Lost in the Woods

Azzi likes Dallas. She really does. Growing up in Virginia didn’t really give her a great idea of what a big city would be like. Neither did getting her MBA in Connecticut. But she’s living here now and she thinks she’s really hit her stride. She’s made friends out of her neighbors and is steadily making her way up the company she works for and has a house she shares with her best friend. It might be small, and she might not really own it, but it’s a house. She likes it.

“Carol,” Azzi whines from the kitchen table. She’s sitting in front of her MacBook, one of her knees drawn up to her chest, frowning as she traces quick circles on the mousepad and is only met with a loading screen. Her feet are bare and she curls her toes around the edge of her seat. “Why is the internet not working? Is it down or did you kick the router again?”

She can hear Caroline scoff from the living room, the two girls only separated by a little bit of space. She looks up. She can see the television and the back of the couch from where she sits. Caroline is sitting on it, head of sleek brown hair facing her. “I don’t get why you ask that every time, I literally kicked it once. It was an accident.” The clicking of her video game controller finds Azzi, who rolls her eyes from under the thick lenses of her glasses.

She looks down at her laptop again. The morning sun is shining down on her through the large window that yawns behind her and it casts her own shadow lightly onto the screen. She can see the slope of her shoulders, the bag of her sleep shirt she had cut the hem off of in college, the mess of a bun her hair is collected in on top of her scalp. “That shit was not an accident, you were aiming for it.”

“No, I was aiming around Jana. The router was just in the way of my aim.” Azzi wrinkles her nose at this, looking up again at her best friend. The girl is still too caught up playing video games to make real eye contact with Azzi, who just scowls at her from the table.

“The router is more important than a goal. This is why you’re not allowed to play soccer in the house anymore.”

Caroline makes another noise of disbelief. Azzi’s laptop starts loading again. She looks down at it expectantly, willing the document she’s trying to download to download faster. Her WiFi symbol has an exclamation mark over it, warning her that it’s not doing too well. “Hey, this is a ‘we’ thing, Azzi. Neither of us are allowed to play it anymore.” She sighs and scratches her shin. Looks up at the television just in time to watch as Caroline’s game freezes, controller still clicking as she tries to mash the buttons to get it to work. Smiles a little at the absurdity of it. Caroline swears under her breath. “Yeah, I think it’s just really slow right now. It always gets slow when you open your Mac. You have too many documents open on it.”

Azzi rolls her eyes at this. “‘m tracking things for my big girl job. You’re playing Fortnite right now. I feel like one of us should have priority over the other.” The downloading button disappears. Azzi runs her finger around her mousepad again and then tries to open her downloads. The screen pauses again. Her cursor turns into a multicolor circle. It spins at her. She fights the urge to groan.

“Yeah, and I’m literally two kills from winning, so I think my Victory Royale is currently more important.” Azzi squints at her laptop at the certainty in Caroline’s voice. It stays still in front of her. She can hear Caroline’s game pausing itself again.

“Bro,” she mutters under her breath. Caroline either doesn’t hear her or ignores her, because she doesn’t respond to the word. Azzi’s brows furrow. She scratches her knee. She can feel her nails dragging a little too harshly against the skin there, is sure there will be reddened lines pressing into her when she’s done. Caroline groans from the couch. Azzi looks up and sees that she’s dead, screen dimming. She laughs. “And you fucking sold. Who has priority now?”

Caroline groans again. “Whatever, fuck you.” She raises her arms above her head to stretch out her back, falling sideways onto the couch. The cushions accept her weight with a soft sound. The television stays on, much to Azzi’s annoyance, but she says nothing. Just continues to wait in silence for her MacBook to load. Quiet noises she can only describe as Fortnite ambience fill the space between her and her best friend.

The doorbell rings. The sound startles Azzi into looking up from her laptop. The door is tucked into the foyer, which is right between where Caroline is sitting in the living room and Azzi is sitting in the kitchen. It’s a Saturday morning. Neither of them are out of their pajamas. “Not it,” Caroline immediately calls from the couch. She shoots an arm up, pointer finger up towards the ceiling. “I opened it for the electrician last week and talked to him the whole time. That counts for, like, at least four times of you checking the door.”

Azzi groans from the kitchen table. “No, Carol, ‘m not wearing a bra, you gotta get it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as if to hide herself from the person at the door they haven’t even answered yet. Caroline grunts in protest. She doesn’t move at all. Azzi doesn’t either. She sits there, waiting, squinting at the other girl’s arm. When a few moments pass and neither of them have moved, Azzi gets up out of her chair and grumbles wordlessly at her. Caroline laughs.

Azzi’s bare feet pad against the wooden floors as she walks to the front door. She keeps her hands crossed over her chest, trying to coax her annoyance away from her face. She really hopes no one is actually at the door and that she can just bend down and grab a package or something. She doesn’t know who would even be at her door. Two girls in their mid twenties don’t attract many random visitors.

She gets to the door and sees a sleeved arm in the thin window next to it. Internally, she groans again. Someone actually is there. She’ll just have to hope it’s some random delivery driver she’ll never have to see again. Azzi crosses one arm over her chest to hopefully hide the peaks of her nipples poking at the thin fabric of her shirt and reaches out for the doorknob. She pulls the door open.

The woman standing on her front porch when she opens the door is the most beautiful one Azzi thinks she’s ever seen. Her stomach drops to her ass. She’s smiling a little at Azzi, teeth not bared but lips still curved endearingly. Her hair is blonde and pulled together at the nape of her neck. Baby hairs hang away from the bun and frame her face effortlessly. She’s tall, even taller than Azzi, and has a lean frame that Azzi thinks she can sense muscle poking through. And her eyes. They’re bright and blue and they shine in the sun despite the covering hanging over the porch. She’s beautiful. Azzi swallows to force herself to not let her jaw drop.

It’s quiet for a moment between them. “Hi,” the woman tries, and Azzi feels her entire face go warm. She’s standing in front of her and she looks homeless in her ratty t-shirt and pajama shorts she doesn’t think show from under her top. Her hair is a mess and she’s in glasses and no makeup. And she’s here, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the prettiest girl she’s ever met. “I have a package for Azzi Fudd? It needs a signature.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s…me,” she says. Her mouth feels dry. She looks down to the woman’s hands and notices she is, in fact, holding a package. And a clipboard with a pen tied to it. She offers the latter out towards Azzi, who immediately forgets the reason her arms are crossed and reaches to grab the pen. Her face heats even farther. She scrambles trying to pick the pen up off of the clipboard, clicking it so the point of it is out.

The woman stands there in silence. Azzi prays her nipples aren’t too out. She signs her name on the line and then sets the pen back down on the clipboard, looking back up at her. The girl is already looking at her. Blue meets brown, ocean waves crashing against wet rocks. Azzi’s mouth wavers a little with the beginning of a smile. Her heart is pounding. “Alright, thanks.” She holds the package out. Azzi doesn’t even remember ordering anything. It’s decorated with Amazon logos. She takes it from her. Their fingers brush. Heat trickles down Azzi’s spine.

The woman smiles at her one more time, under eyes pressing into the softness of her bright irises, and then takes a step backwards off of the porch. “Have a good day, ma’am,” she says, nodding her head at Azzi. It’s somehow incredibly attractive. The bottoms of her quads peek out from under her little delivery uniform shorts and they flex as she steps down.

Azzi’s mouth is still so dry. She steps back farther into her house, trying to offer the woman something like a smile. “Yeah, you too,” she says, and then the woman is turning around, leaving Azzi with only the sight of her messy bun at the nape of her neck and the shape of her back as she walks back down her driveway and to her delivery truck. Azzi watches her for a few moments longer before she realizes how fucking insane she looks and steps fully inside the house again. She shuts the door.

Her heart is racing. She doesn’t think she’s ever been that flustered by a stranger before in her life, let alone at her own goddamn house. Azzi clutches the package to her chest and turns around herself, eyes wide. Caroline is still laying obliviously on the couch. “Carol,” she says carefully. Caroline hums from the living room. The Fortnite ambience is back. “The Ring doorbell is set up to record all the time, right?”

