Hello, would you write Paige x diabetic Girlfriend Reader? Reader is a pro Golfer, she has a Tournament but her Diabetes is acting Up cause she forgot to eat and Paige is taking Care of her? X
UNDER PAR
Pairing: gf!Paige Bueckers x diabetic!professional golfer!fem!reader
word count: 1.8k
synopsis: During one of the most important tournaments of your life, The U.S. Women's Classic, you forget to take the most important thing seriously: your health. Luckily, your girlfriend doesn't.
authors note: Hi hi! thank you guys so so so much for the amount of love on my past two fics, especially Whats In my Bag? special thank you to this anon for the request (which are open btw!!) I hope I brought your vision to life! I am not familiar with the professional golf scene at all, nor am I (or anybody in my close family) diabetic so I really tried my best + the help of Google. If anything in here is incorrect or a misrepresentation, please let me know and I will fix it immediately! Also... whats the opinion on writings for ppl outside of PB? I am so down to write if that's what u guys want! I love you guys SO SO bad and cannot thank you enough. Hope y'all love this!!
You have felt your fair share of pressure in your life. From hard class loads during school, parental expectations, to even media scrutinization once you went pro in golf. You always welcomed the pressure into your life, often repeating to yourself what your coach had told you so many times.
“Pressure can either make diamonds or dust, and I fucking hate dust.”
But it didn't make the terrible feeling in your gut any better. You often got stuck in your own head and needed someone to pull you out of it. Your parents, your close friends, but once your girlfriend started attending tournaments, that role belonged to her only.
She took the role seriously too, always showing up at least an hour early so she could watch your entire warm-up. She masked it as just being impressed with your work ethic as a professional golfer, but you knew she was worried about your medical condition just as much.
You were diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when you were ten years old after having symptoms of extreme fatigue and weight loss. You had always hated your diabetes. You hated stopping to check your blood sugar, hated carrying supplies everywhere, hated that your body sometimes demanded attention when you wanted to focus on literally anything else.
You didn't wear an insulin pump, instead opting for a shot of insulin multiple times a day, and the only reason Paige found out you had diabetes was the first time you stayed over at her house.
You had been official with Paige for a little over six months, and she had finally convinced you to stay over. You had always been hesitant, making up excuse after excuse as to why you couldn't that night. But she had made an offer that you couldn't resist.
She had invited you over and doordashed the two of food. One thing led to another and you ended up falling asleep with Paige. You woke up hours later, your heart racing and your skin damp with sweat.
You immediately knew your blood sugar had crashed.
You tried to get the heavy arm off your waist as quickly as possible, your hands visibly shaking as you reached for your purse. You grabbed your glucometer and a test strip before stumbling toward the kitchen. After you flipped the overhead lightswitch on, you pricked your finger and put a dot of blood onto the test strip.
You sucked on the pad of your finger as you waited for the meter to measure. The letters LO flashed across the screen, making you let out a quiet sigh. You quietly rummaged through Paige's cabinets and fridge before ultimately deciding on a tablespoon of honey.
As you were pouring the sticky substance out onto the spoon, you heard the sound of feet shuffling from room to room.
“Babe? You still here? I’on know where you are…”
You felt your heart break a little at the underlying desperate tone in Paige's voice but you couldn't bring yourself to respond, instead putting your undivided attention on getting your blood sugar up. As you stuck the spoon in your mouth, you saw Paige's silhouette out of the corner of your eye. The blonde's hair was sticking up in every direction, clearly dented from sleep.
Her eyes squinted against the kitchen light, a sliver of bare stomach exposed beneath her shirt. She clearly was confused by the sight in her kitchen, rubbing her eyes as if she was seeing a mirage.
“Baby? What’r’ya doin’? Thought you left…”
She came up in front of you, wrapping her hands around your waist and burrowing her hands in your neck. You took the spoon out of your mouth and gently ran your nails over her back,
“I'm sorry, I just had to get up ‘cause my blood sugar was low.”
You mumbled, immediately startled by the way Paige's head shot up. Her blue eyes immediately scanned your face, hands, and posture as if she was searching for any sign that something was wrong.
“You ok? Whaddya need? You want me to run to the store?”
“No… Paige im all good, i just didnt wanna worry you”
“No babe… you're never worryin’ me. Just tryna make sure you're ok.”
