Azzi would have had the 20+ pt game and Jess the triple double if Azzi hadn’t missed that one 3, but they also would have gotten it if Jess had passed to a rim running wide open Azzi that one time so it cancels out 🤣 I wish Jose had kept Azzi in with Jess for a couple mins longer though and just let them statpad, like sometimes we can just say fuck ethical hooping, let the stats be padding!!!
Also am i tripping or didn’t Azzi have at least one rebound but they didn’t record it for my goat
Yes bruh. The ethical backbone that Jose and Geno have...just let them get it my guy 😭 THEY DID TAKE HER REBOUND!!!
A/N: WINGS UP MOTHERFUCKERS!!!! Azzi was almost perfect from the field! Whoever jinxed her...you will start coughing in three days. Anywho, here's Chapter 3! I hope you love it!!! xx Elle
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Azzi was proud of the outfit she’d thrown together. It still satisfied her parents’ rules for modesty, but it was one of the cuter pairings she’d made in a while. The spaghetti strapped, gingham dress was a piece that was only supposed to be worn under a cardigan, but she slipped a white, short-sleeved t-shirt under the navy dress. She finished her outfit off with a pair of stark white ballet flats.
For the first time in her four years at Hays County High, Azzi wore a War Hawks gameday button. It wasn’t something that would matter to anyone else, but it meant everything to her.
She wasn’t wearing it because Jake was on the team or because he was expecting her to show up or because her parents expected her to support him.
She was wearing it because she wanted to.
And that – doing what she wanted no matter the expectations of others – that made her smile.
Then, she looked in the mirror again.
And for a second, all she could see where the things she didn’t have.
Everything she couldn’t have.
All the other girls wore denim shorts and tank tops when the September days felt like a sauna. She wished she could wear an outfit that she wouldn’t overheat in. That she could have a jersey number painted on her cheeks and thighs. That she could cover herself in blue glitter and take fun pictures with her friends.
She’d spent the last four years watching them. Wishing. Wondering what it would be like to do something because you wanted to, and not just because you were expected to.
Her eyes drifted back to the button she’d been so proud to wear.
It should’ve been a 5 – she wanted it to be a 5.
She wanted it all.
The joy. The belonging. The freedom.
Freedom to live.
Freedom to love.
Freedom to just…be.
Freedom to just exist without having to mold herself to someone else’s expectations.
That was what she wanted. More than anything.
Her eyes met her reflection's.
The girl staring back looked exactly the same as she always had.
Same dress.
Same fake smile.
Same life.
Maybe one day she would be brave enough to get more.
For now, she grabbed her backpack and headed for the door.
It was a Friday, which meant Jake wanted to give her a ride to school, something she tried her best to avoid. But since she’d politely declined for the last two weeks, Azzi knew she’d have to suck it up today.
She looked at her Apple Watch and sighed for the fourth time – he was late again, and Azzi already knew he’d have the world’s dumbest excuse.
When Jacob’s blacked out Jeep Wrangler swerved around the corner – a record seventeen minutes late – she had to remind herself that slamming the door would be disrespectful. Probably disrespectful enough to reach out to her dad. But still, it didn’t stop the quiet groan that passed her lips.
“Sorry I’m so late, Z. I wanted to bring you a coffee.”
Jacob had always been a terrible liar, but Azzi acted none the wiser as she looked at the empty cup holders. “That was so sweet of you, Jake. May I have it please?”
His hazel eyes widened as he scrambled to make an excuse. “Oh, well I remembered Mr. Smith’s bio lecture about caffeine being a drug, and I know Pastor Fudd would kill me if I gave you drugs, so I threw it out.”
Azzi suppressed a frown, trying to think of something her mom would advise her to say. “Well, thank you for thinking of that. I didn’t even realize my dad could think of it like that.”
She left off the fact that she hated the taste of coffee as he mindlessly rambled about the upcoming game. Azzi was content to stare at the trees as he sped to school – that is until he said something that got her attention.
“– Bueckers just thinks she’s better than everybody, but she’s not even supposed to be on the team!” He complained.
Paige may not be better than everybody, but she sure is better than you.
“She thinks she’s so good because she’s got all them offers, but anybody could get those schools.”
That’s odd, because I’m pretty sure you have one Division III offer and one junior college one. And the same scouts who have seen Paige have also seen you.
“You know what I mean, baby?” He asked, finally acknowledging his girlfriend.
Azzi turned to him, adjusting her game day pin. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I know how hard you’ve been working.”
His pitiful pout was wiped off his face as his eyes dropped to the button she had pinned to her chest. “I see somebody is taking what Pastor Woody said at Bible study into account.”
The smirk he wore irritated her, but Azzi had no clue what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
It could’ve been anything. Pastor Woody was probably Azzi’s least favorite minister at her dad’s church. He wasn’t always so bad, or maybe she was just starting to notice – but his rhetoric was always hateful and harmful. He’d always been homophobic, misogynistic, and a little racist – the last one was the most surprising, considering he served under a Black pastor, but a lot of things didn’t make sense to Azzi.
“When he was talking about being a good girlfriend and wife – how you should be obedient, submissive, and supportive. So we can be a strong, godly couple.” He paused, gesturing to the button. “I appreciate you supporting me. I don’t know why it took you so long.”
Azzi didn’t remember that part of Pastor Woody’s talk, but she didn’t put it past him. “Of course,” she started. “I’m sorry I wasn’t being supportive enough earlier.”
“It’s okay, Z. That’s why it’s so important that you’re with a strong man like me. I’ll lead you well, and you’ll be my perfect little wife after we graduate.”
Those words made her skin crawl so much that she had to force herself not to shiver. But she heard the truth in his words – even if she didn’t marry him right after high school, both of their parents were going to make sure she ended up Mrs. Jacob Gibson.
And maybe for a normal girl, they’d be able to just not do whatever they were told, but Azzi had never done anything else. She told her parents no once or twice when she was little, but the spankings she got quickly shut down any thought of disobedience.
But as much as she didn’t want to upset her parents, she didn’t want to keep living a lie. She didn’t want her kids to think it was good to settle for someone they didn’t love just to keep their parents happy.
Azzi wanted out – she wanted freedom more than anything in the world, but she had no clue how to get there.
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The morning passed in a blur of AP Literature, Calculus, and Economics. Azzi had always loved school, so it was odd that she couldn’t really remember any part of her classes before lunch.
