summary: Paige's rookie season ended in a shooting slump and a whole lot of frustration. She ends up in NY meeting with an unknown trainer named Azzi Fudd in hopes of finding her form again in the off season.
theme: fluff & angst, slow burn, pazzi au
wc: 3.4k+
warnings: none
a/n: so my bad for leaving this story untouched for months, but I am happy to have finally updated things... I can't say that this chapter is great by any means, but I needed to keep the plot moving forward. Hopefully I'll be able to update much quicker. As always, thanks for reading 🫶
“Later” ended up meaning the last possible minute.
Not after practice, when Paige had spent twenty full minutes pretending to re-tie a shoe she’d already tied twice, waiting for Azzi to look her way. Not after dinner with half the team, where KK kept kicking her under the table every time Azzi laughed at something she said. Not even later that night, when Paige had typed and deleted more drafts than she cared to admit, each version somehow sounding worse than the last before she finally locked her phone and left it face down on the nightstand.
Later became the next morning, in the parking lot, with Azzi’s bag in the back of the Bronco and New York waiting on the other side of the drive.
Which was an unfortunate time to have a conversation they had both been avoiding for the better part of two days.
Azzi slid into the passenger seat with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, curls pulled back low at the nape of her neck. She looked tired, and Paige suspected she wasn't the only one. Sleep had come reluctantly the night before, interrupted by the same thoughts circling back around no matter how many times she tried to put them away.
“Morning,” Azzi said.
“Morning.”
That was it.
For the first few minutes, Paige let the GPS fill the silence. She backed out of the lot, checked her mirrors twice, and kept both hands on the wheel like she was taking a driver’s test. Azzi buckled in and angled her body toward the window, coffee balanced carefully in the cupholder between them.
The silence felt unfamiliar. The last week had been full of easy conversation, the kind that made hours disappear without either of them noticing. This morning, every mile seemed to stretch a little longer than it should have.
After what felt like forever, Azzi finally exhaled through her nose, soft and controlled. “Paige.”
Paige’s grip tightened slightly on the wheel. “Yeah?”
“We should probably talk.”
“Yeah,” Paige said, too fast. “Yeah, I know.”
She merged onto the main road, grateful for the excuse to look anywhere except at Azzi. There were a few different ways she had imagined this conversation going, most of them at two in the morning when her brain was being deeply unhelpful. In some versions, she apologized and Azzi laughed it off. In others, Azzi told her she’d read everything wrong, and Paige got to spend the next three hours trapped in a vehicle with the knowledge that she had invented an entire vibe in her own head.
That second option felt more likely by the second.
“I’m sorry,” Paige said, before Azzi could get there first. The words came out rougher than she wanted, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “About the other night. I – I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
Azzi turned her head then. Paige could feel it even without looking.
“You didn’t.”
Paige let out a short laugh, but it didn’t have much behind it. “I definitely did.”
“No,” Azzi said, quieter this time. “You didn’t.”
The certainty in her voice made Paige glance over, just for a second. Azzi wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t giving her the easy out, either. Her face was calm in a way that made Paige nervous.
Paige looked back at the road. “I just don’t want you thinking I’m some idiot who can’t separate training from… whatever.”
Azzi’s mouth pressed together briefly. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
“Well, that’s generous.”
That almost got a smile. Almost.
Azzi wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, letting the warmth settle into her palms. “I’m sorry too.”
That caught Paige off guard. “For what?”
“For letting things get… blurry.”
Paige swallowed. Blurry was one word for it. There were other words she’d been avoiding because they felt too honest, and honesty had a way of making everything harder.
Azzi turned her coffee cup slowly between her palms.. “I should’ve been more careful.”
Paige’s stomach tightened. There it was. Careful. The word settled between them, carrying more weight than it should have. She looked back to the road, jaw working once before she answered.
“What? No, I get it.” Paige tried to sound casual, but the sentence came out too clean, too practiced. “I probably misread some stuff. That’s on me.”
“You didn’t misread it.”
The Bronco seemed to go quieter somehow, even with the hum of the road underneath them.
Paige kept her eyes forward.
Azzi looked back down at her coffee, thumb worrying at the cardboard sleeve. “That’s the problem.”
For a moment, Paige didn’t say anything. The relief was immediate. It settled beside the disappointment rather than replacing it, leaving her with the strange ache of getting exactly the answer she'd hoped for and dreading it at the same time.
