struggling to process the sight. "Is that my laundry?"

"It is," Azzi said, offering an incredibly sweet, warm smile. She smoothed down the top of a stacked pile of t-shirts. "I came over after my shift and noticed the basket was overflowing. I know how stressed you are with school and I figured the last thing you wanted to do tonight was spend hours on this."

Paige stood entirely frozen. Her bag slipped out of her hand, hitting the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.

Growing up, nobody did things like this for Paige. Her dad washed clothes because they needed clean clothes, but it was never an act of care; it was just a chore. But looking at these neat, perfect stacks, realizing Azzi had spent her free time after a shift doing something so mundane just to make Paige's life easier... it did something violent to Paige's chest.

A wave of gratitude rushed through her, so intense it made her throat tight.

"Azzi," Paige breathed, stepping closer to the island. Her blue eyes were suddenly shimmering, dropping all of her usual armor. "You didn't have to do that. Seriously."

"I wanted to," Azzi said softly, her voice dripping with soothing, nurturing warmth that always made Paige feel completely safe. She walked around the island, closing the distance between them, and reached up to gently tuck a stray blonde strand of hair behind Paige's ear. "You work so hard. You deserve to come home and just rest."

The intimacy of the touch made Paige’s breath hitch. The warmth radiating from Azzi’s hand against her cheek was intoxicating. Paige felt the urge to just lean her head forward into Azzi's palm, to let herself be completely taken care of by this incredible woman.

"Thank you," Paige whispered, her voice incredibly thick with emotion as she looked down into Azzi's brown eyes. "Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

"Anytime," Azzi murmured, her thumb brushing lightly against Paige's cheekbone before she reluctantly pulled her hand back, her heart doing a nervous little flutter at how intensely Paige was looking at her. "Now, go drop your bag off. I brought some takeout from that Thai place you said you like, and it's warming up in the oven."

Paige nodded blindly, her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched Azzi turn back toward the stove.

While Paige went upstairs to drop off her backpack and change, Azzi pulled the containers of Thai food out of the warm oven.

By the time Paige walked back into the kitchen; now wearing comfortable black sweatpants and one of the fresh, lavender scented t-shirts Azzi had just folded; two plates were set at the kitchen island, steam gently rising from the food.

"Perfect timing," Azzi smiled, sliding a glass of ice water toward the stool next to her. "Sit. Eat before it gets cold."

Paige climbed onto the barstool, her posture completely relaxed compared to the stiff, defensive girl from a few nights ago. She picked up her fork, taking a massive bite of the noodles, and practically groaned out loud. "Oh my god. I was starving. You are literally a lifesaver."

"Well, it’s part of the job description," Azzi teased gently, taking a seat on the stool right beside her. Their knees were only a few inches apart.

Azzi watched Paige eat with a deep sense of satisfaction. "Rough day at school?"

"Exhausting," Paige said around a mouthful of food, before swallowing and wiping her lip. "My lab partner was horrible." She looked over at Azzi, her blue eyes shining. "I won’t go into the specifics but just know he was an idiot"

"I’ll take your word for it," Azzi said softly, she reached over and gently patted Paige’s hand where it rested on the counter.

Paige swallowed hard, gently sliding her hand out from under Azzi’s touch before she did something stupid like try and hold her hand.

"What about you?" Paige asked, desperately trying to redirect the focus so her face wouldn't give her away. "How was the ER today?"

Azzi sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her hand, looking right at Paige. "Busy. A lot of kids with sports injuries today. One little boy came in with a broken wrist from a skateboard accident. He was absolutely terrified, crying his eyes out."

"Did you fix him up?" Paige asked, her voice dropping to a lower, softer register. She was completely mesmerized by the empathy softening Azzi’s features.

"I did," Azzi smiled, a warm, nostalgic look in her eyes. "I sat with him for a while, gave him a popsicle, and let him pick the brightest blue for his cast. By the time I was done he was laughing. It’s a tough job, but moments like that... making someone feel safe when they’re scared? It’s everything."

Paige stared at her, her chest aching with an intensity that almost frightened her. Making someone feel safe. That was exactly what Azzi was doing to her, filling a quiet, empty ache Paige had carried for years. Azzi was so incredibly selfless, so grounding, and so staggeringly beautiful that it felt like an actual crime.

"You're really good at that," Paige whispered, her eyes locked onto Azzi's. "Making people feel taken care of."

Azzi felt a flush of heat creep up her neck, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Get a grip, Azzi, she fiercely reminded herself, desperately trying to maintain her sweet, calm composure. She's just grateful for the laundry and the food. Don't misread it.

"Well," Azzi cleared her throat, offering a slightly smaller, softer smile as she reached for her water glass. "I try my best. You and your dad deserve to be taken care of."

"Yeah," Paige murmured, tracing the rim of her plate, her voice thick with unspoken longing. "My dad is a really lucky guy."

—

The house was dead quiet, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Peter had already gone upstairs leaving the living room bathed in the soft, warm glow of a single floor lamp.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, curled up on one side of the deep cushions. She looked entirely relaxed, dressed down in a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants. When Paige walked into the room Azzi simply looked up and offered a warm, familiar smile.

Paige crossed the rug and went straight to the couch. She sat down on the opposite end, shifting her weight to face Azzi, her hands loosely gripping her knees. Her blue eyes were wide, carrying a sudden, serious focus.

"Azzi? Can we talk for a second?" Paige asked, her voice low and quiet.

"Of course," Azzi said without a second thought, setting her phone face-down on the coffee table. She shifted her legs, giving Paige her full, undivided attention. "What's up?"

Paige swallowed hard, looking down at her own fingers for a beat before forcing her gaze back up to lock onto Azzi's dark eyes.

"I know I already apologized after that first dinner," Paige started, her rough voice cracking slightly with a raw, genuine vulnerability. "But I didn't mean it then. Not in the way I mean it right now. I just said it cause my dad made me. I wanted to come sit with you and actually apologize properly. I am so sorry for how I acted when we first met."

Azzi listened quietly, her expression soft and completely devoid of any lingering resentment.

"I was just so incredibly rude to you," Paige rushed out, a flush of real embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she shook her head. "I sat right across from you at that table and told you to your face that I didn't care about anything you had to say. And then I called you my dad's sugar baby. I guess I just had this idea of who you were in my head before you even walked through the door."

Paige paused, her eyes darting to the side as her mind suddenly got completely side-tracked by a heavy, historic thought. She shifted her posture, leaning slightly closer across the cushions.

"Actually... how much do you even know about my mom?" Paige asked suddenly, her voice dropping into a quieter register. "Like, how much did my dad tell you about Amy?"

Azzi blinked, surprised by the sudden transition, but her voice remained calm and steady. "Not much, honestly. He just told me that she left a long time ago and that it was a really hard, painful split for both of you. He doesn't really talk about her."

"Yeah, because it's a disaster," Paige muttered, letting out a short, hollow breath. She looked back at Azzi, her blue eyes swimming with a sudden, bleeding honesty. "I adored her when I was little and she was horrible to me.”

She took a sharp, shallow breath, her large hands tightening against her knees as she bared the root of her defense mechanism.

"So when my dad told me he was bringing home a new girlfriend, I just automatically assumed you were going to be the exact same way," Paige confessed, her gravelly voice cracking. "I just assumed you were going to be cold and mean to me. So... I decided I was going to be mean to you first. I wanted to hurt your feelings before you could ever have the chance to hurt mine."

The sheer honesty of the admission hung in the warm air of the living room.

Azzi didn't flinch, and she didn't look down on her. Instead, understanding washed over her features. She slid slightly closer across the sofa, her dark eyes wide and shining with an absolute, unconditional empathy.

"Paige, I completely understand," Azzi said softly, nodding her head with total certainty. "Seriously, there are no hard feelings at all. I would have acted the exact same way. You don't have to feel bad for trying to protect yourself."

Hearing those words; feeling the complete, uncritical validation from the woman sitting across from her sent a massive wave of relief straight through Paige's chest. Her broad shoulders finally dropped, a genuine, relaxed smile breaking through her anxiety.

Paige let out a quiet, relieved breath, her hands relaxing against the fabric of her pants. She looked at Azzi for a long beat.

"I also just... I want to clarify something else," Paige said, her voice dropping into a firm, intentional register. She shifted on the cushion, squaring her shoulders. "I'm not saying any of this because I'm looking for a mother figure, Azzi. I'm a grown woman, and I have my own life."

She paused, a genuine, completely unforced smile cutting through the residual seriousness of the conversation.

"But I just really, really like the idea of us being friends," Paige added softly, her eyes locking onto Azzi’s. "Real friends. Outside of just whatever you and my dad have going on."

Azzi didn't hesitate. A warm, incredibly brilliant smile lit up her face as she nodded with absolute, unshakeable certainty.

"I would love that," Azzi said, her voice thick with affection. "I don't have any desire to try and step on your toes or act like a parent to you. You're an adult, and you're incredibly independent. But I think you are an amazing person, and I would be so incredibly happy to just be your friend."