The first thing you noticed when you stepped onto the practice green was the noise. Not actual noise. The crowd was still sparse, the tournament grounds quiet in the early morning hours.
It was the noise in your own head. Every missed putt from the last month. Every sports commentator who had picked somebody else to win.
Every expectation that came with being one of the best golfers in the world. You rolled your shoulders back and adjusted the brim of your visor. Your stomach twisted, not from hunger. Well, not entirely from hunger, you hadn't eaten before leaving the hotel that morning.
The thought of food had made you feel nauseous, which was stupid. You knew better than anyone how important it was to eat before a round. You let out a breath and rolled your shoulders.
It's just another tournament
You told yourself as you grabbed your club to warm up your drivers. You listened as your trainer reminded you of your form, technique and the mistakes you make often.
"You're rushing your backswing again."
You let out a sigh.
"I've hit six balls."
"And you've rushed all six."
Your trainer crossed her arms.
"Slow down. Stop trying to win the tournament on the driving range."
You were receptive to the corrections, your undivided attention on preparing for the tournament. You adjusted the visor on your head to try and block out some of the
beating California sun. You saw your trainer looking over the schedule, a furrow in her brow.
“What time am I on the course?”
You asked, peering over her shoulder at the flimsy paper schedule.
“Eleven-thirty to two. The worst time ever. This sun is hell compared to Dallas, and I thought that was bad enough.”
You agreed with her, shielding your eyes as you stared at her. You knew the timing for the course was less than ideal. You didn't eat before you left this morning, too nervous that you were afraid you were going to be sick to your stomach.
You weren't able to eat during the tournament, which meant you were going to have your first true meal of the day at three pm. If everything was on time.
This was the worst day to have a bad day. You had just finished hole six and were scoring terribly. You didn't understand why you were making the most simple of mistakes, holes that should be a walk in the park for you were making you want to pull each strand of hair on your head out.
You picked at the nonexistent dirt beneath your nails, your eyes focused. You felt your hands involuntarily shake, which you had previously chalked up to nerves for such a big tournament, It was the fucking U.S. Womens Open for gods sakes, but you thought an energy gel wouldn't hurt. You thumbed through your golf caddy, looking in the usual pocket they sat in before cursing to yourself.
You didn't restock before coming to California.
You tried not to freak out as you got your trainers' attention.
“Hey, do you have a gel?”
She felt around her pockets before shaking her head,
“No, are you low?”
You shrugged, looking for your meter and a test strip.
“I dunno, should I test? My hands are shaky but it could just be nerves… I just dont want to fuck everybody up..”
Your trainer nodded understandingly, looking towards the hole and trying to assess if you had time to test before you were up.
“I’d say… do this hole and then test. Your girlfriend here? Could she grab you somethin’?”
You looked toward the crowd and tried to spot the blonde ponytail you'd become so accustomed to seeing. You knew she had a Nike shoot yesterday, promising you over the phone,
“Baby I swear to God I'll be there. I’ll drive the plane myself if I have to… this is a big fuckin’ deal!”
After you finished the seventh hole–which had gone about as well as the previous six– your trainer guided you toward a nearby first aid tent. You looked toward the crowd, trying to see Paige through the hot, blinding sun. Before you knew it, you saw her blonde ponytail trying to get closer. She flashed the credential badge she loved so much.
It makes me feel important, baby. Can you blame me?
Her blue eyes, usually bright and easygoing, looked stormy as she hurried toward you.
“Hey mama… what's goin’ on? You've been lookin’ weird out there. You feelin’ ok? Where the fuck is the med?”
She gently rubbed your palm, her eyes flitting between your face and the surrounding area for the medic. Her hand suddenly left yours as she fumbled around in her pocket, pulling out an raspberry lemonade energy gel.
Your favorite flavor.
You felt your heart warm at the simple gesture, trying to reach for the packet to tear into it. When Paige noticed your shaking hands, she lightly tapped them away and tore the perforation with her teeth. The sweet, sticky substance touched your lips as she held it up gently.
“C’mon mama, open up ok? I know you dont wanna eat but its gonna make you feel better.”