Caroline pauses for a moment. Azzi doesn’t move from in front of the door. “Yeah. Why? You just get, like, attacked?” Azzi glances down at the box she’s holding. She doesn’t even know what’s in it. She doesn’t remember placing an Amazon order, let alone one that would require a signature. She turns it over in her hands while she mulls over a response to Caroline’s question.

“Basically,” is what she eventually lands on. Caroline perks a little at this, turning away from her game just long enough to furrow her brows and look at Azzi. She looks only a little concerned. Azzi shrugs at her. “I just met the hottest woman I have ever seen. The delivery person. Genuinely the baddest woman I’ve ever met.” She looks back down at her package. At her fingers, which aforementioned baddest woman had grazed while handing off the package.

Caroline sighs quietly. “Azzi, if you’re tryna jerk off to Ring doorbell footage, this is a new low, even for you.”

Azzi looks up at Caroline again, brows furrowing, mouth parting in shock. “No, I- What the fuck does that even mean? Even for me? I was just gonna show you her. What the hell is your damage?” Caroline just laughs back. Azzi flips her off and pads back to the kitchen where she will abandon the document she had been downloading in favor of opening up her package with a steak knife, replaying her interaction with the delivery driver in her head the entire time.

—

Google Search History [[email protected]] 06/13/26

Searched for amazon

9:50 AM • Details

Searched for amazon.com

9:51 AM • Details

Searched for what amazon packages require signatures every time

9:51 AM • Details

Searched for do the same amazon workers deliver to ur house every time

9:51 AM • Details

—

Amazon: Your package is out for delivery. Estimated date of arrival is Sunday, June 14th.

Amazon: Your package is arriving today between 1 - 4 PM. Signature required.

—

It’s a new day. A new day, a new Amazon package, and potentially a new driver. Azzi is hoping the final part of that won’t actually come to fruition. Before this, it had been the same one every time she had caught a glimpse of him walking back to his truck after leaving the package at their door: an older man, hair balding and usually covered by a hat, his walk a little funny sometimes. He probably quit or something and this new woman is his replacement. This hopefully means that, as his replacement, she will be the one to drive around their neighborhood every day. If she’s even working today.

Azzi’s wearing makeup. It’s Sunday, so she’s just gotten back from a yoga class with Caroline and a few of their mutual friends. She has nothing else to do the rest of the day and she still had put on makeup after her shower. Caroline is sitting cross legged on the floor in the living room, typing away on some assignment she keeps complaining about. Azzi is sitting sideways in the armchair and reading. It’s just past two. Her entire body is buzzing with a nervous excitement she thinks she should probably be ashamed of.

“I swear to God, Azzi, if you keep kicking your legs that fast outta the corner of my fucking eye, I’m making you an amputee,” Caroline grumbles from where she sits. Azzi can only look up from her book and offer her best friend a sympathetic glance. She doesn’t really feel that bad. She’s just nervous. She’s excited. She hasn’t actually understood a word from her book since about five pages ago. She’s going to be annoyed with herself when she has to flip back until the last time she was genuinely reading later. “Is this seriously over the Amazon delivery lady?”

“Yes, bro,” Azzi all but whines. She tips her head back, curls hanging down over the arm of the chair. Caroline huffs. Azzi shuts her eyes, nearly wincing up at the ceiling. “What if it’s not even her? What if the usual guy was just sick and so he’s back today and I’ll literally never see her again?” She drops her book in her lap and raises both hands up to cover her face. She’s careful not to make too much direct contact with her skin so as to not disturb her makeup.

Caroline scoffs from where she sits on the floor. Her keyboard clacks as she starts typing something. Azzi stays laying dramatically draped across the armchair. Her feet twitch with the urge to start kicking them. “I hope that’s what happens, ‘cause I don’t think I can take more of this.”

Azzi removes her hands from her face and turns to look at Caroline, scowling. Caroline doesn’t even look up to meet her eye. Azzi only furrows her brows further. “Can you be supportive for once in your life?” And right as she’s saying it, the sound she’s been waiting for all afternoon comes. The chime of the doorbell. She straightens up where she’s sitting like a dog being called.

Caroline sighs. “Go get your girl,” she mutters. Azzi is scrambling to get out of the chair before Caroline can even finish her sentence. She’s grinning a little to herself as she does so, bare feet padding against the carpet of the living room and then the wood of the floor to the entrance of the house. She can see an arm through the little side window again. If she was feeling any more delusional, she’d say it looks familiar.

She stops in front of the door. Takes a deep breath, smoothes the palms of her hands over the tank top she has on. It hugs her nicely. Her boobs are sitting a way she likes much more than the way they had the first time she had met the hot delivery woman. She tucks her curls behind the shells of her ears and reaches out to open the door. Her heart is quick in her chest. It’s such a stupid school girl crush.

It’s her again. Her hair is down today, blonde and straight and long around her shoulders. She’s wearing the same soft smile, the same frame peeking out from under her delivery uniform, the same blue eyes that catch on sunlight Azzi didn’t think could reach them from here. Her smile splits open a little when Azzi opens the door. Her teeth are slightly revealed through the pink flesh of her lips. “Hi again,” she says.

She remembered Azzi. Azzi’s own grin widens a little more. She moves to tuck her hair behind her ear even though it’s already there. “Hi,” she says. And for a moment, they just smile at each other a little, and Azzi can feel every part of her body warming and tensing at the same time. It’s all conflicting. She feels like she’s malfunctioning. The woman holds out the clipboard again. “Sign again?” Azzi asks it even though it’s a dumb question. She’s reaching for the pen anyway.

The girl nods once at her. “Yeah,” she says, flipping some of her hair over her shoulder. Azzi signs on the same line she had signed on a different paper yesterday and then sets the pen down again, looking up at her. She’s smiling at her. Her blue eyes feel like they’re swallowing her whole. She holds out the package silently and Azzi just takes it. Their hands don’t brush this time. Azzi tries to swallow her disappointment, instead looking warmly ahead at her. “Thanks. Have a good day,” the woman says, and then she’s stepping back off of the porch, cheeks warm with the summer sun, a kind smile warping her features.

Azzi really doesn’t want her to go. She leans into her door a little and waves at her. The action is small and it feels so stupid to do, but she’s so flustered she doesn’t even care. “Yeah, you too,” she says. The girl smiles at her one last time before turning around again. Her delivery truck is grumbling next to the sidewalk, sleek and black. Its door yawns open to take the woman from her. Azzi sighs and shuts the door.

“That was the least romantic interaction I’ve ever seen,” Caroline says from behind her. Azzi whips around, clutching the package to her chest. Her best friend is standing right there. She looks slightly amused, brows raised a little, mouth fighting a smirk. She’s holding a banana. There’s very clearly some of it still in her mouth. “You could’ve at least flirted or something, Az,” she says. She shrugs after it like that would make it better.

Azzi immediately scowls at her. “Shut the hell up,” she says, brushing past her. She hits her on the shoulder as she does so. Caroline stumbles a little but says nothing, instead laughing quietly. Azzi walks to the kitchen to start opening the package the woman had just given her. Her heart is still racing a little. “She’s prolly turned off by how disgusting I looked yesterday.” She sighs.

Caroline walks into the kitchen after her. She leans up against the counter and takes another bite of her banana, chewing as Azzi opens the cutlery drawer. Azzi is so flustered. Obviously she is. That’s just the effect that beautiful woman has on her, even when she’s long gone in her stupid Amazon truck. “You’ve bagged girls who’ve seen you worse. Remember when that girl still hooked up with you after you threw up at the pre? And the pre was at her apartment?”

Azzi winces at the memory. She pulls a steak knife out of the drawer and looks up at Caroline, grimacing a little at her. Caroline pulls a similar expression back and swallows her bite of banana. “That was a hard time in my life. I don’t…that doesn’t count.” Azzi shakes her head as she speaks as if to ratify the decision.