She was on her way to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
(214) 285-6698: hey its paige. i got your number from jackie, who got it from caroline
Azzi smiled to herself – she’d finally had Paige’s number, something she’d been wishing for since she was in sixth grade. She was so happy she ignored the horror caused by her grammar
Paige Bueckers: since it’s gameday, can we do a session during free per
Paige Bueckers: i have a quiz on interest today, and i just wanna make sure I’m good
Azzi: Hi Paige :) Sounds good! I’ll be heading to the library at the end of lunch
Paige Bueckers: actually, can we work in coach’s office
Paige Bueckers: i’m just anxious and i wanna be locked in
Azzi: Of course! I’ll meet you there
She wondered if Paige was ashamed of needing a tutor. It was more common than most people thought, but Azzi had always felt like asking for help made you a better person. But being ashamed of being tutored didn’t mean that Paige was ashamed of being seen with Azzi – at least that’s what she told herself.
She just shrugged her shoulders and continued to the cafeteria – content smile soft on her face.
When she finally made it to the cafeteria, she heard a loud laugh, and she knew exactly who it was. Paige’s face was lit in glee. She sat at a table with her normal crew. Natasha Cloud was one of her closest friends. She was always nice to Azzi, always tossing a friendly smile her way when they passed each other in the halls. Her arm was around her girlfriend, Izzy’s waist. Izzy and Azzi had been lab partners in physics last year. She was funny and kind, but her parents yelled at her when they found out she was befriending a lesbian.
Finishing out the table was Jackie Young and her girlfriend DiJonai. Jackie was quiet – a silent assassin who had broken 25 school records on the basketball team. Her girlfriend, DiJonai, was one of the prettiest girls in the whole school. She literally looked like a barbie doll. Azzi had never talked to her, but she figured she had to be nice to be in that group.
Azzi longed to have friends where she could be herself without worrying if they would accept her. Instead, her smile faltered as she headed to her table.
Teagan and Chrissy were the closest things Azzi had to best friends. Tegan’s dad was the college pastor, Pastor James, while Chrissy’s dad was Pastor Woody. Obviously, that meant they had to be best friends.
Outside of not feeling like she fit in, Azzi was the only Black person in their friend group. Teagan and Chrissy’s boyfriends, Silas and Harrison, were both white boys who played golf. And Azzi was convinced they were both a little racist, and they only put up with her because her dad was their pastor.
When she sat, they were already going into their prayer-wrapped insults.
"Do you see those dykes over there? Laughing and making sure all the attention is on them," Chrissy sneered, shaking her head in disgust. "It's like they're trying to recruit people into their lifestyle."
They're just eating lunch.
Silas leaned back in his chair, his voice dripping with false concern. "My dad says it's a spiritual sickness. We should pray for them. Pray that God heals them before they corrupt more people."
Loving someone isn't a sickness – it's beautiful.
"Especially Natasha," Teagan added, her voice taking on that sanctimonious tone Azzi hated. "She's the quarterback. She has so much influence. And she's using it to normalize sin. The Bible is very clear about this."
The Bible also says to love your neighbor.
Harry jumped in quickly, his jaw clenched. "It's an abomination – two women being together. It's right there in scripture. There's no gray area."
Two people loving each other shouldn't be an abomination.
"And Jackie," Chrissy continued, her eyes narrowing as she watched the basketball player laugh with her girlfriend. "Breaking all those records, getting all that attention – and for what? To flaunt her sin? She's making a mockery of what it means to be a woman."
Silas nodded in agreement. "My dad says women like that are rejecting God's design. They're supposed to be nurturing, submissive. Not out here playing sports like men and corrupting young girls."
Jackie is just playing basketball.
"Paige and Natasha want to be boys so bad. May the Lord have mercy on their souls," Teagan held her hand to her heart as she shook her head. "And now they've got DiJonai wrapped up in it too. That girl could have any boy she wanted, but instead she's choosing to live in darkness."
Being masculine didn't mean they wanted to be boys. Maybe they were just more comfortable that way.
"Exactly," Harrison said, his voice low and venomous. "DiJonai's beautiful. It's such a waste. She's throwing away her future, her chance at a real family, real children. All because she's been influenced by those perverts."
DiJonai looks happy.
Jacob wore a cold smirk, and Azzi knew that whatever came out of his mouth would be absolutely vile.
"It's sad because Paige, Natasha, and Jackie are actually pretty. They just need someone to fix them. Someone to show them what real love looks like. How they should be with a man. They're confused, that's all."
Chrissy nodded eagerly. "My mom says we should distance ourselves from them. That being around that kind of behavior could influence us. She says Azzi should especially be careful, since she's lab partners with one of them. We don't want people thinking she's –"
"Exactly," Silas interrupted, his eyes landing on Azzi with an intensity that made her skin crawl. "You'd be smart to stay away from them, Azzi. Your dad would be disappointed if people thought you were associating with those people."
I'm not associating. I'm just existing in the same space.
"Pastor Woody preached about it the other day," Teagan said, her voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a secret. "He said that homosexuality is a choice. A rebellion against God's order. And that those who enable it are complicit in their sin."
How is love a sin? They aren't even hurting anyone.
Harrison leaned forward, his voice dripping with false pity. "We should pray for them. Pray that they turn from their wicked ways before it's too late. Before they face God's judgment."
"And we should pray for you too, Azzi," Chrissy added, reaching over to pat her hand. "That you stay strong in your faith. That you don't let their influence pull you away from what's right."
What's right is letting people live.
Jacob's smirk widened. "My mom says Paige's dad is divorced. That's probably why she turned out like this. Broken home, broken person. No wonder she's so messed up."
Silas nodded solemnly. "Generational sin. That's what my dad calls it. It gets passed down. Those girls never stood a chance."
That's not how this works.
"We're not being mean," Teagan said, her voice taking on that defensive, righteous tone. "We're being honest. We're being faithful. The Bible says to speak truth in love."
This isn't love. This is cruelty dressed up in scripture.
"And honestly," Chrissy continued, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of her own piety, "I feel sorry for them. They're going to hell, and they don't even know it. We're the only ones brave enough to say it."
Azzi dropped her sandwich, stomach rolling with nausea.
"I –" Azzi's voice cracked. She pressed her hand to her mouth. "I have to go. Tutoring session."
She didn't wait for a response. She grabbed her bag and practically ran from the cafeteria, her ballet flats squeaking against the linoleum. The bathroom was mercifully empty when she burst through the door. She barely made it to the first stall before her body rejected everything – the sandwich, the hatred, the cruelty wrapped in scripture.
They're talking about Paige. About the girl I –
She couldn't even finish the thought. Her hands shook as she gripped the cold porcelain. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If she started crying, she wouldn't stop.
Fix them. Like they're broken. Like loving someone is something that needs to be cured.
Azzi flushed and stumbled to the sink. Her reflection looked pale, mascara slightly smudged. She splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth, trying to wash away the taste of bile and self-loathing.
I sat there. I didn't say anything. I just sat there and let them.
She gripped the edge of the sink until her hands shook.