The simple, uncomplicating finality of the agreement settled over the quiet living room like a breath of fresh air. Paige’s smile widened, her chest rising with a deep, content breath.

—

It was a lazy Saturday, a few days after their talk on the couch.

Azzi was sitting on the loveseat, scrolling through her phone, when Paige walked into the room. She let out a thick, congested sigh, rubbing the back of her neck with a m hand.

"Hey," Paige mumbled, her voice sounding even deeper and more raspy than usual. She sank heavily onto the main couch, leaning her head back against the cushions with a miserable groan.

Azzi looked up, her eyes instantly tracking the tightness in Paige's jaw and the slight puffiness around her eyes. "Hey. You okay? You sound incredibly congested."

"I feel so stuffed up," Paige complained, sniffing heavily and pushing her glasses up her nose. "My entire face just feels heavy, like there's a ton of pressure right behind my eyes and down my neck. It's driving me crazy. You're a nurse... what do I do for this?"

Azzi smiled gently, setting her phone face-down on the coffee table. She stood up and walked over to the couch. "Well, let me take a look first. Sit up a little bit for me."

Paige shifted, sitting up straighter and turning her head toward Azzi.

Azzi stepped closer, stepping right into Paige's space. She reached out, her warm, gentle fingers making light contact with the skin just beneath Paige's jawline. She moved her fingertips in small, precise circles, palpating the sides of Paige's neck with a practiced focus.

"Yeah, your lymph nodes are definitely a little swollen right here," Azzi murmured softly, her voice calm and grounding as her fingers slid gently down the sides of Paige's neck toward her collarbone. "Your body is just trying to fight something off, and the fluid is getting trapped. I can actually help you clear this out right now if you want."

Paige swallowed hard, her blue eyes tracking Azzi’s face. The sheer proximity; the casual, gentle touch of Azzi's hands on her neck, was making her heart thump a little faster against her ribs. "How?"

"A drainage massage," Azzi explained, offering a warm, reassuring smile. "It moves the fluid down so your body can drain it. Sit right here, turn around so your back is facing me, and just try to relax."

"Okay," Paige muttered. She shifted on the cushions, turning her back to Azzi, her heart hammering a slow, heavy rhythm in her chest.

Azzi moved around the couch and sat down directly behind Paige. She rubbed her hands together for a brief second to warm them up, then reached forward, gently sliding her hands underneath the collar of Paige's sweatshirt, making direct contact with the bare skin at the base of her neck and shoulders.

Paige’s breath hitched sharply at the sudden, warm friction of Azzi’s palms against her skin.

"Just breathe, Paige. Take a deep breath in, and let it out," Azzi guided softly, her voice a low, soothing vibration just inches from Paige’s ear.

Azzi began the massage incredibly light, rhythmic strokes with her fingertips. She started right above Paige's collarbone, clearing the pathway first, before moving her hands up to the base of Paige's ears, slowly pumping the fluid downward along the neck.

It wasn't just physical relief. It was the way Azzi was taking care of her. The absolute tenderness of her touch, the focused kindness in her dark eyes, the way her voice felt like a safety net in the quiet room; Paige felt a pull towards her.

Oh, god, Paige thought, her hands clenching into tight fists inside her sweatshirt pockets as her face flushed a deep, hidden red. I'm falling for her. I'm actually falling for my dad's girlfriend.

"Is the pressure too much?" Azzi asked gently, noticing the sudden, rigid tightening in Paige's shoulders. She paused her fingers, her tone filled with instant, protective concern. "I can go lighter."

"No," Paige choked out, her gravelly voice tight as she desperately tried to swallow down the heat and force her breathing to stay even. She forced herself to relax her shoulders, staring blindly at the wall ahead. "No, it's... it actually feels really good, Azzi. Thank you."

"Of course," Azzi murmured.

"Alright, that’s the main pathway cleared," whispered, her voice a low, soothing hum right behind Paige’s ear. She gently withdrew her hands from beneath the collar of the sweatshirt, the sudden absence of her warmth leaving a cool, tingling sensation on Paige’s skin. "Now we need to move up to your face to get the pressure behind your eyes to drop. Turn around and face me."

Paige shifted clumsily on the couch cushions, turning around until she was sitting cross-legged, facing Azzi directly.

"Take your glasses off for me," Azzi instructed softly.

Paige nodded silently, folding the frames and setting them on the coffee table. Without them, her blue eyes looked incredibly unguarded, wide and slightly hazy with congestion as she looked up at the older woman.

Azzi shifted closer, closing the distance until their knees were practically brushing. She raised her hands, her warm, slender fingers gently framing the sides of Paige’s face. Her thumbs settled right at the bridge of Paige’s nose, resting against the soft skin just beneath her brows.

"Just close your eyes and relax your jaw," Azzi whispered.

Paige did as she was told, her long eyelashes fluttering shut as she let out a long, shuddering breath.

With Paige's eyes closed, Azzi’s thumbs began to sweep in slow, rhythmic, downward strokes across Paige’s cheekbones toward her ears, Azzi found herself completely losing her train of thought.

God, she is so beautiful, Azzi thought, her eyes tracing the features beneath her fingertips.

Up close like this, Paige looked entirely different. Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige’s jawline, the slope of her nose, and the way the soft afternoon light caught the pale gold of her eyelashes.

Azzi’s thumbs moved down to Paige's jawline, sweeping in light, repetitive circles to sweep the fluid away. Her fingers brushed against the soft, stray hairs near Paige's ears, and a dangerous pull tugged hard at Azzi's chest. It wasn't just care anymore. She was entirely mesmerized by the sheer softness of the girl sitting in front of her. She wanted to linger on the warmth of Paige’s skin. She wanted to trace the fullness of her lower lip.

The realization sent a quiet shockwave through Azzi’s own mind, but she forced her hands to remain steady, keeping the rhythm of the massage perfectly even.

"How does that feel?" Azzi murmured, her voice dropping into a register that felt entirely too private, too intimate for a quiet afternoon in Peter's living room.

"Mmm... feels amazing," Paige breathed, her voice completely thick and sleepy, a soft, relaxed sigh escaping her lips as the pressure in her sinuses finally began to melt away.

Azzi smiled, a heavy, secret warmth blooming in her chest as she continued the slow, soothing strokes.

—

It had been two weeks of Azzi’s constant presence. Two weeks of her cooking dinners, cleaning up around the house and making Paige feel cared for.

Paige walked into the house after class expecting to see Azzi at the kitchen, or maybe the living room. But as she walked through the house she couldn’t find her.

“Azzi?” Paige called out to the empty house. Paige knew she shouldn’t be as needy as she was right now but she had grown used to afternoons with Azzi.

“I’m upstairs, Paige!” Azzi called out. A sense of overwhelming relief washed over Paige as her shoulders relaxed instantly.

She practically raced up the stairs. Finding Azzi in the guest bathroom, she was wearing a floor length black slip dress; her hair was perfectly straightened and she was bent slightly over the counter focused on applying her mascara.

Paige’s heart stopped.

Azzi noticed her after a few seconds, turning her body towards Paige immediately giving her undivided attention.

“Paigey! How was your day? Sorry I wasn’t downstairs to greet you,” Azzi cooed, “Your dad’s picking me up in a few minutes for dinner.”

Dinner. Azzi and Paige’s dad. At dinner together. Paige felt like her head was being dipped into ice cold water. Azzi wasn’t here for Paige. She didn’t think about Paige in the way Paige thought about her. Azzi was in love with her dad.

“Alright.” Paige murmured, suddenly incredibly annoyed. She thought of kissing Azzi right there, forcing her not to go, making Azzi hers.

Azzi picked up on Paige’s annoyance almost instantly. She didn’t understand it. “I’m sorry I should’ve invited you out with us tonight. Would you like me to bring you something back?” Azzi turned back towards the mirror, feeling a sense of dread for the night ahead of her that wasn’t there before. She never wanted to give Paige a reason to be upset with her.

“Nah it’s cool,” Paige said before turning on her heel, retreating to her room. A sharp wave of panic washed over Azzi seeing Paige leaving so quick.

“Paige! Wait a second!” She called out, “Could you help me brush my hair please?” Azzi didn’t need help; not really, she was perfectly capable of brushing her own hair but she wanted to give Paige a task that would make her feel important; needed.

Paige turned around instantly at the offer. Azzi’s hair was beautiful, and the chance to play with it was way too good for Paige to pass up no matter how annoyed she was.

She walked fully into the bathroom, grabbing the brush. “Your hair doesn’t need to be brushed, looks perfect.” The words slipped out of Paige’s mouth before she could stop them, a deep flush covering her face as she stepped behind Azzi.

She gathered Azzi’s hair gently, pulling it all towards the back; running her fingers through the soft strands.

Azzi let out a sigh of pure contentment; relieved to be cared for after a week of taking care of everyone else. “Feels good p” she rasped out, her voice the softest Paige had ever heard.

Paige moved from her fingers to the brush; starting at the ends. “Was work stressful today?” She questioned, savoring the feeling of being the one Azzi relied on.