“So…” Paige said, slower now. “You are interested.”
Azzi’s silence answered before she did.
“Yes,” she said finally.
Warmth moved through her before she could stop it, but the rest of Azzi's expression was enough to remind her the conversation wasn't over.
“But I can’t cross that line,” Azzi said.
Paige nodded again, smaller this time. “Because I'm your client,” she said, already knowing the answer before the words left her mouth.
“Because you’re my client,” Azzi confirmed. “And because you’re not just anyone. You’re Paige Bueckers. People watch you breathe and turn it into a headline.”
Paige drummed her thumb against the steering wheel. She wanted to argue. Unfortunately, every version of the argument she came up with fell apart almost immediately.
“And I’m trying to build something,” Azzi continued. “I’m not on a team staff yet. I don’t have the kind of reputation where I can afford for people to question why I’m getting opportunities. I’ve worked too hard for someone to decide I’m only around because of who I’m involved with.”
“Involved with,” Paige repeated before she could stop herself.
It was a ridiculous thing to latch onto. Azzi was explaining why this couldn't happen, and somehow Paige's brain had skipped straight past all of that to the part where Azzi had casually described a version of reality in which it could.
Azzi gave her a look.
“Sorry.” Paige rubbed her thumb along the steering wheel. “Wrong thing to focus on.”
Azzi looked out the window before she continued explaining herself. “If people found out, they wouldn’t treat it like two adults making a choice. They’d make it about access. About favoritism. About whether I was using you. Or whether you were getting special treatment from me. And even if none of that was true, it wouldn’t matter.”
Paige hated how reasonable it sounded. She hated it more because Azzi sounded like she’d already convinced herself.
“I wouldn’t let people talk about you like that,” Paige said.
Azzi’s expression softened, but it didn’t change her answer. “You can’t control what people say.”
Paige went quiet because she knew it was true.
Outside, the morning unfolded in shades of gray. Traffic gathered at intersections, brake lights blinking red through the haze.
Then, because apparently she had no self-preservation left, she said, “I don’t have to be your client.”
Azzi turned toward her fully. “Paige.”
“What?” Paige said, the words coming faster now. “I’m serious. If that’s the issue, then we stop. I can work with someone else. You’re not obligated to train me.”
Azzi's gaze lingered on her. For a second, she looked genuinely caught off guard. Then her expression softened in a way that made Paige wish she'd kept her eyes on the road.
“I’m just saying, there are ways around it.”
“Are there?”
“There could be.”
“And what would that look like?” Azzi asked. “You stop working with me after one week and then suddenly we’re seen together? You don’t think people would connect that?”
Paige didn’t answer.
“Or worse,” Azzi said, “they assume something was already happening before I was training you.”
The frustration in Azzi’s voice wasn’t loud, but Paige heard it anyway. It wasn’t aimed at her. That almost made it worse.
“I don’t care what people assume about me,” Paige said.
“I care what they assume about me.”
That stopped her.
Paige's mouth closed around whatever argument she'd been about to make. For the first time since Azzi had gotten into the car, she stopped looking for a way around the problem and listened to what she was actually saying.
Azzi wasn't rejecting her because she wasn't interested. She was protecting the thing she'd fought to build after basketball stopped being an option.
Paige still had the version of her life she'd always imagined. The game was still carrying her forward, still offering her opportunities she had spent years chasing. Azzi had been forced to start over long before she was ready. Somehow, she'd taken all the pieces that remained and turned them into something meaningful, something entirely her own.
The thought settled heavily in Paige's chest.
And Paige, so caught up in wanting more time, more conversations, more of whatever this was becoming, had basically asked Azzi to put all of it on the line.
Her shoulders eased.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You're right.”
Azzi looked at her then, something in her expression softening.
Paige cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. That was selfish.”
“I don’t think it was selfish.”
“It was a little selfish.”
Azzi didn’t argue this time.
They drove for a while without speaking.
The silence that settled between them felt different from the one that had filled the first part of the drive. Less uncertain, perhaps. The conversation they'd been avoiding was finally behind them, but knowing where they stood didn't make it any easier to sit with.
Paige reached for her coffee and took a sip.
The face she made afterward was apparently dramatic enough to catch Azzi's attention.
“Bad?”
Paige looked down into the cup as though it had personally offended her.
“It's cold.”
A laugh escaped Azzi before she could stop it.
“You bought it like an hour ago.”
