Idk what that anon was on abt your writing style isn’t even close to ai because ai always uses foreshadowing and tries to start conflict in the first sentence of fics
thank you 😭 no bc the ai comment was so unserious like am i supposed to be offended or flattered?? idk what they were on abt 🤷♀️
summary: after truth or dare, pretending nothing changed becomes a lot harder. the team notices paige and y/n texting more, paige gets painfully soft without realizing it, and everyone starts scheming in their own way. during another media shoot, tyler shows up again, but this time y/n is not awkward about paige’s jealousy. if anything, she starts to like it.
warnings/content: fluff theres so much flufffff, mutual pining, team scheming, flirty banter, lowkey jealousy, protective paige, tyler being too close, no confession yet lol almost tho
a/n: took me a long ass time to get this done, sorrry for the long wait, the chapter was supposed to be longer, like 20k words done and in my drafts, but stupid tumblr has a word block limit or sumn so i have to split it up into two. the part 3 will be the last part, stay tuned~ loveyall
word count: i lost count fr
The thing about opening a door was that afterward, you had to live with the fact that there was air coming through it.
You learned that the morning after truth or dare, when you woke up to your phone still tucked beside your pillow and Paige’s last text sitting in your messages like it had been waiting for you to look at it again. Good to know. Two words. Technically harmless. Technically vague. Technically nothing you could take to court, or to KK, or even to yourself without sounding like you had lost your mind over basic punctuation. But you had sent she, and Paige had not laughed. Paige had not dodged it with some dramatic joke about your grammar. Paige had not asked if you meant someone from class, or someone from work, or someone hypothetical enough to be safe. She had simply noticed it, asked about it, accepted it, and then told you it was good to know like she was placing the information somewhere she planned to keep.
That should not have changed your entire morning.
It did anyway.
You brushed your teeth thinking about it. You got dressed thinking about it. You made coffee in your room and almost forgot to put the mug under the machine because your brain had decided the phrase good to know needed to be replayed from six different emotional angles before breakfast. By the time you got to your first class, you had convinced yourself again that you were being dramatic, only for Paige to text you halfway through the lecture and ruin all of your progress.
paige: u alive?
y/n: unfortunately yes
paige: class that bad?
y/n: worse
paige: damn
paige: want me to come fight the professor?
y/n: you’d lose
paige: crazy thing to say to me
y/n: i’ve seen your essays
paige: now u just lying for attention
You smiled down at your phone like an idiot, then immediately turned it face down on your desk because the girl beside you had glanced over with the kind of knowing look strangers should not be allowed to have. The problem was not even the texting itself. You and Paige had texted before. Often, actually, if you were being honest in a way you preferred not to be. The problem was the feeling under it now, the soft awareness left over from last night, the sense that every message had a second message folded underneath. She was still teasing you, still annoying, still Paige, but now when she asked if you were alive, you wondered if she meant I was thinking about you. When she offered to fight your professor, you wondered if she meant I want a reason to show up. When she called you dramatic or boring or mean, you wondered if she was smiling the same way you were.
By lunch, KK had made it worse.
She found you in the dining hall before you even sat down, appearing at your side with the stealth of someone who had clearly been tracking you from across the room. Ice was with her, carrying a tray and wearing an expression that said she was supportive but not fully responsible for KK’s behavior.
“Good morning,” KK said, though it was very much afternoon.
You eyed her. “No.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You said good morning like you had evidence.”
“I do have evidence.”
Ice sighed softly. “KK.”
“What? I’m being normal.”
“You have never been normal,” you said.
KK smiled, delighted rather than offended. “That’s why y’all need me.”
You turned toward Ice. “Can you control her?”
Ice’s face softened with sympathy. “I tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
“She’s stronger than she looks,” Ice said solemnly.
KK ignored both of you and leaned closer, lowering her voice even though her whisper was still entirely too loud. “So. Did she text you?”
You looked down at your tray. “Who?”
KK stared at you.
Ice stared at you too, but hers was gentler. More amused than aggressive.
You lasted three seconds before giving in. “Yes.”
KK slapped Ice’s arm repeatedly without looking away from you. “I knew it.”
“Ow,” Ice said, but she was smiling.
“It was normal,” you added quickly.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“What she say?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“You don’t have to. Your face already did.”
“My face did nothing.”
“Your face is doing a whole press conference.”
You sat down at a nearby table, mostly because you needed to put your tray somewhere before you started laughing and dropped it. KK slid into the seat across from you. Ice sat beside her, calmer but clearly interested. For a second, you thought maybe this would be manageable if it stayed between them, but then Azzi joined the table with a drink in her hand and a quiet “What are we talking about?” that made KK look like Christmas had arrived early.
“Paige texted Y/N after truth or dare,” KK announced.
You groaned. “Why are you like this?”
Azzi’s eyes moved to you with terrifying calm. “Did she?”
“It was normal,” you repeated, though the word was starting to sound less convincing every time you used it.
Azzi sat down. “Normal for Paige or normal for normal people?”
Ice covered her mouth.
KK pointed across the table. “See? This is why Azzi needs to be involved more. She be saying things softly but they hit.”
You looked at Azzi in betrayal. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”
“I am being nice,” Azzi said, taking a sip of her drink. “I did not ask what she said.”
“That is true,” Ice offered.
KK leaned forward. “I will ask, though.”
“You will not.”
“I might.”
“KK.”
“What? I’m invested.”
“You are invasive.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Azzi’s smile appeared around the edge of her straw. “She texted Paige too.”
You turned to her too quickly. “What?”
KK made a sound so sharp it was barely human. “Azzi.”
Azzi shrugged, but there was mischief in her eyes now, subtle and devastating. “Paige was smiling at her phone this morning.”
Your stomach dipped hard enough that you had to look away. “That could’ve been anyone.”
“It could have been,” Azzi agreed.
You looked back at her, suspicious. “But?”
“But KK asked who she was texting, and Paige said, ‘Nobody.’”
KK gasped dramatically. “Nobody is always somebody.”
Ice nodded like this was scientific fact. “Especially when Paige says it.”
You tried to fight the smile rising to your face and lost. The whole table saw it. Of course they did. KK put both hands flat on the table and stared at you like she had just witnessed a miracle.
“Oh my god,” she said. “You like her.”
Your heart stopped. “I do not.”
Azzi blinked slowly.
Ice looked at you with the gentlest pity you had ever seen.
KK leaned back in her chair, victorious. “That was the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Y/N.”
“I—” You stopped, because anything you said after that was going to make it worse. You looked down at your food instead, pushing something around with your fork while your face burned. “It’s complicated.”
That shut KK up for exactly one second.
Then her expression softened.
Not completely, because she was still KK and softness on her came wrapped in chaos, but enough that you felt the difference. She lowered her voice, and this time it actually sounded like she was talking to you instead of performing for the whole dining hall. “It doesn’t have to be scary, you know.”
You did not answer right away. Across from you, Azzi was quiet too. Ice’s expression stayed gentle, encouraging without pushing. It was the first time all morning you felt like the scheming had been set aside for something warmer, something that made your chest ache in a different way. Because it was scary. That was the part you could not always explain. Paige was fun to like in theory, easy to joke about when it was just KK sending exaggerated texts and the team making faces across the room. But Paige was also real. Paige was your friend, or almost your friend, or something that had been pretending to be friendship because neither of you were brave enough to call it anything else. Paige was careful with your camera equipment and careless with your breathing. Paige could make you feel chosen just by walking the wrong direction beside you. The thought of ruining that made your stomach twist.
“I don’t even know if she…” You trailed off, embarrassed by the vulnerability of it.
KK’s face shifted into disbelief so immediate it was almost comforting. “Girl.”
Azzi laughed quietly.
Ice reached across the table and patted your hand. “She does.”
“You don’t know that.”
“We know Paige,” Azzi said.
“And she does not act like that with everybody,” Ice added, repeating the same sentence like it had become team scripture.
KK pointed at Ice. “Exactly. She does not. She acts cool with everybody else, but with you? She gets all—” KK paused, searching for the word, then waved both hands vaguely. “Weird.”
You laughed despite yourself. “Weird?”
“Soft weird.”
“That is not a real description.”
“It is when it is Paige.”
Azzi nodded, as if confirming a scouting report. “She gets careful.”
That word landed differently.
Careful.
You thought of Paige placing your laptop on the side table instead of the floor. Paige fixing your camera strap. Paige asking if KK was bothering you. Paige handing your tote back at your building with her fingers brushing yours like she knew one wrong move could give everything away. Soft was easy to joke about. Weird was easy to deny. Careful was harder.
“She does,” Ice said, quieter. “She watches out for you.”
You looked down again, your throat suddenly tight. “She’s just nice.”
KK groaned. “Okay, now you’re pissing me off.”
Azzi smiled. “And there she is.”
“I’m sorry,” KK said, putting a hand to her chest, “but there is nice, and then there is whatever Paige got going on. Paige would help anybody, yeah. But Paige does not memorize everybody’s coffee order. Paige does not inspect batteries like a security guard because some random intern says your photos are good. Paige does not walk in the opposite direction every night just to make sure somebody gets inside, unless she—”
Azzi kicked her under the table.
KK flinched. “Ow.”
“Let her breathe,” Azzi said softly.
You exhaled, half laugh, half relief. “Thank you.”
“I was building a case,” KK muttered.
“You’re always building a case.”
“And I’m always right.”
By the time lunch ended, you felt both calmer and worse. Calmer because it was nice, in a ridiculous way, to know you were not inventing every look and every moment. Worse because if you were not inventing it, then you had to do something with it eventually. Not today. Not yet. But eventually.
Paige texted you again before practice.
paige: u at shoot later?
y/n: yeah
paige: cool
paige: don’t let battery man touch ur camera
You sat in the hallway outside your next class and laughed so suddenly that a passing student looked over at you.
y/n: you are never letting that go
paige: don’t know what ur talking about
y/n: you brought him up first
paige: who?
y/n: paige
paige: yeah?
y/n: annoying
paige: u like it
You stared at the message, feeling heat rise in your face. Before last night, you would have tossed back something easy. Maybe unfortunately. Maybe barely. Maybe don’t flatter yourself. But last night had changed the rhythm between you, and the words she sent now felt like a dare she did not know she was making.
So you answered honestly enough to be dangerous.
y/n: maybe
Paige did not answer for five minutes.
You knew because you watched the screen like a loser.
When she finally did, it was just:
paige: crazy
Then, a second later:
paige: see u later media girl
You had to put your phone away after that.
The shoot later that afternoon was supposed to be simple. Game-day content, quick clips, a few tunnel shots, some posed photos, some casual behind-the-scenes footage of the team getting ready for practice. It was not a full media day, which meant the room felt looser, more scattered. Players drifted in and out, some already dressed, some still tying shoes, some eating snacks they were definitely not supposed to be eating that close to practice. You loved shooting days like this because they gave you the moments fans never saw otherwise: Ashlynn laughing with her head tipped back, Qadence dancing badly on purpose, Nika pretending to hate being filmed while adjusting her hair anyway, Ice throwing a peace sign every time she passed your lens, Azzi smiling softly from the side like she saw everything and chose kindness most of the time.
And Paige.
Always Paige.
She came in late enough that everyone noticed but early enough that she could still claim she was not late. Her hoodie was half-zipped, hair pulled back, practice shoes in one hand, phone in the other. She was talking to Aubrey when she walked in, but her eyes found you almost immediately, like they had learned the route without asking. You were crouched near one of the equipment cases, trying to open a stubborn clamp on your monopod, and the second Paige saw you struggling, her steps angled toward you.
She did not even say hello first.
“Need help?” she asked.
You looked up at her, amused. “Hi to you too.”
Paige blinked, then smiled like she had been caught. “Hi.”
“Very convincing.”
“You need help or not?”
You almost said no out of habit. You almost twisted the clamp harder and bruised your palm just to prove you could do it yourself. But then you heard KK somewhere behind you whisper, “Ask her,” not softly enough, followed by Ice shushing her and Azzi saying, “Let it happen naturally,” in a tone that suggested they were absolutely all watching.
You looked back at Paige.
Paige was looking at you like she knew exactly what you were thinking and was waiting to see if you would do it anyway.
So you held out the monopod.
“Can you open this for me?”
Something flickered across her face so fast you might have missed it if you had not been studying her lately. Surprise first. Then pleasure. Then that familiar cocky little tilt of her mouth, the one she used when she was trying to act like she had not just been handed something she wanted.
“Yeah,” she said, taking it from you. “I got you.”
It was a clamp. A stupid clamp. Metal and plastic and nothing romantic about it. But Paige took it like it mattered, her fingers brushing yours around the handle, her shoulder dipping slightly as she twisted the stuck piece loose with embarrassingly little effort. You watched her hands before you could stop yourself, then looked up and found her already watching you watch.
The corner of her mouth lifted.
You rolled your eyes to cover whatever your face had done. “Don’t look so proud.”
“I opened it.”
“It was not a heroic act.”
“You asked me, though.”
That should not have made you blush. It did.
You held out your hand for the monopod. “Give it back.”
Paige did, but not before leaning just a little closer, voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “Anytime, ma.”
Across the room, KK made a noise like she had been wounded.
Paige closed her eyes briefly. “I heard that.”
“I didn’t say anything,” KK called.
“You don’t gotta.”
You ducked your head, laughing as you adjusted the monopod. The warmth in your chest felt different today. Not as panicked. Still nervous, yes, still dizzying in the way Paige always seemed to make you, but there was something fun under it now. Something playful and bright. Last night had not given you certainty, but it had given you permission to stop pretending you hated the attention. You liked asking Paige for help. You liked the way she showed up before the question was fully out of your mouth. You liked the smug softness that settled over her when you let her be useful. You liked that the team noticed, and for once, that did not make you want to disappear entirely.
It made you want to push a little.
So when Tyler showed up ten minutes later carrying extra SD cards and a clipboard, you noticed Paige notice him, and instead of freezing the way you had the first time, you bit back a smile.
Tyler was not doing anything wrong at first. He greeted the room, handed a pack of cards to the main media assistant, then walked over to your setup with the easy confidence of someone who had decided he knew you well enough to be casual. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “You need any extras today?”
You adjusted the camera strap over your shoulder. “I think I’m good for now, thanks.”
“You sure? I brought the faster cards this time.”
“That actually helps,” you said, taking one when he offered it. “Thank you.”
From your left, where Paige had been pretending to tie her shoes for a suspiciously long amount of time, came silence so loud it was almost funny.
You glanced over.
Paige was sitting on the bench with one shoe already tied, the other lace loose in her hands. Her head was slightly lowered, but her eyes were up. Not glaring. Not obvious. Just watching. Her mouth was relaxed, but her jaw was not. The look was controlled, casual enough for deniability, sharp enough that if Tyler had been paying attention to anything other than himself, he might have felt the warning in it.
Your stomach fluttered.
It should not have been cute. Jealousy was messy in real life, and you knew that. But Paige’s version, at least right now, was less about ownership and more about failing miserably to hide that she wanted to be the person standing closest. She was not interrupting. She was not embarrassing you. She was just sitting there, pretending to lace a shoe she had forgotten how to tie because Tyler was talking to you.
It was annoyingly adorable.
Tyler leaned slightly closer to look at your camera screen. “You shooting video too?”
“Some clips, yeah.”
“You want me to help with the tripod?”
Paige’s fingers stopped moving around her lace.
You saw it.
This time, you knew what to do with it.
You smiled at Tyler politely. “I’m okay, but thanks.” Then, turning your head just enough, you called, “Paige?”
Paige looked up instantly. Too instantly.
The room did not stop, but several people inside it absolutely stopped paying attention to anything else. KK turned around so fast her braid nearly hit Ice. Azzi, standing near the water cooler, lowered her bottle with a tiny smile. Nika paused mid-conversation with Aubrey, eyes narrowing in interest. Ashlynn and Qadence exchanged a look like the next episode of their favorite show had just started.
Paige stood. “Yeah?”
You lifted the tripod bag with both hands, making a show of examining one of the stuck buckles. “Can you help me with this? It keeps catching.”
Tyler was standing right there.
That was the point.
Paige’s expression shifted. The slight irritation at Tyler did not vanish exactly, but it melted into something warmer and infinitely more dangerous for your heart. Her eyebrows lifted, like she knew you had chosen her on purpose. Like she knew you knew. Like the secret had just turned its head and smiled.
She crossed the room with the kind of casual confidence that made everyone else seem like background. “You asking me because I’m helpful or because I’m strong?”
You held the bag out to her. “Can it be both?”
KK dropped into a crouch behind Ice like her knees had given out.
Paige took the bag from you, eyes still on yours. “Yeah. It can be both.”
You hated how easily she said it. Hated how much you liked it.
She fixed the buckle in two seconds, because of course she did, then took the time to adjust the strap properly even though the problem was already solved. Her fingers moved over the material with ridiculous focus, and when she handed it back, she did not step away immediately. “Anything else?”
The question was normal. The tone was not.
You smiled, small and helpless. “Not right now.”
“Not right now,” Paige repeated, amused.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
Tyler cleared his throat.
You had almost forgotten he was there. Paige had not. You knew she had not because her eyes flicked toward him for half a second, polite but flat, then returned to you like the decision had already been made. Tyler’s smile looked tighter now, not angry exactly, but less easy than before.
“I can still help if you need another set of hands,” he said.
“I think she’s good,” Paige said.
The words were mild. Friendly, almost. But there was something under them that made your breath catch, something low and certain. She did not say it like a challenge. She said it like a fact.
You looked at her.
Paige looked back.
For once, you did not rescue the moment by looking away first.
Then Nika said from across the room, loudly, “The bag is fixed.”
Ashlynn burst out laughing.
You closed your eyes. Paige’s mouth twitched, but she did not look embarrassed. If anything, she looked pleased, and that was even worse.
“Thank you,” you said, taking the tripod bag from her.
Paige leaned closer just enough to be annoying. “You’re welcome.”
“Go practice.”
“You bossing me again?”
“Someone has to.”
“You like bossing me around.”
“You like listening.”
Paige froze.
Just a little.
It was worth it.
The look on her face—surprised, amused, flustered in the smallest possible way—was enough to make your entire day. You had never seen Paige caught quite like that, not by something you said. She recovered quickly, because she was Paige, but not before Azzi made a quiet sound into her water bottle and KK whispered, “Oh my god, Y/N got hands,” like she was watching a fight.
Paige tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “That’s how we talking now?”
Your heart was trying to punch its way out of your chest, but you somehow managed to shrug. “I’m just observing.”
KK wheezed. “She used my line.”
Paige pointed at you, still smiling. “Careful.”
“Or what?”
It came out before you could stop it.
The room did not go silent, but your corner of it did. Paige looked at you, and the air between you changed so sharply that you felt it in your fingers. Her smile faded into something slower, more focused. Not inappropriate, not too much, but charged in a way that made the camera strap across your chest feel suddenly heavier. For a second, you remembered her text. Whoever that is better not fumble. You remembered your answer. She better not. You wondered if Paige was thinking about it too.
Then she stepped back, because she had practice and you had work and half the team was watching like they were seconds away from live-commentating.