You took the packet with a nod, swallowing the gel with controlled ease. When you looked back down, you were met with Paige's furrowed brows staring up at you from her squatted position. Her hand lightly caressing your leg as she tried to mentally survey how you were feeling. You tried taking deep breaths as you felt your eyes sting with tear.
“I just…”
Your voice cracked
“This is like the biggest fucking tournament of my life and i’ve been playing like shit and now I have to stop because of this.”
You laughed bitterly.
“Like why cant I just have one normal moment!”
You let out a huff as you quickly wiped the tears daring to fall from your eyes. As quickly as the anger came, it left and left you feeling embarrassed. There were far bigger problems in the world than a bad round of golf, but that didn't stop disappointing from settling heavily in your chest.
“Hey. Hey.”
She squeezed your hand.
“Don't do that.”
“You’re gonna take a minute, your gonna get your sugar up, and then your gonna go back out there and kick ass.”
She tilted her head.
“Right?”
You let out a wet laugh, nodding to her. You took a breath before standing up, Paige followed your lead and immediately pulled you into her chest.
“You got this mama, ok? I didn't get all jetlagged for nothin’ right? Golf can wait ten minutes. You can’t.”
pairing: Dallas Wings!Paige Bueckers x celebrity!fem!reader
word count: 1.2k
synopsis: During a Vogue What's In My Bag? interview, fans get an unexpected glimpse into your notoriously private relationship with Paige Bueckers.
a/n: hey guys!! thank u so so much for the love on Damn I Love Miami, it means so much! asw FEDDD me this wknd & the clips of P taking her shirt off + her and T made me go feral. hopefully you guys like this, I jst wanted to get smth out to u all while im making something longer. love uuu
p.s. sorry if my blog looks ratchet over the next few days, im trying to get a consistent theme for it but my spare time is scattered and limited
The Dallas morning shone through the curtains in your girlfriend's apartment as your phone vibrated softly on the bedside table. You tried to untangle your arms from her grip as quickly but carefully as possible, trying not to wake the blonde girl whose face was buried in the crook of your neck. Paige, ever the deep sleeper, just let out a breath and tightened her arms around you. You blindly shut the alarm off and picked up the device, scrolling through your online calendar to see what your day consisted of.
10am: wake up
10:45am: wake Paige up
11am: get up & eat breakfast
11:15am-12pm: get ready
12:30pm-3pm: Vogue whats in my bag (bring everyday bag in back of car)
3:30pm: go back to Paige’s
4pm: Paige home
7:30pm-9:30pm: dinner res w paige
Looking over your schedule, you couldn't help feeling excited. The Vogue interview was something you’d always dreamed of doing, long before you reached the level of fame you had now. Your movement must’ve disturbed her because she sleepily raised her head to look at you. Her blue eyes barely cracked open, with pieces of her blonde hair sticking up wildly from sleep as she stared at you for a moment then looked at the phone in your hand. She furrowed her eyebrows, snatching the device and turning it off before placing it on the bedside table once again. She pulled you back down on top of her, grumbling something along the lines of,
“fuck that shit ma, come’on back to bed.”
You thanked your past self for setting that alarm forty five minutes early
You barely made it to the interview on time, keeping your manager on her toes as you liked to call it. In all honesty Paige just didn't want to get up, which then meant you couldn't get up because she decided to lay all her weight on top of you. As you settled into the hair and makeup chair, your phone vibrated against your chest.
Paige 💞
ur gonna do great mama love u
plug the wings while ur at it lmaooo
Your face broke into a smile as your girlfriend joked, playfully rolling your eyes at the shameless plug for her W team. The woman doing your makeup must've noticed the change from your frantic demeanor because she curiously looked down at your phone.
“Oooh, special someone?”
You set the phone face down in your lap, giving the girl a light laugh and a nod. It wasn't that you wanted to hide yours and Paige's relationship from the world, quite the opposite actually. But there were so many factors that went into the chaotic, crazy lives of two celebrities.
“Yeah… something like that”
The makeup artist cocked an eyebrow before turning your chair to face the vanity mirror so you could see the finished product. You immediately smiled, loving the work.
“Well… would Ms. Girlfriend like this look?”
You laughed and nodded before thanking her and going to change into the outfit your stylist had picked for the interview, a pair of light blue jeans with a white baby tee and a brown leather jacket over.