“Honestly yeah, there was a pretty bad car accident about half way through the day…..” Azzi tensed before finishing her thought. “Kids were involved…..it’s always worse when it’s children in pain.”

Paige felt a pang in her chest, an urge to protect the older woman; even if only for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Paige murmured, her voice dropping to match Azzi’s.

She slowed her movements, bringing the brush down in long, deliberate strokes from the crown of Azzi’s head to the ends of her hair.

“Don’t apologize,” Azzi whispered, closing her eyes. In the mirror, Paige watched the tight lines around Azzi’s mouth begin to soften. “You’re making it better.”

She shouldn't be the one easing Azzi’s mind. That was supposed to be her father's job.

Paige gathered a section of hair, her knuckles accidentally brushing against the sensitive skin of Azzi’s neck. Azzi inhaled sharply, a tiny, involuntary catch in her breath. Neither of them moved.

Instead of pulling away, Azzi let out a slow exhale, resting her back completely against Paige’s stomach. It wasn't a confession. It wasn't a betrayal. It was just comfort.

“You have good hands, Paige,” Azzi murmured, her eyes still closed, a soft, genuine smile finally touching her lips. “Calm. Your dad is always in such a rush.”

Paige forced herself to keep her breathing steady, continuing the gentle strokes of the brush so Azzi wouldn't feel the sudden spike in her pulse.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here tonight,” Paige said softly, her thumb lightly smoothing over the crown of Azzi’s head as she finished up.

“Yeah,” Azzi breathed, her voice trailing off into the quiet room. “A really good thing.”

Paige gave one last, lingering brush through the smooth strands, setting the hairbrush down on the counter with a soft click. The date was still going to happen, the night would go on as planned, but for now, the lingering warmth between them was more than enough.

—

The front door clicked open, and Peter’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Azzi! I am so sorry I’m late, traffic on the interstate was a total nightmare.”

Azzi took a steadying breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. The lingering warmth of Paige’s fingers in her hair still felt fresh, almost like an imprint. She stepped out of the bathroom just as he made it to the top of the stairs.

When he caught sight of her, his face softened instantly. He walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist for a brief, warm hug. As he pulled back, his eyes lingered on her hair, neatly brushed and framing her face.

“Wow,” Peter smiled, running a hand down her arm. “You look beautiful. And your hair looks amazing tonight.”

A prick of guilt hit Azzi’s chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat, offering a small, practiced smile. “Thanks. Paige actually did it for me.”

His eyes lit up, a look of pride washing over his face. He grabbed his coat from the railing, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so worried she’d still be distant, you know? But seeing the two of you bonding… it’s a relief.”

He opened the front door for her, guiding her out toward the car. As they walked down the driveway, he kept talking, his tone thick with genuine gratitude. “I’ve always worried about Paige not having someone she can really lean on. I’m just so glad she has you in her life now. You’re exactly what she needs. It gives me such peace of mind knowing you can be that kind of comfort for her.”

Comfort. Motherly. It made Azzi sick. She stared out the passenger window as Peter backed out of the driveway, her stomach twisting into painful knots. The guilt was suffocating. He was a good man, a kind man, and he was completely blind to the fact that the woman sitting next to him was developing feelings for his daughter.

Throughout the entire drive to the restaurant, Peter’s voice became background noise. When they arrived and the waiter brought their drinks, Azzi smiled and nodded at all the right times, but her mind was entirely back in that bathroom.

“The steak here is always great, what do you think?” Peter asked, looking up from his menu.

“Oh, yeah. That sounds perfect,” Azzi murmured, but her eyes locked onto the candle flickering in the center of the table. The golden shadows across the white tablecloth reminded her of the way the bathroom mirror had caught the flush on Paige’s cheeks. She remembered the quiet rasp in Paige’s voice when she asked about the car accident.

When the food arrived, Azzi barely tasted it. Every time he laughed, or reached across the table to squeeze her hand in a gesture of simple, comfortable affection, the weight in her chest grew heavier. She felt like a fraud. He was talking about the future, about summer plans and family dinners, completely unaware that Azzi’s thoughts were entirely consumed by Paige.

She wondered what Paige was doing right now. Was she downstairs in the kitchen? Was she thinking about her too?

“Everything okay, honey? You’re a little quiet tonight,” Peter noted softly, his brow furrowing with gentle concern. “Still thinking about work?”

Azzi forced a smile, squeezing his hand back because it was the only way to stop the trembling. “Yeah,” she lied, the word feeling heavy and dishonest. “Just a really long day.”

—

Paige stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her fingers still felt warm, a phantom sensation of the soft strands of Azzi’s hair lingering on her skin. Just twenty minutes ago, they had been tucked away, breathing the same air, suspended in a moment that felt entirely theirs. Now, Azzi was sitting across a dinner table from her dad, playing the part she was supposed to play.

Restless, Paige wandered into the living room. She threw herself onto the couch, staring at the dark TV screen, but she couldn't sit still for more than a minute. Her chest felt tight, sadness sinking into her bones.

What are they doing right now? The thought was a masochistic loop in her brain. They were probably at the Italian place downtown. Her dad was probably laughing, reaching across the table to cover Azzi’s hand with his own. Azzi would smile that soft, beautiful smile; the one Paige wanted to spend a lifetime pulling out of her.

A wave of jealousy, mixed with a sickening amount of guilt, twisted in Paige’s stomach. It was her dad and he loved Azzi. But seeing them together felt like watching someone else live her own life.

Needing a distraction, Paige went back upstairs. Her feet automatically guided her back to the bathroom. The air had cooled down, the steam from earlier entirely gone, but the scent of Azzi’s perfume still hung faintly in the air.

Paige picked up the hairbrush from the counter where she had left it. A few dark strands of Azzi’s hair were still caught in the bristles. She ran her thumb over it, her throat tightening.

“Feels good, P.” Azzi’s soft, tired voice echoed in her head. The way Azzi had completely leaned into her touch. In that moment, Paige hadn't felt like a bystander. She had felt like the center of Azzi’s world.

She turned off the bathroom light and walked into her own bedroom, flopping onto her bed. She pulled a pillow tightly against her chest, curling her knees inward. The clock on her nightstand ticked away, every passing minute a reminder of how much time was left on their date.

She wanted to text her. She wanted to type out I miss you or Are you having fun? or just Azzi, please. But she couldn't.

—

The digital clock on the microwave showed ⁠2:14 AM⁠.

Paige leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea that had already gone lukewarm. She hadn't slept more then five minutes. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured the master bedroom down the hall, knowing Azzi was lying in it. Her dad’s muffled snoring only made the house feel smaller, more suffocating.

A faint, soft rustle from the hallway made Paige freeze.

She turned her head just as Azzi stepped into the kitchen. Paige’s breath hitched, caught completely in her throat. Azzi wasn't wearing her usual oversized sweater. She was wearing a slip; a tiny, emerald green silk nightgown trimmed with delicate black lace that hugged her curves and cut high on her thighs.

A wave of heat rushed straight to Paige’s face. Azzi looked devastatingly beautiful, her skin glowing, her hair still holding a bit of the wave from when Paige had brushed it. But right on the heels of that intense attraction came a stab of jealousy.

She didn't put that on for me, Paige thought, her fingers tightening around her mug until her knuckles turned white. She wore that for him. Azzi stopped short when she noticed Paige, her hand flying to her collarbone in a soft, startled gesture. “Paige,” she breathed, her voice incredibly rough from sleep. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep,” Paige said. Her voice came out smaller than she intended, carrying sadness she couldn't hide in the middle of the night. She kept her eyes locked on Azzi’s face, desperately trying not to let them wander down to the lace. “You either, apparently.”

Azzi took a tentative step forward, her bare feet making no sound on the cool tile.

She looked closely at Paige, her brow furrowing as she caught the dull, tired look in the younger girl's eyes.

“Everything okay?” Azzi asked softly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You look... really tired.”

“I’m fine,” Paige murmured, looking down at the liquid in her mug. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her voice dropping into a soft, aching register. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

Azzi leaned against the counter opposite Paige, the proximity making the air feel suddenly thick. “Want to talk about it?”

Paige let out a weak, humorless breath, staring at the counter. She wanted to say I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about your hair in my hands. I’m thinking about how good I could make you feel. Instead, she forced herself to ask the question that had been tormenting her all evening. “How was dinner? You guys got back pretty late.”

Azzi swallowed, her eyes flickering away for a fraction of a second before meeting Paige’s gaze with a soft, careful look. “It was good. Really good,” she lied, keeping her tone even, though it felt entirely empty. “We went to a steakhouse downtown. The food was great.”

Paige felt an ache in her chest. She forced a tight smile, her voice carrying a fragile, sad vulnerability. “Good. I’m glad. Dad deserves to be happy, and he really, really loves you.”