“Later,” she said.
It sounded like a promise.
You watched her walk toward the court, then turned back to your camera and pretended you were not smiling.
Tyler did not miss it.
That was the first time you noticed something shift with him. It was small, and maybe you would not have caught it if you were not already tuned into the room. His expression tightened at the edges, his eyes moving from Paige to you, then to the team members still poorly pretending they had not been watching. He let out a laugh that did not sound like a laugh and tapped his clipboard against his leg.
“You two close?” he asked.
You kept your attention on your camera settings. “Paige and me?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s my friend.”
The answer felt both true and like a lie wearing a name tag.
Tyler hummed. “Right.”
Something about his tone made you look up. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, smile returning. “Just seems like she’s around you a lot.”
You did not like the way he said it. Not because he was wrong, but because the words felt like they had hooks on them. Like he was trying to pull a reaction out of you.
You made your voice light. “She’s on the team. I’m shooting the team.”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”
You did know what he meant. That was the problem. You also knew you did not owe him an explanation. The realization surprised you with how firm it felt. Maybe a week ago, you would have laughed awkwardly and overexplained, tried to make him comfortable with something that was not his business. But now you could still feel Paige’s warmth beside you, still hear KK’s voice in your head, still remember Azzi saying careful. You did not want to shrink.
So you smiled politely and lifted your camera. “I need to get this shot.”
It was a dismissal. Gentle, but clear.
Tyler held your gaze for half a second too long before nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”
He walked away, and you let out a breath you had not realized you were holding.
You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe he was just awkward. Maybe you were reading too much into it because the whole week had made you hyperaware of every look, every pause, every tone. But across the court, Paige had noticed something too. You knew because when you lifted your camera, she was looking at you instead of the drill forming around her. Not at Tyler. At you. Her expression was no longer jealous, not exactly. It was quieter than that. More alert.
You gave her a tiny smile to tell her you were okay.
She did not look fully convinced.
Practice started, and for a while, the rhythm of work saved you. There was comfort in the camera, in movement, in chasing the right frame. Basketball had a pulse you had learned to follow: the squeak of shoes, the snap of a pass, the sound of the ball hitting the floor, the lift before a shot, the split second after a make when someone’s face opened with satisfaction. You moved along the sideline, crouching when you needed a low angle, stepping back when drills shifted, catching Paige in motion because she was impossible not to catch. She looked different on the court. Sharper. Cleaner. The softness she gave you tucked itself away under focus and instinct. She moved like she knew where everyone would be before they got there, like the court spoke a language she had grown up hearing.
But even then, even in the middle of drills, she kept finding you.
Not constantly. Not enough to mess with practice. Just glances. Quick, checking glances when drills broke, when someone else shot free throws, when the group reset. It should have been distracting. It was, but not in the way you expected. It made you feel watched over. Like even in a room full of noise and movement, someone knew exactly where you were.
The team, unfortunately, also knew exactly where Paige’s eyes were going.
During a water break, Ice wandered toward you under the excuse of grabbing a towel from the table near your setup. “You okay?” she asked softly.
You lowered your camera. “Yeah. Why?”
She glanced toward where Tyler had disappeared near the media staff table. “He seemed weird earlier.”
You blinked, surprised she had caught it too. “A little.”
“Did he say something?”
“Not really.” You adjusted your grip on the camera, not wanting to make it bigger than it was. “Just asked if Paige and I were close.”
Ice’s expression shifted, something protective appearing under her usual sweetness. “That’s weird.”
“It’s fine.”
Before Ice could answer, Nika appeared beside her, taking a towel and speaking without preamble. “It is not his business.”
You stared at her. “Were you listening?”
“Yes.”
“At least lie.”
“No.”
Ice nodded like this was normal. “Nika is direct.”
“I noticed.”
Nika looked toward Tyler, then back at you. “If he bothers you, say something.”
Your throat softened unexpectedly. “I will.”
“Good.”
She walked away like the matter was settled. Ice lingered a second longer, touching your arm lightly. “Seriously. You’re with us, okay?”
You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “I know.”
That was the part you had not expected when you started working with the team. You had thought you would be adjacent forever, close enough to capture things but not close enough to be part of them. But somewhere between late-night shoots and shared snacks and KK forcing you into truth or dare, they had pulled you into the orbit without asking permission. Team-adjacent, KK had called you. Emotional support media. It was a joke, but it also was not. They looked out for you in the loud, nosy, overwhelming way they looked out for each other.
And Paige looked out for you in a way that made the whole room notice.
After practice ended, the scheming became obvious again, mostly because everyone was terrible at subtlety when they were tired. You were reviewing a set of shots on your camera when Ashlynn came over, dragging Qadence with her, and asked if you could take a “casual candid” of them by the bench. The phrase casual candid was already suspicious, but you humored them, lifting your camera as they posed in a way no candid person had ever posed in their life.
“Natural,” you said dryly.
Ashlynn threw an arm around Qadence. “This is natural.”
“You look like you’re announcing an album.”
“Good. Make us look famous.”
“You already play for UConn.”
“More famous.”
You laughed and took the photos, but then Qadence tilted her head toward the court and called, “Paige, come here!”
Paige, who had been talking to Azzi, looked over. “What?”
“Photo.”
“I’m tired.”
“You love photos.”
“I love good photos.”
“Y/N’s taking it,” Ashlynn said.
Paige paused.
You saw it. Everyone saw it.
Then Paige started walking over.
KK, sitting on the floor stretching, whispered, “That was nasty work,” with deep admiration.
Azzi hid a smile behind her hand.
Paige reached the bench and looked between Ashlynn and Qadence. “What am I doing?”
“Stand there,” Qadence said, pointing beside you instead of beside them.
Paige narrowed her eyes. “Why over there?”
“Lighting,” Ashlynn said immediately.
You looked at her. “The lighting is the same.”
“Creative direction.”
“You do not know what that means.”
“I know enough.”
Paige looked at you, amused. “You letting them boss your shoot?”
“I’m choosing peace.”
“You never choose peace with me.”
“You make it hard.”
“Do I?”
You lifted the camera before your face could betray you. “Stand with them.”
Paige did not stand with them. Of course she did not. She drifted near your shoulder instead, leaning just enough to look at the camera screen after you took the shot. “That one’s blurry.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“I got instincts.”
“You have opinions.”
“Good ones.”
“Debatable.”
Ashlynn looked at Qadence and widened her eyes dramatically. “Wow. We are literally right here.”
Qadence nodded. “They don’t care.”
Paige looked up. “Who don’t care?”
“You,” Ashlynn said. “About our photo.”
“I care.”
“You didn’t even stand in it.”
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re flirting with the photographer.”
The words hit the air like a basketball thrown too hard at a wall.
You froze behind the camera.
Paige’s eyes snapped to Ashlynn.
KK made a sound that was half scream, half cough.
Qadence turned away, shoulders shaking.
Azzi closed her eyes like she had been expecting this eventually but not right now.
Nika, from somewhere near the water bottles, said, “She is not wrong.”
“Nika,” Paige said.
“What? You are.”
You lowered the camera slowly, trying to decide whether laughing would make it better or worse. Paige’s face was a masterpiece of attempted composure. She was not embarrassed exactly, but there was color rising faintly in her cheeks, and her mouth had pressed into a line that looked one second away from becoming a smile. You had seen Paige handle cameras, crowds, interviews, pressure. You had seen her miss a shot and come back like nothing could touch her. But apparently being accused of flirting with you by Ashlynn Shade was where her system started to glitch.
“I’m not flirting,” Paige said.
The room disagreed loudly.
You almost felt bad for her.
Almost.
Instead, you tilted your head and asked, “You’re not?”
Paige looked at you.
The room went worse than silent. It went hungry.
Paige’s expression changed slowly, and you realized, with a thrill of terror, that you had stepped onto the court and handed her the ball. She recovered in real time, the surprise turning into amusement, then confidence, then something warm enough to make your knees feel less reliable.
“You want me to be?” she asked.
Your brain emptied.
Completely.
KK fell backward onto the floor. “OH MY GOD.”
Ice covered her face with both hands.
Azzi turned away, laughing silently.
Nika said something in another language that sounded like a prayer for patience.
You stared at Paige, heat rushing to your face, but there was no escaping now. Not when everyone was watching. Not when you had asked first. Not when Paige looked so pleased with herself for finally landing one after you had spent the whole day making her react.
So you lifted the camera again, mostly to hide behind it, and said, “Maybe focus on the photo, Bueckers.”
Paige’s grin softened at the edges. “That wasn’t a no.”
“It wasn’t a yes.”
“Wasn’t a no.”
“You are impossible.”
“Been told.”
You took the photo before she could see you smiling too hard.
The rest of the afternoon carried that moment around like a secret nobody planned to keep. The team kept throwing looks at each other. KK kept mouthing things at you from behind Paige’s back. Ice smiled every time Paige drifted toward your station again. Azzi, quiet but devastating, told Paige to “focus on the photo, Bueckers” once in passing and nearly made Paige choke on her water. Even Nika seemed amused, which somehow made it worse because Nika’s amusement had the weight of official judgment.
By the time you were packing up, the gym had emptied enough that the echoes came back. Practice had ended, most of the team had gone toward the locker room, and the media staff were gathering gear near the tunnel. You were kneeling beside your equipment case, coiling a cord, when Tyler appeared again.
You felt him before you looked up.
“Need help?” he asked.
The words were normal. The tone was not as light as before.
You glanced over your shoulder. “I’m okay.”
“You sure? You’ve got a lot of stuff.”
“I’ve got it.”
He did not leave. Instead, he crouched near the case, too close to your side, and reached for one of the cords. “I can wrap this.”
You put your hand on it before he could take it. “No, it’s fine. I have a system.”
He laughed, but there was something strained underneath it. “You always this particular?”
You smiled politely without looking at him. “With my equipment, yeah.”
“Right.” He paused. “Or do you only let Paige help?”
Your hand stilled.
There it was.
Not enough to be a scene. Not enough for anyone across the gym to hear and immediately step in. But enough for your stomach to tighten. Enough for the air around you to feel smaller. You looked at him then, really looked, and found him smiling like he had asked something casual, like there was not an edge tucked under it.
You kept your voice even. “Paige didn’t touch my cords.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
You sat back slightly, creating space. “Tyler.”
“What?” he said, holding up one hand. “I’m just saying. You two seem… close.”
“That’s not really your business.”
His smile faltered. “I’m not trying to be rude.”
“Okay.”
“I just thought we were cool.”
“We are cool.”
“Doesn’t really feel like it.”
You did not know what to do with that. Not because he was intimidating exactly, but because the conversation had gone from mildly annoying to uncomfortable in a way that made your thoughts scatter. You hated moments like this, moments where someone acted like your politeness had been a promise and your boundaries were suddenly a betrayal. You looked toward the other side of the gym, but the nearest staff member had their back turned, packing a light stand. The locker room doors were partly closed. You could hear faint laughter from inside, the team still nearby but not right there.
“I need to finish packing,” you said, turning back to the case.
Tyler did not move right away. “You don’t have to be like that.”
Your throat tightened.
Then, from behind him, Paige said, “Like what?”
Tyler turned.
You looked up so fast your neck twinged.
Paige stood a few feet away, practice bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp at the edges from sweat, her expression unreadable in a way that made the entire space feel different. She was not smiling. She was not doing the jealous thing from earlier, not the cocky, irritated who do you think you are look that had made your stomach flutter because it was harmless and kind of cute. This was quieter. Sharper. Focused not on Tyler being near you, but on the way you were sitting too still on the floor with a cord in your hand and your polite smile gone.
The difference hit you hard.
She knew.
Not the whole conversation, maybe. Not every word. But she knew something was wrong.
Tyler straightened. “Nothing. We were talking.”
Paige’s eyes moved to you.
The question was there without her saying it.
You could have brushed it off. A week ago, you might have. You might have smiled and said it was fine, because you hated making things awkward, hated being the reason a room shifted, hated needing help when you could technically handle something. But Paige was looking at you like your answer mattered more than everyone else’s comfort, and behind her, through the slight opening near the locker room, you could see Nika pause mid-step, then Azzi behind her, then KK appearing under Nika’s arm like a nosy guardian angel.
You exhaled.
“We were done talking,” you said.
Paige’s eyes stayed on yours for one more second.
Then she looked at Tyler.
“Then she’s good,” Paige said.
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t bothering her.”
Paige did not move closer yet. She did not raise her voice. Somehow that made it stronger. “She said she’s done talking.”
The gym had gotten quiet in pieces. Not fully. Not dramatically. But enough. Enough that Nika stepped out from the locker room doorway. Enough that Azzi’s expression cooled. Enough that KK stopped looking entertained and started looking pissed. Ice appeared behind them, concern already written across her face.
Tyler seemed to notice the audience at the same time you did, and his frustration shifted into embarrassment. “Whatever,” he muttered, looking away. “Didn’t realize everybody needed to get involved.”
Paige took one step forward then, placing herself beside you rather than directly in front of you. It mattered. She did not block you out of the conversation like you were helpless. She just came close enough that you did not feel alone in it anymore.
“You good?” she asked you, voice low.
You nodded, but it came out small. “Yeah.”
Paige held your gaze. “For real?”
The softness of it almost broke you. Not because anything terrible had happened, not really, but because it could have kept going. Because you had been uncomfortable and trying to calculate the politest escape. Because Paige had noticed without you having to say her name.
“For real,” you said, steadier this time.
Only then did Paige turn back to Tyler. Her hand came down lightly to the edge of your equipment case, close to your arm but not touching you yet. “You can go.”
Tyler let out a bitter little laugh. “You her bodyguard now?”
Before Paige could answer, Nika said from behind her, “Yes.”
KK stepped beside Nika. “And I’m backup.”
Ice, softer but firm, added, “She said she was done.”
Azzi said nothing. She did not need to. Her stare was enough.
Tyler looked around at all of them, then scoffed under his breath. “Cool. Got it.”
He walked away.
Nobody moved until he was out of the gym.
For a moment, all you could hear was the faint hum of the lights and the uneven rhythm of your own breathing. Then KK crossed the distance first, dropping into a crouch beside you with none of her usual dramatics.
“Y/N,” she said, voice soft in a way that made your eyes sting unexpectedly. “You okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. He was just being weird.”
Nika’s mouth tightened. “That was not fine.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It does not need to be worse to matter,” Azzi said quietly.
That sentence settled over you.
Paige was still beside you, still watching your face with careful eyes. She had not touched you yet, and somehow that made you feel even more looked after. Like she was waiting for permission, not assuming she could take space just because she wanted to protect you.
You looked at her.
Her jaw was tight. Not with jealousy. With restraint.
“Paige,” you said softly.
Her expression shifted immediately. “What do you need?”
The question was so earnest, so immediate, that you almost forgot how to answer. Behind her, KK pressed both hands to her mouth, but for once she had the sense not to make a sound.
You glanced at the half-packed equipment case, then back at Paige. A few hours ago, asking her to open a clamp had felt like flirting. Now asking felt different. Not heavier exactly, but honest in a way that made your chest feel warm and sore.
“Can you help me pack this?”
Paige’s face softened.
“Yeah,” she said. “I got you.”
This time, nobody joked.
She crouched beside you, close enough that her shoulder brushed yours as she reached for the cords. Her movements were careful, slower than usual, following your system after you explained it instead of taking over. KK grabbed your tripod bag without asking. Ice collected the extra batteries. Nika carried the light stand to the media table with the kind of efficiency that suggested she was imagining it was Tyler’s head. Azzi checked with the remaining staff quietly, her voice low and calm as she asked where Tyler had gone and whether someone needed to be told he had made you uncomfortable. Ashlynn and Qadence showed up halfway through, immediately serious when they realized the mood had shifted, and without asking too many questions, they started helping too.
The whole team moved around you.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just there.
And Paige stayed beside you the whole time.
When the last zipper closed, you sat back on your heels, exhausted in a way that felt bigger than the moment itself. Paige reached for the case handle but paused, glancing at you first.
“You want me to carry it?” she asked.
It was such a Paige question. Familiar enough to make you smile. Careful enough to make you want to cry.
You nodded. “Please.”
The word did something to her. You saw it in her face, the way the tightness eased, the way her eyes softened before she looked down and lifted the case like it weighed nothing.
“Anytime,” she said.
KK, standing behind her, mouthed something at you that looked suspiciously like marry her.
You gave her a look.
She shrugged, unrepentant but gentler than usual.
The walk out of the gym happened in a cluster this time. Not because they thought you could not walk alone, but because nobody wanted to leave you with the leftover weirdness of the room. Nika walked ahead, still annoyed. Ice stayed near your side, asking if you wanted water. Azzi kept pace with Paige, speaking quietly to her in a tone you could not hear but could guess from Paige’s nods. KK looped her arm through yours halfway down the hall and leaned her head against your shoulder for exactly two seconds before going back to normal.
“You know,” KK said, “I was gonna make a joke about Paige carrying your stuff again, but I’m being mature.”
“You’re announcing the maturity,” you said.
“Because I want credit.”
“You can have half credit.”
“Rude.”
Paige glanced over from your other side. “Half is generous.”
KK gasped. “Don’t start with me, Bueckers. I’m on your side.”
“You got a weird way of showing it.”
“I am literally your best soldier.”
“You are my biggest problem.”
“Same thing.”
You laughed quietly, and Paige looked at you when you did. The concern in her face eased a little more, replaced by something warm and relieved. It made you realize she had been waiting for that too. Not just for you to say you were okay, but to see it. To hear it.
Outside, the air was cold again, but this time you did not tuck your hands into your sleeves. You were too aware of Paige beside you, carrying your equipment case with one hand, her other hand free at her side. The group started to split near the walkway, some of the girls heading toward the dorms, others toward food, but Paige stayed with you, as expected. This time, no one teased her for it.
Azzi only touched Paige’s arm briefly and said, “Text me later.”
Paige nodded. “Yeah.”
Nika looked at you. “If he says something again, tell us.”
“I will.”
“Immediately.”
“Yes, Nika.”
“Good.”
Ice hugged you quickly, soft and warm. “Love you.”
You smiled into it. “Love you too.”
KK pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at you, then at Paige. “I’m watching both of you.”
Paige sighed. “There it is.”
“I was mature for like eight minutes. That’s growth.”
Then they were gone, leaving you and Paige on the sidewalk with your equipment case between you and a silence that felt different from the others. Less charged, maybe. More tender. The kind of quiet that came after being seen in a way you had not planned.
Paige started walking first, slower than usual.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
You nodded. “Yeah. I think I was just… uncomfortable.”
“That’s enough.”
You looked at her.
She kept her eyes forward, jaw still set slightly. “You don’t gotta make it sound smaller.”
Your throat tightened. “I know.”
“Do you?”
You smiled faintly. “I’m trying to.”
Paige looked at you then, and her expression gentled. “Good.”
The walk continued, the campus lights glowing soft against the dark. You could hear the wheels of the equipment case over the sidewalk whenever Paige shifted it from one hand to the other. After a while, you glanced at her.
“You weren’t jealous that time.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “That time?”