Caroline frowns at her. Her brows furrow. “That was four months ago, Azzi.” She doesn’t even laugh as she says it, which just draws even more regret up within Azzi, who now is juggling both present and past embarrassment. She raises her hands to her face and presses the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. Doesn’t even care if her mascara gets messed up, because the hot delivery woman was the only one she needed to see it, anyway.

“Get away from me, oh my God,” she moans with her hands pressed over her eyes. She can hear Caroline laugh at her before walking away, steps muffling when she gets to the carpet of the living room again.

—

Amazon: Your package is out for delivery. Estimated date of arrival is Monday, June 15th.

Amazon: Your package is arriving today between 11 AM - 4 PM. Signature required.

—

Azzi works from home most of the time. They rarely need her in-office. She’s home today, brows furrowed in focus as she types away at a report, leg drawn up as she sits at the kitchen table. Caroline is air frying something. Azzi can smell the burn of it wafting through the kitchen. Caroline apparently cannot, because she has yet to turn off the appliance.

It’s seven minutes until half-past four. No one has rang their doorbell today. Azzi is trying really hard to not care. She chews on the inside of her cheek, the skin there soft and a little metallic-tasting as she does so. Her molars twist it around until small chunks are bitten off. She’s looking up from her document to check the time every few seconds. She’s surprised Caroline hasn’t caught on yet and started making fun of her.

Silence is even between the roommates. The clicking of Azzi’s keyboard and the humming of the old air fryer fills it comfortably. Azzi squints at her laptop. Then she squints at the time displayed on their oven. Then she squints back at the report she’s trying to finish. It’s really hard to work when all she can think about is a beautiful woman she’s had exactly two interactions with. Especially when the third was scheduled to have happened at the latest twenty-three - Azzi looks up at the oven clock again as the green numbers change - now twenty-four minutes ago.

The doorbell rings. Azzi straightens immediately. Caroline looks over at her, face blank. And then it curls into something else. Something knowing and amused, brows raising slightly, mouth smoothing into a smirk. “I’m guessing you wanna get that?” Azzi doesn’t even care to answer the teasing question. She just stands up from where she sits at the kitchen counter, a small and somewhat nervous smile pulling across her face, heart starting to quicken in her chest.

She starts walking towards the entrance to their house. She can hear Caroline laughing a little at her. She elects to not react to this, either, instead running the palms of her hands over her ribs to both smooth the fabric of her top and soothe herself. It’s a cropped athletic t-shirt, her naval piercing shining over the waist of her shorts. It’s soft and she runs the hem of it between her fingers a few times before reaching out to open the door.

It’s her again. Just as Azzi wanted. Her heart picks up again in her ribcage. She smiles at her and the woman smiles back, a real one that her teeth shine through. Her lips stretch over the whiteness of the bones. It’s a pretty smile, eyes pressing softly from almonds to fat crescents. The clean blueness of her irises still reaches Azzi through the slightly thinned shape. “Hi again,” she says.

Azzi feels a little fuzzy. She tucks her hair behind one of her ears, nails dragging along her skin as she does so. “Hi again,” she agrees. She’s still smiling like an idiot, the apples of her cheeks warm. The woman’s hair is slicked back into a ponytail that hangs behind her. She raises a hand and smoothes the palm of it over the side of her head as if to slick the ponytail again. It’s a cute little tic.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” she says. She uses her free hand to grab the package where she had tucked it between her side and her elbow and then extends her now free arm to hold the clipboard out to Azzi. Azzi picks up the pen without hesitation. The line for her to sign her name is familiar now. She tears her eyes away from the hot delivery woman and looks for it.

“It’s totally fine. You’ve been so good the other times, you get a pass.” You’ve been so good? What the fuck is Azzi even saying at this point? The pen scribbles as she draws her signature onto the paper. Her face feels warm. Her heart skips a little as she becomes a little embarrassed, biting the inside of her cheek, still smiling a little.

The woman holding the clipboard just laughs quietly. Azzi finishes signing and sets the pen back on the clipboard. “Glad you won’t hold it against me.” She looks up at her and the girl is grinning at her. It’s a little wider than the ones before it have been, a little more open, like it’s more real. It makes Azzi go soft, body like putty as she smiles back at her. The woman holds out the package. “I like your necklace,” she says. It’s a little quiet.

Azzi reaches one hand out to accept the package and another to her throat, fingers pressing themselves against the bone below it. The pendant of her necklace presses into her skin. The necklace she’s wearing had been a gift from her mother, a dainty silver chain with a small pink stone sitting on it. Not really anything special. She grins at the woman anyway, skin flushing. “Oh, thank you.” She takes the package. Their fingers brush again. Azzi thinks she’s been lit on fire from the inside out and will be reduced to a pile of melted wax and jumping sparks pretty soon. “Have a good day,” she says as the woman steps backwards off of her porch.

She offers her one last smile. “You too, ma’am.” She turns around, blonde ponytail swinging behind her with each step, her lean yet muscular legs taking her down Azzi’s driveway. She watches her for a few moments longer than necessary before stepping back and shutting the door. The click of its close feels not at all as final as it should to Azzi. It just feels like the promise of another delivery tomorrow, an echoing of the same interaction and the same two girls and the same two pairs of eyes shining.

“At least she complimented you this time,” Caroline calls from the kitchen. Azzi walks back into it from the foyer, holding her package, grinning. Her best friend is still standing in front of the air fryer like she had before. “I still think you’re, like, really delusional, but at least something happened.” Azzi doesn’t even bicker with her. She just beams at her, setting the package on the counter, ignoring the way Caroline snorts a little at her.

—

Amazon: Your package is out for delivery. Estimated date of arrival is Tuesday, June 16th.

Amazon: Your package is arriving today between 5 - 8 PM. Signature required.

—

Tuesday night, Azzi is sitting around after eating dinner with Caroline when the doorbell rings. It’s a little before seven. The sun has just barely begun setting, sky deepening from a baby blue to a slightly colder color. The star is orange on the horizon. Azzi feels almost as bloated as it, laying spread out on the couch next to her roommate as the television plays something for them she hasn’t really been paying attention to. She starts paying attention, though, when the familiar chime of the doorbell sounds through the house.

Caroline sighs next to her. She says lazily slumped on the couch next to where Azzi is sitting. Azzi straightens up and turns to look at her. Caroline is still facing forward to watch the show. The colors of the screen try to lick at her skin but the sunlight lifting the entire house blocks them from doing anything other than dancing out of the corner of Azzi’s eye. “Y’know, ‘m kinda worried about your bank account. I dunno how you’re affording Amazoning packages literally every day.”

Azzi scoffs as she stands up, her t-shirt draping softly over her frame. Her hair is pulled up in a bun. A nice one, a slick back she had put effort into. Not similar to the one she’d been wearing when she had first opened the door to the hot delivery woman with. “I have big girl money from my big girl job. It’s fine.” She tosses this reply over her shoulder as she walks towards the door, body going warm with giddiness again. Caroline snorts a little at it. She doesn’t care.

Azzi walks to the foyer and tries to fight her smile when she sees a familiar arm with a familiar delivery uniform in the window. Her heart is quick in her chest. A smile is pulling across her face before she’s even opened the door. She steps forward and grabs the doorknob and opens it, letting the door swing open as she stands in the gap it’s created.

It’s her. Her hair is in a messy bun again, an irregular shape Azzi can see peeking out from behind the base of her neck. She’s smiling as Azzi opens the door. Again, her teeth are bared, making it larger than the first few Azzi had seen. Her eyes are sparkling. She blinks and her lashes drag up and down, sweet smudges against the brightness of her irises. Azzi’s face feels warm. Her chest does, too. “Hi again,” the woman greets.