“He’s wonderful,” Azzi whispered. The words felt like a script she was forced to read, heavy and dishonest. She watched the way Paige’s shoulders slouched, the sorrow radiating off her, and it broke something inside Azzi’s chest. She stepped a little closer, her voice softening into a gentle plea for connection. “He was actually telling me how glad he is that we’re... bonding. He thinks it’s great for you.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Paige said. There was no anger in her voice, just a profound, quiet sadness that cut much deeper. She finally looked up, her eyes swimming with an unspoken longing. “It’s great having a... someone to look up to.”

Azzi flinched slightly at the implication, the subtle shifting of the green silk drawing Paige’s eyes downward for a split second before she forced them back up. Azzi saw the look. It made Azzi’s heart hammer against her ribs so loudly she was afraid Paige could hear it.

“Paige,” Azzi breathed, her voice trembling just enough to betray how deeply she was affected. She reached out, her fingers hovering for a second before she gently touched Paige’s forearm. Her skin was warm, and the contact sent a jolt through both of them. “You know I care about you, right? A lot.”

Paige looked down at Azzi’s hand on her arm. Suddenly, the weight of the night, the jealousy, and the exhaustion became too much to carry.

With a soft, shuddering sigh, Paige let go of her remaining defense. She stepped forward, letting her eyes close as she slumped into Azzi’s space, leaning her full body weight completely against her.

Azzi caught her instantly. Instead of pulling away or trying to maintain a safe distance, Azzi’s arms wrapped tightly around Paige’s waist, pulling the younger girl flush against her. The cool, smooth silk of the nightgown pressed directly against Paige, but the body underneath was pure warmth. Azzi rested her chin gently on top of Paige’s head, holding her up, letting Paige fully anchor herself against her chest.

“You’re so beautiful, Az,” Paige whispered into her shoulder, her voice muffled and cracking slightly. “In that dress. Just... always.”

Azzi’s breath hitched completely, her embrace tightening even more at the confession. She buried her face into Paige’s hair breathing her in. Azzi was trying so hard to be the adult, to set boundaries, but holding Paige like this, feeling her weight, made the boundaries dissolve into nothing. She wanted this. She wanted Paige to never let go.

They stood like that in the dark for a long, unmeasured moment, just holding each other up against the gravity of everything they couldn't say.

Finally, Paige took a slow, shaky breath, reluctantly finding her footing again. She gently pulled back, her skin freezing the moment the contact was broken. “You should probably get some sleep,” she whispered.

Azzi stared at Paige’s lips for one agonizing, lingering moment, her heart breaking for both of them. “Yeah,” Azzi breathed, backing away slowly into the shadows. “Goodnight, P.”

“Goodnight, Azzi,” Paige whispered.

Paige turned back to the counter, closing her eyes as the aching silence returned, both of them trapped in a beautifully soft, heartbreaking lie.

Paige stood frozen in the center of the dark kitchen, the space where Azzi’s warmth had just been feeling completely hollow. As Azzi took another slow step backward into the hallway, a sudden, desperate wave of neediness crashed over Paige. She couldn’t let the night end like this. She couldn’t go back to that lonely room by herself.

“Azzi, wait,” Paige breathed, her voice a nervous, fragile whisper.

Azzi paused, turning back. Her silhouette was framed by the moonlight. “Yeah, P?”

Paige rubbed her arms, her fingers pressing into her own skin as her heart hammered against her ribs. She looked down at the floor, a deep, hot blush creeping up her neck. “Could you... I know this sounds incredibly stupid, but...” She swallowed, the words feeling so incredibly childish. “Could you tuck me into bed?”

The moment the words left her mouth, Paige’s eyes flew wide and she instantly felt a wave of mortification. “I’m sorry, forget I said that,” she rushed out, her voice cracking. “That’s so childish, I don't know why I just said that, I’m just really tired.”

“Paige,” Azzi interrupted softly. Her voice was like velvet in the quiet house. A tender, sad smile touched her lips, any hesitation she had melting away at the sheer vulnerability from the younger girl. “It’s okay. Come on.”

Without waiting, Azzi held out her hand. Paige’s chest squeezed as she stepped forward, slipping her hand into Azzi’s; their fingers intertwined perfectly.

They walked up the stairs in absolute silence, the only sound the faint sound of Bob’s snoring down the hall. When they reached Paige’s bedroom, the room was cool and dark.

Paige climbed onto the mattress, she pulled the heavy blankets up to her chest. Azzi leaned over her, her movements slow and deliberate as she smoothed the covers, tucking the edges neatly around Paige’s shoulders. The scent of vanilla enveloped Paige completely, and for a second, she closed her eyes, completely intoxicated by Azzi’s proximity, by the sight of the green silk draped so close to her face.

But even with the blankets tight around her, the empty ache in Paige’s chest didn't go away. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes wide, needy, and completely exposed in the dark.

“Azzi?” Paige whispered, her voice smaller now, cracking with an old, deep-seated ache. “Could you... would you mind sitting with me for a minute? Maybe trace my face? And... hum or something?”

She looked away, swallowing hard as a tear finally slipped down her cheek. “It helps when I’m not feeling good.”

Another pang of sadness struck Azzi’s chest. Realizing just how deeply starved the girl was for comfort and safety made Azzi’s heart break.

Without a word, Azzi sat down on the very edge of the mattress. The bed shifted under her weight, and she turned her body fully toward Paige.

“Of course I can, sweetheart,” Azzi murmured, her voice dropping to a low, soothing hum.

Slowly, Azzi raised her hand. She pressed the back of her knuckles gently against Paige’s cheek, wiping away the lone tear. The contact was so soft, so purely tender, that a quiet breath escaped Paige’s lips. Azzi began to trace the lines of Paige’s face, her pointer finger lightly brushing over the curve of her cheekbone, then down the line of her jaw, back up to trace her nose and eyebrows, repeating the motion as Paige’s eyes closed.

Azzi took a quiet breath, closed her eyes, and began to hum. It was a slow, beautiful melody, the notes low and steady, vibrating softly in the space between them. It was a comforting sound that seemed to wrap around the entire bedroom, shutting out the rest of the world.

Paige leaned her cheek directly into the palm of Azzi’s hand, opening her eyes to lock on Azzi’s face. She memorized the way Azzi looked in the shadows of her bedroom, the way her eyes softened, the way her finger kept up a soothing stroke against her temple.

As the gentle humming filled the room, the tension finally began to drain from Paige’s limbs. The safety of Azzi’s touch and the quiet melody wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Azzi kept humming, her voice never wavering, she kept tracing until the younger girl’s breathing finally slowed, evened out, and she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Only then did Azzi let the melody trail off into a whisper. She lingered for one long, agonizing minute, her thumb brushing Paige’s cheek one last time before she softly pulled her hand away.

—

The house was entirely quiet when Azzi let herself in through the front door late that evening. Another twelve hour shift at the hospital had left her physically and emotionally drained. Her shoulders ached beneath her scrubs, her feet burned, and her head throbbed from the bright, unforgiving fluorescent lights of the ER.

Peter was already asleep, having texted her earlier that he couldn't keep his eyes open past ten.

Azzi quietly tiptoed up the stairs, intending to just wash her face in the bathroom and collapse into bed. But when she pushed the door open, she stopped.

The room was dimly lit, a single small lamp casting a warm glow over the space. Sitting on the edge of the large, porcelain soaking tub was a beautiful glass jar filled with lavender and eucalyptus bath salts, a warm folded towel, and a small, torn piece of notebook paper.

Azzi stepped closer, a soft, curious smile touching her lips as she picked up the note. Written in Paige’s handwriting were just a few words:

I know you don't have a soaking tub at your house. Use mine tonight. You deserve to relax. Bath salts are lavender. - P

A wave of warmth bloomed in Azzi’s chest, completely catching her off guard. She held the little note in her hands, her throat turning tight with emotion. It was such a simple, thoughtful act of service; the fact that Paige had noticed her exhaustion and intentionally set this up just to make her night a little easier.

Holding the note, Azzi walked quietly down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Paige’s door was cracked open just an inch, a sliver of light spilling out onto the floor.

Azzi pushed the door open a bit further, her heart doing a tender, familiar flutter.

Paige was sitting up in bed, buried beneath her heavy comforter, a massive textbook propped up against her knees. She was wearing her glasses, her blonde hair pulled into a loose, messy topknot. The second she heard the door move, she looked up, her blue eyes instantly softening when they landed on Azzi.

"Hey," Paige whispered, her voice a low, raspy murmur in the quiet room. She looked at the note in Azzi's hand, a small, slightly shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You saw it."

"I did," Azzi said softly, stepping fully into the room. She walked over to the edge of the bed, looking down at Paige with an immense amount of gratitude and affection. "Paige... thank you. Seriously. You have no idea how much my body aches right now. This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me in a really long time."

"It's just a bath," Paige muttered, suddenly looking very interested in the margin of her textbook, though a faint, beautiful pink flush was creeping up her neck. "I just... I knew you had a rough schedule today. And you’re always the one taking care of us, making sure I’m comfortable. I figured you deserved it."

Azzi watched her quietly, her brown eyes shining. She remembered how she had tucked Paige in and rubbed her face when Paige was feeling sad. Seeing Paige return that care in her own quiet, thoughtful way made Azzi feel completely seen.