Paige considered this information for a moment, glancing between the road and the coffee in her hand.
“Well, in my defense, I was a little distracted.”
The smile Azzi tried to suppress only made Paige's own harder to fight.
Then Azzi looked down at her hands again. “I don’t want this to mess up us working together.”
Us.
Paige shouldn’t have caught on that word, but of course she did. “It won’t,” she said, and meant it as much as she could. “I still want to train with you.”
Azzi nodded, though she didn’t look fully convinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Paige glanced over briefly. “You’re the best person I’ve worked with in a long time. I’d be stupid to give that up just because I…” She stopped herself.
Azzi waited.
Paige shook her head, eyes back on the road. “Just because things got complicated.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Azzi gave a small nod and looked back toward the road ahead.
Paige hated how grown-up she sounded when she added, “And I respect what you’re saying. I don’t want to make your life harder.”
The line seemed to find a crack in Azzi's composure. It was small enough that Paige might have missed it if she hadn't been looking at her, but it was there all the same.
"Thank you," Azzi said.
Paige nodded.
It should’ve felt like the right thing because on paper, it was the right thing. Paige knew that, yet, disappointment settled under her ribs and stayed there.
A few exits passed. The conversation didn’t fully recover, but it didn’t die either. They talked about safer things after that — the week at UConn, Geno’s practice schedule, which players Azzi thought had the quickest first step, whether KK was always that unserious or if she’d turned it up for company. Paige said yes before Azzi even finished the question, and that got an actual laugh out of her.
The sound made Paige ache a little.
By the time Azzi’s head leaned against the window, Paige had already turned the music on low. Frank Ocean again. Azzi’s eyes stayed open this time.
A while later, Azzi spoke without looking over. “I meant what I said.”
Paige glanced at her. “About what?”
“Being interested.”
The admission landed harder than Paige had prepared for, and she found herself gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
Azzi kept her gaze on the blur of trees beyond the glass. “I just need you to know it’s not because I don’t feel it.”
Paige wanted to say something smooth. Something easy enough to make the moment less weighty. Instead, all she managed was, “That definitely makes it worse.”
Azzi’s smile was sad at the edges. “I know.”
The rest of the drive passed in pieces. And when they finally pulled into the city, the goodbye was easy in all the ways that mattered and awkward in all the ways that didn't.
They lingered beside the Bronco longer than necessary. Azzi reminded her to keep up with the shooting drills she'd sent over, and Paige made some comment about needing constant supervision that earned a reluctant smile. There was a hug somewhere in there too, brief enough to pass as casual and long enough to make getting back into the driver's seat feel like a mistake.
They promised to stay in touch, though Paige suspected that was the sort of thing people said when they didn't know what else to say at the end of a goodbye.
Then they went their separate ways.
**************
January arrived faster than Paige expected.
Training camp started in a way that could only be described as an absolute frenzy. Most mornings began in darkness, players filtering into the facility carrying coffees the size of small children and looking varying degrees of awake. By the time practice ended, she was usually too tired to think about much beyond food and sleep.
Which suited Paige just fine.
One of the best parts about basketball has always been its ability to demand complete attention. There was always another detail to refine, another weakness to address, another hour available to anyone willing to stay after everyone else had gone home. By the second week of camp, her days had settled into a rhythm that felt familiar enough to disappear into.
Lift. Practice. Recovery. Film. Repeat.
The afternoon weight room sessions were usually the quietest part of the day, at least as quiet as a room full of professional athletes dropping barbells with music blaring through speakers could be.
Conversations came and went in fragments, scattered across the room between sets.
Paige was halfway through a set of split squats when she heard Rickea say, with complete conviction, "I'm serious. The league knew exactly what they were doing."
A few racks over, Tash looked unconvinced. "They hired somebody for player development."
"They hired an absolute baddie for player development," Rickea corrected.
The resulting eye roll from Tash was visible from twenty feet away.
Paige lowered the dumbbells to the floor, fully intending to stay out of whatever conversation was unfolding. That plan lasted approximately six seconds.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Rickea continued.
Tash laughed. "You don't even know this woman."
"I’ve heard enough."
"Right, I’m sure."
Paige shook her head and wiped a forearm across her face before looking over. "What are you two yapping about?"
“New development coach.”
Paige looked between them. "Wait. What new development coach?"
"Are you not listening?" Rickea asked. "The one they just hired, bro."
That answer provided exactly zero useful information.