“Hi Vogue, this is what's in my bag!”
You smiled at the camera, holding up your black Coach purse,
“So this is the Coach Terri shoulder bag, this is pretty much what I take with me on a daily basis. It's just the right size to hold all the essentials I need without being too big and bulky. So… starting on the front of my bag is this marshmallow keychain.”
You held up the small pink marshmallow to the camera, grinning.
“So what actually makes this so special to me is that, if you've seen this keychain before, it's actually supposed to be two marshmallows together. But I got this with my girlfriend while she was visiting in New York and we cut them so I have one marshmallow and she has the other!”
You smiled as you remembered the matching white keychain on Paige's travel bag. You opened the zipper for your purse, pulling your Coach wallet out.
“The first thing in her is my wallet! I believe I got this in London during fashion week last year, and I just love the print so much,”
You opened up the small leather cardholder, a Dallas Wings ticket fluttering into your lap. You looked at the camera with wide eyes and a funny frown on your face, picking up the ticket and holding it up to the camera.
“This is a Dallas Wings ticket, if you know me you know I frequent the games… um… wonder how that got in there!”
You said with a laugh, sucking in a breath and scratching the back of your neck. You showed the contents of your wallet, along with a few other personal belongings in your purse.
“Uh these are my broken sunglasses. I did not break these, my girlfriend broke them. I am still mad at her for that. But hey! I have a party trick always in my purse when I put ‘em on.”
You laughed, folding over into your lap before collecting yourself and straightening back up. You dug around in your purse a little while more before coming across a polaroid. It was from Paige's time recently on Unrivaled when you went to visit her. You both were laying out on a sunchair, oblivious to the fact that one of Paige's teammates was capturing such an intimate moment as the two of you blissfully napped together. You let out a soft sigh, smiling to yourself before showing the camera.
“So this is me and my amazing, incredible, loving, sweet, girlfriend Paige. We've been dating for a little over a year, and she's just… amazing. I know I already said that but she truly is.”
You smiled at the camera, placing the picture on the table in front of you. You rifled through the pockets in your purse, looking up when one of the directors in the back spoke up.
“You think if you call Paige right now she’ll answer?”
You laughed, shaking your head.
“No.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not. She's at preseason practice right now – there is no way.”
The crew egged you on, only for you to sigh and pick up your phone.
You clicked on her contact and pressed the call button, waiting about four rings before she answered.
“Hey mama… you caught me at the perfect time,”
You groaned as the entire crew laughed at your theory she would be too busy to answer.
“Dammit Paige! You were supposed to be busy!”
She let out a confused squeak, the dots clearly not connecting as she heard the combined laughter of you and the crew onset for the interview.
“Are you not done?”
“No, I found that polaroid Dom took of us in this pocket, so I was talking about you, and then they wanted to see if you'd answer… and you did.”
You heard her laugh,
“You plug the Wings yet?”
You rolled your eyes and sighed with a smile,
“Yes, I had a ticket fall out of my wallet earlier.”
Paige laughed again, and the sound was so infectious that you couldn't help but join her. You two said your goodbyes and you hung up the phone. You smiled at the camera once more, giggling and covering your mouth with a hand. After taking a break you smiled at the camera,
“This was so much fun, thank you for having me, Vogue and this was what's in my bag.”
You waved to the camera with a grin, already knowing your girlfriend was going to spend the next week teasing you about every affectionate thing you'd said.
synopsis: Paige comes to Miami for Unrivaled and develops a newfound appreciation for the city—and a certain bald musician. Coincidentally, that appreciation begins the night she meets a local on a dance floor.
a/n: hey y'all, first fic so please be nice?? Anyway, super super sad for Paige but glad she seems to not be in terrible shape bc that fall was nasty, upsetting she'll be out for tmrws game & prolly Wednesdays but whatever best for her health & we def praying for her. Constructive criticism and tips are always appreciated but please remember that I do this for fun & am not a professional @ all. Ive also never been in the Miami club scene or a club at all so not all of this may be accurate. Love u all bad and prayers up for P again 💗
To say Miami had been treating Paige well was an understatement. She was getting paid to play the sport she loved, with some of her best friends, and get wasted every night in one of the best party cities in the country. She was loving life. Unrivaled was incredible, she loved the girls she was playing with along with the staff working the program, she was gaining so much of her confidence back and was growing as an athlete in preparation for her 2nd year on the Wings.