I'm such a coward.
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Coach Franklin's office smelled like old leather and coffee. Azzi had arrived five minutes early, spreading out her color-coded materials on the small table in the corner. Her hands were still trembling slightly, but she forced them steady as she organized the practice problems she'd prepared.
The door swung open, and Paige walked in wearing her football jersey – number 5 in navy and silver – and white shorts that hit just above her knee. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few blonde strands framing her face.
"Hey." Paige spoke immediately. "You okay?"
Azzi's heart stuttered. "What?"
"In the cafeteria. I saw you basically run out of there." Paige dropped into the chair across from her, leaning forward with genuine concern in her blue eyes. "You looked upset."
She noticed. She actually noticed me.
Nobody noticed Azzi anymore. She'd perfected the art of being invisible – blending into the background, never making waves, never drawing attention. But Paige had seen her. Paige had noticed.
"I'm fine," Azzi managed, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. "Just needed some air."
Paige studied her for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But if you need to talk or whatever..."
"Thank you." Azzi's voice came out softer than she intended. She cleared her throat and pulled out the practice problems. "So, I pulled a few problems to get you ready for your quiz."
"Yes, please." Paige groaned dramatically, but there was a smile playing at her lips. "I need to be locked in."
They started with simple interest, and Azzi was impressed by how quickly Paige worked through the problems. Her handwriting was messy but confident, and she talked through her process out loud.
"Okay, so if it's simple interest, I just multiply principal times rate times time." Paige tapped her pencil against the paper. "So $2,000 at 5% for 3 years is... $2,000 times 0.05 times 3, which is $300 in interest."
"Perfect!" Azzi beamed. "You got it! I knew you would."
Paige grinned, and Azzi found herself distracted by the way the fluorescent lights caught the definition in Paige's arms as she reached for her calculator. The jersey's sleeves were cut short enough to show the curve of her biceps, the smooth lines of muscle that came from hours of training.
Focus, Azzi.
But it was hard to focus when Paige shifted in her seat, the white chinos pulling slightly across her thighs. Azzi had never really looked at anyone like this before – had never let herself. But there was something about the casual confidence in the way Paige sat, legs spread slightly, which bothered her when Jake did it. The veins in her hands were visible as she gripped the pencil, and Azzi wondered what it would feel like to –
"Azzi?"
She snapped her attention back to Paige's face, heat flooding her cheeks. "Sorry, what?"
"Is this right?" Paige turned the paper around, showing her work for a compound interest problem.
Azzi leaned in, grateful for the excuse to focus on something concrete. "Let me see... Yes! That's exactly right. You even remembered to divide the rate by the number of times it compounds per year."
"Hell yeah." Paige pumped her fist, and Azzi couldn't help but laugh.
"You're doing so well, Paige. Seriously."
Paige's expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering across her face. She set down her pencil and looked at Azzi directly. "You know, you've given me more encouragement in one week than I've gotten from my teachers in the last year."
Azzi's heart cracked open. "What?"
"I'm serious." Paige shrugged, but there was weight behind the gesture. "Most of them just – they see my grades and assume I'm not trying. Or that I'm stupid. And maybe I wasn't trying for a little while, but they didn't care enough to ask why. They never really care why I'm struggling."
"Paige." Azzi reached across the table without thinking, her hand hovering near Paige's. "You're not stupid. You're actually really smart."
Paige huffed out a laugh. "I appreciate the lie –"
"It's not a lie. I don't lie." Azzi's voice was firm. "Your brain just works differently than the way most teachers teach. But different doesn't mean bad. It just means you need someone to explain things in a way that makes sense to you."
Paige stared at her, and Azzi watched something shift in those blue eyes – surprise, maybe, or gratitude. Or something else entirely.
"Thank you," Paige said quietly. "Really."
Azzi smiled, pulling her hand back before she did something stupid like actually touch Paige's skin. "You're welcome. Now let's do a few more problems so you can ace this quiz next period."
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The library was nearly empty when Azzi settled into her favorite corner after school, pulling out her French assignment. She'd been working through a translation of Tartuffe for twenty minutes when she heard footsteps – fast, urgent footsteps that didn't belong in a library.
The door burst open, and Paige ran in wearing her full football uniform, shoulder pads, cleats, and all. Her face was split by the biggest smile Azzi had ever seen, and she had a paper clenched tightly in her fist.
"Azzi!"
Several students looked up, annoyed, but Paige didn't seem to care. She jogged over to Azzi's table, practically vibrating with excitement.
"An 82!" Paige thrust the paper toward her, the red number circled at the top. "I got an 82! I haven't gotten a B on anything since like middle school!"
Azzi's face broke into a matching grin. "Paige! That's amazing!"
"Thank you!" Before Azzi could process what was happening, Paige pulled her up from her chair and wrapped her in a hug so tight that Azzi's feet actually left the ground. She smelled like grass and sweat and something rich, maybe cologne or shampoo, and Azzi's brain short-circuited.
Oh my God. Oh my God. She's hugging me. Paige Bueckers is hugging me.
When Paige set her down, Azzi felt dizzy.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," Paige said, still beaming. "I checked the stadium first, but you weren't there yet."
"I waned to finish my French assignment." Azzi gestured weakly at her abandoned notebook.
"Right, yeah. Sorry." Paige didn't look sorry at all. "Can I walk with you to the stadium?"
"Sure."
They packed up Azzi's things and headed out into the hallway. The school was mostly empty now, just the echo of their footsteps and the distant sound of a janitor's cart. It felt intimate somehow, just the two of them in this big empty space.
"I really can't thank you enough," Paige said as they walked. "I know tutoring me is probably the last thing you want to do with your free time."
If only you knew.
"I don't mind," Azzi said honestly. "You're easy to work with. You actually want to learn."
Paige bumped her shoulder gently against Azzi's. "That's because you're a good teacher."
Azzi's entire body felt warm.
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Friday night at The Nest was electric. The stands were packed, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs thick in the air. The War Hawks were playing their biggest rival, and the energy was infectious.
For the first time in four years, Azzi wasn't reading a book.
She sat in her usual spot, front row, right behind the team bench, but her eyes weren't on Jake. They were on number 5.
Every time Paige caught the ball, Azzi jumped to her feet. Every time she broke a tackle or made a cut that left defenders grasping at air, Azzi's heart soared.
It was a blowout game. The War Hawks were up 42-14 by the fourth quarter, and Paige had scored four touchdowns. Four. Azzi had screamed herself hoarse, clapping until her palms stung.
On Paige's eighth strong run, a 35-yard gain that had the entire stadium on their feet, Azzi found herself grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She didn't care that Teagan and Chrissy were probably judging her from wherever they were sitting. She didn't care that Jake kept shooting her confused looks from the sideline.