You felt your face warm, but you kept going because the truth sat between you easier now. “Earlier you were.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
“I was protecting your tripod bag.”
“You were glaring at Tyler because he offered to help.”
“He was doing too much.”
“He was offering to open a buckle.”
“And?”
You laughed softly, and Paige’s mouth twitched.
“But later,” you said, quieter, “when he was being weird, you weren’t jealous.”
Paige looked ahead again, and for a moment her face turned serious in the passing light. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because you looked uncomfortable.”
The answer came too easily. No performance. No joke. No dodge. Just the truth.
Your chest ached.
Paige glanced at you, then back at the sidewalk. “That’s different.”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“I’m not gonna play around with that.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not gonna act like—” She stopped, exhaling through her nose like she had almost said too much. “I don’t know. I just didn’t like it.”
The honesty in her voice made you brave in a quiet way. “I didn’t either.”
Paige’s expression tightened, but her voice stayed soft. “Next time, just say my name.”
You swallowed.
“Even if it’s nothing,” she added. “Even if you just feel weird. Say my name.”
You looked at her for a long moment, the cold air brushing your cheeks, the night stretching around you. It should have sounded dramatic. Maybe from anyone else, it would have. But from Paige, it sounded simple. Like a plan. Like a promise she did not need to dress up.
“Okay,” you said.
Paige nodded once. “Okay.”
You reached your building too soon.
She stopped at the entrance, setting your equipment case upright beside you. Neither of you moved toward the door immediately. The light above the entrance buzzed faintly, the same unromantic glow as always, but tonight it made everything feel softer. Paige tucked her hands into her hoodie pocket and looked at you with a carefulness you were starting to recognize too well.
“Thank you,” you said.
“For carrying your case?”
“For noticing.”
Paige’s face changed. The cocky answer was there. You could see it waiting. Anytime, media girl. Somebody has to. Your equipment looked threatened. She could have said any of it, and you would have laughed, and the moment would have stayed safe.
She did not.
“Always,” she said instead.
The word landed deeper than it should have.
You looked down, smiling because if you did not, you might do something terrifying, like reach for her hand. Paige seemed to be thinking something similar, because when you looked back up, her eyes were on you in a way that made the air feel thin.
Then her phone buzzed.
She closed her eyes. “If that’s KK, I’m transferring.”
You burst out laughing, and just like that, the moment loosened without disappearing.
Paige pulled out her phone and checked it. Her expression went flat.
“KK?” you guessed.
“She sent a picture of us walking and said ‘security detail era.’”
You laughed harder. “She is actually insane.”
Paige showed you the photo, and sure enough, it was a slightly blurry image taken from behind, Paige walking beside you with your equipment case in hand, your shoulders angled toward each other like gravity had gotten involved. You stared at it for a second longer than necessary.
“She’s annoying,” Paige said.
“It’s kind of cute.”
Paige looked at you.
“The photo,” you clarified quickly.
Her smile returned slowly. “Yeah?”
You handed the phone back, trying not to fold under the look she was giving you. “Yeah.”
Paige looked down at the photo again, then locked her phone. “Keep saying stuff like that, you’re gonna make KK worse.”
“She’s already worse.”
“True.”
You shifted your weight, fingers curling around your own sleeve. “You should go before she starts taking more photos from the bushes.”
“She probably already is.”
“Probably.”
Neither of you moved.
Finally, Paige nodded toward the door, echoing every goodbye before this one and somehow making it feel new. “Text me when you’re inside.”
You smiled. “You’re literally going to watch me walk in.”
“And then you’re gonna text me.”
“Bossy.”
“You like listening.”
You froze.
Paige’s grin spread, slow and victorious, because she knew exactly what she had done. She had taken your earlier line and handed it back to you under the yellow building light, soft and cocky and warm enough to make your face burn.
“That’s how we talking now?” you asked, borrowing her words too.
Her eyes stayed on yours. “Maybe.”
You hated her.
You liked her so much it felt stupid.
“Goodnight, Paige,” you said, before your mouth could betray you further.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
You walked inside, and yes, you looked back through the glass. Paige was still there. Of course she was. This time, instead of lifting her eyebrows, she smiled. Small. Private. Careful.
Upstairs, you texted her before she could ask.
y/n: inside
paige: proud of u again
y/n: big accomplishment?
paige: huge
y/n: thank you for helping today
paige: always
You stared at that word again.
Always.
Then another message came through.
paige: and y/n
y/n: yeah?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
paige: next time don’t wait so long to look at me
Your breath caught.
Not say my name. Not ask for help. Look at me.
You sat down slowly on the edge of your bed, the room suddenly too quiet around you. The sentence was not a confession. Not exactly. But it was closer than anything had been before. It was Paige telling you she had been watching for you to need her. It was Paige telling you she had noticed the moment you felt off. It was Paige telling you she wanted to be chosen before things got bad, not just after.
You typed back with your heart in your throat.
y/n: okay
y/n: next time i’ll look at you
Paige answered almost immediately.
paige: good
Then:
paige: i’ll be looking anyway
You pressed your phone to your chest and stared at the ceiling, smiling so hard it hurt.
Across campus, the team group chat was probably already on fire. KK was probably screaming. Azzi was probably pretending not to encourage it while absolutely encouraging it. Ice was probably sending heart emojis. Nika was probably telling everyone to stop being idiots and do something. Ashlynn and Qadence were probably zooming in on the blurry photo like it held government secrets.
But for once, you did not care that everyone knew.
Because maybe, just maybe, Paige was starting to know too.
tag list: @slutformenwithglasses @aimee-wowwie @lovewbb17 @moon175 @mmullereduarda @maggieeeejo
pairing: uconn!gf!paige bueckers x uconn!gf!reader
setting: uconn wbb, 2023–24 season
summary: You and Paige have known each other since freshman year, dated for almost three, and somehow she still looks at you like she cannot believe she got lucky enough to keep you. Everyone at UConn knows Paige talks back to everybody, argues with anybody, and competes with literally everything. Everyone also knows that when it comes to you, Paige Bueckers folds in record time. She carries your bag, remembers your matcha order, saves your seat, follows you around, and listens the second you say her name. It’s normal. At least, it’s normal to you. But when your childhood friend visits Storrs and sees Paige orbiting you in real time, he starts noticing what you and Paige barely clock anymore: Paige is absolutely, embarrassingly, permanently down bad.
warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, private relationship, soft jealousy, childhood friend visit, paige being down bad, golden retriever paige, teasing, flirty banter, uconn 2023–24 timeline
word count: 10.8k
You had stopped being surprised by Paige Bueckers a long time ago.
Not because she was predictable. Paige was one of the least predictable people you had ever met. She could wake up calm and decide by breakfast that she was going to argue with somebody about a card game from two weeks ago. She could limp into practice after a long lift, sore and quiet, then spend the next hour talking like she had personally invented basketball. She could be sweet for exactly three minutes before saying something so obnoxious that Nika threatened to throw a towel at her head. She could make a room louder by walking into it and softer by looking at you across it.
So no, Paige herself was not predictable.
But the way she loved you was.
That had become one of the steady things in your life. As regular as the squeak of sneakers on hardwood. As familiar as the cold Connecticut mornings that made you pull your sleeves over your hands on the walk to practice. As known as the little rhythm your day had fallen into after almost four years at UConn and almost three years of Paige being yours in every way that mattered.
She texted you at 8:03.
outside.
Not good morning. Not come out. Not hurry up because we’re gonna be late, even though both of you knew she was thinking it.
Just outside.
You were sitting on the edge of your bed with one shoe on and one shoe still somewhere under your desk, hair half-fixed, hoodie bunched around your waist because you had gotten distracted looking for your charger. Your practice bag sat open on the floor, one side sagging with a pair of slides, tape, an extra shirt, and the water bottle you swore you had filled last night but had probably left empty because you were you.
You glanced at the text and smiled before you could help it.
She did this every morning she could.
Sometimes it was before class. Sometimes before breakfast. Sometimes before practice. Sometimes after a lift if your schedules split weird and she had ten minutes to spare. Same building, same athlete housing, same familiar path between your doors, close enough that Paige had turned walking you places into a habit so deeply carved into her routine that neither of you really talked about it anymore.
You found your other shoe under a sweatshirt, shoved your foot into it, and opened your door.
Paige was leaning against the wall outside, hood up, one foot crossed over the other. In one hand, she held her own drink. In the other, she held yours.
Iced matcha. Oat milk. Light ice. The sweetness level you liked. The one you had mentioned, casually, once, freshman year, before either of you had gotten together, before Paige had started looking at you like you were something she was trying not to want too obviously.
She had remembered it anyway.
She looked up when your door opened, and the lazy little grin that slid onto her face was so familiar it made your chest warm in that quiet, annoying way she always managed to pull out of you.
“You look late,” she said. She lifted your drink slightly, but when you reached for it, she pulled it back just enough to make you look at her.
You paused. “Seriously?”
Paige’s grin spread slowly. “Delivery fee.”
You stared at her.
She stared back, completely unbothered.
There were people who thought Paige had no shame, and they were mostly right, but this was different. With everyone else, Paige’s confidence was loud. With you, it was softer, still cocky but warmer, like she had learned exactly how far she could push before you rolled your eyes and gave her what she wanted anyway.
“You’re charging me now?” you asked.
“Inflation.”
“For a drink you chose to buy?”
“Service industry is hard.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet.” She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping into something sweet enough to make your stomach do that stupid little flip it still did even after all this time. “You want your matcha or not?”
You tried to hold your stare.
You lasted maybe two seconds.
Then you leaned in and kissed her.
It was meant to be quick. A small morning peck, soft and familiar, the kind you had given her a thousand times in hallways and elevators and outside locker rooms when nobody important was looking too closely. But Paige smiled against your mouth like she had won something, and that made you laugh, which made her chase the kiss for one extra second before letting you pull away.
Her eyes were still on your mouth when she handed you the cup.
“Pleasure doing business,” she murmured.
You took the matcha and gave her a look over the lid. “You’re annoying.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling, and Paige saw it. She always saw it. Her whole face shifted for half a second before she hid it by reaching for your bag.
You already had the strap over your shoulder, secure and settled, but Paige’s hand went to it without hesitation. Gentle. Automatic. Her fingers hooked under the strap near your collarbone, careful not to tug your hoodie too hard, and she lifted it slightly like she was asking without asking.
You barely paused. Just tilted your shoulder toward her so she could slide it off.
That was how normal it was.
You turned back toward your room to grab your keys, but Paige was already reaching around the doorframe, plucking them off the small hook beside your closet where you always forgot them. She held them up between two fingers, shaking them once.
“You were gonna forget.”
“I was not.”
“You literally turned around without them.”
“I was testing you.”
“I passed.”
“Barely.”
Paige made an offended sound, like the idea of barely passing anything in relation to you physically pained her. “Do not disrespect my job.”
“Your job?”
“Yeah.” She stepped back so you could lock your door, shifting your bag higher on her shoulder without thinking. “Making sure you don’t walk around this campus helpless.”
“I am not helpless.”
“You’d lose your keys in your own hand.”
“And yet I somehow survived before you.”
Paige looked at you like that was the most insulting thing you had ever said to her. “Barely.”
You laughed, and that was the thing: Paige heard it. She always heard it. Her whole face changed for half a second, pleased and soft before she covered it with attitude again, like she had not just lit up because of one small laugh in a hallway she had walked through a thousand times.
She fell into step beside you as you started down the hall.
You did not ask for your bag.
She did not offer it back.
That was just how it went.
By the time you reached the elevator, she had already pressed the button, already tugged gently at the back of your hoodie because the tag was flipped, already nudged you away from the corner where the floor was still wet from someone’s spilled water bottle.
You barely noticed any of it.
Paige noticed everything.
That was another thing people did not always understand about her. They saw the loudness first. The talking. The smirking. The ridiculous confidence that came out every time someone challenged her to anything, even if the challenge was stupid. Paige Bueckers would compete with a wall if the wall looked at her wrong. She argued calls. She argued card games. She argued rankings, music, cereal, whether or not Nika had traveled during a drill three months ago, and once, for twenty minutes, whether soup counted as a meal or a warm beverage with responsibilities.
She had opinions about everything.
Except when it came to you.
With you, she still had opinions. She just delivered them softer. Or swallowed them entirely if you gave her that look. The one she pretended did not work on her even though everybody with eyes knew it did.
The elevator doors slid open.
KK was inside, backpack hanging off one shoulder, scrolling on her phone. She looked up, eyes flicking from your drink to Paige’s hand on your bag to Paige standing half a step behind you like a bodyguard who had forgotten she was not actually employed.
KK’s mouth twitched.
“Morning,” you said.
“Morning,” KK replied, still looking at Paige. “Dang. She pick you up every day?”
Paige frowned. “Why you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you got commentary.”
KK lifted both hands. “I’m observing.”
“You’re always observing too much.”
“I’m learning the ecosystem.”
You snorted into your drink.
Paige immediately looked at you, smiling because you smiled, then caught herself and turned back to KK with a scowl that had no heat behind it. “Don’t start.”
KK looked delighted. “Oh, I’m definitely learning.”
“You’re learning how to run today,” Paige said.
“You gonna make me?”
Paige opened her mouth.
You took a sip of your matcha and said casually, “Paige, don’t bully the freshman before breakfast.”
Paige stopped.
Just like that.
Her mouth closed. Her shoulders dropped. She leaned back against the elevator wall, grumbling softly, “Wasn’t bullying.”
KK stared.
You didn’t notice, or maybe you did and chose not to say anything. That was the problem with you. You had gotten so used to Paige folding around you that half the time you treated it like weather. Like of course Paige stopped arguing when you told her to. Of course Paige carried your bag. Of course Paige slowed down if you slowed down. Of course Paige’s attention snapped to you the second you said her name.
KK, however, had not been at UConn long enough to fully absorb the sight without reacting. She looked between you and Paige.
Then she pointed at Paige’s chest.
“You just sat down.”
Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“She said don’t bully me and you just sat down.”
“I was already leaning.”
“No, you got domesticated in real time.”
You choked slightly on your matcha.
Paige stepped forward. “Bro,”
You put one hand lightly on Paige’s forearm. “P.”
Paige stopped again.
KK’s mouth fell open.
The elevator dinged.
You walked out like nothing had happened.
Paige followed immediately.
Behind you, KK whispered loudly, “This is crazy.”
Paige threw a look over her shoulder. “I heard that.”
“I wanted you to.”
You laughed again, and Paige’s irritation lasted exactly half a second before it softened at the edges.
It was not that Paige did not realize how she was with you. She knew she loved you. She knew she liked being near you. She knew she got this ridiculous, embarrassing pull in her chest when you looked at her like she was your favorite person in the room. She knew she felt calmer when she had your bag on her shoulder, your drink in her hand, your knee pressed against hers under a table, your voice cutting through noise and landing directly in the part of her brain that cared about nothing else once you called for her.
She just did not think of it as unusual.
To Paige, loving you had always been active. It was doing things. Watching things. Remembering things. Carrying what you forgot. Giving you the better seat. Taking the outside of the sidewalk. Handing you your water before you asked because you always forgot to drink when you were locked in. Knowing when you were tired from the set of your mouth. Knowing when you were annoyed by the way you got quiet instead of loud. Knowing when you needed space and when you only said you needed space because you did not want to be a burden.
She had spent almost three years being your girlfriend and nearly four years knowing you, and she still felt like she was learning you.
Still felt lucky every time you let her.
Breakfast was loud, the way breakfast with the team usually was. Nika was already at a table with Azzi and Ice, talking with her hands and accusing somebody of lying about something you had missed. Aaliyah was scrolling through her phone, occasionally looking up to make a comment sharp enough to make everyone laugh. Ashlynn and KK were arguing about music. Someone had stolen someone else’s seat. Someone was definitely going to claim it was their seat even though there were no assigned seats and everyone knew it.
Paige guided you toward the table without touching your back, just hovering close enough that you could feel her. you slid into the seat you usually took, and Paige put your bag down beside your chair before sitting next to you.
Nobody acted like Paige carrying your things was breaking news.
That was just Paige with you.
Still, when Paige pushed the small container of fruit toward you before you reached for it, Nika’s eyes flicked up. When Paige took the napkin dispenser from the middle of the table and set one beside your plate, Azzi’s mouth curved like she was trying not to smile. When you got distracted answering Ice’s question and Paige quietly unwrapped your straw for you because your hands were full, KK looked at Azzi again.
Paige, for her part, seemed completely unaware she was doing anything worth noticing. She was busy talking about the shooting drill from yesterday, arguing lightly with Nika over whether or not Nika had counted one of her own makes after the buzzer.
“I’m just saying,” Paige said, leaning back in her chair with the kind of confidence that made people want to argue with her even when she was right, “if the ball’s still in your hand when the time’s done, that’s not a make.”
Nika stared at her. “It left my hand.”
“After.”
“During.”
“After.”
“You were not even looking.”
“I felt it.”
“You felt it?”
“Yeah. Spiritually.”
Nika blinked. “You are so annoying.”
“You’re mad because I’m right.”
“You are loud because you are wrong.”
Paige grinned. “I’m loud because I got a voice.”
You reached across Paige for the honey packet near her tray, and before your fingers even touched it, Paige picked it up and handed it to you.
Still arguing. Still looking at Nika. Still mid-sentence. But the honey packet was in your hand.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
Paige’s voice dropped out for half a beat. She turned toward you, expression easing. “Yeah.”
Nika stopped talking. Only for a second. Then she looked at Azzi with a flat expression.
Azzi pressed her lips together.
“What?” Paige asked, noticing too late.
“Nothing,” Nika said.
“Your face says something.”
“My face says I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired when you’re losing.”
Nika shook her head, but she was smiling now. “Eat your breakfast, Paige.”
Paige looked like she might push back, so you bumped your knee lightly against hers under the table.
Paige sat back.
Picked up her fork.
Started eating.
Nika’s eyes dropped to the movement.
KK saw it too.
The table went silent for half a beat.
Then KK nearly lost it.
“Oh my god,” she said. “No way.”
Paige pointed her fork at her. “You want attention so bad.”
KK shook her head, eyes bright. “Nah, this is educational. I’ve never seen somebody go from talking crazy to trained that fast.”
“I’m not trained.”
Nika made a face. “Mmm.”
You glanced at Paige, amused. “You’re not.”
Paige immediately relaxed, like your words had settled something in her. “Thank you.”
You took another sip of matcha. “You just listen well.”
Nika gagged.
“Actually disgusting,” she said.
Paige smiled down at her plate, trying and failing not to look pleased.
That was the thing that got her teased the most. Not that she listened to you. Not even that she was softer with you. It was that she liked it. Paige, who had a comeback for every person at every table, got visibly happy when you praised her for something as simple as bringing the right drink or remembering your slides or waiting by the door.
You could ruin her with a soft “thank you.”
You never abused it. That was why it worked.
You were not demanding. You were not constantly telling her what to do. If anything, you asked less of Paige than Paige wanted you to. You carried your own weight, on and off the court. You were steady and sharp and calm in ways Paige admired even when she pretended to be too cool to say it out loud. You did not need Paige to take care of you.
That was exactly why she liked doing it.