The warm weather from South Florida was incredible as well, after spending five long, cold years in Connecticut and one outlandishly hot WNBA season in Dallas, she was desperately craving a nice beach vacation. She was also craving a nice hookup. Which the girls on Breeze BC had promised she would get at some point during Unrivaled.
“You're hot, famous and young in Miami, you're gonna get some… trust.”
Their promises were empty so far. She had been out to a club almost every night since she touched down in Miami and still hadn't gotten any action whatsoever. She had gotten close, flirting with girls and buying them drinks but it would usually just end in a messy makeout session that would get cut short by a blacked-out friend who needed to be taken home. She was starting to lose hope as her friends were getting ready to go out again. She wasn't making any moves to change out of her post-scrimmage jersey, instead scrolling mindlessly on social media. Her teammate, Rickea, stared at her from the bathroom mirror as she applied a mocha lip liner.
“P, you best be comin’ right? You can't give up when you haven't gotten anything this whole trip!”
“I be gettin’ buckets!”
Paige protested, sitting up on the white hotel sheets. Rickea rolled her eyes and turned to face her.
“Paige Bueckers I refuse to let you sit in this hotel room alone when you could be double fisted listening to Pitbull. Get the fuck up!”
“Rick’ i’on know… i ain't got nothin’ this whole trip. It's just gonna be the same shit over again.”
Rickea sighed and begrudgingly walked over to Paige's makeshift closet, sifting through the blonde's clothes before pulling out an outfit for her to wear. Then one thing led to another and somehow Paige found herself in the back of an Uber with her friends heading towards a club, the driver had a Pitbull and Lil Jon song playing at a medium volume from his speakers. One that Paige had heard almost every day she’d been in South Florida and was starting to hate. Damn I love Miami. As she and her teammates exited and thanked the driver, immediately met with a brick wall of humidity and the blinding neon lights of whatever club they were at tonight, she had one thought. She was gonna really fucking hate Miami and Pitbull if nothing came of this night.
Being a local in the 305 had an endless amount of perks. The warm weather all year long, the vibrant and diverse multicultural scene, and of course, the nightlife was always bustling and full of life. You and your friends had especially taken a liking to the clubs and drinking. It was almost tradition for you all to get dressed up and stay out bar-hopping from sunset Friday night to sunrise Saturday morning, and this week was no different. You stood in the closet of your apartment, your friend standing next to you while three different outfits laid out on your floor.
The first was a black lace corset top with cheetah print shorts and black heels, the second a red latex bodysuit and a jean mini skirt, or third a sheer mesh top with a black bra underneath and a black mini skirt.
“I say the cheetah print, it'll make you look hot. You haven't got a pass at anything in forever.”
You nodded in agreement as you hung up the two rejected outfits.
“I know! I had high hopes for spring break, and then I had that thing with that one girl from SoCal but she turned out to be psycho… I dunno what's been up with the dating pool recently but it's been ass.”
“I did hear there was some professional women's basketball team in town for the winter or something but I dunno if they can like party and shit…”
You were staring at the black top in the mirror, trying to decide if you should add a belt or not when your friend walked in and screeched.
“Oh my god girl! You look so fucking good!”
You laughed and took a full body glance at yourself. You did look good, you had to say, the shorts showed off your long, tanned legs from hours on the beach, and the top accentuated your curves perfectly. You ran your nails through your hair one last time and applied your lip combo before following your friend out to your uber.
“Wait… who did you say was in town?”
You looked at your friend in the backseat of your Uber as faint house music played through the speakers.
“Some professional team… I think it's called Unrivaled or something? It's like Paige Bueckers and Stewie and shi’ if im thinkin’ of the right thing.”
You nodded, opening up your Instagram and searching Paige Bueckers into the search bar. Sure enough, a blonde woman in her mid-twenties popped up. Your eyebrows raised as you noticed the follower count,
“She has 3 mil…”
You nudged your friend who had a similar reaction to yours.