She only cared about watching Paige play.
When the final whistle blew, Coach Franklin called the team together at midfield. Azzi watched as he held up the game ball, saying something she couldn't quite hear. Then he handed it to Paige.
The team erupted in cheers, and Paige held the ball above her head, laughing. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and then –
They locked on Azzi.
Time seemed to slow. The noise of the stadium faded to a dull roar. Paige's smile softened into something else, something private and just for her. She nodded once, a small acknowledgment, and Azzi felt it in her chest like a physical thing.
She sees me. She really sees me.
In that moment, with Paige's eyes on her and the cool night air on her skin and the taste of freedom on her tongue, Azzi felt something she hadn't felt in years.
Hello all! I still have shit in my lungs, but this is the best I've felt in days! Physically at least (still severely depressed 🤪) Anywho, I didn't proofread this, but I hope you love it anyway!! xx Elle
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On Monday morning, Azzi found herself taking a little more care in choosing her outfit for the day. Most of her favorites were too much for days where the temperature hit ninety by noon. There were other dresses that were pretty, but she didn’t want to just be pretty today – she wanted to be memorable.
She chose a soft pink, pleated, plaid skirt and an eggshell button up. The baby pink cardigan and white ballet flats tied her outfit together. It was a simple outfit, one that she had a million variations of, but the skirt landed a few inches above her knees. It was the shortest she owned, and it highlighted her long legs.
She curls the ends of her long hair and gathered them all into a tight, high ponytail. A satin bow was wrapped around her locks, knotted perfectly at the back of her head. She smoothed her hair back one more time and frowned.
She wasn’t enough – she just needed…more
Azzi applied an extra layer of mascara, making her lashes look even longer. A few extra swipes of blush. Mixing together two different shades of lip gloss to add more shine.
She tried to convince herself that she just wanted to feel extra pretty today. But she knew the real reason – the sessions started today.
She’d been wanting Paige to just look at her since field day in Mrs. Johnson’s class ten years ago. But she was never loud enough, never magnetic enough to bring the blonde into her orbit.
These sessions were going to be the only opportunities for her to show Paige who she really was.
Guilt flooded her body.
Her father had just spent two hours lecturing his congregation about submission – submitting to God, submitting to men, submitting to fathers and husbands.
And Azzi wasn’t submitting.
Sure, it looked like she was being the same, obedient girl she always was. She did read her Bible and pray this morning, like she did every morning. And if they were at her house, Azzi’s outfit would have been praised by the whole congregation.
But she wasn’t submitting to them, and she was surely not submitting to her father.
Her dad would want her to primp herself every morning to impress her boyfriend, not for her high school’s star receiver.
But her dad wouldn’t accept her for who she was, who she loved, and he never would.
Azzi shook herself out her disappointing spiral and grabbed her backpack. It was much heavier than normal, carrying her own work, as well as the assignments Paige needed to work on.
She grabbed her typical breakfast of strawberries and cottage cheese, grabbed a granola bar, before walking outside.
Today was going to be a great day, she could feel it.
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Jacob Gibson was a pain in Paige’s ass. He never knew how to shut the fuck up. Sometimes, he teased Paige and Tash about being trans because both of them were taller than him. Other times, it was about having a faster 40 time during summer training when she had the stomach flu. Today, he wouldn’t shut up about Friday’s game.
Everyone was heading back to the locker room after practice when he started again.
“Coach only calls routes for Bueckers because he wants the support from all the other libtards in the county.”
Paige rolled her eyes, sick of his rambling.
“If I got half the opportunities she got, that game wouldn’t have been half as close as it was.”
Multiple teammates scoffed loudly at his idiocy.
“That catch should’ve been called back. Should’ve been offensive pass interference. That bitch pushed off.”
Outside of a couple of their teammates, the team ignored his rants. They’d never had a teammate who complained about the play that won them the game, but they all digressed.
But Paige was fed up. Natasha tried to grab the back of her practice jersey, but it was slick with sweat. The blonde was able to slip away and deliver a firm push to his back.
“I’m the bitch? You only got rid of your defender twice all game.” Paige pushed again once he turned around. “I might be a bitch, but it’s crazy that you get outplayed by a bitch every day.” She smirked.
Before Jacob could come back at her, Tash was in between them, pulling Paige away. “Chill, P. He’s not worth it.”
Her temper flared as she looked at his smug face, but she’d have to put T out of the way to get back to him, and she respected her friend too much to do that.
Instead, she yanked away from the shorter woman’s grip and stalked out of the locker room.
She walked out to Natasha’s truck, agitation still coursing through her body.
Who the fuck did Jacob think he was? He is better than me. He is a harder worker. He’s just an ignorant piece of shit. A little boy who –
And that is what made her halt in place. Because that’s what it was.
He was a boy. Something that Paige would never be. Something she never wanted to be.
But that’s why he was allowed to be less than mediocre and still have a starting spot.
“Paige,” she heard a voice call. “You gotta stop letting him get you riled up like that, man.” Natasha looked weary – she was sick and tired of having to step in between the two receivers, always going at it about something.
“Nah, bruh,” Paige huffed in reply. “He always chirping bout something. Wish he would just shut the fuck up for two seconds.”
Tash held back a chuckle. “P, you know why he’s doing it. He’s just insecure.”
“That’s not my fucking problem, bro,” she rolled her eyes. “If he wanted to be better than me, he could just work harder. Like he expects everything to just be handed to him without doing none of the work. I grind my ass off every single day to make sure I’m the best.”
“And nobody’s denying that, Paige. But letting him get you out of character makes it look like you’re just as immature as him.” T brought a hand to her shoulder, forcing eye contact. “Everyone who matters already knows you’re better than him. Start acting like it.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Tash was right. Blowing up in the locker room wasn’t a good look for someone who was supposed to be a leader. She didn’t want to ruin the offers she’d gotten by letting anybody get under her skin. No one was worth that.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sassed, turning towards the passenger door. “I’ll be better tomorrow. Can we stop by Torchy’s? I’m starving.”
“Um, no. You got something you need to do first. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”
Paige groaned loudly. “Bro, I’m not apologizing to him. He doesn’t even deserve it.”
“That’s not –” Tash paused. “Wait, did you really forget?” At Paige’s blank stare, she continued. “Your tutoring!” She exclaimed.
Fuck. Coach was gonna kill her if she didn’t fix her grades, and she wasn’t gonna be able to do that without a tutor.
Paige broke out into a dead sprint, taking the locker rooms to get back into the main hallways.
It took her a few minutes, but she made it. But the lights were dimmed – there was no one there.
She looked to the ceiling, eyes welling with tears. God, she’d ruined everything.