It felt like being chosen for a job nobody else even knew existed.
By the time practice rolled around, Paige had gone through three different arguments, won two of them by volume alone, and lost the only one that mattered because you had tilted your head and said, “Let it go.”
She let it go.
Nika saw.
Nika suffered.
Practice was the one place where the softness sharpened into something else.
You and Paige had always had chemistry on the court. It was one of the first things people noticed about you as freshmen, before either of you admitted what was happening, before the late-night talks and lingering hallway moments turned into something too obvious to keep pretending around. Back then, it had been basketball first. Timing. Trust. The kind of connection that made passes look cleaner than they were because both of you were already moving before the ball left the other’s hands.
Paige knew where you wanted it.
You knew when Paige was about to cut.
She could throw a pass through traffic without looking and you would be there. You could drift to the corner half a second early and Paige would find you. You screened for her without needing the call. She slipped the ball to you in pockets that made coaches nod and teammates roll their eyes because of course.
Of course it was you two.
Of course Paige could be triple-covered and still somehow locate you.
Of course you could be running full speed and still know exactly where Paige had gone without turning your head.
The team had stopped reacting dramatically because it had been years. But KK still noticed sometimes. The newness had not worn off her yet. She would watch Paige thread a pass to you on the wing, watch you catch in rhythm and knock down the shot, watch Paige point at you with that smug little look like she had personally assisted the sun into rising.
Then KK would look at Azzi like, “Do they always do that?”
And Azzi, who had seen too much, would just nod.
That day, during a half-court drill, Nika was pressing Paige high, talking in her ear the entire time.
“You’re not getting by me.”
Paige dribbled low, grinning. “I’m already by you mentally.”
“You are so annoying.”
“You love guarding me.”
“I love humbling you.”
“You can try.”
Nika bumped her with her chest. Paige laughed, shifted her weight, eyes flicking once to the left.
You saw it.
You cut.
The pass came before Nika could turn her head.
It snapped through a narrow lane, quick and clean, landing in your hands exactly where you liked it. You rose into your shot without thinking. It dropped.
“That is not humbling me. That is flirting with cardio.”
You laughed, jogging back on defense.
Paige looked entirely too proud of herself.
A few possessions later, your shoe came untied.
Later, during a pause in drills, you found yourself holding a ball under one arm, your water bottle tucked awkwardly against your side, and a towel hooked over your fingers when you looked down and realized your lace had come loose.
You made a face.
Paige was several feet away, mid-bicker with Nika again.
“I’m telling you, that was a foul.”
“It was not a foul.”
“You grabbed me.”
“I breathed near you.”
“You wish.”
“You complain so much.”
“You foul so much.”
You shifted the ball against your ribs and called, “Paige?”
Paige stopped mid-sentence.
Not gradually.
Immediately.
Nika’s mouth stayed open around whatever she had been about to say.
Paige turned. “Yeah?”
“Can you help me real quick?” you asked, polite and distracted, glancing down at your shoe. “My hands are full.”
Paige was already moving.
You did not even ask. She crossed the space between you, dropped down to one knee, and tied your shoe like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Because to her, it was.
The gym went weirdly quiet for one second.
Not fully quiet. Balls still bounced. Someone’s sneakers still squeaked. Coaches were still talking. But the pocket around you shifted, just enough for the people closest to notice Paige Bueckers, who had been arguing a foul call like she was preparing a court case, suddenly kneeling in front of you with your shoelace in her hands.
You looked down at her.
She double-knotted it.
“You gotta stop leaving them loose,” she muttered.
“You always say that.”
“Because you always do it.”
“You always fix it.”
Paige glanced up.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
Because you were looking at her with that small, private smile, the one that made her forget there were other people in the room. Her hands paused at your shoe, and for a second she just stared up at you, eyes soft and stupidly fond, like she could not believe this was her life.
Nika made a sound of genuine distress.
“I hate this,” she said.
KK, from somewhere behind her, whispered loudly, “She got on one knee.”
Paige snapped out of it and stood so fast she almost bumped your shoulder.
“It was untied,” she said defensively.
KK’s mouth twitched like she was physically fighting the urge to say something.
Nika made a face over her water bottle, eyes flicking from Paige to you and back again, unimpressed in the way only Nika could pull off without actually being mad.
By the time practice ended, the story had already become bigger than it was. Not because anyone was shocked, exactly, but because KK had narrated it like a sportscaster in the locker room until even Azzi told her to breathe.
“She said, ‘Paige, can you help me real quick?’” KK insisted, sitting on the bench while pulling off her shoes. “Casual. Normal, right? And Paige stopped like somebody hit pause on her whole body.”
Paige, from two lockers over, threw her towel at KK.
KK caught it and kept going. “Then she said her hands were full, pointed at the shoe, and Paige dropped. Dropped. Like we were watching a proposal video.”
“It was a shoe,” Paige said.
“It was history.”
Nika nodded grimly. “Freshman is right.”
Paige looked betrayed. “You’re encouraging her?”
“I am processing trauma.”
You sat at your locker, laughing quietly while you changed into slides. Paige heard it and turned toward you instantly, her annoyed expression easing before she even realized she was doing it.
KK pointed. “There. Again.”
Paige looked back at her. “What?”
“You heard her laugh and forgot you were mad.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You smiled.”
“People smile.”
“Not like that.”
Paige opened her mouth, then seemed to decide there was no way to win without making it worse. She turned back to her locker, mumbling something under her breath.
You leaned closer as she sat beside you to tie her own shoes.
“You’re getting cooked today,” you said softly.
Paige looked at you from under her lashes. “You enjoying it?”
“A little.”
“That’s messed up.”
“You make it easy.”
“I make a lot of things easy for you.”
Her voice dropped just enough that the words slipped under the noise of the locker room, warm and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip even after all this time.
You gave her a look.
Paige smiled.
There she was. Cocky again, but only because she knew she had gotten to you.
“Careful,” you said.
Her smile grew. “Or what?”
You did not answer right away. You just reached over and tugged gently at the front of her hoodie, barely enough to move her. Paige leaned in without hesitation, like her body had accepted your gravity years ago and never bothered resisting after that.
Her knee touched yours.
Her eyes dropped to your mouth.
Then Nika groaned from across the room.
“Not in the locker room.”
Paige did not look away from you. “Nobody told you to watch.”
“You are both in public.”
“You’re just jealous nobody ties your shoes.”
Nika stood up. “I’m transferring.”
Azzi, calm as ever, said, “You said that yesterday.”
“And I meant it yesterday too.”
You laughed again, pushing Paige lightly away before she could get herself in more trouble. She let you, of course. She always let you. But she stayed close enough that her knee remained pressed against yours.
That was how your day was supposed to go.
Practice. Teasing. Food. Maybe film. Maybe homework neither of you wanted to do. Paige pretending she was not going to end up in your room later, sitting on your floor while you studied, claiming she was only there because your Wi-Fi worked better even though you lived in the same building.
You had forgotten, almost completely, that your childhood friend was coming.
Not because you did not care.
Just because Storrs had a way of swallowing everything into its routine. Basketball, classes, lifts, team meals, recovery, sleep, repeat. Outside people became messages you answered late at night and calls you returned walking between buildings. Home existed, but differently. Childhood existed, but in flashes.
Then your phone buzzed while you and Paige were leaving the practice facility.
Eli: just got here
Eli: this campus is confusing as hell btw
Eli: if i go missing it’s uconn’s fault
You stopped walking.
Paige stopped too, because you stopped.
She did not ask why immediately. She just looked at you, then at your phone, reading your face first.
“Oh,” you said. “Eli’s here.”
Paige’s expression did something small.
Not enough for most people to notice.
You noticed.
“Today?” she asked.
“Yeah. I told you he was visiting this weekend.”
“I know.”
“You forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.”
You raised your eyebrows.
Paige shifted your bag on her shoulder. “I remembered conceptually.”
You smiled. “That means you forgot.”
“It means I remembered there was a concept of him arriving.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Yet you keep me.”
She said it lightly, but there was something underneath it. A tiny searching thing she would deny if you called it out.
Eli texted again.
Eli: are you ignoring me already
Eli: fame changed you
You shook your head, typing back quickly.
me: stay where you are. i’ll come get you.
Paige watched you text. She was quiet in a way that was not quite quiet. Paige had many versions of silence. There was tired silence. Thinking silence. Annoyed silence. Film-room silence, rare and usually forced. This one was the kind where she was pretending she was not curious.
You put your phone away. “He’s by the student union.”
Paige nodded.
“You coming?”
Her head snapped toward you.
You almost laughed at how fast it happened.
“You want me to?” she asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
“I mean, yeah.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Unless you had something else.”
“No.” Too fast. “I’m coming.”
You looked at her.
She looked away.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Am I?”
“You are.”
“Maybe you’re cute.”
Paige’s face changed instantly. The attitude vanished so quickly it was almost funny, replaced by that pleased, slightly bashful look she only got when praise came from you. It was not that Paige did not know she was cute. Paige had confidence for days. She knew what she looked like. She knew the effect she had. But compliments from you landed differently. They got under the armor.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay.”
“Yeah, okay?”
“Trying to be humble.”
“You?”
“It’s new. Support me.”
You laughed again, and she smiled like she had earned something.
The walk to meet Eli took longer than it should have because Paige kept slowing whenever you got a notification, kept shifting closer whenever a group passed too near.
By the time you spotted Eli, he was standing with his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around with the slightly overwhelmed expression of someone who did not spend most of his time on a campus where everyone seemed to be either carrying a backpack, wearing athletic gear, or moving like they were late to something.
He saw you and grinned.
“There she is,” he called. “Miss Big East.”
You groaned before you even reached him. “Don’t call me that.”
“What, too humble now?”
“I was always humble.”
Eli laughed and pulled you into a hug.
It was normal.
It was childhood-normal. Easy. Familiar. The kind of hug that belonged to old photos and family barbecues and summers when you had both been shorter, louder, and convinced adulthood would feel more organized than it did. He smelled faintly like airport air and cold wind, and for a second you remembered being thirteen and racing him down a street near your old house, both of you breathless and dramatic over absolutely nothing.
Paige stood beside you, holding your bag.
She did not move. She did not interrupt. She did not look upset, exactly. But her posture shifted.
When you stepped back, you turned immediately. “Paige, this is Eli. Eli, Paige.”
Eli’s eyes moved to Paige.
Recognition hit him quickly, because of course it did. Even people who did not follow women’s basketball closely tended to know Paige, or at least knew enough to do a small double take when they realized she was standing in front of them with your practice bag on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Eli said, smiling. “I know who Paige is.”
Paige gave him a polite nod. “What’s up?”
Not rude.
Not warm.
Controlled.
You glanced at her.
She glanced back, and her expression softened for you immediately before she looked at Eli again.
Eli noticed.
You didn’t.
Or if you did, you filed it away with all the other Paige things that had become normal over the years.
“Good to finally meet you,” Eli said. “I’ve heard a lot.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You cut in before Paige could decide whether that was a challenge. “He means from me.”
Paige looked at you. “You talk about me?”
The question came out softer than she probably intended.
You stared at her. “Paige.”
“What?”
“You know I talk about you.”
“I mean, I assumed.”
“You assumed?”
“Was hoping.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“But you do?”
Eli looked between you with the growing expression of someone who had just realized he had walked into a conversation with its own private rules.
You shook your head, but you were smiling. “Yes, P. I talk about you.”
Paige nodded, trying to look cool and failing because the corner of her mouth kept betraying her.
“Cool,” she said.
Eli looked like he was fighting a laugh.
Paige watched the two of you go back and forth, and there it was again. That small, quiet pinch in her chest. Not jealousy in the sharp, ugly way. Not distrust. Nothing that made her doubt you.
Just awareness.
Eli knew a rhythm with you that Paige did not.
He knew how to tease you from before. He knew old versions of your expressions. He knew references she had not been there for. He knew the shape of your life before Storrs, before UConn, before Paige had learned your drink order and your favorite practice socks and the exact way your voice changed when you were trying not to laugh.
Paige did not like not knowing things about you.
She especially did not like when somebody else did.
But she stayed quiet, because it was not her place to make that your problem.
That was the thing about Paige’s jealousy. It could be loud in her head, but she had learned where the boundary was. She could be clingy. She could hover. She could make one too many jokes. She could insert herself into plans with embarrassing speed.
But she would not make you smaller to make herself feel bigger.
Eli was your friend. Your childhood friend. He had come to Storrs to see you. Paige understood that.
She just wished understanding made her less annoyed.
You spent the next hour showing Eli around the parts of campus that mattered to you. Not the formal tour version, though he joked that you were a terrible guide because half your descriptions were things like “this is where Nika yelled at someone once” and “that hallway always smells weird after games” and “Paige almost ate it on that patch of ice sophomore year.”
“I did not almost eat it,” Paige said immediately.
You looked at her. “You grabbed my sleeve and screamed.”
“I slipped.”
“You screamed.”
“It was a strategic noise.”
Eli laughed. “Strategic?”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t there.”
“No, but I can picture it.”
“She was very dramatic,” you said.
Paige pointed at you. “You promised not to bring that up.”
“I did not.”
“You did emotionally.”
“That’s not legally binding.”
“It should be.”
Eli grinned. “She always this argumentative?”
You and Paige both answered at the same time.
“Yes,” you said.
“No,” Paige said.
You looked at each other.
Paige sighed.
Eli laughed again.
The thing was, Paige did argue. Constantly. With everybody. With Nika, with KK, with Azzi when Azzi was in the mood to entertain it, with coaches under her breath when she thought they were wrong but knew better than to say too much. She argued because she cared, because she was competitive, because her brain moved fast and her mouth often got there even faster.
But with you, she folded around the edges.
The first time Eli saw it clearly was outside the dining hall.
Nika had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, because Nika had a talent for entering scenes already annoyed.
“There you are,” she said to Paige. “You still owe me.”
Paige frowned. “For what?”
“For lying.”
“I lie about a lot of things. Be specific.”
“For saying you beat me in shooting yesterday.”
“I did beat you.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You counted one twice.”
“You missed enough that it didn’t matter.”
Nika stepped closer, hands up. “You are so—”
“Paige,” you said, barely looking away from your phone.
Paige stopped arguing.
Again.
Instantly.
She turned toward you. “Yeah?”
You held out your empty matcha cup. “Can you help throw this out?”
Paige took it from your hand before the question fully finished. “Yeah.”
She walked to the trash can.
Eli watched her go.
Nika watched Eli watching her.
Then Nika looked at you, looked at Paige, looked at Eli again, and made a face.
“See?” she said to Eli, despite the fact that nobody had asked her anything. “This is what I deal with.”
Eli blinked. “What?”
Paige returned. “Don’t talk to him.”
Nika ignored her. “All day. She talks crazy to me, then Y/N says one thing and suddenly she’s customer service.”
“I’m helpful,” Paige said.
“You are house-trained.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open. “Bro.”
You coughed around a laugh.
Paige looked at you immediately, then smiled despite herself.
Nika pointed at her own face like she was presenting evidence. “Disgusting.”
Eli was laughing now, eyes bright with the kind of amusement that made Paige want to be annoyed but also weirdly proud. Because yes, fine, maybe she was easy for you. But that was not embarrassing to her in the way everyone seemed to think it should be.
She liked being yours.
She liked when people could tell.
Not too much. Not enough to put words on it that you had not both agreed to share. But enough that people understood there was a line around you, and Paige lived somewhere inside it.
KK joined you near the entrance, looking way too excited for someone who had only caught the tail end of the conversation.
“What happened?”
Nika pointed at Paige. “Same thing that always happens.”
KK’s eyes lit up. “She folded?”
“I did not fold,” Paige said.
You looked at her.
Paige glanced at you and lowered her voice. “I didn’t.”
KK slapped Nika’s arm. “She said that quieter to Y/N.”
Nika nodded. “Different tone.”
“Y’all study me too much,” Paige said.
“You make it easy,” KK replied.
Eli leaned closer to you as Paige got pulled into another bicker with Nika and KK. “Are they always like this?”
“Yes.”
“And Paige is always like…” He trailed off, eyes flicking toward her.
You followed his gaze.
Paige was pointing at Nika, fully animated again. “You literally foul every possession and then act confused.”
Nika fired back instantly. “Because you complain every possession and then act like a victim.”
“I am a victim.”
“You are a problem.”
KK looked thrilled. “This team is so unserious.”
Paige turned toward her. “You’re part of the team.”
“I’m observing as a scholar.”
“You’re observing your way onto the line.”
You smiled, then said, “P, leave the freshman alone.”
Paige stopped. Her hand dropped. “She started it.”
Nika closed her eyes like she was in pain.
KK whispered, “That is insane.”
Eli looked at you.
You looked back at him, confused. “What?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing.”
Because to you, that was just Paige.
Your Paige.
The one who would talk back to the entire world and then hand you obedience like it was the easiest thing she had ever given anybody.
Dinner was not supposed to become a thing.
That was how it happened.
Eli, after wandering campus and pretending not to be tired from travel, rubbed a hand over his stomach and said, “I actually haven’t eaten since this morning. You wanna grab something?”
Paige answered too fast.
“We were actually going somewhere.”
You turned your head slowly.
Paige did not look at you immediately.
Eli looked between you. “Oh. My bad. Can I come along?”
There was a pause. Not long enough to be rude. Long enough for Paige’s soul to briefly leave her body.
You could see her processing it. She had inserted herself because she wanted to be included, because you were hers and she was not above being obvious about it, but now Eli had done the reasonable thing and asked to come too. Paige could not say no. It was not her place. He was not her friend, not really, but he was yours. He had come all this way. He was being nice. He had not done anything wrong except exist with childhood memories and apparently no girlfriend, which Paige had already decided was suspicious on principle even though she had not yet confirmed it.
So she swallowed whatever first response had tried to climb out of her mouth.
Then she nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s fine.”
The words were polite.
Her face was not thrilled.
You smiled at her softly.
Paige caught it and looked away, jaw shifting like she was trying not to smile back because she had a reputation to maintain and was currently losing it in front of everyone.
Eli did not ask what that meant.
He was starting to understand.
You ended up at a casual spot not far from campus, the kind of place athletes drifted toward when the dining hall felt too loud or too repetitive and everyone wanted something that did not taste like it had been planned by a nutritionist with a clipboard. The evening had settled cold around Storrs, the sky dark early in that Connecticut way that always made the day feel shorter than it was. Paige walked on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking, switching places with you so smoothly that Eli noticed before you did.
You were talking about something from childhood, hands moving as you explained a story involving a bike, a hill, and Eli apparently making a terrible decision at age twelve.
Paige listened.
Mostly.
She was trying.
But every old story felt like opening a door into a room she had never been inside. You as a kid. You before UConn. You before the girl Paige met freshman year, sharp and pretty and impossible not to look at across a gym. Paige knew that version. She knew who you became under pressure. She knew how you handled bad shooting nights and sore knees and exam weeks. She knew the way you taped your fingers. She knew how you looked when you were locked in during a close game. She knew your coffee order when you were too tired for matcha. She knew your favorite hoodie, the one you denied was hers even though it had started in her closet. She knew what made you laugh now.