Without thinking, Azzi reached out, her fingers gently brushing against Paige's cheek, a soft, lingering touch. "You're incredible."

Paige looked up through her lashes, her blue eyes locking onto Azzi’s. In the quiet, dim sanctuary of the bedroom, the weight of the world outside seemed to fade away completely. There was just a profound, comfortable sweetness between them.

"I just wanted you to be able to relax," Paige whispered honestly, leaning a fraction of an inch into Azzi's touch.

"I'm going to," Azzi smiled, gently pulling her hand back with a soft exhale. "Don't stay up too late studying."

"I won't," Paige promised, a contented warmth settling deep in her chest.

Azzi quieted her steps as she walked back to the bathroom. She turned on the heavy gold fixtures, watching the hot water rush into the deep basin, steam immediately rising and filling the room with the soothing, aromatic scent of lavender and eucalyptus as she poured the salts in.

Sinking into the hot, bubbling water, Azzi let out a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief. As the tension finally began to melt from her muscles, she closed her eyes, entirely enveloped by the comfort Paige had created for her; realizing just how deeply she was falling.

Azzi reluctantly climbed out of the deep soaking tub. The hot water and lavender salts had worked wonders, smoothing out the sharpest knots in her back and leaving her skin warm and flush. She wrapped herself in the plush towel Paige had left out, drying off before slipping into a pair of soft, oversized flannel pajamas.

Still feeling a bit hazy from the steam, Azzi unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

She jumped slightly, catching her breath when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Paige was standing a few feet away, leaning nervously against the hallway wall. Her hands were buried deep in the pockets of her sweatpants, her shoulders tense, and her eyes fixed firmly on the hardwood floor. She looked incredibly young and small in the low light, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

"Paige?" Azzi asked softly, her voice still a bit raspy from the bath steam. She took a step closer, her brow furrowing with gentle concern. "Is everything okay?"

Paige’s head snapped up at the sound of Azzi's voice. Her eyes were wide, a blush rushing up her neck and flooding her cheeks. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her usual confidence completely vanishing into something entirely timid.

"Yeah. Everything's fine," Paige rushed out, her voice a quiet, nervous whisper. She cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at Azzi’s face. "I just... I heard the water turn off. And I know you said the bath would help, but..."

Paige paused, swallowing hard. She finally forced herself to meet Azzi’s dark eyes. "You still look really tense around your shoulders. I was just wondering... do you want a massage? Like, just a quick one. To help you sleep."

Azzi blinked, completely caught off guard by the request. She reached up instinctively, her hand brushing against the back of her own neck. Paige was right; even though the hot water had relaxed her, the lingering physical toll of lifting patients and standing on hard hospital floors for twelve hours was still pulling her shoulders tight.

Azzi looked at Paige; at the sweetness radiating from her, and the quiet hope in her eyes. The sheer selflessness of the offer made Azzi’s heart swell with a deep, comfortable warmth.

"That sounds amazing," Azzi murmured, offering a soft, grateful smile. "My shoulders are still feeling pretty tight."

A visible wave of relief washed over Paige, her shoulders dropping as she gave a small, eager nod. "Okay. Cool. Um... we can go in my room."

"Lead the way," Azzi said gently.

Paige turned and walked the short distance down the hall, pushing her bedroom door open.

Paige’s bedroom felt entirely separate from the rest of the house, Azzi sat on the edge of the mattress, suddenly feeling a little shy in her pajamas, the damp ends of her dark hair cooling against the back of her neck.

Paige closed the door with a soft, deliberate click. The nervousness from the hallway was still there, hovering in the small space between them, but beneath it was a steady, quiet resolve.

"You can lay face down," Paige murmured, her voice low and soothing. "Just stretch out. Make yourself comfortable."

Azzi offered a grateful, slightly tired smile and crawled further onto the bed. She laid down flat on her stomach, resting her cheek against the soft cotton of Paige's pillow. Inhaling deeply, she realized the pillow smelled exactly like Paige. It was an incredibly grounding, safe scent.

Paige climbed onto the mattress, moving with a quiet caution so she wouldn't disturb Azzi. She knelt beside Azzi’s torso, sitting back on her heels. For a long moment, Paige just looked down at her. In the dim light, Azzi looked so small, she was a tired, beautiful woman letting her guard down.

"I'm going to start with your shoulders, okay?" Paige whispered.

"Okay," Azzi breathed into the pillow.

When Paige first placed her hands on Azzi’s back, Azzi let out a soft, involuntary shudder. Paige’s hands were large, warm, and remarkably steady. Beginning at the base of Azzi’s neck, Paige used long, sweeping strokes, smoothing her palms over the fabric of Azzi's shirt, applying just enough pressure to make Azzi’s muscles instantly begin to yield.

"Am I hurting you?" Paige asked softly, her thumbs finding a thick knot right beneath Azzi’s left shoulder blade.

"No," Azzi murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow, dripping with pure contentment. "It feels perfect, P. You have no idea."

Paige leaned her weight forward, using the alignment of her body to deepen the pressure. She worked methodically, her thumbs tracing the contours of Azzi's spine, kneading away the lingering stress of the hospital. The rhythm was slow, hypnotic, and filled with a profound, unspoken tenderness. Paige wasn't rushing. She wanted to stretch this moment out for as long as the night would allow.

Every time Azzi let out a soft, relaxed sigh, Paige’s heart did a violent, erratic skip against her ribs. She was acutely aware of the warmth of Azzi’s skin beneath the fabric, the gentle slope of her waist, and the absolute trust Azzi was placing in her hands.

Paige moved her hands down, tracing the long lines of Azzi’s back to her lower muscles, her touch lingering just a fraction of a second longer than necessary at the small of her back.

Azzi’s breathing shifted, turning slightly shallow. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the sheer intentionality behind Paige's touch. It wasn't just a clinical massage; it was a deeply reverent act of devotion. It felt soft and nurturing, filling the ache of wanting to be taken care of. The slow slide of Paige's hands was sending a quiet, simmering heat straight to Azzi's core.

Slowly, Azzi turned her head, shifting her cheek on the pillow so she was facing Paige’s direction. She opened her dark eyes, looking up through her lashes.

Paige stopped her hands, hovering just above Azzi’s lower back. She looked down, her eyes wide and dark with intensity. Her glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of her nose, and her cheeks were flushed a beautiful, deep pink.

"You're falling asleep," Paige whispered, though her pulse was hammering so loudly she was certain Azzi could hear it.

"I'm trying not to," Azzi murmured, her voice so low it sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. She reached one arm up, sliding her hand across the mattress until her fingers gently brushed against Paige’s knee. "I don't want to miss this."

Paige swallowed hard, her breath catching entirely in her throat. The physical contact, simple as it was, felt like a lightning strike in the room. She shifted, sliding down from her kneeling position until she was lying on her side right next to Azzi, propping her head up with one hand. Her free hand came to rest gently on the side of Azzi’s arm.

They were so close now.

Azzi looked at Paige's lips, her heart thumping against her ribs. She knew she should get up, knew she should go to the master bedroom, but Paige’s gaze was anchoring her to the mattress.

Paige reached out, her thumb tenderly brushing a stray curl of dark hair away from Azzi's face, her fingers lingering against the warm skin of Azzi’s cheek.

"You don't have to go anywhere," Paige whispered, the vulnerability raw in her eyes. "Just stay here let me keep taking care of you."

Azzi didn't answer with words. Instead, she leaned her face just a fraction of an inch into Paige’s palm.

Azzi’s cheek remained pressed gently into Paige’s hand for a few more heartbeats before Paige slowly, reluctantly, pulled her fingers back.

"Your shoulders feel a little looser," Paige whispered, her voice low and comforting. "But I’m not done yet."

Azzi offered a sleepy, questioning murmur, her eyes half closed as Paige shifted her position on the mattress. Paige slid down to the foot of the bed, her movements careful and deliberate. She sat cross legged, facing Azzi’s feet, and gently reached beneath the hem of Azzi’s oversized flannel pajama pants to grasp her right foot.

Azzi gasped softly, her eyes flying open. "Paige, you don't have to do that. Thats…."

"You’re a nurse, Azzi," Paige interrupted gently, her tone completely unyielding but incredibly soft. She grabbed some lotion from her nightstand, pouring it into her hands and rubbing them together to warm the cream. "You told me yourself you stood on a hard tile floor for twelve hours today. You’re feet have to be killing you. Just let me."

Nobody had ever looked at her exhaustion with that level of specific, observant care.

When Paige’s warm, lotion slicked hands firmly grasped the arch of her foot, Azzi let out a long, ragged sigh, burying her face completely back into Paige’s pillow. Paige used her thumbs to trace the tight muscles along the sole of Azzi's foot, applying a deep, steady pressure that made Azzi’s entire body go wonderfully lax.

"Oh my god," Azzi groaned, her voice muffled by the cotton fabric. "P... I think you might actually be a miracle worker."