Then, she saw it. A small glow at the other end of the massive room. She couldn’t see it’s source from her position outside of the library, but she hoped and prayed it was Azzi Fudd.
She pulled the door open gently, not wanting to frighten the girl.
She stepped further into the space, and at the back of the library was her new tutor. She was sitting criss crossed on the floor, which seemed a bit odd to Paige, but who was she to judge. What was even weirded was the girl using the flashlight on her phone to shine a light on the book cradled in her lap.
Paige steeled herself, gathering the courage and willpower to head over to the girl and get started.
🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈
The sound of the media center door closing broke Azzi’s attention on her reading.
She’d been reading – and translating – Tartuffe for her AP French class. It was a fun project – each student got to pick a piece of classical French literature and do a presentation on it. The project was worth thirty percent of her nine weeks grade, and it wasn’t due for another five weeks, but Azzi wasn’t one to put off assignments. Besides, it was a good way to pass the time as she waited for a certain someone to show up for her tutoring sessions.
From her splendid relationship with Jacob, Azzi knew that football practice ended around six on Mondays because they had to watch film before they went on the field. So Azzi set up the table for tutoring at 5:45.
Fifteen minutes later, the table was organized into four sections. The first was for English – two copies of The Great Gatsby were stacked on top of an empty notebook, one that would be just for Paige. They would be talking about literary elements and the layers they added to the plot of the novel. The next was for liberal arts. The first half of the course was dedicated to financial literacy, so Azzi wanted to make sure that Paige understood all of the variables on the formula sheet, and which formula should be used for certain problems. For economics, they only needed to talk about supply, demand, and what could make them fluctuate. Spanish was the final course they’d be working on. She printed out a practice Spanish 1 final she’d made for a client last year – she and Paige would work through it throughout the week, so Azzi could see what she did and did not understand.
For class, she’d already printed the syllabus and highlighted important information – blue for English, pink for math, purple for Spanish, yellow for economics and government, and green would be for chemistry. There was also a list of all of her missing work.
She knew it was a lot for just one day, but she would rather be over prepared than run out of material and look like she didn’t know how to do her job. She was ready for Paige.
But then it was 6:15 and Paige wasn’t there.
Then 6:30. She thought that maybe she just took really long showers after practice.
At 6:45, Azzi decided to get a head start on her own work. Maybe the football player had a meeting with her coach after, needed to go over extra film or something.
When seven rolled around, Azzi promised that she’d wait until 7:30 before getting on her bike and going home. She didn’t know why she thought that Paige would actually want to work with a know it all, goodie two shoes.
Then, at 7:28, when the sky had turned to cotton candy, a throat cleared.
At the entrance to the library was Paige Bueckers. She stood tall in navy sweats and a plain white t-shirt. Azzi could see the places where the water from her hair soaked into the fabric. It wasn’t often that people saw Paige with her hair down – it was almost always in a flawless bun, but Azzi thought she looked beautiful.
She felt her face start to heat at the thought, and immediately told her brain to calm down, desperate to cool off before Paige got to the table.
Azzi didn’t say anything – couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t embarrass her – as the blonde walked towards her.
When she finally made it over, Azzi peered up at her, forcing her teeth to stay clenched so her jaw didn’t drop. She saw blue eyes beneath furrowed brows, eyes that weren’t looking at her, but at the book in her lap instead.
“You’re reading French?” She questioned incredously.
Azzi couldn’t do anything to stop the heat that rushed to her cheeks. “Oh, um yeah. I wanted to work on one of my assignments while I waited,” she smiled softly.
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Paige watched the girl stand and pull out a chair at the table.
Of course Azzi Fudd knew French and knew Spanish enough to tutor someone. Part of Paige envied the girl for having access to the resources needed to speak multiple languages, but more than anything, she hater how pretentious and stuck up she probably was.
Instead of voicing her disdain, the blonde swallowed her comments. Instead, she sat in her own chair.
She saw the papers and books on the table as she approached Azzi, but she wasn’t expecting…this.
The material was separated by subject. Paige could see all of the handouts her teachers had provided as well as printouts with all of the assignments she hadn’t turned in. And the list wasn’t that bad yet, but it was only the fourth week of school.
“You…did all this?” Paige’s voice was airy and full of shock.
She could see Azzi playing with her ponytail nervously. “Well, I spent all of Saturday reading through your syllabi and figuring out the most important topics. Then, I emailed your teachers to get the missing work list. Mrs. Pacheco is being difficult though, so I don’t have the list for chemistry yet. And after I knew that, I just needed to put together some material for us to work on during our sessions.”
Paige forced her face to stay neutral. “You did all of this in one weekend?”
“Yes, I wanted to be prepared.”
Paige was confused. Azzi Fudd, the perfect girl next door, goodie, little church girl had spent her entire weekend to prepare to help her, and she was an hour and a half late for their session.
“You know that’s not normal, right?” Shit, that came out wrong. God, she felt like such a bitch.
Azzi’s smile faltered a bit. “Oh.”
“Why did you do all this?” She asked, trying to fix the joy she’d broken.
Big brown eyes entranced her as Azzi tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? You need the help, and I can help you.”
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t big or anything, but for some reason, Paige knew she wanted to see it again.
“Besides, you’re supposed to be the first girl to get a football scholarship from a big school. We can’t have you missing out on an opportunity like that.” Azzi finished sweetly.
The blonde almost choked on her spit.
For someone homophobic, Azzi seemed really supportive of a girl doing “boy” things.
“Well, thanks. I really appreciate you being willing to help me.”
The tutor visibly perked up before turning back to the organized papers on the table. She frowned a bit before turning back to Paige. “Well, we only have half an hour before we have to be off campus. So maybe we can start with math?”
Paige was shaking her head before she could stop herself. “I don’t think there’s a single math concept that I’ll be able to understand in under thirty minutes.”
Instead of choosing something else, Azzi just stacked the papers from the other classes, small smile still painted across her lips. She slid the math packet over to the footballer. “I have a trick for this. Just trust me.”
The blonde shrugged. Azzi had a good reputation for a reason – it was time to see if she was as good as everyone said.
Azzi moved her chair a little closer to Paige’s. “So how much do you understand about simple versus compound interest?”
“Um, I think interest is like a percentage of what’s added or subtracted to something.” Paige’s cheeks colored. She knew it was more complicated than that, but she had no clue how to explain it. “But that’s probably wrong.”
“No, no!” Azzi beamed. “That’s right! There are just different types of interest, but you’re totally right about the basics.”
Paige’s chest puffed out a bit at the praise. She’d practically been floating through classes, so, even though it wasn’t a big deal, she was proud of getting that one right.