Azzi feels herself smile stupidly, lips splitting to reveal her teeth, cheeks crushing with her dimples. “Hi again,” she repeats. And for a moment, they just stand there, looking at each other. Azzi can’t tell if they spend longer than they should there. She can’t accurately interpret the pause, is unable to focus long enough on anything that isn’t the woman in front of her to try and pick apart the interaction. She just smiles at her. And she’s smiled at back.

She holds the clipboard out after a moment. Azzi knows the drill by now. She looks down at it to grab the pen, looks towards the woman’s hand to trace the outline of it, lets her eyes roam the way veins rise off of the backs of her hands like little mountain ranges Azzi can pick up even from where she stands. “‘m here a lot, I feel like. You need a lot of stuff from Amazon?” The pen clicks.

Azzi’s face twists as she fights a smile. She pauses, pen in hand, form unsigned. Looks back up at the woman instead of the clipboard. Is met with a soft smile and shining eyes. Her heart picks up again in her chest, ribcage rendered useless as she feels herself melt all over her porch with a softness she doesn’t think is normal to feel towards someone who is basically a stranger. “Something like that,” she lands on, still grinning a little. She moves the pen down to the line. Her mouth opens without thinking. “Hey, you know my full name and address, but I don’t know yours. What’s your name?”

For a split second, she’s worried she’s being too forward, the scrawling of the ballpoint hitching with her breath as she waits. But the woman laughs easily. “I’m Paige,” she says. Azzi breathes again. The pen continues moving. Paige continues speaking. “I’d give you my address, but I dunno what you’d really do with it other than stalk me.”

Azzi finishes the last loop of her signature and glances up from the form. Paige is already looking at her face, eyes sparkling a little. She’s grinning. Her cheeks look a little pink. Azzi can’t tell if it’s the sunset playing tricks on her or not. “Not into that?” It’s teasing. Azzi sets the pen back down on the clipboard.

Paige just looks at her for a second. Her smile is still stretched across her face. Her gums barely hide under the spread of her lips and Azzi thinks it’s adorable. And then Paige looks down, pupils dragging over the length of her body like something physical. Azzi feels a spark run down her spine like an electrical shock. Paige looks back up. “I could be,” she muses.

Azzi squints at her a little bit. Her heartbeat is quick in her chest. Paige was definitely just checking her out. Paige is flirting with her. The hot delivery woman is flirting with her. Azzi’s entire face feels like it’s going to peel away from her skull with how hard she’s fighting the biggest smile she thinks she’s ever worn. “Well, if you’re not gonna give me your address, I could think of a different string of numbers you could give me to even it out,” she says, batting her lashes once. It’s a little joking.

It works either way. Paige laughs a little again, looking down at her feet. Her cheeks definitely look a little flushed. Azzi feels giddy. Paige looks back up at her again and she’s smiling the biggest Azzi’s seen so far. It’s adorable, eyes squinted into thin crescents, gummy smile softening all of her so sharply carved features. “You’re smooth, miss Azzi Fudd.” Azzi laughs a little at this. She feels like she’s shining.

Paige holds her hand out almost expectantly. Azzi stares at it blankly for a moment before scrambling to pull her phone out of the pocket of her shorts, fingers quick as she digs into the fabric and then unlocks her phone. She opens her contacts and holds it out to Paige almost shyly. Paige takes it silently, grinning, and begins to type with one hand. Azzi watches her in silence. Her heart is beating so quickly she can almost feel it in her throat.

The blonde girl hands back her phone after a few moments of awkward, one-handed typing. She hands the package off with it. Their hands touch again and it feels very much purposeful on both of their ends. It just makes Azzi grin at her like an idiot, body buzzing with an excitement she doesn’t know how to cut through. “See you soon, I’m assuming?” Paige laughs a little with it.

Azzi laughs, too. The sounds tangle in the soft air between them, the summer warming it and the sunset letting it bleed sweetly between them like wine on a tablecloth. “Yup,” she says simply, and Paige laughs again. Azzi clutches the package to her chest. Her face hurts from smiling and blushing so much. Paige steps down off of the front porch. Once again, Azzi’s eyes are drawn to the way her quads flex a little under her shorts. “Have a good day, Paige,” she says.

Paige smiles at her. Her eyes get squinty again. Azzi feels her entire being soften, a response she didn’t even know she could have. “You too, Azzi,” she says, and then she’s turning around again, her little truck waiting for her against the curb. Azzi is so obsessed with her it feels like she has heartburn to watch her walk away.

Azzi shuts the door before she’s even stepped onto the driveway. Shock, dumb and a little cold, splashes down her. It follows the same path along her spine as the sparks that had caught along the knobs of her vertebrae earlier. “Carol,” Azzi all but yells, feet cemented into the floor. Her roommate says nothing. “Caroline, I got her number,” she says at the same volume.

Silence for a moment. Azzi smiles dumbly into the house, phone and package held tightly. And then bright laughter. It’s from Caroline. Surprisingly, it’s not mocking. It rings along the house, echoing off of the walls and the windows that let in the sun’s fading light. “Wait, seriously?” She sounds just as shocked as Azzi feels, a slight happiness for her bleeding into the sound of it. Azzi laughs.

—

Unknown Number: VERY bold to put the winky face

Unknown Number: didn’t think u had the dexterity to do that one handed

paige bueckers 😉: hey i am very dexterous

paige bueckers 😉: i dont play about my thumb flexibility.

azzi: is that something they train amazon workers for

paige bueckers 😉: yup and i bet u dont even have good thumb flexibility bc u dont work for amazon so

paige bueckers 😉: actually what do u do for work?

azzi: um rude i am also very dexterous

azzi: i’m an operations manager for one of the bigger tech companies in dallas so it’s js a lot of boring business reports abt products and shipping

azzi: but i actually am ambidextrous

paige bueckers 😉: wait wtf thats so cool ive never met one in real life

azzi: one??? what am i a zoo animal

paige bueckers 😉: LMFAO NOT LIKE THAT

paige bueckers 😉: j like idk isnt that rare

azzi: prob idk

azzi: mine isn’t natural my dad pretty much forced it

paige bueckers 😉: u can force being ambidextrous???

paige bueckers 😉: was it like a punishment or smth im scared

azzi: LMAO

azzi: no i grew up in a big basketball family and when i was rlly little he used to like seran wrap my right hand to my body so i would dribble w only my left hand

azzi: but i never liked basketball so i js would start doing other things like that and then i became ambidextrous

paige bueckers 😉: that is the weirdest thing ive ever heard

paige bueckers 😉: u r one interesting person

azzi: i’m gonna take that as a compliment

paige bueckers 😉: u should

paige bueckers 😉: 😉

paige bueckers 😉: u couldnt see it but i typed that with one thumb btw

azzi: wow ur kinda a dork

—

Amazon: Your package is out for delivery. Estimated date of arrival is Wednesday, June 17th.

Amazon: Your package is arriving today between 12 - 5 PM. Signature required.

—-

The doorbell rings right before four in the afternoon. Azzi knows this because she barely has time to hang her work bag up in the laundry room and fill up her water bottle again before it’s ringing, the sound chiming through the house. Azzi thinks she knows who it is. She smiles a little to herself and pads towards the front door, heart rate picking up the way it always does when she knows she’s about to see Paige. She’s still in her work clothes, navy skirt wrapped around her thighs and white blouse smoothed over her chest. Her flats are in the way of the door where she had kicked them off. She kicks them away carelessly and opens the door.

It’s Paige. Of course it is. Her hair is down again and it’s in effortless waves that tumble down her shoulders. The sandy color of the waves and the bright blue of her eyes are beachy and sweet. She smiles at Azzi. “Hi again,” she says. It’s endearing. Azzi grins back wider.

They had stayed up texting late the night before. Azzi had sent the first message barely an hour after Paige had put her number into her contacts. It had taken an extreme amount of restraint to not text her immediately after. But Paige had responded not even twenty minutes after that and then their conversation had brought them nearly to midnight, with Azzi being the one to say goodbye first and citing her need to work in person the next morning as her reasoning. They’ve been texting periodically all of today as well.