Eli knew what made you laugh then. That should not have bothered her.
It did anyway.
Inside the restaurant, you slid into a booth, Eli across from you. Paige sat beside you before anyone could even pretend there was another arrangement. Her thigh pressed against yours under the table. She spread the menu open with one hand, her other resting near her own knee.
You leaned slightly into her without looking, shoulder brushing hers.
She relaxed instantly.
Eli saw that too.
The conversation stayed easy at first. Food orders. Travel complaints. Eli making fun of how cold Storrs was. You telling him he was dramatic because it was not even winter yet. Paige muttering that he would not survive January, which made you laugh.
Then Eli mentioned an old nickname. It slipped out casually, like he had said it a thousand times before.
Paige’s head turned.
You groaned. “Do not call me that.”
Eli grinned. “What? It’s classic.”
“It is not classic. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s history.”
“It’s banned.”
“You can’t ban history.”
“I can ban you.”
Paige looked at you. “What nickname?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting. I’m asking.”
“You’re starting by asking.”
“I wanna know.”
Eli smiled like he had just been handed a weapon. “You don’t know?”
Paige’s eyes flicked to him.
There was no heat, not really.
But there was something.
You felt it immediately.
Not jealousy, exactly. Something softer and more sensitive than that. Paige hated being outside of anything involving you. She would never say it that plainly, but you knew. She wanted every version of you she could get. Not to own, not to control, but to understand. To keep safe. To love properly.
You nudged her knee under the table.
She looked at you.
Your hand slipped down, quiet and easy, finding hers under the table.
Paige went still.
Then her fingers wrapped around yours.
Just like that, the sharp thing in her expression eased.
Nobody above the table needed to know.
Eli kept talking, but his gaze dipped once. Maybe he saw the movement. Maybe he only saw how Paige’s shoulders dropped the second your hand touched hers.
Either way, he did not mention it.
Your food came, and Paige immediately pushed the sauce you liked closer to your side before you reached for it. She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and put it beside your plate. When you got distracted answering one of Eli’s questions, she moved your drink away from the edge of the table because you had a habit of gesturing too much and almost knocking things over.
Eli watched all of it.
After a while, he started testing it. Not cruelly. Just curiously.
“You always take care of her like that?” he asked Paige.
You looked up, confused.
Paige did not hesitate. “Yeah.”
Your face warmed.
Eli’s eyebrows lifted, amused by the directness.
Paige shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “She forgets stuff.”
“I do not forget stuff.”
Paige looked at you.
You looked back.
She said nothing.
You frowned. “Okay, I forget some stuff.”
“You forgot your keys this morning.”
“I was testing you.”
“She says that every time,” Paige told Eli.
Eli laughed. “Sounds like her.”
Paige’s smile tightened at the edges.
There it was again.
Sounds like her.
Like he knew. Like he had known longer.
Your thumb moved over Paige’s knuckles under the table.
She inhaled quietly.
You kept talking to Eli, but your hand stayed in hers.
Paige clung to that small contact like it was a lifeline.
The night got warmer after that. Not because Paige stopped feeling strange, but because you kept choosing her in ways that did not interrupt the conversation. Your knee stayed against hers. Your hand returned to hers whenever you could. Once, when Eli was telling a story about some mutual childhood disaster, you leaned sideways and murmured, “You okay?” so softly only Paige heard.
She nodded.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re quiet.”
“Listening.”
“To him?”
“To you.”
You looked at her then, and Paige looked right back, no joke ready, no smirk, just that open fondness she sometimes forgot to hide.
You squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back.
Eli watched you both from across the table and smiled faintly to himself.
Later, when Paige stepped away to take a call from one of the staff members about something schedule-related, Eli waited until she was out of earshot before leaning back in the booth.
“So,” he said.
You looked up from your drink. “What?”
He nodded toward the direction Paige had gone. “That’s Paige.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean…” He smiled. “That’s Paige.”
You looked down, fighting the way your mouth wanted to curve. “Yeah.”
“She’s intense.”
“She’s Paige.”
“She looks at you like you hung the moon.”
You went quiet.
That was not the kind of teasing you could swat away easily.
Eli softened a little, elbows resting on the table. “You happy?”
The question settled between you.
You looked toward the hallway where Paige had disappeared, then back at him.
“Yeah,” you said. “I am.”
He nodded. “Good.”
You stirred your straw through the ice in your cup.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise of the restaurant filled the silence: silverware, voices, the low hum of music, someone laughing too loudly near the front. It was strange, having someone from before sit across from you in the life you had built after. Strange, but not bad.
Then Eli asked, quieter, “Who is she to you?”
You did not answer right away.
Not because you did not know.
You knew exactly who Paige was to you.
She was the girl outside your door with matcha. The hand under the table. The pass before you cut. The hoodie on your chair. The person who had learned you in details so small other people would have missed them. She was cocky, impossible, soft where it counted, annoying when she wanted attention, loyal in a way that made your chest ache. She was the person who could make you roll your eyes and feel safe in the same breath.
But the relationship was not only yours to hand out.
Even after almost three years, even when the team knew, even when people close to you could figure it out, you were careful with it. Not ashamed. Never ashamed. Just protective. Paige was not a headline to you. She was not gossip. She was not something you tossed casually onto a table just because someone asked.
You looked toward the hallway again.
Paige was still gone.
Then you smiled faintly.
“She’s important,” you said.
Eli studied you for a second.
Then he nodded, like he understood exactly what you were not saying.
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”
You did not deny it.
You did not confirm it either.
You only took a sip of your drink, still smiling down at the table like you could not quite help yourself.
Eli leaned back, satisfied. “For what it’s worth, she seems good for you.”
“She is.”
“She’s also wildly obvious.”
You laughed.
“She is not subtle,” he said.
“No,” you admitted softly. “She’s not.”
“And you don’t notice?”
You frowned. “Notice what?”
Eli stared at you.
Then he started laughing.
“What?”
“You’re kidding.”
“What?”
“She follows you around like you’ve got her on a leash.”
You rolled your eyes, but your face felt warm. “She does not.”
“She absolutely does.”
“That’s just Paige.”
“With you,” Eli said. “I’m getting the sense that is just Paige with you.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it.
Because the easy answer was to deny it. To say Paige was like that with everyone. Helpful. Touchy. Loyal. Big-hearted beneath all the attitude.
But that was not fully true.
Paige cared about her people. She would do anything for her team. She would show up, protect, support, fight, love hard. But with you, there was a softness that had its own shape. A quiet automatic obedience that did not appear anywhere else. Paige could argue with a coach, a teammate, a ref, a wall, and herself.
But you said her name, and she stopped.
You had never really thought about how that looked from the outside.
Before you could answer, Paige came back.
Her eyes moved between you and Eli immediately. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said.
She did not believe you. “Why you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you were talking about me.”
Eli lifted his drink. “We were.”
Paige slid into the booth beside you, suspicious. “What about me?”
You leaned toward her, shoulder brushing hers. “Good things.”
Her suspicion wavered.
“Good things?” she repeated.
You nodded.
Paige tried to hold onto the attitude, but your knee pressed into hers under the table and your fingers found her wrist. Her entire expression softened again, helplessly.
Eli watched it happen.
Then he laughed under his breath.
Paige looked at him. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying nothing.”
“Because it’s nothing.”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “You’re annoying.”
Eli pointed at you. “She used to say that to me all the time.”
Paige’s attention snapped toward you. “Did you?”
You blinked. “Probably.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You had other annoying people before me?”
You smiled. “P, nobody is annoying like you.”
She looked pleased before she could stop herself.
Eli covered his mouth with his hand.
“You’re laughing again,” Paige said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just seeing the vision.”
“What vision?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Paige looked at you. “I don’t trust him.”
You patted her hand under the table. “Be nice.”
Paige immediately muttered, “I’m being nice.”
Eli whispered, “Leash.”
You kicked him under the table.
He laughed so hard he almost choked on his drink.
Paige looked between you again. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said, but you were laughing now too.
Paige huffed, but she was smiling because you were smiling, and that was usually all it took.
By the time dinner ended, Paige had relaxed more. Not fully. She still watched Eli with that quiet competitive focus whenever he mentioned something from your childhood. She still asked too many casual questions that were not casual at all. She wanted to know how long you had known each other, when you stopped living near each other, whether he visited often, whether you two still talked a lot, whether he had a girlfriend.
That last one came out too smooth.
Too smooth meant dangerous.
“So,” Paige said, pushing fries around her plate like she did not care. “You got a girlfriend or something?”
You turned your head slowly.
Eli blinked, then smiled. “Subtle.”
Paige shrugged. “Just asking.”
“Uh, no. We broke up a few months ago.”
Paige’s hand paused.
You felt it because you were still holding it under the table.
There it was.
The clocking.
The immediate mental file opening in Paige’s head.
Single childhood friend. Knows your old nickname. Makes you laugh. Came to Storrs. Hazard level: annoying.
You squeezed her hand before she could spiral too visibly.
Paige looked at you.
You gave her the smallest smile.
She exhaled through her nose and nodded once, like fine, okay, she would behave.
“Sorry,” you told Eli. “That sucks.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It was mutual. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Okay, maybe not fully mutual.”
You gave him a sympathetic look.
Paige, to her credit, said nothing mean.
You were proud of her.
So proud, actually, that under the table, you brushed your thumb over the inside of her wrist.
Paige’s posture changed.
A tiny shift. Barely visible.
But you felt it. The way she melted in increments, like you had found the exact place to touch to make the jealousy drain out of her. Her shoulder pressed more firmly into yours, and when you did not move away, she stayed there.
Eli saw that too.
He smiled to himself again, less teasing this time.
Something gentler.
After dinner, the three of you walked back toward campus under streetlights, the air cold enough that your breath showed faintly when you laughed. Eli told more stories. Paige listened more than she spoke, but she was not withdrawn anymore. She made comments. Teased you. Asked questions. Got offended when Eli claimed you used to be faster than you were now.
“She is faster now,” Paige said immediately.
Eli lifted his hands. “I’m just saying, at twelve—”
“At twelve she was racing you on a street. Now she’s training every day.”
You glanced at her, amused. “You sound personally offended.”
“I am.”
“On my behalf?”
“Always.”
The word came out too easy.
You looked at her.
Paige looked back, realizing after the fact what she had said. Her cheeks pinked slightly, though she would blame the cold if anyone asked.
Eli looked away politely.
You let your hand brush hers as you walked.
Paige caught it.
Just for a second, your fingers linked.
Then you let go before it became too obvious to anyone passing by.
Paige did not complain.
She just smiled at the ground.
Eventually, Eli had to head back to where he was staying. He hugged you goodbye, promised he would text in the morning, and told Paige it was good to meet her.
Paige nodded. “You too.”
Then, after a beat, she added, “For real.”
Eli seemed to understand the effort in that.
He smiled. “Take care of her.”
Paige’s expression shifted.
Not defensive.
Certain.
“I do,” she said.
Your heart did something stupid.
Eli glanced at you, then back at Paige. “Yeah. I can tell.”
When he left, the quiet that followed felt bigger than it should have.
You and Paige walked back toward the dorms side by side. For the first minute, neither of you spoke. The cold pressed in around you. Somewhere in the distance, people were laughing. A car passed, headlights sliding over the sidewalk before disappearing around the curve.
Paige had her hands in her hoodie pocket.
You had your arms crossed against the chill.
Normally, she would have said something by now. A joke. A complaint. A dramatic comment about the cold. A question she pretended was casual.
Instead, she stayed quiet.
You glanced at her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“P.”
She looked at you.
You stopped walking.
Because that still worked too.
Paige stopped immediately, turning to face you.
The streetlight caught the side of her face, softening the sharpness of her features. She looked younger like this, hood up, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes searching yours with the kind of openness she rarely gave anyone else.
“You were hovering,” you said.
Paige’s mouth twitched. “Was not.”
You gave her a look.
She held out for maybe two seconds.
Then she folded.
“A little.”
You smiled. “A little?”
“Medium.”
“P.”
She sighed. “Fine. A lot.”
Your smile widened.
She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Don’t look all happy.”
“I’m not happy.”
“You are.”
“Maybe I think it’s cute.”
Paige looked away quickly.
There it was again. That pleased, shy little crack in her confidence.
“You think everything I do is cute,” she muttered.
“Not everything.”
“Name one thing.”
“When you leave your socks on my floor.”
“You love that.”
“I do not.”
“You love that I’m comfortable.”
“I love you. That is different.”
Paige went quiet.
It still got her sometimes.
Even after almost three years.
Especially after almost three years.
Her eyes came back to yours, softer now. “Yeah?”
You stepped closer. “Yeah.”
The tension in her shoulders dropped.
For all her confidence, for all the attitude and cockiness and noise, Paige still looked at you sometimes like she could not believe she had gotten this. Like there was a part of her still standing in freshman year, watching you across a gym, wondering how someone could be that pretty and that good and that calm under pressure. Like some part of her was still amazed that you had chosen her back.
You reached for her sleeve, tugging her closer.
She came immediately.
Of course she did.
“You know you don’t have to compete with him, right?” you said.
Paige’s eyebrows pulled together. “I wasn’t.”
“P.”
She looked down.
You waited.
The thing about Paige was she could argue with everyone else forever, but with you, silence usually worked better. You did not have to push. You just had to stay.
Finally, she said, “He knows a lot about you.”
“He knew me when we were kids.”
“Yeah.” Paige swallowed. “That’s the part.”
Your chest softened.
There it was.
Not jealousy, not really.
Want.
Paige wanted every version of you. The teammate. The girlfriend. The girl who forgot her keys. The girl who hit corner threes. The girl who got quiet when she was tired. The girl who used to race bikes down hills and apparently had an embarrassing childhood nickname she refused to share.
She wanted all of it.
Not because she felt entitled to it.
Because she loved you so much she hated the idea of missing anything.
You slid your hand down her sleeve until your fingers found hers.
“You can ask me anything, you know.”
Paige looked up. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What was the nickname?”
You groaned immediately. “No.”
“You said anything.”
“I said anything, not that.”
“That is included in anything.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You love me.”
“I do, unfortunately.”
Paige smiled, bright and victorious. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
You looked at her.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
The nickname landed soft and low, wrapped in that pleading tone she only used when she wanted something from you and knew she had a decent chance of getting it. Paige could be shameless when she wanted attention. Worse, she knew you liked it.
“Don’t baby me,” you said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Is it working?”
You stared at her.
She smiled.
You sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“But it’s working?”
“Maybe.”
She stepped closer, fingers tightening around yours. “Then tell me.”
You looked around, even though nobody was close enough to hear. “If I tell you, you can’t laugh.”
Paige’s face turned serious immediately. Too serious. Fake serious. “I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Not at you.”
“At the nickname.”
“That’s different.”
“Paige.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t laugh.”
You hesitated.
She leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on yours like this mattered more than anything else in her entire night.
So you told her.
Quietly.
Paige stared at you.
Her lips pressed together.
“Don’t,” you warned.
Her shoulders shook once.
“Paige.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You are literally laughing.”
“I’m holding it in.”
“P.”
She stopped.
Mostly.
Then she cleared her throat, face red from the effort. “It’s cute.”
“It is not cute.”
“It’s very cute.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“You’re done.”
“No, wait—”
You started walking again.
Paige followed instantly, still holding your hand.
“Baby, wait.”
“No.”
“I’m serious. It’s cute.”
“You’re never allowed to say it.”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
You glanced at her.
She looked sincere for about half a second.
Then she said it under her breath.
You stopped.
Paige immediately tried to run.
You grabbed her sleeve, laughing despite yourself. “Paige!”
She was laughing now too, stumbling backward as you pulled her close. “I had to.”
“You promised!”
“I said it quiet.”
“That does not count.”
“It counts emotionally.”
“You are so annoying.”
“But you love me.”
“Barely.”
Paige gasped. “Barely?”
You tried to pull away, but she caught your waist gently, tugging you back in like it was instinct. Not rough. Never rough. Just enough to make you step into her space, your hands landing against the front of her hoodie.
Her face was close now.
Too close for a public sidewalk, maybe.
But not close enough for either of you to move away.
“You love me barely?” she asked, voice softer.
You looked up at her. “Maybe medium.”
“Medium?”
“Fine. A lot.”
“How much?”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re needy.”
“For you? Yeah.”
That shut you up.
Paige smiled, but it was not cocky this time. It was honest. Warm. A little vulnerable around the edges.
“I am,” she said, like she had decided there was no point pretending otherwise. “I’m real needy for you.”
Your fingers curled in her hoodie.
“Everyone noticed,” you said softly.
“I don’t care.”
“You cared earlier.”
“I cared that he knew stuff I didn’t.” Paige’s thumb moved lightly at your waist. “Not that he noticed I’m obsessed with you.”
Your face warmed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I am.” She leaned closer, nose brushing yours for half a second. “Still got you though.”
You smiled. “Yeah.”
“Still don’t know how.”
Your expression softened.
Paige said it like a joke, but her eyes gave her away.
You lifted one hand to her face, thumb brushing her cheek. She went still under the touch. Completely still. Paige Bueckers, who could not stop moving most days, who bounced and shifted and talked with her whole body, froze like your hand on her face had turned the world quiet.
“You don’t have to know how,” you said. “You just have to stay.”
Her eyes searched yours.
Then she nodded once.
“I can do that.”
“I know.”
“I’m good at that.”
“You are.”
“Best thing I do, probably.”
“You play basketball pretty well too.”
Paige smiled. “Pretty well?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
You laughed, and Paige kissed you before the sound could fully leave your mouth.
It was quick, soft, familiar. A kiss that belonged to quiet sidewalks and cold nights and the kind of love that had been built over years of mornings, practices, passes, arguments, teasing, and Paige waiting outside your door with your drink in hand.
When she pulled back, she was smiling.
You tapped her chest. “Come on. It’s cold.”
Paige immediately stepped beside you.
Then, after two steps, she gently took your hand again.
You looked at her. “You’re clingy tonight.”
“I’m clingy every night.”
“True.”
“You like it.”
You did not answer.
Paige bumped your shoulder. “You like it.”
“Maybe.”
“You do.”
“P.”
She grinned. “Okay.”
And just like that, she stopped pushing.
The walk back was quiet after that, but not empty. Paige kept your hand in hers until you reached the building. She opened the door for you. Followed you inside. Pressed the elevator button before you could. Stood close enough that your shoulders touched as you waited.
When the doors opened, KK was inside again. Because apparently the universe had a sense of humor. She looked at your joined hands.
Then at Paige.
Then at you.
A slow grin spread across her face.
“Damn,” KK said. “Still on the leash?”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You got one more time.”
You squeezed Paige’s hand.
Paige shut her mouth.
KK’s grin got huge. “Oh, this is sick.”
You stepped into the elevator, laughing.
Paige followed, muttering, “I hate everybody.”
KK looked at you. “She don’t hate you.”
“No,” you said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side.
Paige looked down at you, all soft again, all helpless again, all hers and yours and gone in that way everyone could see except maybe the two of you.
“No,” Paige said quietly. “I don’t.”
KK made a gagging noise.