"Just wanna make you feel good," Paige murmured, a small, proud smile breaking across her face. She shifted her focus to the heel, her strong thumbs working in slow circles, kneading away hours of stress.

The charge in the air hadn't dissipated; if anything, it had grown thicker, more concentrated. Every slow, deliberate stroke of Paige’s hands felt intensely intimate. Paige was pouring everything she felt; all the gratitude, the safety, and the affection she had been harboring into this quiet act of service.

Azzi lay completely still, the warmth spreading through her was intoxicating, turning her brain to mush. She felt so safe here. In this room, surrounded by Paige’s scent, wrapped in Paige’s unconditional care.

A dangerous, beautiful thought bloomed in Azzi’s mind, taking root before she could stop it: I want to stay here. I want to turn off the lamp, crawl under the covers with her, and just let her hold me for the rest of the night. The desire was so strong it made Azzi’s chest ache. She wanted to surrender to the softness of Paige’s bed, to the devotion of the girl sitting at the foot of it. She wanted to wake up to those blue eyes in the morning.

Paige smoothly transitioned to Azzi’s left foot, her touch remaining incredibly tender, her eyes fixed on her hands as she worked. "You're really tense right here, too," Paige whispered, her voice a soft, velvety rasp. "Just relax, I've got you."

Azzi swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat as reality crashed through the hazy, warm fog in her mind.

I can't stay. The thought was sharp, painful, and entirely unyielding. She looked around the dim room, her eyes landing on the door. Down the hall, sleeping soundly under the same roof, was Peter. The man who loved her. The man who trusted her. The man who was Paige’s father.

Guilt rushed through Azzi’s veins, chilling the heat that had been coiling in her stomach. To stay in this bed tonight would be crossing a line she couldn't walk back from. It would change everything, ruin everything, and she couldn't do that to Paige, or to Peter.

Slowly, gently, Azzi flexed her ankles, signaling Paige to stop.

Paige paused, her hands still resting warmly against Azzi’s skin. She looked up through her lashes, her eyes wide, dark, and filled with a quiet, pleading vulnerability. She had seen the shift in Azzi’s posture. She knew.

"Az..." Paige whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Azzi slowly sat up, pulling her legs back and tucking them against her chest. She looked at Paige, her dark eyes swimming with a mixture of gratitude and a heartbreaking amount of sorrow. She reached out, her fingers gently brushing against Paige’s shin over her sweatpants.

"That was... the amazing. Thank you," Azzi murmured, her voice trembling just a fraction. She forced a soft, bittersweet smile onto her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "But I think I need to go to your dad’s room now."

"Azzi..." Paige whispered, her voice cracking slightly. She didn't let go. Instead, her grip tightened just a fraction, her thumbs pressing gently into Azzi’s skin as if she could prevent her from getting off the bed. "Don't go. Just stay."

Azzi looked back over her shoulder, "Paige, honey... I have to. You know I have to."

"No, you don't," Paige insisted, her words tumbling out in a quiet, urgent rush. She slid forward on her knees, closing the distance between them until she was sitting right beside Azzi’s hip. "Just stay. Just for tonight."

"Your dad is right down the hall," Azzi breathed, her voice trembling as she looked toward the bedroom door, then back to Paige’s flushed face. "If he wakes up, if he comes in here."

"He won't," Paige cut her off. "He’s exhausted, Azzi. You know how he sleeps when he’s stressed about work, he’s down for the count until his alarm goes off at seven. We can set an alarm for six. Six-thirty. You can slip across the hall to his room before he even opens his eyes. He will never know."

Azzi swallowed hard, hearing Paige voice the exact fantasy she had just been imagining made her heart skip a beat. It would be so easy to give in. The bed was so soft, the room was so warm, and Paige was looking at her like she was the only person left in the universe.

She looked down at Paige’s hands resting on her ankles, and the reality of the house they were standing in pressed down on her chest with an immovable weight.

"Paige," Azzi said softly, her voice steadying as she gently but firmly placed her hands over Paige’s, halting the thumb strokes. She didn't pull away harshly, but she stopped the motion. "Look at me."

Paige blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she met Azzi’s gaze.

"Even if we set an alarm, even if he never walks through that door... we would know," Azzi murmured, her dark eyes filled with a devastatingly tender sorrow. "We would know exactly why I spent the night in your bed. Your dad trusts me, Paige. He loves me, and he loves you more than anything in this world. Slipping across the hall at six in the morning like criminals... that isn't who I am. And it’s not who you are, either."

"Azzi, I don't care about that right now," Paige whispered, a sudden, hot tear slipping down her cheek as her defenses began to crack. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a desperate rasp. "I just want to hold you. Let me take care of you. Please."

Azzi felt her own heart break at the sight of the tear, her thumb reaching up instinctively to gently wipe it from Paige’s cheekbone. Her touch was incredibly soft, lingering for a long, quiet moment, but her expression remained unyielding.

"You already did take care of me," Azzi whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she gave Paige's cheek a final, comforting pat before letting her hand drop. "The bath, the note, the massage... it’s the most taken care of I’ve felt in years. You gave me that, and I am so grateful for it. But I can’t stay."

Paige’s shoulders sank, the fight draining out of her all at once as she realized the line was firmly drawn. She slowly let her hands slip away from Azzi’s ankles, sitting back on her heels. The disappointment in her chest was heavy.

"Okay," Paige muttered quietly, looking down at the comforter.

Azzi slid off the edge of the bed, her movements heavy with a exhaustion that was now entirely emotional. She walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the brass knob. She turned back to look at Paige one last time. Paige was sitting alone in the center of the mattress, looking small under the amber glow of the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Azzi said softly, the pet name carrying a quiet promise.

"Night," Paige replied.

The door clicked shut, leaving Paige alone in her room, the lingering scent of lavender and the ghost of Azzi’s warmth the only reminders of how close they had come, and how far apart they still were.

-

The kitchen was entirely quiet when Azzi walked downstairs the next morning, the bright, early morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting long, sharp shadows across the hardwood floor. Peter had already left for his early shift an hour ago. His empty coffee mug sat in the sink, a brief, scribbled note next to the coffee maker letting them know he’d be home by six.

Azzi took a deep breath, trying to shake the lingering exhaustion from her bones. She had barely slept. After leaving Paige’s room, she had tossed and turned in the guest bed for hours, her skin still feeling the warmth of Paige’s hands, her mind a tangled, guilty mess of logic and longing.

Needing something to occupy her thoughts, Azzi set to work making breakfast. She kept her movements quiet and methodical, slicing a fresh avocado, whisking eggs in a glass bowl, and dropping slices of sourdough into the toaster. She took extra care with Paige’s coffee, hoping the small gesture would smooth over whatever awkwardness remained from the night before.

By the time the food was ready, two plates were neatly set at the kitchen island, steam gently rising from the eggs.

Then, she heard the heavy, dragging footsteps coming down the stairs.

Azzi’s posture stiffened slightly. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, bracing herself as Paige entered the kitchen.

Paige didn't look up. She was wearing a massive, oversized gray hoodie with the hood pulled entirely up over her blonde hair, shadowing her face. Her hands were buried deep in the front pocket, her shoulders hunched forward. The relaxed version of her from the night before had been completely wiped clean. In its place was a cold, impenetrable wall that Azzi recognized from the very first day they had met; only this time, it felt entirely unyielding.

"Morning, P," Azzi said softly, her voice carrying a tentative, gentle warmth.

Paige didn't reply. She gave a single, barely perceptible nod of her head as she walked past.

Instead of sitting on the barstool right next to Azzi like she usually did, Paige walked the long way around the kitchen island. She walked straight to the refrigerator, pulled the door open, and grabbed a cold bottle of water.

The silence in the room stretched out, punctuated only by the loud, sharp crack of Paige twisting the plastic cap off the bottle. She took a slow, deliberate sip.

Azzi cleared her throat, the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightening. She carefully pushed the plate of food and the steaming ceramic mug just an inch closer to Paige's side of the counter.

"I made you some breakfast," Azzi murmured, her eyes searching the small sliver of Paige’s face visible beneath the hood. "And your coffee. Just how you like it."

Paige stared at the plate for a long moment. Her expression was completely blank, her eyes flat and unreadable.

"Not hungry," Paige said.

Her voice was dangerously quiet, a flat monotone that lacked any trace of the emotional warmth from hours prior. She didn't touch the food. She didn't even reach for the coffee. She just stood there, holding her water bottle, staring at a spot on the marble counter a few inches away from Azzi's hands.

"Paige... please," Azzi whispered, stepping closer to the edge of the island. Her chest was beginning to ache. "Can we talk for a second? About last night?"

Paige’s jaw tightened. She didn't look up, but her entire body went rigid beneath the heavy fabric of her hoodie.

"Nothing to talk about," Paige muttered.

"There is," Azzi countered gently, her voice cracking slightly with a note of genuine distress. She hated how quickly Paige could lock herself away. "I know you're upset. I know it wasn't what you wanted to hear, but I was just trying to do the right thing. I didn't want to leave things broken between us."