“Hi again, Paige,” she says back. Paige brightens a little at the sound of her name. Azzi notices that she’s holding the package and clipboard, but they’re both tucked between her arm and her side. She’s not ready to give them to Azzi yet. She’s not cutting their interaction short. Azzi feels the familiar buzz of being flustered in front of her start to hum through her body. She doesn’t want to cut it short, either. She’d let Paige keep that stupid form and stupid package from her forever if it meant getting to talk to her for that long.

Paige reaches up and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Her skin looks like it’s glowing in the sunlight, the high points of her carved features shining at Azzi. “How’s your day been?” She rocks back a little on her feet as she asks it. Her cheeks look slightly pink. Azzi can’t tell if it’s her mind playing tricks on herself or if Paige is really blushing at her.

In Azzi’s opinion, the question is a little unnecessary. Paige knows how her day has been. They’ve been texting throughout it. But she thinks it’s really cute that she’s asking, and so Azzi smiles at her wider and then shrugs a little. “Good. Really didn’t want to go into the office today, but good. How’s yours?”

Paige shrugs as well. The clipboard starts slipping a little with the action and Paige has to reach out her free hand to grab at it. “Pretty good now,” she says. It’s almost quiet, said as she’s looking away from Azzi. It still makes her blush a little harder, the apples of her cheeks thinning the shape of her eyes. Paige holds the clipboard out now that she’s already grabbed it and doesn’t have an excuse to put it off for longer. Azzi reaches for the pen. “Sign it with your left hand.”

Azzi pauses. Something within her sparks a little harder. She looks up from the clipboard and to Paige, right hand hovering near the pen. Paige is looking at her with eyes that look like they’re shining jewels. She’s grinning stupidly, both girls frozen. “You need proof?”

Paige laughs a little. “Yes! I can’t be talking to a liar, Azzi.” Azzi exhales a soft laugh and shakes her head. At Paige’s command, though, she lowers her right hand and picks the pen up with her left. She feels warm at the way Paige so easily brings up their other conversations, the way she’s real and concrete and beautiful in the seconds Azzi gets when she hands off her packages and then funny and charming for hours over text and Azzi gets to know that those are two parts of the same person.

The pen scribbles along the paper. She doesn’t really use her left hand anymore, and so even though she’s technically ambidextrous, she can feel herself wobbling a little and smudging it as she goes. She lifts the pen from the paper and sees the lines of her signature faded as ink runs off to the side. “I ruined it,” she complains, setting the pen back down.

She holds up her hand and looks at the bottom of it. Black ink is smeared across the skin there, gray on caramel bleeding to peach. She looks up at Paige and frowns a little, angling her hand towards her. Paige only glances at her hand for a moment before she’s just looking at her face. “It’s fine,” she says softly. A little smile is playing at her face. Her cheeks look a little flushed.

The clipboard is tucked back into Paige’s side. Before she can produce the package for Azzi, the brunette starts speaking, tongue running wild while her heart is quick in her ribs and her entire body feels like it’s humming. “Do you work every day? You’ve been the one to deliver every single package I’ve ordered.”

Paige looks back up at her. She squints at her a little, nose scrunching on top of her smile. It relaxes away again after a moment. “No. You lookin’ for other delivery drivers?”

“No,” Azzi says. Her response is almost knee-jerk. She thinks it was slow enough to play off as not outright weird, but not enough for it to have been truly casual. Her stomach flips a little.

Paige laughs. The sound is a chime blowing through a gust of wind, a soft and tinkling sound Azzi really likes. Her smile goes gummier. “They put me on schedule five days in a row. I think ‘m off tomorrow and the day after that. But my schedule changes by the week, so it’ll prolly be different after that.” She shrugs again. Reaches back towards her side to grab Azzi’s package.

Azzi leans up against the doorway a little. She can feel the neckline of her blouse moving a little, shifting with her shoulder to reveal a little more cleavage. She doesn’t care to adjust it. Maybe Paige will look and like what’s there. Maybe Paige will also then look a little higher, from her chest to her throat, and see that Azzi hasn’t taken off the necklace she had complimented in days. “Guess I won’t be ordering anything that’ll come before three days from now, then.” She shrugs a little.

Paige laughs. “Damn. Won’t cheat on her Amazon driver. Dream girl.” This comment makes Azzi almost dizzy with that familiar buzz of being flustered. Her smile deepens and her face flushes a little. Her heart trips over itself.

“Not a liar or a cheater. Package deal. You’d like that.” She points at the package Paige is still holding. Paige laughs at this, face folding into another gummy smile. Azzi just listens to her for a moment and then swallows, words suddenly pressing themselves out of her. They feel like they’re crawling out of her mouth. She doesn’t have enough time to think about stopping them. “Wait, but now that you’ve brought that up…I don’t work Friday, either. Would you…like, I dunno. Would you maybe wanna…go get drinks or something? Or dinner?”

Her breath stills in her lungs. If she’s being honest, she was not expecting herself to be so forward. Or so quick. Her entire face heats. She clamps the inside of her cheek between her molars. Her body feels frozen as she waits for Paige to respond. But the blonde girl immediately smiles again. It’s different from all the other ones. Lopsided, sweet and large and almost disbelieving. The silence that hangs itself between them feels like the longest silence Azzi has ever endured in her life. “Yeah,” she says almost softly. Azzi exhales. “Yeah, I’d really like to get dinner with you. On Friday.”

Azzi feels like she’s fully slumping into the doorframe with how hard she’s leaning into it. She’s grinning like an idiot, every inch of her skin warmed, every square inch of volume in her mind infatuated with the woman in front of her. “I would, too,” she says. Paige’s smile just turns even more lopsided. It’s the most endearing expression Azzi thinks she’s ever had the pleasure of seeing on someone else’s face.

Paige tucks her hair behind her ear. Azzi does, too. The same nervous tic mirrored. Azzi thinks it’s cute. “So it’s a date.” Paige nods once as she says it.

Azzi likes the sound of the word. “It’s a date,” she agrees, and Paige just seems to soften even more in front of her. They’re both made of butter, soft and sweet and melting under the attention of the other. Paige takes a singular step back to get away from the porch. There’s a color that has risen to her cheeks that hammers the final nail into the coffin: Azzi definitely has Paige blushing. Azzi feels giddy with the knowledge. “I’ll see you then, Paige.”

Paige nods once again. Her waves drag up and down her shoulders with the action. She steps back and the late afternoon light starts to swallow her again, her entire being bright against the slowly dimming sky. “See you Friday, Azzi,” she says, voice warm and lifted with a happiness Azzi can almost taste between them. She watches Paige walk until she’s on the driveway and then softly shuts the front door. And then she jumps up and down and screams.

—

azzi: never gave me my package btw

paige bueckers 😉: SHIT LMFAO

paige bueckers 😉: WHY DIDNT U SAY ANYTHING

azzi: I JS DID

azzi: HOW DID U NOT NOTICE

paige bueckers 😉: can u even blame me for being distracted by u

paige bueckers 😉: turning around now

azzi: no like its fine ive lowk js been ordering a bunch of bullshit this whole time

azzi: like whatever was cheapest and said it would show up the next day

paige bueckers 😉: okay well first of all this is my job so its like. i kinda have to give it to u even if u dont need it

paige bueckers 😉: second of all what is ur problem

azzi: god forbid a girl think her amazon delivery driver is hot

paige bueckers 😉: okay well good news u dont have to keep ordering random stuff to see me

paige bueckers 😉: is that deadass the only reason u were ordering sm stuff

azzi: maybe…

azzi: maybe i js rlly needed multiple packages of plastic straws and a box of sunglasses 🙂

paige bueckers 😉: wait aw

paige bueckers 😉: ur so cute

azzi: ur not allowed to flirt and drive omfg bring me my plastic straws

At one point, Kayla had come knocking on her stall door and asking if she was alright. To which, Paige pretended (probably unconvincingly) that she just didn’t feel well. She knew there was no way Kayla actually believed her, but she gave her the space she needed for the rest of lunch. When she’d returned, she must’ve looked as shitty as she felt, because no one questioned her. The pit in her stomach that followed her for the rest of the school day was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

She just wanted to be normal.