Paige ignored her.
You smiled.
And when the elevator doors closed, Paige was still holding your hand, still carrying your bag, still standing close enough to follow wherever you went next.
Like always.
Like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Like she had never once wanted to be anywhere else.
summary: maya bennett and paige bueckers used to be the backcourt duo everyone talked about for reasons bigger than basketball. now, six months after a breakup nobody officially announced but everyone felt, they are back on the same court for the 2023–24 preseason, trying to act like their bodies do not still remember each other better than their mouths do.
warnings: angst, exes to lovers, injury recovery mentions, emotional miscommunication, tension, team meddling/scheming, paige being stubborn, maya being hurt but quiet about it.
author’s note: im starting a new seriessss, i dont have too many ideas for the other series and someone requested this and i wanted to make it a short series.
word count: approx. 8.2k
The thing about Maya Bennett was that she had never needed to be the loudest person in the gym to be noticed. She was not the type to walk into practice with music playing from her phone or jokes already loaded on her tongue, not the type to demand attention with a big entrance or some exaggerated confidence she had to perform before anyone believed it. She just had a way of existing that made people look twice. It was in the clean line of her posture when she walked through the double doors at Werth with her duffel strap cutting diagonally across her chest, in the soft shine of her skin under the practice lights, in the way her dark hair was pulled back into a low braided ponytail that still somehow looked pretty even after conditioning, in the way her lashes lowered when she smiled like she was trying not to give too much of herself away. She was pretty in a way that felt unfair on a college basketball court, all sharp cheekbones and warm eyes and calm hands, but the first thing people usually remembered about her was not her face. It was how steady she looked with the ball in her hands, like pressure was something she had agreed to tolerate rather than fear.
That steadiness was what had made her dangerous as a freshman, and it was what still made coaches trust her now as a junior. Maya was not the flashiest guard on the roster. She did not have Paige’s golden-girl ease, that natural arrogance disguised as charm, that way of throwing a pass into a window nobody else saw and then jogging back like she had known the future five seconds before it happened.
Maya did not play like she needed everyone to see how brilliant she was. She played like she had already done the math. She read hips, shoulders, spacing, rhythm. She knew when a defender’s feet were wrong before the defender knew it herself. She had a jumper that looked the same every time, balanced and quiet, a quick release that made assistant coaches nod to themselves during shooting drills. She was patient enough to wait for a play to open and mean enough to punish someone the second it did. And for a while, back when things were easier, back when the hurt had not settled between them like dust nobody wanted to touch, the prettiest thing about Maya’s game had been the way it fit beside Paige’s.
It was still pretty. That was the problem.
By the third week of preseason workouts, everyone had seen it enough times to stop pretending it was a coincidence. Paige could be coming off a ball screen near the top, eyes up, one defender attached to her hip and another stepping toward the free throw line, and Maya would already be drifting to the weak-side corner before Paige even turned her shoulders. Maya could be curling off a pindown, her defender trailing a half-step behind her, and Paige’s pass would already be leaving her hands, clean and sharp and placed exactly where Maya liked it, not too low, not too high, right into the pocket near her shooting shoulder. They did not need to call it. They did not need to point. They did not even need to look for long. The ball moved between them with a kind of memory that made the rest of the gym feel like it had gone quiet, even when sneakers were squeaking and coaches were calling out rotations and KK Arnold was somewhere behind them yelling because she had gotten bumped on a drive and wanted the entire state of Connecticut to know about it.
Maya hated that it still worked.
She hated that there was no awkwardness in the basketball part of it, because awkwardness would have helped. Awkwardness would have given her something solid to hold against Paige, something to prove that things had changed enough for her body to stop trusting her. But the second Maya stepped between the lines, the old rhythm found her before she could stop it. Her feet still knew where to go when Paige drove baseline. Her hands still rose at the exact angle Paige liked to pass out of traffic. Her chest still loosened, just barely, when Paige looked her way on a break, because some humiliating part of her still believed that if Paige had the ball and Maya was open, then Maya would be found. That had always been one of the worst and best things about loving Paige Bueckers. Even when Paige made a mess of everything else, even when she disappeared into her own head and left people standing outside the locked door of her feelings, the pass still came. On the court, Paige never forgot where Maya was.
Off the court, that had been harder to believe.
“Again,” Geno called from the sideline, his voice cutting through the end of the drill before anyone had time to drift into bad habits. “Same action. Better spacing. You two—” He pointed between Paige and Maya without giving them the mercy of pretending he meant anyone else. “Run it clean.”
Maya took the ball from the manager near half court and bounced it once, eyes dropping for a fraction of a second as she reset. Her practice jersey stuck lightly to her back, sweat cooling on her shoulders, and she could feel Paige a few feet away without looking at her. That had not changed either. Paige had always had a presence on the court, not loud exactly, but bright. Annoyingly bright. Like even when she was quiet, the gym still understood she was there. Maya used to love that. She used to tease Paige for it, used to tell her she had main-character disease whenever Paige walked into a room and somehow ended up the center of gravity within two minutes. Paige would grin and say, “Ain’t my fault people got good taste,” and Maya would roll her eyes even though she was usually smiling before she could stop herself.
Now she just looked at the basket.
The whistle blew. Maya brought the ball up, Nika shaded her left, and Paige started on the wing like the play belonged to someone else. For two seconds, Maya focused only on the action. She jabbed right, used the screen, felt Nika’s pressure against her hip, and made the pocket pass to Aaliyah at the elbow. Aaliyah caught, pivoted, and Paige cut behind her defender at the exact moment Maya relocated to the corner. It should have been Aaliyah’s read. It should have been Paige’s shot. But Paige, because she was Paige and because she had apparently decided peace was overrated, caught the handoff and immediately whipped the ball across her body without fully turning her head. Maya’s hands were up before she made the choice to raise them. The pass smacked into her palms. Her feet were set. Her shot went up clean.
The ball barely touched the net.
There were a few sounds of approval from the sideline, a clap from one of the assistants, a low “that’s good” from Aaliyah, and somewhere near the opposite wing, KK made a noise that was halfway between impressed and offended. Maya backpedaled without looking at Paige, already turning to get back on defense, but she felt it anyway: Paige’s glance lingering on her for half a beat too long, the old spark of satisfaction between them, the thing that used to turn into a smile across the court. Maya did not give it back. She jogged past half court and fixed her eyes on Nika’s chest instead.
Paige noticed. Of course Paige noticed. Paige noticed everything when it involved a ball or Maya Bennett pretending not to care.
“Good shot,” Paige said, casual enough that anyone else might have believed there was nothing under it.
“Good pass,” Maya answered, because manners were easier than honesty.
KK, who had been watching them with the confused intensity of somebody trying to solve a math problem she had not been taught yet, turned slowly toward Ashlynn. “Am I tripping?”
Ashlynn, still catching her breath with her hands on her hips, followed KK’s line of sight to where Maya had taken her spot near the sideline and Paige had bent slightly to adjust her left shoe, her loose hair falling forward near her face. “About what?”
“About that,” KK said, not bothering to lower her voice enough. “Like, they just did something crazy and then acted like somebody died.”
Ashlynn’s mouth twitched. “You’re not tripping.”
“Okay, so what is it?”
“I don’t know the whole thing,” Ashlynn said, which was not a lie, but also not enough to satisfy KK, who had never respected half-answers in her life. “Ask somebody who was here.”
KK looked immediately toward Nika, which showed either bravery or a complete lack of survival instinct. Nika was near the free throw line, wiping sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her practice jersey while pretending not to listen. She was absolutely listening. Nika had the kind of face that always looked like she knew something she should not know, and half the time that was because she did. She had been there when Paige and Maya were together, had watched them become whatever they became with the dry amusement of someone who could see the ending before they did. She had also been there when they stopped sitting together, when Paige got quieter and Maya got calmer in a way that did not feel calm at all, when the team learned to talk around the empty space between them because asking directly felt too cruel.
KK walked over anyway, because apparently she had chosen violence before lunch. “Nika.”
“No,” Nika said immediately.
KK blinked. “I didn’t even ask nothing.”
“You were going to.”
“That’s rude. You don’t know that.”
“I know your face.”
KK pointed across the court, where Paige and Maya were now on opposite sides of the drill line despite having no reason to be. “Why they got tension?”
Nika stared at her for a second, then looked at Aubrey, who had made the mistake of standing close enough to be included. Aubrey’s eyes widened like she had been betrayed by geography. “Don’t look at me.”
“I’m looking at you because she’s asking questions,” Nika said.
Aubrey gave KK a gentle, warning kind of smile. “You probably don’t wanna know.”
KK’s face lit up in immediate disagreement. “No, see, now I definitely wanna know.”
“That’s your problem,” Nika said, stepping toward the baseline before the next rep could save her from the conversation. “You always wanna know things.”
“Because things be happening!” KK said, following her a step. “And nobody tells me! I’m new, not blind.”
Aubrey laughed under her breath, but the laugh had a little sadness tucked into it, the kind people used when they were remembering something they could not joke about too directly. Her gaze flicked briefly to Maya, who was now stretching her calf near the sideline, one hand braced against the wall padding. Maya’s face looked neutral, almost too neutral, but Aubrey had known Maya long enough to understand that neutrality was sometimes the loudest sign she was hurting. Paige had gone to get water, and for a moment she reached automatically for the bottle with the black tape wrapped around the cap. She realized it was not hers just before she picked it up. Maya’s bottle. She froze for a fraction of a second, then grabbed her own beside it and turned away like nothing had happened.
Aubrey saw that too. So did Nika. So, unfortunately, did KK.
KK’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, nah. There’s lore.”
“There is always lore,” Nika muttered.
Practice moved on before KK could interrogate anyone properly, but the question stayed on her face for the rest of the session. She watched Paige and Maya during shell drill, during transition work, during shooting lines. She watched Paige say something low to Maya after Maya took a three off one foot without fully setting herself, and she watched Maya shoot Paige a look that would have been annoyed if it had not also been familiar. She watched Maya drive too hard into traffic and Paige slide over from the weak side before anyone else reacted, not to help with the play but because Maya landed awkwardly on her right foot and Paige’s head snapped toward her knee like the fear was still wired into her body. Maya waved her off before Paige even said anything. Paige lifted both hands like she had not been about to ask if she was okay.
The lie was terrible. KK was offended on behalf of honesty.
Maya was also offended, but for different reasons. She did not need Paige looking at her like that. She did not need Paige’s concern landing on her from across the lane, warm and immediate and unwanted only because Maya wanted it too much. She had spent six months teaching herself not to turn toward Paige every time something hurt. Six months learning how to tape her own fingers without sitting on the edge of Paige’s bed, how to eat dinner after a bad practice without waiting for Paige to make a joke about stealing fries, how to sleep through nights when her phone stayed silent because there was no longer a reason for Paige’s name to appear after midnight. Six months was long enough to build habits if you tried hard enough. It was not long enough to kill the old ones.
That was why the water bottle thing annoyed her so much. It should have meant nothing. People grabbed the wrong bottle all the time in practice. But Paige had been the one who started wrapping black tape around Maya’s cap during Maya’s freshman year because Maya kept losing track of hers. “You got zero awareness off the court,” Paige had told her, stealing the tape from the training room with a grin like she was doing community service. Maya had told her she was dramatic, but she had kept the tape. Even after they broke up. Even after she had almost peeled it off three different times and then stopped because that felt too much like admitting it mattered. Now every time Paige’s eyes caught on it, every time Maya saw Paige notice the tape was still there, something uncomfortable moved in her chest.
She told herself it was irritation.
It was not.
By the end of practice, Maya’s legs had that heavy preseason ache, the kind that made the walk from the court to the locker room feel longer than it was. She stayed behind for extra shots, partly because she always did and partly because leaving at the same time as Paige meant risking the hallway, the narrow stretch near the training room where people naturally fell into pairs and old patterns. She did not want to fall into anything. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be the kind of ex who could smile and mean it, who could share a court and not feel her throat tighten every time Paige said her name. She wanted to be above all of it, mature and settled and healed in a way that made people stop looking at her like she was one soft question away from breaking.
So she got shots up.
The first ten were fine. The next fifteen felt better. Shooting had always been clean in a way feelings were not. Feet, hips, elbow, follow-through. Catch, dip, release. Again. Again. Again. The ball did not ask her why she still noticed Paige’s limp on tired days. The rim did not care that she could still remember what Paige’s laugh sounded like when she was half-asleep and trying to pretend she was not. Maya moved around the arc, taking shots from both wings, then the top, then the corners. She did not warm up again properly before pushing into deeper threes, which she knew was a bad habit. It was the exact kind of thing Paige used to complain about when they were together, not in a sweet way at first, but in that bossy Paige way that made Maya want to argue even when Paige was right.
“You gonna pull something trying to act tough,” Paige would say, standing under the basket with the ball tucked against her hip.
“I’m not acting tough.”
“You never are. That’s the problem. You think you actually are.”
“And yet you’re still rebounding for me.”
“Yeah, because somebody gotta save you from yourself.”
Maya missed short. The memory irritated her enough that she moved to the corner and called for the ball from a manager, but the pass that came next was too crisp, too familiar, and came from the wrong angle. Maya caught it before she looked. Her stomach sank before her eyes lifted.
Paige was standing near the wing with another ball balanced against her side, her practice jersey loose over her compression shirt, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and a few loose strands frizzing around her temples from sweat. She looked tired in the way everyone looked tired after preseason practice, but Paige’s tired had layers now. There was the normal kind, the basketball kind, and then there was the deeper kind Maya had learned during the injury year, the one Paige tried to hide behind jokes and shooting sleeves and that casual little smirk she used when she did not want anyone too close. Maya had spent too much time studying that face to unlearn it now.
“You’re not warmed up enough to be shooting that deep,” Paige said.
Maya held the ball against her waist and let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. “Hello to you too.”
Paige’s mouth twitched. “I said what I said.”
“You don’t have to monitor my shot selection.”
“I’m not monitoring.” Paige took one lazy dribble, eyes flicking briefly down to Maya’s shoes, then back up. “I’m observing bad decisions.”
“Observing from across the gym?”
“You were loud.”
“My shot was loud?”
“Your miss was.”
Maya hated that something in her wanted to smile. She hated it so much she looked down at the ball instead, turning it in her hands until the seams lined up under her fingers. “I’m fine, Paige.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied you should warm up before launching NBA threes after a two-hour practice.”
Maya looked at her then, really looked, and the air between them tightened in that terrible way it sometimes did when they were alone enough for the jokes to run out but not brave enough to say what sat underneath them. Paige’s face stayed mostly easy, but her eyes betrayed her. They always had. Paige could lie with her mouth, with her shoulders, with her tone, with an entire press conference smile if she had to, but her eyes held onto things too long. Right now they were on Maya’s legs, checking without trying to look like checking. Knees, ankles, stance. Maya felt the old anger rise, but it was tangled with something softer and worse.
“You don’t get to do that,” Maya said quietly.
Paige stilled. “Do what?”
“Act like you’re not checking on me when you are.”
For a second, Paige looked like she might deny it. Maya could see the instinct arrive. It moved across her face, quick and defensive, the same reflex that had ruined so many conversations between them before they ended. Paige was good at avoiding the center of things. She could dribble around a trap better than anyone, and apparently she treated feelings the same way. But then her jaw shifted, and she glanced toward the emptying gym instead of answering too fast.
“My bad,” Paige said, but the words came out flat, not careless. “Habit.”
Habit. Maya almost laughed because of course that was what it was. Habit was the cruelest word Paige could have picked. It excused everything and explained nothing. The water bottle was habit. The passes were habit. The checking on her was habit. The way Maya still knew Paige preferred her left side stretched first when her knee was stiff was habit. The way Paige still paused near the training room like she expected Maya to walk with her was habit. Their entire relationship had become a collection of habits neither of them knew how to throw away without cutting themselves on the pieces.
“Yeah,” Maya said, softer than she meant to. “I know.”
Paige looked back at her, and for one dangerous second, Maya saw it — the hurt Paige carried and did not know where to put. It was there beneath the calm, beneath the stubbornness, beneath the athlete’s discipline she had sharpened during recovery until it became both armor and prison. Maya had been angry for so long about how alone she felt during Paige’s ACL recovery that sometimes she forgot Paige had been alone too, just in a different room of the same burning house. Paige had been terrified. Maya knew that. Paige had been twenty years old with her future suddenly balanced on one knee, with everyone waiting for her return like it was a promise she had made personally to the world. Maya knew that too. She knew it objectively, from far away, from the safe distance of someone explaining both sides to herself like she was writing an essay instead of remembering the person she loved. But when she had been inside it, when she had been the girlfriend waiting outside rehab and getting the good version of Paige only in pieces, when she had been the one swallowing her own hurt because Paige’s hurt looked bigger, it had not felt objective. It had felt lonely.
Paige opened her mouth, closed it, then bounced the ball once, hard. “You want rebounds?”
Maya stared at her.
Paige’s expression shifted into something more casual, but it did not reach her eyes. “For your shots. Since you’re staying.”
There were a hundred things Maya could have said. No. Yes. Why are you doing this? Why now? Where was this when I needed you? Do you still care, or do you just miss being allowed to? Instead, she looked toward the basket and shrugged like the answer did not matter.
“Do what you want.”
Paige nodded once, like that was permission enough, and moved under the rim.
The first shot Maya took after that went in. Paige caught the ball as it dropped through the net and passed it back without a word. The second shot went in too. Then the third. Maya moved from the corner to the wing, then to the top, and Paige followed the rhythm easily, rebounding with one hand, sending the ball back quick and clean. They had done this so many times before that silence did not feel empty at first. It felt familiar. That was the dangerous part. Maya could almost forget they were not who they had been if she focused only on the sound of the ball and Paige’s sneakers under the basket. She could almost pretend this was one of those late nights from freshman year, when Paige would rebound for her after practice and talk enough for both of them, when Maya would pretend to be annoyed and then miss on purpose just to keep Paige there longer.
But then Paige shifted her weight carefully after catching a rebound, her left leg stiff for half a breath, and Maya’s heart reacted before her pride could stop it.
“You good?” she asked.
Paige looked up fast.
Maya regretted it immediately. Not because she did not care, but because caring out loud felt like walking into a room they had both agreed to keep locked. Paige’s face softened in a way that made Maya want to look away. She did not. She forced herself to stand there with the ball in her hands and the question between them.
“I’m good,” Paige said.
“You landed weird.”
“I know how I landed.”
Maya raised her eyebrows. “Okay.”
Paige sighed, but it was almost amused. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m pretending I don’t care but I’m about to call the trainer myself’ face.”
Maya’s lips parted, and for a second the gym felt too warm. “I don’t have that face.”
“You definitely have that face.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Still right, though.”
There it was again, that small flash of what they used to be. Not enough to fix anything, not enough to forgive anything, but enough to make Maya’s chest ache. Paige must have felt it too, because her smile faded first. She tossed the ball back to Maya, a little softer this time, and Maya caught it against her stomach instead of shooting. Across the gym, near the entrance to the locker room, KK had appeared with a towel over her shoulder and absolutely no shame in the way she was watching them. Nika stood beside her, arms crossed, looking like a woman witnessing a car crash she had predicted three exits ago. Aubrey was there too, trying and failing to look like she had not also stopped to stare.