Paige finally raised her eyes, the absolute lack of warmth in them was terrifying. It was a completely clinical, detached stare, a total shutdown of the girl who had cried into her pillow after Azzi left.

"It's fine," Paige said, her tone cutting and efficient.

"It doesn't feel fine," Azzi said, her dark eyes swimming with worry. She reached a hand across the counter, her fingers hovering just a few inches away from Paige’s arm, desperate for some kind of connection. "Please don't shut me out, P."

Paige looked down at Azzi’s hovering hand. Her face didn't change, but she slowly, deliberately stepped back, pulling herself entirely out of Azzi's reach.

"I have a lab report," Paige said flatly, her words sparse and absolute.

She turned on her heel, not waiting for a response, and began to walk out of the kitchen.

"Paige," Azzi called out, a desperate plea slipping past her lips as she took a step around the counter to follow her.

Paige stopped at the edge of the hallway. She didn't turn around to face Azzi, keeping her back completely rigid. For a split second, the heavy rise and fall of her chest gave away the anger and hurt she was trying so hard to smother, but when she spoke, her voice remained terrifyingly cold and clipped.

"Don't," Paige whispered.

Before Azzi could say anything else, Paige moved up the stairs, her footsteps sharp and fast against the wood. A moment later, the heavy, definitive thud of her bedroom door closing echoed down the stairwell, followed by the sharp click of the lock turning.

Azzi stood entirely still in the center of the sunlit kitchen, the silence rushing back in to fill the space, staring helplessly at the breakfast that was slowly turning cold.

—

She stood there for a long time, staring at the untouched food and the cold coffee. A knot of misery tightened in her chest. She had spent her entire adult life learning how to heal people, how to fix things, and how to make people feel safe; yet in a single morning, she had managed to make Paige freeze up like a block of ice.

I did this, Azzi thought, a wave of guilt washing over her. She knew her logic from the night before was sound, but seeing the utter devastation Paige carried completely broken her. She couldn't just sit in the house and do nothing while Paige was hurting.

Needing to act, Azzi grabbed her car keys.

She drove to a local florist, her mind racing the entire way. She walked past the bright, aggressive roses and the generic supermarket arrangements, searching for something that felt right. Finally, her eyes landed on a bundle of striking, deep blue hydrangeas mixed with soft, pale white delphiniums and sprigs of eucalyptus. The colors immediately reminding her of Paige; sharp, brilliant, and beautifully complex.

By the time she got back to the house, the clock showed just past noon. Peter was still at work, and Paige's schedule meant she would be stuck in class for another hour.

Azzi brought the flowers into the kitchen, her hands moving with a focused, quiet urgency. She found a heavy, clear glass vase in the upper cabinets, filled it with cool water, and carefully trimmed the stems. She arranged them meticulously, ensuring the deep blues and soft whites balanced perfectly, the fresh, earthy scent of eucalyptus filling the room and masking the lingering tension from breakfast.

Carrying the vase upstairs, her heart hammered a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She felt like an intruder as she gently turned the knob to Paige’s bedroom door. It was unlocked now.

She stepped inside, the room smelling faintly of lavender and clean cotton. Azzi carefully set the heavy vase down on the center of Paige's desk, right next to her neatly stacked notebooks and a stray drafting pencil. The blue of the flowers caught the afternoon light, casting a beautiful glow over the wooden surface.

Azzi pulled a small, blank card from her pocket. She sat at the edge of the bed; the very same spot where Paige had sat the night before and took a deep breath. She didn't want to overcomplicate it. She just wanted to ask for a second chance.

In looping cursive, she wrote:

"I was trying to do what I thought was right. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Can I please stay in your room tonight? - Azzi"

She propped the card securely against the base of the glass vase where Paige couldn't miss it.

Slipping out of the room, Azzi closed the door softly behind her, praying that Paige would let her back in.

Paige’s feet dragged heavily as she walked down the hallway, the exhaustion of class weighing on her shoulders, though it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest. She unlocked her bedroom door, expecting to just throw her backpack on the floor and bury herself under the blankets to avoid facing the house.

Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The afternoon light was hitting her desk, illuminating a massive bouquet of blue hydrangeas and white flowers. The scent of eucalyptus filled her room. Paige dropped her backpack to the floor with a loud thud, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stepped closer.

There, propped against the clear glass vase, was the small white card.

She picked it up with trembling fingers, her eyes racing over Azzi’s handwriting:

"I was trying to do what I thought was right. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Can I please stay in your room tonight? - Azzi"

A sudden, dizzying rush of pure happiness flooded Paige’s chest, completely shattering the walls she had built up all morning. The relief was so intense it made her dizzy. A massive smile broke across her face, her eyes stinging with fresh, happy tears as she stared at the words. She wants to stay. She’s sorry. Paige practically ripped her phone out of her pocket, her fingers flying across the keyboard, completely abandoning her cold, distant act from breakfast:

Yes. Please. Come in after he falls asleep. I’ll leave the door open.

The moment she hit send, Paige tossed the phone onto her bed and let out a breathless, giddy laugh. But a split second later, the excitement gave way to panic.

She's staying in my room. Tonight.

Even though Azzi's note was soft and comforting; even though Paige knew, realistically, they were just going to sleep in the same bed, her brain completely short circuited. She rushed over to her full-length mirror, suddenly horrified by her appearance. She yanked the hood of her massive, stained gray sweatshirt off her head, staring at the messy bun that was falling apart.

"Oh my god," Paige whispered to the empty room, her cheeks turning a bright, frantic pink. "I look like shit."

She threw open her closet doors, her hands tearing through the hangers in a total frenzy. She had never cared about clothes before, but suddenly, every single piece of clothing she owned felt entirely wrong. She couldn't wear her usual paint stained sweatpants; what if they looked too sloppy? But she couldn't wear anything tight or scandalous either, because that would ruin the softness of what they were doing and scare Azzi away.

She pulled out a pair of matching dark blue flannel pajama pants, they were brand new, soft, and completely unstained. Then she spent a ridiculous ten minutes agonizing over a t-shirt. She finally settled on a fitted, soft white cotton tee. It was simple, completely casual, but it actually flattered her shoulders and didn't look like something she had dragged out of a hamper.

Paige practically sprinted into the bathroom, letting her long blonde hair down. She brushed it out until it fell in soft, shiny waves over her shoulders, then applied a tiny, subtle swipe of vanilla lip balm, just enough to make her lips look soft.

She walked back into her bedroom, adjusting the pillows on her bed, fluffing the comforter, and making sure the single bedside lamp was dimmed to the perfect, warm glow. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, her heart racing a mile a minute as she looked at the blue hydrangeas on her desk.

She was incredibly nervous, her stomach flipping over itself, but for the first time all day, she felt entirely alive, just waiting for the house downstairs to go dark.

The house grew still as the clock ticked past midnight, the only sound in the master bedroom being the heavy breathing of Peter sleeping soundly beside her. Azzi lay perfectly rigid on her side of the mattress, her dark eyes wide open, staring blankly at the shadows stretching across the ceiling. Every minute that had passed since Paige's text had felt like an eternity.

When she was absolutely certain Bob was down for the count, Azzi slowly, meticulously peeled back the heavy comforter. She slipped out of bed, her bare feet making no sound against the hardwood floor as she crept toward the door.

When she reached the door, she found it cracked open just a fraction of an inch, exactly as promised.

Azzi pushed it open softly and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a quiet, deliberate click.

Paige was sitting up in bed, her long blonde hair brushing over her shoulders in soft waves. She looked incredibly beautiful, her blue eyes wide and luminous as they locked onto Azzi.

"Hey," Paige whispered, her voice a low, breathless rasp.

Azzi didn't say a word at first. She walked straight to the side of the bed, crawling under the comforter and shifting until she was sitting face to face with Paige. She reached out, her warm hands gently cradling Paige's face, her thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks.

"I'm sorry for hurting you last night," Azzi murmured, her voice a fragile, tender whisper. She looked deep into Paige's eyes, her gaze filled with a quiet, raw honesty. "I didn’t want to leave you and I hated the way this morning went."

Paige leaned her cheek a fraction of an inch into Azzi's palm, her hands coming up to gently rest on Azzi’s wrists. "I know," Paige whispered. "I'm sorry too, I was being immature."

Azzi let out a soft, shaky breath, her forehead leaning forward until it rested gently against Paige's. "I don't know how to navigate this."

"Me neither," Paige whispered against her skin, a soft, genuine smile finally breaking through the tension. "I just want you close to me."

With a soft, shared exhale, the remaining distance between them completely dissolved. Azzi slipped further down beneath the comforter, turning onto her side, and Paige moved instantly to meet her.

The care Paige had taken to look nice; the brushed out waves of her hair, the soft cotton tee, all faded into the background as they finally collapsed into each other’s space.

Paige stretched her arm out, allowing Azzi to settle her head perfectly into the hollow of her shoulder. Azzi fit against her effortlessly, her body relaxing completely as she curled her knees up, draping one arm over Paige’s waist. Paige wrapped her strong arm securely around Azzi, her hand resting on the small of Azzi's back, pulling her flush against her chest.