“Not like we’d see them or anything but geez”
your friend looked over your shoulder as you clicked around on her profile a little more. You noticed she had posted on her story and viewed it out of pure curiosity, assuming that if she and her friends did go out, they would go to a more selective and private club and not something as mainstream. What you didn't expect to find was her latest story, a purple-tinted photo of her and a few teammates at a club you recognized immediately.
“Oh my god… they’re at fucking E11, should we go?”
Your friend stared at you with a smirk,
“oh you're getting some tonight.”
By the time you and your friend entered E11 it had already gotten packed in there. Your senses were immediately overloaded with weed, cologne, perfume, and liquor. You held on tightly to your friend's arm as you two weaved your way to the bar for a drink. You surveyed the dance floor looking for a particular blonde but came up unsuccessful. Your friend must've noticed your glance because she turned to you and said lowly,
“By the photo she posted it looked like they were in the second room,”
she gestured to an adjacent room that had more purplish lights and not the stark blue like the one you were currently standing in. You trusted your friend's judgement and let her lead you blindly as she frequented this club more than you did. Once you two finally made your way through the thick walls of people and hit the bar top, your friend immediately started talking the bartender up and ordered both of you something that would make you two warm and loose while also not making you guys messy. You glanced over your shoulder as the DJ started playing a house remix of some popular rap song when your eyes fell on a particularly tall blonde.
She was wearing light pink bedazzled jeans with a white short sleeve collared button up and a matching pink brand logo on the front. Her hair was pulled into a slicked bun and she had on glasses. She and her teammates (you assumed by the height) moved through the crowded club with such nonchalance and confidence it was almost as if they commanded a room to look at them. You had seen enough famous people in clubs to know the ones that knew what they were doing and the ones that didn't, and Paige did not. She had that athlete swagger about her, yes, but unlike her friends who led the charge through the wall of people, she hung back a little. She was either 1. Forced to go, or 2. didn't go to clubs often.
You didn't know which was which. You weren't a big women's basketball fan, often choosing to watch a different sport that was more popular where you lived, but you had heard of Paige Bueckers. Who hadn't? The girl had gone viral. You swore that every other video on your For You Page was either an edit, a clip from a livestream, or a highlight from a game.
But you never really cared enough to take her seriously. Until now. At the same time you noticed Paige and another walking up to the bar, your friend turned and handed you a drink. You took it with a grin and noticed her eyes travel past your shoulder and up to what you assumed was Paige. Your friend smirked and leaned in,
"She's like right behind you, make eye contact and flirt a little and then we’ll go in the room there and see if she bites.”
You nodded, following her as she pushed through the crowd. You caught Paige's eye as you walked past, raising your eyebrows slightly and giving her an appreciative once over. Your eyes lingering on her biceps down to her hands. You made eye contact with her blue orbs one last time before getting pulled into the sea of people by your friend.
Paige quickly realized that if she was gonna get through this night, she was gonna need a lot of Dirty Shirleys. She had already had three along with two shots with Teesh. Then after she was dragged onto the dance floor for an off-key rendition of Love by Keyisha Cole, she finally broke away from the group with Rickea to grab more drinks. As she drifted through the crowd her eyes landed on a pair of dangerously small cheetah print shorts. Her eyes appreciatively looked up and down the long expanse of your tanned legs and arms.
When she finally looked up and met your eyes, she found that you were copying her actions. Her head almost unintentionally followed you through the sea of bodies, only snapping back in front of herself when you became unrecognizable in the crowd.
“Damn P, she was feelin’ you!”
Rickea teased as the two of them ordered more drinks. Paige rolled her eyes, not feeling like arguing when her body already felt warm from your stare mixed with the vodka.
“You see where she went?”
Paige asked, weaving her gaze throughout the club trying to get another look at you. Rickea shook her head slowly before raising a hand to point at the room Paige and some other Unrivaled players were in. Rickea was quiet for a few moments before laughing and looking back at Paige.
“P, her friends talking with Teesh… girl this is your chance!”
Paige distractedly thanked the bartender as she tried to witness what Rickea was describing. She let out a sigh when her eyes finally landed on the scene. Natisha was clearly flirting with your friend and your friend clearly just wanted a free drink, which made Paige let out a laugh.
“Let's go ask her about her friend!”
Rickea didn't really give Paige a choice, just dragging her back into the crowd. By the time the two finally got back to their group, your friend was already gone but after talking with Teesh for a moment Rickea pointed to where you and your friend were already on the dance floor.