Maya saw them and stepped back.
Paige saw Maya see them and turned.
KK did not even pretend to be busy. She leaned toward Nika and said something Maya could not hear, but Nika smacked her lightly on the arm, which told Maya enough. Heat rose under Maya’s skin, partly embarrassment and partly frustration, because this was exactly why she hated slipping. One soft question, one familiar rhythm, and suddenly the whole team would be looking at them like they had hope. Hope was worse than pity. Hope expected something from her.
“I’m done,” Maya said, even though she had planned to take fifty more.
Paige looked like she wanted to stop her, then remembered she had no right. That pause hurt more than if she had said something. “Aight.”
Maya grabbed her water bottle from the sideline, the one with the black tape still wrapped around the cap, and shoved it into her bag without drinking. She could feel Paige behind her, still under the basket, probably watching, probably telling herself she was not. The walk to the locker room felt longer than it should have. KK straightened as Maya approached, eyes wide with the fake innocence of someone who had already committed several emotional crimes in her head.
“Good shooting,” KK said.
Maya gave her a look. “Thanks.”
KK held the look for exactly one second before deciding she valued her life. “I’m gonna stop talking.”
“Smart,” Nika said.
Maya walked past them into the locker room, but she heard the whispering start before the door fully swung shut.
KK’s voice was low only by KK standards. “Nah, y’all gotta tell me now.”
Aubrey groaned. “KK.”
“What? I just watched them act divorced for two hours and then flirt during extra shots. I deserve context.”
“They were not flirting,” Nika said.
“They were absolutely flirting.”
“They were being weird.”
“That’s flirting for people with trauma.”
Aubrey made a sound like she was trying not to laugh. “You are a freshman. Why are you talking like that?”
“Because I have eyes,” KK said. “And the eyes are telling me we need a plan.”
Inside the locker room, Maya sat down in front of her cubby and pressed the heel of her hand lightly against her forehead. She should not have been able to hear them clearly anymore, but she could hear enough. Not the words exactly, but the tone. The bright edge of KK’s curiosity, Nika’s dry responses, Aubrey’s reluctant amusement. Maya knew what was coming. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, but eventually. The team had been quiet about the breakup because the hurt was fresh and Paige was recovering and everyone had enough sense not to poke a bruise when it was still purple. But six months had passed. Paige was back. Maya was still there. The chemistry was still obvious. The silence had started looking less like respect and more like a challenge to people who loved meddling.
She untied her shoes slowly, buying herself time to breathe.
The worst part was that she could not even blame them. If she had been on the outside, maybe she would have wanted the same thing. Maybe she would have watched Paige and Maya move around each other like magnets pretending to be furniture and thought, just talk. Maybe she would have wanted to shake them both by the shoulders and tell them that pride was not a personality trait and silence did not count as healing. But she was not on the outside. She was inside the thing, standing too close to see its full shape. From inside, all she knew was that Paige had hurt her without meaning to, and Maya had left without fully wanting to, and somehow neither of those truths canceled out the other.
She changed slowly, pulling a hoodie over her practice gear before she left, the soft fabric falling around her shoulders. It was not Paige’s hoodie. She had given those back. Most of them, anyway. There was one still folded at the bottom of her drawer, an old gray one from some camp Paige had gone to before college, soft from too many washes and too many nights spent pulled over Maya’s knees while they watched shows in Paige’s room with the volume low. Maya had tried to give it back twice. The first time, Paige had said, “Keep it,” without looking at her. The second time, Maya had not made it past pulling it out of the drawer. Some things were easier to abandon in theory.
When Maya stepped back into the hall, Paige was near the training room with Azzi, one shoulder against the wall, an ice bag already wrapped near her knee. She was laughing at something Azzi said, but the laugh softened when she saw Maya. It did not stop. Paige was too practiced for that. But it changed, just enough for Maya to notice. Azzi noticed too, because Azzi noticed everything about Paige with the resigned patience of someone who had been watching her best friend act emotionally stupid for years.
Maya adjusted the strap of her bag and kept walking.
Paige did not call after her. Maya was grateful. Maya was disappointed. Both feelings sat beside each other like they had learned to share space.
Behind her, once Maya was far enough down the hall to pretend she was not listening, Azzi said, “You’re staring.”
Paige’s answer came quieter. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I was looking down the hall.”
“At what?”
Paige did not answer fast enough.
Azzi sighed. “Paige.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Maya pushed through the exit before she could hear the rest. The air outside was cooler, October settling over Storrs in that crisp way that made everything feel sharper than it needed to. She stood there for a second, letting the breeze touch the sweat still drying at the back of her neck, and told herself she was fine. She had gotten very good at that. Fine was a useful word because it did not ask for details. Fine could mean tired. Fine could mean heartbroken. Fine could mean one soft pass away from making the same mistake twice. People accepted fine because they usually wanted to.
Her phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket. For one stupid second, her heart moved like it expected Paige.
It was her mom.
Maya smiled despite herself, the expression small but real, and opened the message. A picture of dinner, something her dad had apparently tried to cook and half-burned, followed by her mother’s text: your father says this is “rustic.” I say pray for me. Maya laughed under her breath, the sound loosening something in her chest. Her parents were good that way. Normal. Sweet. Annoying. Loving in a way that never made her guess whether she was asking too much. Sometimes, during the worst parts of the breakup, Maya had wondered if that was part of why everything with Paige hurt so badly. Maya knew what steady love looked like. She had grown up with it. So when she started feeling like she had to earn Paige’s attention by needing less, something in her had recognized the wrongness of it before she was ready to say it out loud.
She typed back, tell dad i support his artistic journey but not his cooking, and slid the phone away.
For a moment, she stood in the quiet and let herself remember what she usually tried not to. Paige in recovery, jaw tight, eyes bright with pain she refused to name. Paige apologizing for canceling dinner for the third time and sounding so exhausted Maya had swallowed her disappointment before it reached her mouth. Paige falling asleep on Maya’s shoulder during a show they had restarted four times because Paige kept missing the plot. Paige crying once, only once, into Maya’s hoodie after a bad rehab day, and Maya holding her so carefully she had barely breathed. Paige needing her, then disappearing the next morning behind jokes and schedules and “I’m good, ma, chill,” like the softness had never happened. Maya had loved being trusted with the broken parts. She had. But somewhere along the way, she had started wondering if Paige only knew how to come close when she was crashing, and not when Maya was the one quietly falling apart.
That was the misunderstanding that had ruined them. Or one of them. Because Maya had seen Paige’s distance as a choice. Paige had probably seen it as survival. Maya had felt left behind. Paige had thought she was carrying too much to hold anything properly. Both things could be true. That was what made it hurt like that.
Inside, Paige was probably still with Azzi, probably pretending she did not care, probably making some joke to get out of being read too clearly. Maya could picture it without trying. She could picture Paige’s face, the slight tilt of her head, the cocky little half-smile that appeared whenever she wanted to seem less affected than she was. Maya hated that she still knew her so well. She hated more that knowing Paige well did not mean understanding what to do with her.
The door behind her opened, and Maya turned before she could stop herself. It was not Paige. It was KK, bundled in a UConn hoodie with her curls pulled back and mischief written all over her face. Nika and Aubrey came out behind her, which immediately made Maya suspicious.
“Maya,” KK said brightly.
“No,” Maya said.
KK stopped mid-step. “I didn’t ask nothing.”
“You were going to.”
Nika’s mouth curved. “See? Everyone knows your face.”
Aubrey laughed, then tried to soften it when Maya looked at her. “We’re just walking out.”
“Together,” Maya said.
“We are teammates,” Nika replied dryly. “That happens.”
KK rocked back on her heels, completely unable to contain herself. “So, hypothetically—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“I know enough.”
KK looked at Nika. “Why does everybody keep saying that to me?”
“Because you are predictable,” Nika said.
Maya should have been annoyed, and she was, but not enough to stop the small smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth. KK had that effect on people. She was too bold to be subtle and too genuine to be truly irritating. She reminded Maya of the kind of chaos that entered a room and rearranged the air before anyone agreed to it. Maybe that was why Paige liked her already. Paige had always enjoyed people who made life louder, as long as they did not make her talk about anything serious.
“Whatever plan you’re making,” Maya said, looking between the three of them, “don’t.”
Aubrey lifted both hands. “I’m not making a plan.”
Nika said nothing, which was somehow worse.
KK blinked with theatrical innocence. “Who said plan?”
Maya stared at her.
KK lasted three seconds. “Okay, but if there was a plan, would you be mad?”
“Yes.”
“What if it was a good plan?”
“Still yes.”
“What if it improved team chemistry?”
Maya gave her a flat look. “You’ve been here for five minutes.”
“And already I care about chemistry,” KK said proudly.
Nika actually laughed at that, and Aubrey shook her head like she was trying not to encourage her. Maya should have walked away then. She should have shut it down firmly, gone back to her dorm, taken a shower, called her mom, done anything other than stand there and let her teammates look at her with thinly disguised hope. But for some reason, her feet stayed where they were. Maybe because it had been a long time since anyone had made the whole thing feel funny without making it feel small. Maybe because the ache of extra shots with Paige still sat in her chest, and KK’s ridiculousness was easier to hold.
The door opened again.
This time, it was Paige.
Maya knew without looking at everyone else that the energy changed. KK’s face did something loud. Nika’s expression sharpened. Aubrey suddenly found the parking lot very interesting. Paige stepped out with Azzi beside her, gym bag over one shoulder, ice wrap gone now, hair tucked back beneath the hood of her sweatshirt. She took in the group in one glance, because Paige always took in the court, even when the court was a sidewalk and the defenders were her own teammates plotting emotional terrorism.
“What?” Paige said, immediately suspicious.
“Nothing,” KK said too fast.
Paige looked at Nika. “Why she say it like that?”
“Because she is lying,” Nika said.
KK gasped. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on the side of truth.”
“You literally lie all the time.”
“Not badly.”
Paige’s eyes moved to Maya. They should not have. There were four other people standing there. Paige still looked at Maya like she was checking whether Maya was okay, whether Maya was amused, whether Maya was about to leave. Maya hated that she knew the difference now between being looked at and being searched for.
“You good?” Paige asked, and the question landed too softly for the group they were in.
Maya felt everyone hear it.
She tightened her hand around her bag strap. “I’m good.”
Paige nodded, but her gaze lingered for a second on Maya’s hoodie, then her shoes, then her face. Habit. Always habit. Maya wondered if Paige knew how much she gave away when she said nothing. Probably not. Paige had spent so long being watched by cameras that she had learned how to hide from strangers, but the people who loved her had always known where to look.
KK looked between them with the expression of someone who had just watched evidence present itself in court. “Interesting.”
“KK,” Azzi warned, already tired.
“What? I said one word.”
“One too many,” Aubrey muttered.
Maya took one step back, needing distance before the whole thing turned into something she could not control. “I’m leaving.”
Paige shifted like she might ask where, then stopped herself. The restraint was visible, and somehow that made it worse. “Aight. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Maya said. “See you.”
It was the safest thing she could say. Teammates said see you tomorrow. Exes who still loved each other and refused to admit it also said see you tomorrow, apparently. Maya walked toward the lot before anyone could make her stay, the cold air catching at her cheeks, her phone heavy in her pocket, her heart heavier for reasons she did not want to name. She did not turn around. She knew if she did, Paige would be watching.
Behind her, once she was far enough away, KK whispered, not quietly enough, “Oh, we are absolutely making a plan.”
Paige said, “Plan for what?”
No one answered.
Maya kept walking, but despite herself, despite everything, she almost smiled
Maya Bennett and Paige Bueckers used to be the backcourt duo everyone talked about for more than basketball. Maya came into UConn the same year as Azzi Fudd, a freshman guard with a smooth jumper, quiet confidence, and the kind of warmth that made her easy to love without making herself the center of every room. Paige was already Paige — cocky, bright, talented, impossible not to notice — and somehow, between late-night shots, team dinners, rainy walks back to the dorms, and passes that always seemed to find Maya before anyone else saw her open, they became something private and real.
But during Paige’s ACL recovery year, love starts getting harder to hold. Paige is fighting to come back fully, carrying the pressure of her future, her body, and everyone’s expectations. Maya tries to be there for her, but slowly starts feeling like Paige only has room for her when she’s falling apart. Neither of them means to hurt the other. Neither of them stops caring. They just become two people standing too close to the same pain to understand each other clearly.
Six months after their quiet breakup, Paige is back on the court for the 2023–24 season, Maya is still beside her in the backcourt, and the chemistry they tried to bury is still painfully alive. The team notices. KK, newly arrived and deeply confused by the tension, decides this is absolutely unacceptable. With Nika, Aubrey, Azzi, and the rest of the team lowkey watching, scheming, and trying not to make things worse, Paige and Maya are forced to face the truth: they may have broken up, but the pass still finds her every time.
❀ chapter guide:
chapter one — backcourt
chapter two — before the break
chapter three — when it changed
chapter four — quiet things
chapter five — the plan
chapter six — truth or dare
chapter seven — no right
chapter eight — muscle memory
chapter nine — what you didn’t say
chapter ten — run it back
character list:
here
pairing: paige bueckers x maya bennett (oc)
themes: exes to lovers, right person wrong time, injury-year heartbreak, backcourt chemistry, quiet miscommunication, team scheming, second chances, private love, and the kind of relationship that doesn’t end just because two people tried to walk away.
content / warnings: angst, fluff, exes to lovers, quiet breakup, emotional miscommunication, injury recovery, ACL recovery mentions, jealousy, team meddling, alcohol in later chapters, no cheating, no villain arc, private relationship, slow reconciliation, suggestive tension later, lots of basketball/team dynamics.
summary: reader is the student photographer/media girl for uconn athletics, which means she's basically always around the wbb team with a camera in her hand and too much denial in her chest. paige bueckers acts like she treats everybody the same, but the entire team knows that is a lie. especially kk, who has apparently made it her personal mission to get two painfully oblivious people to stop acting stupid.
warnings/content: soooo much fluff, mutual pining, team scheming, lowkey paige being jealous and down bad for reader, oblivious reader, kk being the cutest menace, no real angst, uconn wbb setting, slow burn tension.
author’s note: someone requested "pb and r both have crushes on eachother and they both just dont realize it so the uconn team has to scheme to get them together (fluff)" shoutout for anon who gave me the plot cuzz i had soooo much fun writing this. part 2 will be done by monday!
word count: i lost count.
You learned very quickly that there were different versions of Paige Bueckers.
There was the Paige everyone got on camera, the one who could walk into a gym with cameras already pointed at her and somehow make it look casual, like attention was just weather and she had learned to move through it without blinking. That Paige was all easy grins and loose shoulders, all tilted chin and quick jokes, the kind of confidence that made every clip usable because even when she was not trying, she looked like she knew exactly where the light was. There was the Paige her teammates got, louder and dumber in the best way, collapsing into laughter with KK over some joke that barely made sense, arguing with Nika about something small and dramatic, tossing a ball across the gym with one hand while pretending she had not been listening to every single conversation around her. Then there was the Paige you got, and the problem was that you did not know it was different until other people started looking at you like you were insane for missing it.
You were not on the team. That was the thing you kept reminding yourself whenever your brain got too bold, whenever Paige did something tiny and stupid and sweet enough to make you forget how normal friends were supposed to act. You were just part of the athletics media staff, technically a student photographer, technically the girl who helped shoot practice content, behind-the-scenes clips, warmup photos, short-form edits, and whatever else the department needed when someone wanted the team to look good online. You were around because you were good with a camera, because you knew how to catch motion without making it look stiff, because you had an eye for the kind of candid moments fans ate up before the team even realized those moments existed. You were around because it was your job. That was it. That was the line you had drawn for yourself the first month you started working with them, and it had been very helpful, very mature, very professional—until Paige Bueckers started treating the line like something she could dribble around.
At first, you thought she was just like that. Paige had that kind of personality, the type that made closeness seem easy, like she could lean over your shoulder to look at a camera screen and not realize your entire nervous system had just gone into manual mode. She was friendly, playful, nosy in a way that felt natural on her. She would ask to see photos before you were done sorting through them, squint at the screen like she understood your settings, then say something deeply unhelpful like, “Yeah, that one’s tough,” while pointing at a blurry warmup shot you had already planned to delete. She stole your water once because she claimed hers was too far away, even though hers was three feet behind her. She learned your class schedule by accident, or at least she said it was by accident, because after a late practice shoot she had glanced at you packing up and asked, “You got that art history thing tomorrow morning, right?” with the kind of casualness that made you pause with your camera halfway into your bag.
“Photography history,” you had corrected, mostly because you needed something to do with your mouth before it betrayed you.
Paige had only shrugged, rocking back on her heels, sweat still drying at the edge of her hairline and her practice shirt clinging to her shoulders in a way you were determined not to notice. “Same thing.”
“It is literally not the same thing.”
“You take pictures. History. Boom. Photography history.”
“That was almost impressive, actually. Like, the confidence for someone so wrong?”
She had grinned at that, bright and pleased like getting you to argue with her was the whole point, and then she had reached down before you could stop her, taking the heavier equipment bag off the floor with one hand. “You walking back?”
“I can carry that.”
“Didn’t ask if you could.”
You remembered staring at her for a second too long, trying to decide whether she was being annoying or kind, and landing somewhere dangerous in the middle. “You know I do this literally every week, right?”
“Good thing I’m here this week, then.”
That should have been your first sign. Maybe your second, if you counted the time she had noticed you were cold during a media day shoot and had tossed her hoodie at you without even looking directly at you, like the gesture was so automatic it did not require discussion. You had been standing near the baseline with your camera strap cutting across your chest, trying not to shiver because Gampel had that specific indoor chill that never seemed to care what season it was, and Paige had been mid-conversation with Azzi when she suddenly pulled the hoodie over her head and threw it in your direction. You had barely caught it against your stomach. It smelled like laundry detergent and something warm you refused to put a name to.
“You’re shaking the camera,” Paige had said, still not making a big deal out of it.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I have stabilization.”
“Cool. Now you got a hoodie too.”
Azzi had looked between you both with an expression so calm it was somehow louder than if she had screamed. You ignored it. You put the hoodie on because you were cold, not because Paige’s eyes flickered over you for half a second after you did, not because her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. You told yourself this was normal. Teammates shared stuff all the time. Friends shared stuff. Paige probably gave people hoodies constantly. Paige probably remembered everyone’s class schedule and stole everyone’s camera to take unflattering point-five selfies and walked everyone back after late shoots because campus got dark and she “was going that way anyway,” even when she absolutely was not.
The team did not agree.
KK was the first one who made it a problem.
You were sitting on the floor near the side of the practice court one afternoon, legs crossed, laptop balanced on your knees as you skimmed through a folder of photos from warmups. Practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but the gym still had that leftover energy clinging to it, sneakers squeaking somewhere in the distance, someone laughing too loudly near the tunnel, the faint echo of a ball bouncing even after everyone should have been done. You were supposed to be narrowing down photos for a game-day post, but Paige had taken it upon herself to hover beside you, one knee bent as she leaned over your shoulder, her hand braced on the floor close enough to your hip that you could see the veins across the back of it every time you looked down.