“So simple interest is exactly like it sounds – simple. With that, the interest, I, is just your principal, P, or original value, times the interest rate, r, in decimal form, times the length of time, t, in years.” Azzi wrote as she spoke, making each variable a different color. Paige wasn’t even sure where she pulled the notecard from – it seemed to just appear.
The brunette pointed to the first problem. “So the way these problems are worded can be a little tricky, but once you have a good system, it’ll be super easy!”
At Azzi’s pause, Paige figured she was supposed to read the question. “Charlie borrowed $350 from Liza. He has to pay the money back in 2 years, paying 8% in interest. How much money will Charlie pay?”
“Okay, so what do you think the principal is?”
“He borrowed 350, so I think that would be the principal, right?”
Azzi beamed again, “Excellent!” She underlined the number with the same blue she’d used to write the P on the formula notecard.
“Then, 8% would be the interest rate, so that would be 0.08, then the time is two because he’s paying her back in 2 years, right?” Paige questioned, hoping she said everything correctly.
“Exactly,” Azzi smiled again. “And you told me you weren’t gonna be able to get it. And it’s only been five minutes!” She paused, sliding her calculator over to the blonde. “Now, I want you to solve for the interest.”
Paige plugged the numbers in. Then she cleared the calculator and did it once more to make she it was right. “Is it 56?”
“Perfect job, Paige. But when you look back at the question, does it make sense for 56 to be the final answer?”
Paige reread the question three times before coming up with the answer, “It can’t be 56 because they’re asking for how much he’ll pay her back. And if he borrowed $350, he can’t just give her back 56.”
Azzi moved the notecard closer to Paige. “You’re right, and that’s because 56 is just the interest. To figure out the future value, or A, we have to add the principal and the interest.” She said, writing A = P + I beneath the previous formula.
“Oh, so he pays back $406, right? Because it’d be 350 plus 56.” Paige said, writing the interest and future value equations on her homework.
When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige looked up, scared that she got it wrong. But instead, she saw Azzi sitting up, spine straight and pride clear on her face. “Very good. How about you work on the next two, just to make sure you’ve got a good understanding of simple interest.”
It took Paige five minutes to finish the problems, constantly looking at the formulas to make sure she was doing them right. She had no interest in getting something wrong and having to start over.
After Azzi checked over her work, she pulled out a fresh notecard.
“Okay, compound interest can be kind of tricky, but focus on my tips. So, think of compounding like practicing. Think of the person that works on catches and getting stronger and more coordinated once a week. Now think of someone who do extra work three times a week, and someone who does more every day. It may not make a big difference in a week, or even a month, but over a year? There will be clear differences in all three players, right?”
Paige nodded, appreciating the sports metaphor. “Obviously the one who did extra work every day will have a much bigger advantage because they got in a lot more reps.”
“So that’s what compounding is. You’ll she an ‘n’ in the compound interest formula, and that stands for how many times something is compounded every year. So the higher the n is, the more the interest is. Does that make sense?”
The wheels were turning in Paige’s head, typing the abstract concept of compound interest to something she understood well. “I think so. So, like something that’s compounded weekly would end up having more interest than if something was only compounded monthly. Because there are 52 weeks in a year, but only 12 months.” She looked up, “Is that the right way to look at it?”
Azzi’s doe eyes shined with pride. “That’s exactly the right way to look at it, Paige.”
An alarm broke their eye contact. “Damn, it’s late,” Paige commented, looking at her watch with furrowed brows. “We probably need to be heading out.”
“Yes,” Azzi started, scrambling to collect the materials. She handed the first page of the Spanish practice test and a copy of The Great Gatsby to the blonde. “If you have time, I’d really appreciate it if you could read the first chapter, so we can have a discussion tomorrow. And then I made a Spanish 1 crash course last year, so working on it throughout the week will help me know how I can help you.”
Paige raised her brows at the unofficial homework she’d been given. She didn’t want to do any of it, but if doing extra work was gonna get her to pass, she was more than fine with doing it.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Paige. I think you did a great job today,” she said, slipping her backpack on. “Will six be an okay time?”
“That should be fine,” Paige nodded. “I may be a little late after practice – not like today though, I forgot, and that was my fault.”
Azzi shooed away her excuse, “No worries. I get schedules changing. I’m just happy you showed up.”
The two walked to the front of the school in comfortable silence, not even passing a custodian on their trek.
Tash’s pickup truck was waiting out front – Paige continued straight ahead, while Azzi veered off towards the bike rack.
“Your parents aren’t here?” She questioned.
Azzi looked down at her feet, “No, they’re in Pennsylvania, I think. They travel a lot.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “Have a good night, Paige,” she called sweetly.
Paige looked over her shoulder at the girl unlocking her shiny, pink bicycle. “You, too Azzi.”
As she climbed into the truck, Tash was waiting with a toothy smile. “Soooo, how was your first session with the brainiac?”
“She’s kinda weird. She was reading French – like a regular book in French – like it was just a completely normal thing to do,” she held back a giggle at how outrageous it seemed.
Natasha scoffed, “I didn’t ask you about Azzi. I asked you how tutoring was.”
“Everything is color-coded, T,” Paige grumbled.
Tash looked impressed, “Good. You could use some order. But did she help you with anything? Are you gonna go back?”
“I kinda don’t have a choice,” she paused. “But yeah. I understand the interest thing, and I think I’m gonna show up on time tomorrow.”
Paige let Natasha clown her until they pulled up at her house. She was content to look at the way the trees blurred during the drive and think about the dark-haired girl who had agreed to help her.
Sure, Azzi Fudd was still a good, little church girl who wanted to be a perfect angel. And sure, she was only tutoring Paige because Coach asked her. And sure, she probably thought Paige was going to hell for her sexuality, even though she was nice about football earlier.
But maybe, just maybe, this tutoring thing would work out.
🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈
Azzi was giddy the entire way home.
Not only had she talked to Paige Bueckers without embarrassing her, but the other girl actually seemed interested in what Azzi was saying.
And sure, maybe it was mainly a bunch of stuff she needed to pass her classes, but she actually asked Azzi questions about speaking multiple languages.
There was nothing that could bring the girl down on her cycle home.
Not even the sweat that trailed down her forehead since she refused to remove her cardigan.
Not even the text from Jake where he complained about not being able to see her because she was more focused on “stupid losers” than their relationship.
Even when she opened the door to her empty house.
Even when her footsteps echoed on the cold marble floors.
Even when she cooked steak and rice to make homemade chipotle bowls.
There was nothing that could dim her mood because her crush saw her today.
For thirty minutes, Paige saw Azzi for who she was.
The Hays County High gymnasium was a sea of blue and white. Girls were in cutoff shorts with painted handprints up and down their legs. Boys were dressed in deep navy t-shirts with the war hawk logo printed on the front.