She was, for once, so glad that they only had practice once a week so that Paige could just go home instead of having to keep up her not-melting-down facade all day. Now that she was finally home and free from prying eyes, Paige swiftly closed the door to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed.

It still didn’t feel like hers. She missed Minnesota.

Paige felt her eyes welling up with tears. She hated that she was being so dramatic about something like this, but she couldn’t convince herself to calm down. She was at such a loss for what to do that she found herself googling “how to get over a crush”. Which was pitiful, but really, what else was she supposed to do in that situation. The results pretty much summed up to:

Go no contact. Not possible–there are 12 people in our class and we play on the same school team and AAU team. Nice try though.

Focus on their flaws. Paige knew she was putting the girl on a pedestal, but really, what flaws had she learned besides the fact that the girl was slow to warm up to you.

Redirect your energy. …Right. Time to get a fucking hobby, Paige.

She made a mental note. Maybe it was time to become an arts and crafts girl. Maybe she should start a garden. Or become a master chef. Learn to paint. Or she’d start training for a marathon. Become one of those runners that post their Strava on their Instagram story every day and run like a hundred miles a week. She found herself actually cracking up at the notion of doing any of the above, which did momentarily help her feel slightly better. God help me.

Journaling was a common self-help hobby suggestion, but she already sort of did that–she already wrote out a prayer every night before bed because, if she didn’t write them out, she’d get distracted and either forget that she was praying all together or she’d just fall asleep before she could finish. So at least she had that going for her.

The reminder brought her to reach over to her nightstand and grab her journal and the pen she always left sitting on top of it. Her little nightly journal-prayer ritual always recentered her, no matter how much she was struggling with religion at the given moment. Something about writing out all of her feelings, putting her hopes and dreams to words, and physically putting pen to paper what she was thankful for was cathartic. She always started out by listing what she was thankful for, followed by a word dump of all of her thoughts and feelings and grievances and opinions, which would then be followed by all of the things and people she wanted to pray for. 

Her stupid, shitty ballpoint PaperMate pen stopped writing halfway through her list of gratitudes, despite the fact that she could see that the ink cartridge was almost full. Which led her to scribble at the top of the page aggressively until the pen started flowing ink again. The cycle repeated at least three times while she wrote out her prayer.

Once she finished and her head was in a moderately better place, she came to the ultimate decision that she was just going to focus on herself and volleyball. Yes, Azzi was wonderful and Paige’s feelings were probably here to stay. And that sucked. But she had always believed she was put on this earth to be a setter, so that was what she was going to keep living like.

She didn’t even really want to tell Nika what she’d learned, because the thought of anyone else knowing just how down bad she still was for a straight girl who literally had a boyfriend was humiliating. However, she also knew Nika wasn’t just going to stop mentioning the girl. So she had to suck it up and tell her. She took the cowards way out and decided to text her instead of call.

Paige: she has a bf

Paige: also why tf does this school have a homecoming lol

Nika: WHAT???!!

Paige: yeah ik like it’s an all girls school it doesnt make any sense

Nika: bruh. no

Nika: boyfriend???

Incoming call from Nika Mühl. Paige immediately clicked decline.

Nika: bruh

Nika: pick up

Paige: no

Nika: bruh

Paige: i just don’t rly wanna talk abt it

Nika: are you okay??

Paige: yeah. just gunna focus on vb i think

Nika: okay well i’m always here for you if you wanna talk

Paige told her thanks and then changed the subject, asking Nika about how her own team’s season was going so far. Which was, unsurprisingly, much better than St. Anne’s. Because she went to a real school with a real coach. Paige didn’t think she’d ever reach a point in her life where she’d be jealous of someone having a coach that knew things about the sport, but here she was.

——

Wednesday, September 4th, 2024 – The Bueckers’s, Anderson, SC

Paige had gotten home from the school team’s practice a few hours ago.

Azzi had asked her about practicing together again after school on Friday and Paige had agreed. The notion filled her with dread–being around her still made her feel wrecked with a bone-deep embarrassment she couldn’t shake. But Paige had promised herself she’d focus on volleyball and she would be an idiot to pass up the opportunity to hit and set with a drill partner like her.

The past two days of school had been normal. She’d done what she’d thought was a good job compartmentalizing her emotions. Or, at least, no one else had mentioned anything about her seeming off. She still sat next to Azzi at lunch and in most of their classes and they still talked. They still fit together seamlessly on the court.

Despite all of the grief her feelings were giving her, Paige would never let anything stand in between herself and the dreams she had in her sport. Genuinely, the world would have to be ending for her to stop chasing them. It was the one thing that had been constant in her life despite all of the changes with her parents’ divorce and now the move. Volleyball was ingrained into her soul and she would do anything for it.

She hadn’t wanted to accidentally run into Azzi at the rec center today, so she was stuck making do at home. It was late, probably nine already. It was dark out. Humid. The grass was wet and it had made Paige’s shoes and the bottoms of her legs damp. There were a few lightning bugs hanging around keeping her company.

She was just standing there, practicing hitting the ball against the exterior of her house on the side of their yard. Hitting it, then receiving it, then hitting it again. Occasionally, a neighbor that was on their nightly walk would pass her. Some of them said hello. Most of them just gave her a weird look.

Truthfully, she wasn’t actually doing anything productive. Just working muscle memory and staying volleyball fit, since Chris wasn’t giving her much to work with in practice. She’d already done plyometrics and lift before practice. But she wanted to do more.

Her hands stung from how many times they’d slapped the ball against the siding. Her left knee had already started to ache—but that was normal. Ignorable. A small price to pay if she wanted to become great one day.

She was honestly surprised her dad waited as long as he did to go out and get her to stop. He usually hated the noise of the volleyball slapping against the side of the house. Said it was like nails on a chalkboard. She didn’t blame him.

She felt her dad’s eyes on her when he walked outside, but she wasn’t really in the mood to talk. She just wanted to let volleyball keep her head clear. It was good for that.

“Paige.”

“Hm?” She kept hitting the ball, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead and following the ball’s trajectory.

“Paige,” he tried again, walking up and grabbing the ball in between reps.

She sighed, defeated. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, moving grass around with the toe of her shoe. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her.

“Why don’t you come inside? Your dinner’s getting cold.”

“Sorry. I’ll be in in a few,” she muttered.

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, a concerned look in his eyes. “You sure you’re alright?”

She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Just school stuff.”

“Okay,” he said, gently. “Always here if you ever want to talk.”

She knew that. He loved her unconditionally and she was very grateful. But they had never had the talk-about-your-feelings type of father-daughter relationship. She’s not sure what she’d say. Where she’d even start.

“Thanks.”

He looked at her for a few more moments before he handed her back her ball, gave her a small smile, and turned to walk back inside.

She didn’t continue hitting. Just sat there, like she was stuck in some cutscene, staring off into space trying to collect her thoughts. Her stomach growled, which she decided to take as a sign to stop fucking around and go eat dinner like a functional human being.

The house was quiet when she walked in. A lone takeout bag was left on the counter, pasta and a small side salad from some Italian place in the area she hadn’t heard of before. Her dad must’ve already gone up to bed.

She grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and tied it around her knee. Popped a couple Advil. Her body throbbed in that satisfying way it always did when she’d put in a good day of workouts and practices as she sat down to eat.

Her pasta was, in fact, cold. As she was finishing up eating, Drew came downstairs.

“Paigey,” he exclaimed as he tugged on her arm. “Can we go get shakes?”

Paige felt herself soften. He always seemed to find her when she needed a pick-me-up.