"You smell so good," Azzi whispered into the quiet darkness, her lips brushing against the fabric of Paige's shirt.

Paige felt a warm, full blush creep up her neck, a soft smile spreading across her face. She rested her chin gently against the top of Azzi’s head, inhaling the lingering scent of the eucalyptus and the clean warmth of Azzi's skin.

"I washed my sheets today," Paige admitted, she let her fingers trace slow, comforting circles on Azzi's back. "And I... I did my hair. I wanted everything to be perfect for you."

Azzi let out a low, contented chuckle, the sound vibrating softly against Paige’s chest. She squeezed Paige’s waist, tilting her head up just enough to look at her through her lashes. "You're always perfect. You could be wearing your oldest hoodie, have horrible bed head, and I'd still want to be right here."

"Doubtful," Paige whispered back, though her eyes were shining with happiness. She shifted slightly, her hand moving up from Azzi's back to gently thread through her dark, curly hair. "I was so scared this morning. When I walked away from you in the kitchen, I hated being mad at you."

"I hated it too," Azzi murmured. She raised her hand, her fingers tenderly tracing the line of Paige's jaw.

"I’m so happy you’re here," Paige whispered, leaning down just a fraction of an inch until her forehead rested against Azzi's again. Their breath mingled in the small space between them, warm and shallow. "It's just you and me. No one else is in this house right now."

"Just you and me," Azzi echoed, a soft, sleepy sigh escaping her lips. She closed her eyes, nuzzling her face deeper into the crook of Paige's neck, finding a perfect, secure spot there.

The shadow of Peter across the hall and the weight of their complicated reality didn't vanish, but in the quiet warmth of the bed, the fear melted away. Paige continued her slow, hypnotic rhythm, her fingers gently stroking Azzi’s hair, while her other hand held Azzi tight, anchoring her.

"Go to sleep, Ma," Paige whispered after a while, her voice a barely audible huff of air against Azzi's temple. "I’ve got you. I'll watch the clock."

"Mmm... six o'clock," Azzi mumbled, her speech slurring slightly.

"Six o'clock," Paige promised softly, her heart swelling with affection so fierce it almost frightened her. She pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of Azzi’s head. "Goodnight, beautiful."

"Goodnight." Azzi breathed, her arm tightening around Paige’s waist one last time before her breathing evened out.

Paige kept her eyes open a little longer, just watching the steady rise and fall of Azzi’s shoulders, savoring the absolute trust of the woman in her arms, before she finally closed her eyes and let herself drift off into the safest sleep she had ever known.

—

Paige’s phone alarm cut through the quiet bedroom at exactly six o'clock. Paige’s eyes flew open instantly, and her hand shot out from beneath the comforter to silence it before the sound could carry down the hallway.

The room was still cast in a deep, early morning gray, the first hints of dawn barely filtering through the blinds. Paige let out a low exhale, her body automatically tightening its hold on the warmth wrapped up against her chest.

Azzi stirred at the movement, let out a soft, protestive murmur, and shifted even closer. She was completely curled into Paige’s side, her face buried in the crook of Paige’s neck, one leg hooked over Paige’s thighs.

"Hey," Paige whispered, her voice deep. She gently ran her fingers down the length of Azzi’s arm, smoothing over the soft fabric of her pajamas. "Azzi. It's six."

"No," Azzi mumbled against Paige’s skin, her voice thick and heavy with sleep. She tightened her arm around Paige's waist, pulling herself so close there wasn't a single inch of space left between them. "Five more minutes."

Paige couldn't help the soft, breathless smile that broke across her face. She pressed a warm kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, inhaling the comforting scent of lavender that still lingered. "We said six sharp, beautiful. My dad’s alarm goes off in an hour."

Azzi let out a long, heavy sigh, her eyes fluttering open. She tilted her head up, staring at Paige’s blue eyes, which were soft and completely focused on her.

"I don't want to get up," Azzi whispered, the confession raw and completely honest. She reached up, her warm hand framing Paige’s jaw, her thumb brushing softly over her cheekbone. "I don't want to leave this bed."

"I don't want you to leave either," Paige whispered back, leaning into the touch, her heart hammering a slow, heavy rhythm. "I wish you could just stay here all day."

"Me too," Azzi murmured, her thumb lingering on Paige's cheek for a brief, agonizing second. She took a deep, centering breath, forcing herself to find her resolve. "But I have to go. Before the house wakes up."

"I know," Paige said softly, her expression turning serious, though entirely understanding. "Be careful in the hall."

Azzi gave a tiny, reluctant nod. She slowly uncurled her body from Paige’s, the sudden rush of cool morning air hitting her skin where Paige’s warmth had just been. She slipped out from under the blankets, her feet hitting the cold hardwood floor, and looked back at Paige one last time.

"See you later," Azzi whispered.

"See you later," Paige replied.

Azzi quieted her steps as she slipped out the door. She tiptoed across the hallway, her heart in her throat, and gently pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

The room was dark, the air heavy and thick. She could hear the deep, rumbling sound of Peter’s snoring. Azzi felt a knot form in her stomach that contrasted violently with the warmth she had just left behind.

She carefully slid back into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, trying to make it look like she had been there the entire night. She lay perfectly still, staring at the wall, waiting for her racing pulse to calm down.

A few minutes later, Peter stirred. He let out a low, congested groan, shifting his heavy frame across the mattress. Still completely asleep, he instinctively reached out for her. His large, heavy arm draped over Azzi’s waist, pulling her back against his chest as he buried his face into her shoulder, mumbling something unintelligible.

The moment his skin brushed against hers, a sudden, violent jolt ran straight down Azzi’s spine.

The heavy scent of his cologne, the rough texture of his hands, the sheer weight of his body against hers; it all felt completely, fundamentally wrong. Her skin practically crawled under his touch, every nerve ending in her body screaming at the intrusion. It felt like a violation of the sacred, quiet softness she had just shared across the hall.

Azzi lay completely paralyzed in the dark, her breath catching in her throat, forcing herself not to flinch away as she stared blindly into the shadows.

—

The kitchen was bright, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, creating a domestic picture that felt violently at odds with the quiet, suffocating panic still twisting inside Azzi’s chest.

Peter was standing by the stove, humming under his breath as he scraped scrambled eggs out of a pan and onto a platter. He looked refreshed, completely rested, and entirely oblivious. Every time he glanced over at Azzi, his eyes softened with deep, steady affection.

"Alright, breakfast is served," Peter announced, setting the heavy platter in the center of the kitchen island. "Before I dig into this, I gotta use the restroom. Don't let Paige eat everything before I get back."

"No promises, Dad," Paige called out, her voice cutting through the space as she walked into the kitchen. She was swallowed by her usual dark gray crew neck sweatshirt, her blonde hair messy, her blue eyes bright.

"I'll be right back," Peter smiled, heading down the hallway and clicking the bathroom door shut behind him.

The moment the latch clicked, the atmosphere in the kitchen completely shifted.

Paige didn't hesitate for a single second. She abandoned the breakfast platter, she crossed the kitchen tile to where Azzi was standing by the counter. Without a word, Paige wrapped her long arms around Azzi, burying her face into the side of Azzi’s neck and pulling her into a massive, tight hug.

"God, I missed you," Paige murmured into her skin, her voice a low whisper that sent a shiver straight down Azzi's spine. Paige’s fingers tightened into the fabric of Azzi’s shirt, holding her with a fierce, sudden intensity before she pulled back just enough to look down into Azzi’s eyes.

A sudden, hopeful vulnerability crossed Paige’s face, her hand subtly brushing against the side of Azzi's hip, safely hidden beneath the counter line.

"Can you come back in tonight?" Paige whispered, her blue eyes wide, pleading, and entirely focused on Azzi's face. "Please, Azzi. Just for a little bit. After he falls asleep."

Guilt crashed over Azzi. Images of Peter’s heavy arm draped over her waist this morning, of his absolute trust. She knew it was a dangerous line to cross. She knew she shouldn't.

But as she looked up at Paige; feeling the pull of this new closeness that she was completely caught up in, the guilt was drowned out by a terrifying, desperate need to feel that comfort again. She couldn't get enough of it. The thought of going a whole night without it after just experiencing it for the first time felt impossible.

"Yes," Azzi breathed, her voice a ragged whisper as she looked up at her. "Yes. I'll be there."

A giant, brilliant smile instantly broke across Paige’s face, lighting up her entire countenance and making her blue eyes crinkle at the corners. It was a look of pure, joy; an expression so radiantly happy it made Azzi’s heart ache with a mixture of intense anticipation and deep terror.

The heavy click of the bathroom door unlocking down the hall shattered the moment.

Paige pulled away from Azzi’s space instantly, stepping back toward the refrigerator just as Peter’s footsteps echoed back into the kitchen. By the time Peter walked through the archway, Paige was casually leaning against the counter, reaching for the orange juice, while Azzi picked up her coffee mug.