Which meant one thing – gameday.
It was the first football game of the season, and everyone would be flocking to The Nest for the football game. Everyone in Magnolia Creek, Texas would be in the stands to watch Paige Bueckers and the War Hawks fight to have another undefeated season.
Paige was preparing to be the first girl in the history of American football to get a full ride to a major football program. There were going to be coaches there from every school – Bama, Auburn, Washington, Michigan, Ohio State, Florida State, Florida, UGA, Clemson, and of course, the University of Texas. And she was going to put on a show for every kid, classmate, supporter, and scout that came her way.
Except instead of listening to Marvin Sapp and eating Slim Jims and donuts, Paige was sitting in Coach Franklin’s office. She wasn’t really listening to him, going over the routes she had to run instead, until he said the one thing that tilted her world on its axis.
“If you keep it up, you’ll be ineligible by the end of the first nine weeks.”
Paige blinked out of her thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“Were you even listening to me?” Coach scoffed. At her silence, he rolled his eyes. “Your grades were terrible last school year, and you chose not to retake any of your finals when you decided to skip summer school. Your GPA is a 2.36 right now. If it drops any lower, you will be ineligible for the season. All of your offers will disappear. And you won’t be able to graduate.”
“WHAT!” She exclaimed, standing so fast she knocked the chair over. “I can’t be benched for the whole season coach. I’ll do anything, I promise!”
Coach Frields looked delighted to hear that. “Great. You have tutoring sessions every day with Azzi Fudd.”
Paige’s brows furrowed. “Jake’s girl?” She referred to one of the other starting receivers. “She’s a pushover with no backbone. Don’t you have anybody else? Someone who won’t let me walk all over them?”
At her coach’s narrowed eyes, Paige sighed in resignation.
“Fine. I’ll work with Azzi.” She huffed. “Can I go home now?”
Once she was dismissed, she sped out to the football parking lot looking for Tarah’s truck.
Natasha Cloud was Paige’s best friend. She was the only other girl in Magnolia Creek to think about trying out for the football team with Paige freshman year. Tash got the quarterback spot on JV, while Paige’s skinny build was assigned to wide receiver. They’d been stuck like glue ever since.
Tash was the calm to Paige’s storm. She always had good advice and often used logic to help Paige through tough situations, like when her mom moved back to town.
“Hurry up, PSki!” A high voice shouted from the front seat of the Ford.
Isabelle Harrison was Natasha’s girlfriend of three and a half years. She was a cheerleader who was almost always bubbly and friendly. She was one of the hardest workers Paige knew – still being the best after tearing her meniscus one year and breaking her leg the next and still being better than everyone else on her squad.
Tash and Izzy were looked down upon by many of Magnolia Creek’s residents, and not just for being gay and proud. People said Tash tried to be too manly, and that she needed to be satisfied with who God made her to be. Which was crazy, because there weren’t many people more comfortable that who they were than Natasha Cloud. They thought Izzy was nothing more than a pretty little cheerleader. That since she had bleached blonde hair, she was stupid. They ignored the fact that she had already been offered a full academic scholarship to Duke.
But instead of being frustrated with the people of Hays County, Tash and Izzy chose to ignore them. They were unapologetically themselves, and they were going to stay that way.
They were the reason why Paige stopped wearing dresses and leggings halfway through freshman year – she didn’t need to fit in with the other girls, she needed to feel comfortable. Feel like herself. They were the reason she was comfortable enough to come out that summer.
This was not to say that Paige’s dad didn’t support her. He did. Wholeheartedly. As a matter of fact, when she did come out to him, all he said was, “I thought we already knew that.” He always encouraged her to try her best to be the best at football.
But it was different. Paige kind of felt like her dad had to accept her because he was such a good dad. But her peers? They owed her nothing. And feeling like she belonged was one of the greatest joys of her life.
“Coach wanted to go over plays or something?” Tash questioned as Paige slid into the back seat.
She huffed again, glaring at nothing. “Nah. I gotta get a tutor.” She mumbled.
Paige braced herself for the impending judgement and lecture she was surely about to receive. Isabelle and Natasha acted like she was their kid sometimes.
“Paige, it’s the fifth day of school. How the hell you already need a tutor?” The blonde questioned, genuinely confused.
Blue eyes rolled. “From last school year. When she moved back to town.” She groaned loudly. “Started smoking and stopped going to class, remember?”
Izzy’s eyes cut across the truck cab to her girlfriend. “I told you not to help her skip!” She turned to the back seat, eyes filled with pity. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped.”
“I’m sorry, P. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.” Tash called from the driver’s seat.
“It was my fault. You don’t need to apologize for none of that. And I didn’t care enough to ask for help. Just wanted to smoke and get on the game.” Paige leaned her head onto the head rest.
“Do you want me to tutor you? We can meet after practice whenever you need.” Izzy offered.
Paige smiled softly. “That’s sweet, Iz, but coach already found me a tutor.”
Both girls turned around, “Who?” They questioned in unison.
“Azzi Fudd.”
Perfectly sculpted brows rose in surprise. “Oh! Azzi’s sweet. She’s in my AP biology class. And my AP econ and gov class. And AP lit. She might be the only person smarter than me in that whole school.” Her voice was light as she recounted her interactions.
“Jake is gonna be pissed. You know he tries to keep her hidden.” Tash remarked. “And her pops ain’t gonna like her helping a lesbian.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t give a fuck about nobody who can’t keep up with me on my worst day. And if he say something about it, Imma turn his girl out.”
“She’s not even gay.” Izzy giggled loudly.
“None of the girls I’ve slept with are gay.” She said with a smirk. “At least that’s what they go around telling people.”
Natasha looked at Paige in the review mirror. “Seriously bruh. Don’t mess with Azzi like that. All she do is homework, help people, and go to church.”
“Whatever, bruh. If she really as good as y’all say, I ain’t doing shit to her. She’ll be my only hope in passing this year.”
Paige sat back, thinking about everything. She needed to go to college and get a full ride. Her dad had been working extra shifts with the construction company to make sure there would be enough money to send her to school. His knees and back were always hurting due to the physicality of his job. Paige wanted him to be able to relax – to take her college fund and spend it on himself.
If she lost all her offers, she’d be completely fucked. She needed to have an amazing football season, so she’d get more of the offers she wanted. But she also needed to have a nearly perfect school year to keep those offers.
As much as Paige hated to admit it, she needed help. Azzi Fudd was gonna be the person who made or broke her.
🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈
Azzi Fudd was good.
That was probably the word she would use to describe herself.
She got good grades. She helped those in need whenever she could. She went to church every Sunday. She read her Bible every day. She prayed multiple times a day. She was the definition of a good Christian girl.
She was exactly who her parents raised her to be.