“Sure,” she answered, getting up from her stool, grabbing her keys and wallet as she walked towards the front door. “C’mon.”

He cheered, speed walking to catch up with her as he followed her out the door. He tugged on her shirt as he walked next to her. “I really wanna try the orange push-up one. My friend at school told me it tastes like sherbert.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

——

Thursday, September 5th, 2024 – Chesterton Academy, Greenville, SC

South Carolina even looked hot. Even though it was September, nothing had cooled off. Everything looked like it was edited to have the saturation turned up. She’d finally successfully bargained to get normal seat privileges off of grounds that it made no sense for someone five-foot-eleven to be in the tiny middle seat when Ava was four-foot-nothing. Which did mean she couldn’t see Azzi’s face from the seat situated directly behind her, but it was a tradeoff her knees really appreciated.

Their second away game was in Greenville. It was a little under an hour of a drive and Virginia still played country music the entire time.

Greenville was much, much larger than Pendleton. Chesterton Academy was much larger than St. Anne’s–which wasn’t hard to do, but still. It meant their volleyball team would probably be better than the last one they faced in their last away game. It was right on the outskirts of the city. 

The gym was decently large, but the stands didn’t have that many people in them–just the friends and family of the players. She could feel eyes on her the second she stepped into the room. A few girls on the other team were staring straight at her, giggling to each other, clearly talking about her. One even pointed at her.

She felt herself flush at the attention. She still hadn’t gotten used to people knowing who she was and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

She took a deep breath to recenter herself. Just focus on the game.

Azzi must’ve noticed her reaction to the looks. She bumped her shoulder as they moved to walk onto the court for warmups. “Someone’s popular.”

She flushed even harder. “Shut up.”

Azzi let out a small laugh as they started stretching. Paige pointedly looked anywhere except at the girl while they warmed up. Stupid high knees and butt kicks. Not helpful.

Her pulse thrummed in anticipation the way it always did before a match. Chris was actually on time for once and had already started rambling on about “togetherness” and “connectivity”. Surely if they just all started meditating right now and breathed at the same time, they’d win the set. Blegh. She’d rather just coach the team herself.

They were still playing a 6-2 lineup with Marissa and Paige both setting, which was truly just so unfortunate. The game looked hopeful at the very beginning, when Paige served and no one could receive it and all was right with the world. It took them five tries (and four points for St. Anne’s) for them to finally receive her serve and begin an actual rally. Unfortunately, that meant that Paige wouldn’t serve next, which meant that the ball wouldn’t make it over the net and Chesterton would get the point. And then they’d serve again–aiming for someone who couldn’t receive (Marissa). Then someone who sucked at serving would flub again, and the cycle would repeat. It really was just so irritating.

Surprising no one, they lost. Azzi and Paige had both played great, but there’s only so much two people could do in a game of six. No one else besides them and Kayla could get a serve across the net. The other team, unfortunately for them, did know how to do basic serving and receiving.

After the game, once Chris had finished giving them his extremely unhelpful closing remarks, a few of the girls from the other team walked up to Paige.

“Hey, um, sorry, could we maybe have a picture?” one of them–the brunette with the braid that had aimed all of her serves and hits at Marissa–asked.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Paige offered a smile, going to stand by them as one of their moms reached out her phone to get a picture. She put her arms around them politely and smiled for the picture before turning back to them.

“Good game today, you guys were great.”

They started making small talk about the game, the other brunette (with the ponytail) having a lot of nice things to say about her sets. The compliments made her feel slightly better about their loss. Slightly. 

“Paige!” Azzi called at her from across the gym. Their team was ready to leave and start the drive home.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Paige said, waving goodbye to the girls with a polite smile. “Nice meeting you guys!”

Paige jogged over to Azzi, who’d already grabbed Paige’s bag from the bench. She grabbed it from her, their hands brushing lightly. “Thanks.”

“Yep.”

——

Friday, September 20th, 2024 – Anderson Mall, Anderson, SC

“Can I just not go?” Paige asked Nika, having just completed searching through her third department store. Dillard’s was dead to her. If she had to spend one more second trying on dresses with crappy Millenial music blaring on the speakers in the stale dressing rooms, she was going to vomit.

“Bro, the dance is literally tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Paige whined.

“And didn’t you tell Kayla you’d drive her?”

“Uuugh.”

Nika was right and she hated it.

She was on facetime with her as she was looking for a dress that fit the St. Anne’s dress code requirements. She was convinced they simply didn’t make homecoming dresses that fit the laundry list of requirements. Paige’s least favorite rule was that you had to wear a dress–no suits or pantsuits or rompers allowed. But that requirement wasn’t shocking. However, said dress had to be longer than your fingertips, it couldn’t be strapless, it couldn’t have a plunging neckline, and it had to cover the back. No slits, no sheer. It also couldn’t be too tight. God forbid teenage girls showed the general shape of their bodies. Horrifying. Might as well be a straight shot to Hell.

Paige had been wandering around the mall like a depressed chicken with its head cut off looking at dresses for several hours already and she hadn’t found a single one that fit the requirements, much less fit her and looked good on her and was within her budget.

At the very least, the ridiculousness of it was momentarily distracting her from her wallowing.

“Why don’t you try a Windsor? Do they have one of those there?”

“Dunno. I’ll look.”

She stood off to the side and googled the store. There were a few in South Carolina. None within an hour drive. “None that I can make it to before they close,” she groaned. “Are you sure I can’t just skip it?”

“Yes,” Nika insisted. “This is literally your first dance because you’ve been playing volleyball every other time. And who knows if you’ll get another chance after this either.”

“Stop making sense.”

“Not until you stop being a weasel.”

Paige didn’t dignify that with a response. “Back to JCPenney’s I go, I guess.”

JCPenney’s was a ridiculously popular place considering the fact that it was five fifteen in the afternoon on a Friday. There were people everywhere. Paige kept getting weird looks as she drug herself up and down the homecoming dress aisle (which was a little pitiful). The whole masc lesbian vibe was probably throwing everyone off with the dress shopping. Which just served to make Paige even more pissed at her situation, because why the fuck was she homecoming dress shopping.

There were only two dresses she could find that would fly in St. Anne’s: a light blue one and a green one. The green one was a weird shade that resembled vomit, so the blue dress it was. She’d checked out right before the store closed at eight.

It was fine. As far as dresses went. She still didn’t really want to go. But, whatever. She’d suck it up.

——

Saturday, September 21st, 2024 – Dolce Vita Italian Bistro and Pizza, Anderson, SC

Paige felt her heartbeat quicken and anxiety curled in her gut as she tried to take a deep breath. Fuck.

As she parked in the parking lot, she could see all of the other girls gathered by the fountain, smiling and giggling. Azzi’s boyfriend was there. She could see him. She tried not to look at him for too long, lest she actually throw up in her mouth.

Kayla was watching her from where she sat in the passenger seat. Paige pretended she didn’t notice as she gathered her things and got out of the car.

Time to get this over with.

Paige was wearing the tiniest heels on the planet and she still almost rolled her ankle on the first step she took when she got out of the car. She felt like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. Awww, look at Paigey taking her first steps! God help her.

Azzi’s sweet face lit up when she saw her, bringing her in for a hug once she got close enough. Paige felt sick. She hugged her back, plastering as believable of a smile as she could on her face.

She took turns hugging the rest of the girls, everyone exchanging happy coos over each other’s dresses and hair and makeup.

All Paige could think was that Azzi was beautiful. So, so breathtakingly beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. Jealousy thrummed through her veins and she hated it.

She was wearing the most gorgeous sparkly pink dress with white sandals and a little white clutch bag. Her hair was in a gorgeous updo, in a fancy bun with two soft strands out in the front to frame her face. She had her makeup done, and it made her eyes look even more beautiful. Her nails were done with french tips that matched her dress. She had such a bright, happy smile on her face, her eyes crinkling with laughter. Paige didn’t know what to do with herself in her presence. There were so many emotions welling up in her chest and she didn’t have a say in any of them.

She couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room any longer when the stupid boy standing next to her reached a hand out, introducing himself. “I’m Christian.”

Christian. Like the religion. What a ridiculous name.

“Paige. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Azzi wasn’t even wearing heels and she was still maybe half an inch taller than the guy. She wanted to tell herself to stop being so miserable and vain–maybe Baptist was super sweet and a great boyfriend, what does she know–but she couldn’t help it.

Christian looked like your typical guy. That’s all Paige could really say to describe him. White guy, brown hair, brown eyes. Decently fit looking, but standing next to Azzi made him look skinnier. He was wearing slightly poorly fitting dress pants with a button up and pink tie that matched Azzi’s dress. Azzi’s corsage had pink flowers on it. It was clear that they’d coordinated about it.

Only one of the other girls had a date. Military family girl had brought a military boy (biologically un-related). He seemed fine. Buzz cut and maybe a little disturbed looking, but fine. 

“Alright, let's get situated for pictures!” one of the moms said, all smiles.

They started lining up for your stereotypical school dance photos. Paige and Azzi ended up standing next to each other in the back for all of the group ones, since they were the two tallest. Which meant that Paige got to put her arm around her waist and feel Azzi’s arm around hers in return. It had her reeling.

After they got group pictures, they got their two couple pictures. Watching the boy put his arms around her waist had her feeling nauseous, but she couldn’t look away. They both looked so happy. She was smiling so brightly, eyes crinkling. Paige felt like she couldn’t move.

After their couple pictures were done, Azzi talked to him for a few more minutes while some friends got pictures together. Paige hadn’t planned on getting any. She definitely wasn’t going to be posting any pictures of herself in a dress on her Instagram, that’s for sure.

But, after a few moments, Azzi walked over to Paige and grabbed onto her wrist, dragging her over towards the area in front of the fountain. “C’mon, I wanna get a picture of us.”

Paige’s skin burned where she touched her. “Okay,” she choked out.

She felt exceedingly awkward as they posed for a handful of pictures. Being able to put her hand around her waist was truly a surreal feeling that she wished she’d never gotten the chance to feel. This was doing exactly what Dr. Google had said not to do when she’d asked how to get over a crush. Whatever. Consequences be damned.

After pictures had finished, they walked over to the Italian restaurant for their dinner reservation. She’s not sure what the reaction of the hostess would’ve been if they’d told her that she was actually seating their entire grade minus Marissa. Who was invited–they weren’t mean like that. She just chose not to show up.

The restaurant was decently fancy. Probably what one would expect for dinner before a high school Homecoming. Given that it was a Saturday afternoon, it was incredibly crowded and almost too loud to hear the person next to you speak. Paige ended up, predictably, sitting between Azzi and Kayla. Azzi’s stupid boyfriend was on her other side. Paige was also, unfortunately, sitting across from Veronica and her military boyfriend. 

She didn’t even really feel like talking because she was already so overstimulated. It was so loud, and seeing Azzi lean over to her side to hear her boyfriend as he spoke burned.

Military boyfriend guy, however, apparently had great hearing. He kept inserting himself into conversations around him to loudly “play the devil’s advocate”. It was obnoxious.

She didn’t want to be rude, but if she kept sitting there in silence trying not to wince at how loud it was and trying to ignore Azzi and her boyfriend touching shoulders in her peripheral vision, she thought she might actually start crying. So she pulled out her phone (from her handbag, not her pocket, since she didn’t have pockets).

Paige: help

Paige: we’re at dinner and i’m dying

Nika’s response came in the form of a game of 8-ball, which brought a smile to her face. Typical. 

After a few minutes of sending 8-ball back and forth (Paige was playing stripes and was absolutely wiping the floor with her), Azzi leaned over to her. “Whatcha doing?”

She titled her phone over so Azzi could see. “Winning.”

“Wait, I wanna play.” Azzi pulled out her own phone from her little white handbag that was hanging on the back of her chair.

Paige found herself smiling, giddy, as they started their own game of 8-ball. Paige was the first to go after Azzi broke the center, getting one ball into its pocket before horrifically missing her next shot and sending the white ball into a pocket instead. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi laughed at her when she watched the replay, then continued to get not one, not two, not three, but four balls in. Making Paige look exceptionally awful.

“Damn,” Paige said as she watched the replay, Azzi smiling smugly.

Paige then continued to miss her next three shot attempts. Azzi won.

“That was a fluke,” Paige insisted. “Again.”

She sent another game. Lo and behold, Azzi won again. And was so, so smug about it. Paige wanted to be butthurt about it, but instead she found herself actually giddy at getting to make the girl smile.

They went back and forth until their food finally arrived, signaling that they needed to put their phones away to eat.

Once dinner was over, Paige and Kayla drove to St. Anne’s. Kayla was kind enough to complain about military boyfriend the whole time and pointedly did not mention Azzi’s boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named. Paige was very grateful.

The St. Anne’s lunchroom had been poorly converted into a dance venue. There were a few disco balls and streamers taped to the ceiling and there were a few dispensers of punch, sweet tea, and lemonade. The tables had all been pushed to the side in the corner to give them a “dancefloor”. The music was violently shuffling between KidzBop and that one really specific brand of Christian pop music.

Paige would bet $100 that it was someone’s older sibling who had been paid to be the DJ. Every time they played a song that got everyone dancing and excited, they immediately changed it to something else. It was bizarre.

Paige had enjoyed making fun of the dance in her own mind for about a solid two minutes before the first slow song was played, and then everything stopped being funny. Azzi and Christian were right in front of her swaying gently to the music, her hands around his neck and his hands sitting snugly on her waist. She was gazing into his eyes sweetly, them both talking quietly. Paige wanted that to be her so badly that it ached.

When she rested her head on his shoulder halfway through the dance, Paige swore she almost threw up right then and there. Everything suddenly became too much for her to handle.

She quickly excused herself to go grab a cup of punch.

After she grabbed her drink and the song had changed, she just stood there leaning up against the wall in the corner of the room, swirling around her punch, trying to steady her breathing while also maintaining the appearance of someone who was not at all affected by anything ever. She knew it was unlike her to be standing alone on the sidelines, but she couldn’t force herself to enjoy anything about the dance. She wanted so badly for her brain to just let go. The same thoughts were swirling around in her head: She has a boyfriend. She’s straight. There’s the closure you prayed for, handed to you on a silver platter. You can stop feeling like this now. Please, God, let me stop feeling like this. 

That line of thought led her to feel like she was going to actually throw up. She needed to get out before she did something stupid like vomit all over her shoes.

She sought out Kayla, getting ready to leave. She found her across the room dancing with a few other girls from their class. Paige made a beeline for her and touched her shoulder to get her attention, pulling her aside, hands shaking.

“Hey, I think Imma head out. Do you wanna come with, or is there someone else that could drive you home?”

Kayla stared at her for a second, reaching out a hand to grab onto Paige’s elbow. “You good?”

Paige hated being asked that. It always made her want to cry. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she muttered, “Yeah.”

“I’m always here if you need anything,” she said, kindly. “I should be okay to find a ride if you want to head out.”

“Thanks.” Paige turned to head out, grabbing her keys from her bag.

Paige walked out of the room without saying goodbye to anyone else, just heading to her car where she could be sad without anyone else catching on. It was embarrassing enough that Kayla clearly had her figured out. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if one of the other girls found out, or, God forbid, Azzi found out.

Once she got to her car, Paige found herself begging. God, please. Please take these feelings away if they aren’t meant for me. Or please just stop it from hurting so much if you’re asking me to wait. Please.

She hated that she was crying. She felt ridiculous. She’d thought she’d gotten a handle on her feelings and was doing better, but having seen Azzi with her boyfriend in person had taken her ten steps backwards. She just wanted the feelings gone–they were getting too much for her to handle. She just wanted to be normal.

It took her far longer than she’d like to admit to be okay enough to drive home.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”