Tash sighed at the blank look on Paige's face before deciding to give her the additional context Rickea seemed to forget to give. "Unrivaled's bringing somebody in to work with player development. Shooting, skill work, film breakdowns, stuff like that. From what I heard, coaches can request time with her for their players, and she's available to anybody in the league who wants extra work."
Paige nodded in understanding. “See, ‘Kea. Was that so hard to explain?”
Rickea responded with a chuckle. “It’s not my fault you’re out of the loop.” She added, "Apparently she's really good,"
Tash looked up from adjusting the plates on her bar. "That's usually how jobs work."
"No, I mean really good. Like, everybody's been talking about her."
"Everybody?"
"Everybody."
The confidence with which Rickea said it suggested she had either heard this information from a reliable source or had decided to become the source herself. Paige wasn't entirely sure which possibility was more likely.
"Do you have a name?" she asked.
"No, didn’t catch that."
"How old is she?"
Rickea frowned as she thought about it. "I don't know exactly. Mid-twenties, maybe. Younger than a lot of people expected."
Paige grabbed her water bottle to take a sip, still trying to seem like she was casually listening as Rickea continued.
"She's worked with some pretty big names too. Steph Curry was one of them."
That got her attention and something in Paige's stomach dropped.
It was an immediate, instinctive reaction, the kind that arrived before logic had a chance to weigh in. Her mind supplied a name almost instantly.
She dismissed it just as quickly.
Steph Curry was one of the most recognizable athletes on the planet. Plenty of people worked with him. Plenty of women in their twenties were building careers in basketball development. The fact that her brain had landed on Azzi said considerably more about her than it did about whoever Rickea was talking about.
Even so, she found herself looking up.
"Steph, huh?"
Rickea nodded.
"That's what I heard. Apparently she started doing private consulting a few years ago."
"How does somebody in their twenties end up consulting Steph Curry?"
"Probably because she's really good."
Tash laughed. "So you’ve said about a hundred times. We know who’s going to be booking those extra training sessions."
"I'm just telling you what I heard."
Paige took another drink, choosing not to say anything in this moment in fear that her tone might give her mental spiral away.
Rickea kept talking. "I heard she was like a top recruit in high school, but then injuries or something like that happened and she moved to coaching."
Something in Paige's chest tightened.
She reminded herself that there were thousands of former athletes whose careers had ended because their bodies stopped cooperating. Thousands who had pivoted into coaching, training, consulting, or development afterward. There was no reason for her mind to begin connecting dots that didn't belong together.
Even so, she heard herself ask, "Where'd she play?"
Rickea looked annoyed by the question. "No idea."
"That's a pretty important detail."
"I didn't ask for her life story, Paige."
Tash shook her head. "That's because most of your interest in this woman appears to be aesthetic."
"Bro, oh my God. Just because I called her a baddie does not mean that’s what I’m interested in. Stop trying to make me seem gay."
The look Tash gave her suggested she wasn't particularly interested in helping her case. "I'm just commenting on what everybody else is already saying."
"Sure you are."
"I am."
"Mmhm."
Rickea pointed at her.
"You're annoying."
"That's not a denial."
"It's not a confession either."
Paige huffed a laugh as the two of them continued bickering, though her attention had already begun drifting elsewhere.
Rickea kept talking, elaborating on the rumors she'd heard and the details she only half remembered, but Paige found herself less interested in what was being said than in how neatly each piece seemed to fit beside the last. Any one of them would have been easy to dismiss. Basketball was full of former players whose careers had taken unexpected turns. It was full of consultants, trainers, analysts, and development specialists who had built impressive résumés behind the scenes.
The problem was that every new detail seemed to narrow the field instead of widening it.
Paige tried to tell herself it was a coincidence.
She tried to tell herself that Rickea was working from secondhand information, that half the details were probably wrong, and that there were plenty of people in basketball who fit a similar description.
The argument lasted all of thirty seconds.
By then, she was already mentally preparing herself for when she’d likely run into the new development coach.
i just reread Should’ve Been You and was wondering if you’d consider writing a part 2 where azzi gives for the first time and paige guides her through it. I know you’re working on a series right now but i thought i’d put the idea out there for the future 🫶🏼 all love, not trying to be greedy lol
Posting this on main for this anon so they have a better chance of seeing it!
Just posted a fic to this request in my community:)
andulkaphoto
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janainaart
yousharknotpass