Her mom said women needed to dress in a way that didn’t tempt men. So, she only wore modest shirts, long skirts, or dresses. Her mom said it was important to learn how to keep a house up. So, she cleaned her parents’ house multiple times a week. Her mom said she wouldn’t keep a husband if she couldn’t cook. So, she learned how to cook all types of foods.
Azzi didn’t talk back. She didn’t catch attitudes. She did nothing that she wasn’t supposed to do. Ever.
So, Coach Franklin reached out to ask Azzi to help the star receiver, she didn’t hesitate.
There were a few problems with her being so willing to help Paige Bueckers.
1. Paige was from a ‘broken’ household. Even though Azzi hated that term (especially because Paige and Mr. Bueckers always seemed happy with each other), her dad said that it was important for kids to grow up in a house with a dad and a mom. He would likely feel that Paige was less than because of her parents’ divorce.
2. Jake hated Paige. He was a little misogynistic (Azzi mentioned that to her mom once, and she basically told Azzi that she was wrong, and that she shouldn’t say stuff like that about him). He didn’t like that she was a girl on a football team. And it made him feel emasculated that Paige was a better wide receiver than he was. (Azzi was counting down the days to go to college and move away from Jacob Gibson)
3. Azzi wasn’t sure Paige would even like her. Paige was loud, cocky, and undeniably herself. She was gay and proud of it. And Langston Fudd often preached sermons about how bad it was for people to be gay, and that there was no room for gay people in his congregation. Paige would probably assume that Azzi held the same views.
4. The most important problem was probably the fact that Azzi had a crush on Paige. Which is something that Azzi obviously hid about herself. She’d had a crush on Paige since the second grade – she actually never had a crush on anyone else except for Paige. But when her father preached about how wrong she was, and her mother lectured her on the importance of finding a husband, Azzi had no choice but to hide who she really was. She agreed to go on a date with someone who had been hitting on her for a year and a half, just to keep the peace.
So, against her better judgement, Azzi agreed to help Paige. And she was a little excited to get to know the girl she’d been admiring for the last ten years.
Azzi parked her bike in front of her house and walked inside. Her house was just that – a house, not a home. Her parents were in Wisconsin where her dad was preaching for some revival. They’d be back on Saturday before flying out to the next city on Sunday after church. It’s what they’d been doing since she was twelve and finally “mature enough” to stay home alone for weeks on end.
She sighed sadly. Azzi actually hated being alone, but she was an only child, and she wasn’t allowed to have a pet. Her only friends were Ruth and Salome from church, and she didn’t like them very much. They acted like they were nice, but they secretly talked about a lot of the girls at Hays County High.
She couldn’t wait to get out of this tiny town and away from all the judgmental people. Azzi wanted to move to a big city, fall in love with someone, and maybe adopt a few kids – help them not feel alone either.
Azzi trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. She hated this house. Even the walls felt judgmental – even in pictures, her father’s eyes reminded her that she didn’t belong.
She sat at her desk and pulled out her planner. She and Paige would have sessions for two hours every day after football practice and another two-hour session on Saturday’s.
After looking at Paige’s grades, she was surprised she did so poorly last year. Her grades weren’t amazing in ninth or tenth grade, but she passed everything. Even during the first semester of last year, she did good enough. But the spring semester killed her.
Paige was in English, liberal arts math, chemistry, economics and government, Spanish 2, and gym.
Azzi got to work. Looking at all the syllabi for the five classes Paige needed to ace and planning out their sessions on her calendar. It would take some work, but Azzi knew that eventually, Paige Bueckers was going to pass every class this year, and that she’d be able to walk across that stage in May.
🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈📖💙🏈
A few hours later, Azzi was in The Nest with seemingly everyone else in Magnolia Creek. There was one minute left in the game and Hays County was tied with Allen High.
Azzi was content to sit in the stands and read her book until the offense took the field again.
As much as she hated being alone, she also hated being around this many people. Groups this size made her a little anxious, but she had to play the role of the doting girlfriend for the next couple of months. So, when Jake was on the field, she stood and cheered with the rest of the crowd. But as soon as he was off the field, she was back sitting down and reading her book.
The offense took the field again, so she tucked the book into her canvas bag and stood, smoothing her navy dress automatically.
The ball was snapped, and the quarterback handed it to the running back, who only got two yards.
The second down, the quarterback launched the ball at Paige down the field; she was able to get a couple more yards after the catch. It put them at the 42-yard line with 28 seconds to go.
With a new set of downs, they tried a quarterback sneak, which pushed them back to the 37, and it took seven seconds off the clock.
Jake caught a curl for six yards, but they were still at the opponent’s 48.
With eight seconds left, the quarterback threw up a wild pass. Everyone held their breath as the ball flew.
Paige broke away from her defender, completely changed her route.
And the ball dropped perfectly into her outstretched arms.
Her legs blurred as they carried her into the end zone.
She slung the ball into the sky as she celebrated.
Azzi couldn’t help but smile widely and clap wildly as the play. Her eyes tracked the girl who had been everything to everyone in the city. Azzi pushed past the crowd, her fingers still tingling from the moment she clapped. She hadn’t even meant to cheer that loud. But how could she not?
Paige’s teammates lifted her onto their shoulders, cheering at the miracle catch she’d had. She looked out in the stands, trying to find her dad. Instead, her eyes caught on a navy dress slipping through the crowd like a ripple in a calm sea. Paige’s smirk fell, just for a second. It was Azzi – the girl who she thought would never give her the time of day.
And she didn’t know it, but that girl was going to change her life.
Paige Bueckers is the best football player in Texas. Unfortunately, she's also one failed report card away from losing everything.
With college scouts watching and her GPA hanging by a thread, Paige is forced into daily tutoring sessions with the last person she would've chosen.
Enter Azzi Fudd. The preacher's daughter, straight-A student, and resident know-it-all.
Of course, she agrees without hesitation.
What Paige doesn't know is that Azzi has spent the last ten years quietly in love with her.
Now they're spending hours together every week. For Paige, it's a last chance to save her future. For Azzi, it's the opportunity she's been dreaming about since second grade.
Neither of them is prepared for what happens next.
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.
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.
"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."
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 wife'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."
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 wife. "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.
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."
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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.
For as long as they could remember, Azzi and Paige have shared the same dream – a life built together. Late-night conversations about championships, marriage, a quiet home, and the family they hope to have someday become the foundation of a future neither of them can imagine without the other.
Over the years, that dream begins to take shape. Through college, professional basketball, and every milestone in between, they keep choosing each other. But some dreams are harder won than others, and when the path to parenthood proves far more complicated than either of them expected, they'll have to navigate heartbreak, hope, and the question of how many times a person can keep believing before they break.