“Go P, you've been sulking this whole entire night because you haven't gotten laid and now you have the chance.”
Paige rolled her eyes but, with the addition of Teesh and downing the rest of her dirty Shirley, she pushed her way onto the dance floor.
You were a slut for two things in the club, free drinks and latin house music. Which you were 2 for 2 of right now. Your friend had gotten some famous person to buy both you and her a free drink, and now you two were getting down to Daddy Yankee and Pitbull. You took a sip of your Vodka Redbull as your eyes scanned the heads in the crowd, zeroing in on a blonde slick back bun walking through the crowd with your friend's new blue haired best friend. You gave Paige a smirk as your friend's drink buyer, who you learned was named Teesh, immediately attached to your friend. You gave Paige another once over before noticing her glass was empty.
“You wanna go get another?”
You asked over the music, Paige leaned down to hear you and nodded. You told your friend, who nodded at you distractedly. You grabbed Paige's wrist and started making your way through the columns of drunken adults.
“One dirty Shirley and one…”
Paige drifted off looking at you,
“one vodka redbull”
you added, already moving for your card. Paige stopped you, handing hers over instead. You gave her a look, angling your body towards her as the bartender turned to start making your drinks.
“So… pretty girl got a name?”
Paige asked slowly, leaning against the bar top as she stared at you. You told her yours, which she repeated once, almost like she was testing out how it sounded on her lips before returning the favor and telling you hers.
“Well Paige… I take it you're not from here?”
“Nah, im in town for some work thing, I live in Dallas right now.”
“Oh yeah? What do you do?”
You tilted your head slightly as you waited for her to respond, absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. Of course you already knew who Paige Bueckers was, but you had been around enough famous people to know that you never wanted them to know you knew.
Paige sucked her teeth and stared up past you for a few moments, looking as if she was having an internal battle between two choices.
“I play professional basketball, for the WNBA, you watch?”
You nodded in understanding.
“Well that would definitely explain the height, I don't really watch that much though. I'm more into soccer, I do go to some Heat games though!”
You admitted with a laugh, which Paige returned with a smile and a smug look on her face like she had earned something.
“I mean I know like Angel Reese, Caitlin Clark-”
Paige cut you off with a dramatized sigh and eye roll, giving you a look.
“Ma… I'm so much better than Caitlin. You need to get educated.”
You couldn't help the heat that rose in your cheeks at the nickname that had fallen from Paige's lips. Her gaze held a heat behind it that you weren't sure was completely from the vodka in her drink alone, as you felt her hand tentatively slide up your bare thigh and settled on your waist. The moment was quickly broken by the sound of two cups being slid across the wood counter top. Paige mumbled a quick thank you before her gaze was back on you.
“Maybe I need someone to teach me?”
You finally responded teasingly, causing Paige's pupils to widen slightly as she pulled you in closer by your belt loop.
“Yeah Ma..? you want me to teach you?”
You tried to respond, you really did. But the combination of the alcohol in your system, Paige's warm vanilla cologne seemingly wrapping itself around you and squeezing like a python, and her hands which seemed to be all over you and not touching you all at the same time, made your mind feel a little dizzy and the concept of words felt a little too advanced in the moment. You settled on a nod, willingly leaning against her as your unoccupied hand fisted the bottom of her shirt.
You swore you saw Paige mumbled something along the lines of fuck, her thumb rubbing absentmindedly along the strip of skin between your top and your shorts. She finally broke eye contact with you, her head whipping around to see if she could find Rickea, or Teesh, or even your friend. She found Teesh and your friend pretty quickly, but they were pressed against the wall making out so they were zero help. She then saw Rickea and got her attention, mouthing.
‘Im leaving with her’
To which Rickea gave her two thumbs up with an excited expression on her face.
“You wanna get outta here Mama?”
Paige asked, her hand on your low back. You nodded, seemingly looking for your friend to tell you that you were leaving. Only to be met with her basically dry humping Teesh in the middle of the club. You looked back up at Paige, who was already smirking at you with an Uber pulled up on her phone. You rolled your eyes at her eagerness and led her towards the exit.
Safe to say that Paige and Pitbull had similar opinions on Miami now.
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