“Delete that one,” Paige said.
You did not look at her. “I’m not taking editing notes from the subject.”
“I’m helping you.”
“You are insulting my work.”
“That’s not work. That’s a crime. Why you got me looking like that?”
“You mean like your face?”
Paige made a noise under her breath, amused and offended at once, and leaned a little closer to look at the screen. “You’re funny today.”
“I’m funny every day. You just don’t listen.”
“I listen to you.”
It was too easy, the way she said it. Too quick. Too soft under the noise of the gym. Your fingers paused over the trackpad for maybe half a second, not enough for a normal person to notice but apparently enough for KK, who had wandered over with a water bottle in one hand and the kind of grin that made you instantly suspicious.
“Oh, you listen to her?” KK said, drawing the words out like she had just discovered evidence at a crime scene. “That’s crazy, because you don’t listen to nobody else.”
Paige straightened immediately, which was funny because she had no reason to look caught. “I listen.”
KK looked at you. Then at Paige. Then back at you. “She do not listen.”
“I literally listen,” Paige said.
“Nika told you to move your shoes out the locker room walkway four times yesterday and you looked her dead in the face and walked away.”
Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a smile pulling at her mouth. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because that was Nika.”
“See?” KK pointed at her like she had just proven her entire argument. “But Y/N says one thing and you’re all, ‘yeah, okay, you need help with that bag? you cold? you hungry? you want my hoodie? you want my whole apartment?’”
Your face warmed so fast that you had to look down at your laptop, pretending to adjust the brightness. “KK.”
“What?” she said, all innocence and no shame. “I’m just observing.”
“You observe too much.”
“I’m a point guard. That’s my job.”
Paige scoffed, but she did not deny it fast enough. That was what made it worse. She just stood there with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed at KK in warning, like she was trying to intimidate a freshman who had absolutely no interest in being intimidated. “You done?”
KK grinned wider. “Not really.”
“You should be.”
“You mad because I’m right?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You look mad.”
“I always look like this.”
“You look like you wanna throw me into the stands.”
Paige’s jaw shifted, and for one wildly embarrassing second, you thought about how much you liked watching her try not to smile. That was the thing about Paige. She was not hard to read exactly, but she had layers of defense, little habits she used to keep things from looking too serious. A joke when something landed too close. A smirk when she felt exposed. A roll of her eyes when somebody said something true. You had photographed her enough to know the difference between her camera face and her real face, but knowing that felt intimate in a way you did not want to examine too closely.
“I think the photos look good,” you said, because the moment had started to feel like it had teeth.
Paige’s eyes dropped back to you immediately. “Yeah?”
There it was again. That shift. Not huge, not dramatic, but enough. With KK, she was all attitude. With you, her voice settled. With you, she looked for your reaction before she let herself have one. You were not sure what to do with that, so you turned the laptop slightly in her direction and showed her a shot of herself mid-laugh, head tipped back, eyes crinkled, one hand lifted like she was about to shove Azzi away from her. It was warm and bright and annoyingly perfect. Paige looked at it for a moment, then nodded like she was trying to be humble and failing.
“That one’s hard.”
“You say that about every good photo of yourself.”
“Because they’re hard.”
“You’re so humble.”
“I know. It’s a gift.”
KK made a gagging sound. “This is disgusting.”
You shut the laptop halfway, laughing despite yourself. “What is?”
“Whatever this is.” She waved a hand between you and Paige. “I feel like I’m interrupting something and y’all not even doing anything.”
Paige looked at her sharply. “Then leave.”
KK’s mouth dropped open with delight. “Oh?”
“I meant because you’re annoying.”
“No, no, no, say less. I’m leaving. Y’all need privacy for photo editing.”
“KK,” you warned, but you were smiling, and that only made her worse.
She backed away dramatically, still pointing at both of you. “I support this. Whatever this is. I support women in media. I support women in basketball. I support delusion. I support love.”
“There’s no love,” you said too quickly.
The gym seemed to get quiet at the worst possible time. Paige looked down at you, and the humor on her face did not disappear, not completely, but it changed shape. It softened into something you could not name without feeling ridiculous. You hated that you had said it like that, hated that you sounded defensive, hated that some tiny part of you wanted to check if Paige looked bothered by it. But she only nudged your sneaker lightly with the toe of hers and said, “Damn, okay,” like she was joking, like it was nothing, like your stomach had not twisted.
KK froze three steps away. “Interesting.”
“Go away,” Paige said.
“I’m going, I’m going.” KK lifted both hands, but she was smiling like she had just been handed the first page of a playbook. “But I saw that.”
You watched her leave, then looked back down at your laptop, trying to gather whatever was left of your dignity. “She’s dramatic.”
“She’s nosy.”
“She’s sweet.”
“She’s annoying.”
“You like her.”
Paige tilted her head. “Yeah. Still annoying.”
You smiled, opening the laptop again because if your hands were busy, maybe your chest would stop doing that weird fluttery thing. “She’s going to keep saying stuff now.”
“Let her.”
You blinked. Paige was looking at the screen, not at you, but her shoulder was close enough that you could feel the warmth of her beside you. “Let her?”
“She don’t know what she’s talking about.”
The answer should have been comforting. It should have put everything back where it belonged, in the safe little folder labeled jokes and teammate teasing and nothing serious. Instead, it felt like a door closing gently before you could decide whether you wanted to walk through it. You hummed, pretending to study a photo of Ice celebrating after a made three, and told yourself you were being stupid. Paige was Paige. She was friendly. She was charming. She was the kind of person people watched too closely because she made things look meaningful even when they were not.
You were not special.
That thought lasted until she reached over, took the edge of your camera strap where it had twisted near your collarbone, and fixed it with careful fingers.
“You always let this thing sit weird,” she said.
Your breath caught so quietly you hoped the gym swallowed it. “It’s a strap, Paige.”
“It’s gonna bother your neck.”
“You’re weirdly concerned about my neck.”
The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. Paige paused, eyes flicking to yours with a spark of amusement so quick it felt like a match striking. For a second, she looked like she was going to say something cocky, something that would make you shove her away and laugh too loud. But then her fingers dropped from the strap, knuckles brushing the fabric of your sweatshirt, and she only said, “Somebody gotta be.”
By the time you left the gym that night, KK had already texted you three times.
The first message was just eyes. The second was a blurry photo she had clearly taken from across the gym of Paige leaning over your shoulder, the angle terrible and incriminating. The third said, be honest.
You stopped walking outside Gampel, the cold air hitting your face as you stared down at your phone. Around you, campus was dark in that early evening way, blue-black sky, yellow windows, the distant sound of someone shouting near the sidewalk. You could hear the team behind you, voices spilling out of the building in a cluster, sneakers dragging, laughter bouncing. You typed back before you could overthink it.
about what?
KK replied instantly.
girl.
You rolled your eyes even though she could not see it.
use words.
The next message came with terrifying speed.
paige.
You stared at the name longer than necessary. It was only five letters. It should not have made your pulse act stupid.
what about paige?
KK sent a voice message. You did not play it. Absolutely not. Not with Paige walking out of the building behind you, hood up, backpack slung over one shoulder, her head turning toward you like she had already expected you to be there. She said something to Azzi, then broke away from the group without making it look like a big decision. That was one of her talents, you were starting to realize. Paige could make deliberate things look casual. She could cross a room for you like she had simply drifted there.
“You good?” she asked, slowing beside you.
You locked your phone so fast it was embarrassing. “Yeah.”
“You look guilty.”
“I’m not.”
“That was suspiciously quick.”
“You always accuse people like you’re a detective.”
“I got instincts.”
“You have nosiness.”
“Same thing.”
She fell into step with you like it was routine, like she had not come out with the rest of the team and then chosen your pace instead. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, but before you could get it settled, Paige’s hand was already there, lifting the strap slightly to ease the weight.
“I got it,” you said.
“I know.”
“You do this every time.”
“And every time you act shocked.”
“Because it’s my equipment.”
“And I’m carrying it.”
“You’re not even going toward my building.”
Paige glanced at you, eyes bright under the edge of her hood. “You tracking me now?”
“You literally live the other way.”
“Maybe I like the scenic route.”
“There is no scenic route. It’s campus.”
“Campus can be scenic.”
“Name one scenic thing.”
Paige looked around, pretending to think deeply. The sidewalk stretched ahead, damp from earlier rain, streetlights reflected in small patches across the concrete. A couple of students passed by laughing, bundled in hoodies and jackets, one of them glancing at Paige and then quickly pretending not to. Paige ignored it in the practiced way she ignored most attention, but when her eyes came back to you, the grin she gave you felt private.
“You,” she said, and then immediately looked forward like she had not just ruined your ability to walk normally.
You almost tripped over nothing.
Paige laughed under her breath, low and pleased. “Careful.”
“Shut up.”
“What? I answered.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You asked.”
“I asked for a scenic thing, not for you to be corny.”
“That wasn’t corny. That was smooth.”
“That was terrible.”
“You smiling though.”
You were. You hated that you were. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, but that only made her laugh again, and the sound settled somewhere warm in your ribs before you could stop it. Maybe that was why you missed the way KK and Ice were watching from several yards behind you, huddled together like they were witnessing live television. Maybe that was why you did not see KK slap Ice’s arm repeatedly, silent screaming with her whole body while Ice tried to pull out her phone again. Maybe that was why, when Paige walked you all the way to your building and handed your bag back with a soft little “text me when you finish editing,” you nodded like that was a normal thing for her to ask.
It was not until you got upstairs, kicked off your shoes, and finally played KK’s voice message that you realized you had a problem.
“Y/N,” KK’s voice hissed through your phone, full of barely contained laughter, “I’m saying this with love because you my girl, but you cannot be this dumb forever. Paige does not act like that with everybody. She does not. I have eyes. The team has eyes. The walls have eyes. She likes you. And before you say ‘no she doesn’t, that’s just Paige,’ I need you to know that I already know you’re gonna say that and you’re wrong. Okay. Love you. Bye.”
You stood in the middle of your room with your coat still on, staring at the message like it had personally attacked you.
Then, because you apparently had no self-preservation, you whispered, “No she doesn’t. That’s just Paige.”
Your phone buzzed immediately after, like the universe had comedic timing.
paige: send me the ones from today when u done
paige: not the ugly ones tho
paige: actually send those too
paige: i know u got jokes
You stared at the texts until your mouth started doing something dangerously close to a smile. Then you opened the thread and typed back.
y/n: why would i send ugly photos to the subject
paige: bc u like bullying me
y/n: maybe stop making bullyable faces
paige: bullyable is crazy
paige: that even a word?
y/n: it is now
paige: photography history major making words up
y/n: still not my major
paige: same thing
You sat down on your bed with your laptop still in your bag and Paige’s hoodie still folded over your desk chair from the last time she had given it to you and forgotten to ask for it back. Or maybe she had not forgotten. You did not know anymore, and that was the problem. Once someone pointed out a pattern, it became impossible not to see it everywhere. Paige texting you after practice was normal, except it happened almost every time you shot content. Paige asking for photos was normal, except she used it as an excuse to keep talking long after you had sent them. Paige carrying your bag was normal, except no one else did it. Paige calling you out when you skipped dinner to edit was normal, except she was the one who showed up ten minutes later with food and said, “Don’t make it weird, I was already getting some,” even when the receipt had your exact order on it.
Maybe you had been ignoring it because noticing felt too risky. Because Paige was not just some girl from your class who borrowed pencils and sat too close during lectures. She was Paige. She was the name people chanted from the stands, the face on edits, the athlete everybody watched, the person who somehow seemed both untouchable and unbearably human when she was standing in front of you complaining that you made her look short in a photo. Liking her felt like standing too close to a camera flash. Bright, stupid, impossible to pretend you did not see.
So you did what any reasonable person would do.
You ignored KK.
For exactly two days.
It might have lasted longer if KK had not decided subtlety was beneath her.
The next time you were assigned to shoot a short behind-the-scenes piece for the women’s basketball team, the media room was already loud when you arrived. It was supposed to be a simple content day, nothing intense, just quick portraits, a few candid clips, and some fun team questions for social. The kind of shoot where the players rotated through stations, answered prompts, laughed at each other, and pretended they hated being filmed while secretly making sure their hair looked right. You liked those days because they were less rigid than game coverage. You could catch personalities better. You could get Ice laughing with her whole face, Nika rolling her eyes at something off-camera, Azzi smiling softly when someone else said something ridiculous, KK doing too much on purpose because she knew it would make the edit.
Paige was already there when you walked in.
That should not have mattered. It did.
She was sitting backward on a chair near the backdrop, arms folded over the top of it, talking to Aubrey with her head tilted slightly, hair pulled back, a gray UConn hoodie loose over her frame. She looked comfortable, too comfortable, like the room had arranged itself around her without asking. Then she saw you, and her expression shifted before she could stop it. It was not a huge smile. It was worse. A small one. A real one. The kind that tugged at one corner of her mouth and softened her eyes for half a second before she covered it with a nod.
“Photographer girl,” she called.
You tried not to smile. “Basketball girl.”
KK, who was sitting nearby, immediately looked at Ice.
Ice looked at KK.
You pretended not to see either of them.
Paige pushed herself up from the chair and wandered over while you set your camera bag on a table. “You shooting today?”
“No, I brought all this for decoration.”
“Smart mouth already.”
“It’s noon.”
“Exactly. Early.”
“You’re sensitive.”
“You’re mean.”
“You keep coming over here, though.”
Paige’s eyes stayed on yours for a beat too long. “Maybe I like being bullied.”
From across the room, KK made a strangled noise into her sleeve.
You looked away first, busying yourself with your camera because your hands needed a job. “Go get ready. I need lighting tests.”
“I’m ready.”
“You are not.”
Paige looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem. You look too comfortable.”
“Damn, my bad for looking comfortable.”
You laughed, and Paige grinned like she had earned something.
The shoot started messy, because it always did. Someone kept walking into the frame. KK answered every question like she was auditioning for her own reality show. Nika complained that the prompts were stupid and then gave the funniest answers. Ice tried to be normal and failed because KK kept whispering things beside her. Paige was supposed to rotate in after Azzi, but she kept drifting toward your station between takes, looking at the monitor, asking what lens you were using, making comments that were half genuine interest and half excuse to stand close enough for her sleeve to brush yours.
At some point, one of the male student interns from the athletics department came in carrying extra batteries and a clipboard. His name was Tyler, you thought. Maybe Travis. Something with a T. He had helped on shoots before, mostly football and men’s basketball, and he was nice enough in that vaguely overconfident way some guys got when they realized they were not bad-looking. He set the batteries down beside you and leaned over to look at the camera screen.
“These are clean,” he said. “You shot the last game too, right?”
You nodded, adjusting the focus. “Yeah. The second half mostly.”
“I saw those photos. They were fire.”
“Thank you.”
“No, like actually. You made the lighting look way better than it is in here.” He smiled, and you smiled back because that was polite, because he was complimenting your work, because nothing about the interaction felt like anything worth noticing.
Except Paige noticed.
You did not see it at first. You were checking exposure, listening as Tyler asked what lens you liked using for indoor sports, answering easily because photography was one of the few things you could talk about without getting nervous. But then the room shifted. Not loudly. Not enough that anyone who was not already watching would catch it. Paige stopped joking with Azzi. Her shoulders squared slightly. The ball she had been spinning in her hands slowed, then stopped. Her eyes moved from Tyler to you, then to the camera screen where he was still leaning a little too close.
KK saw it immediately.
Of course she did.
She had been sitting on the floor near the wall, waiting for her turn, and the second Paige’s expression changed, KK’s eyebrows shot up like she had just been handed a gift from God. She nudged Ice with her elbow. Ice looked over, followed her gaze, then pressed her lips together so hard it was obvious she was trying not to laugh.
Paige did not say anything. That was the thing. She was not obvious. She did not storm over or interrupt or do anything dramatic. She simply walked to your side of the room with the calm, deliberate pace of someone who had decided she had every right to be there. When she reached you, she did not look at Tyler first. She looked at the camera.
“You need me?” she asked.
You blinked up at her. “For what?”
“You said lighting test.”
“That was like ten minutes ago.”
“Still need it?”
Tyler glanced at Paige, then at you, then back at Paige. “I think she’s good. We were just talking lenses.”
Paige finally looked at him.
It was not a glare. Paige was too smart for that, too aware of rooms, too aware of how quickly people could read her if she gave them too much. But it was something close. A flat, unimpressed look wrapped in a half-smile, the kind of expression that said who are you without wasting the words. Lowkey. Polite enough to deny. Sharp enough to feel.
“Cool,” Paige said.
Tyler’s smile faltered just slightly. “Yeah.”
You looked between them, confused by the sudden weirdness in the air. “Paige, I’ll call you when I need you.”
“You can call me now.”
“I don’t need you now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Paige nodded slowly, like she was accepting that answer under protest. Then she reached past you, picked up one of the spare batteries Tyler had brought, and turned it in her hand. “This charged?”
Tyler cleared his throat. “Yeah, all of them.”
Paige nodded again. “Good.”
The silence that followed was so strange you almost laughed, but KK did it for you from across the room, badly disguising it as a cough. You shot her a look. She widened her eyes like she had no idea what you were accusing her of.
“Okay,” you said, taking the battery gently from Paige’s hand. “Thank you for your very helpful battery inspection.”
Paige’s mouth twitched. “Anytime.”
“You can go now.”
“Bossy.”
“I’m literally working.”
“And I’m helping.”
“You are standing.”
“Supportively.”
Tyler looked like he was trying to decide whether to leave or evaporate. “I’m gonna check with the main desk.”
“Thanks,” you said, smiling at him because again, polite, normal, nothing. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Paige made a tiny sound under her breath.
You turned to her the second Tyler walked away. “What?”
“What?”
“You made a noise.”
“I breathe.”
“That was not breathing.”
“Damn, you monitor my breathing now?”
“Paige.”
She lifted both hands, but the look on her face was still wrong. Not angry exactly. Not even jealous in a way you could confidently accuse her of. Just irritated beneath the surface, like something had gotten under her skin and she was pretending it had not. “What?”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I came to help.”
“With batteries?”
“Important job.”
“You don’t even know which ones fit my camera.”
“I could learn.”
You stared at her, and she stared back, stubborn as ever. The room moved around you, players laughing, someone calling for the next prompt, the media assistant adjusting the tripod, but for a second all of it blurred into background noise. Paige’s jaw was set just enough for you to notice. Her eyes flicked once toward where Tyler had disappeared, then back to you. Something warm and reckless bloomed in your chest before you could stop it, the kind of feeling that made you want to ask a dangerous question just to see what her face would do.
Instead, you said, “You’re distracting me.”
Paige leaned a fraction closer, the irritation easing into something more familiar, more playful, because this was safer ground and you both knew it. “Am I?”
Your mouth went dry.
KK yelled from across the room, “Y/N, do you need me to remove distractions?”
Paige turned her head slowly. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say your name,” KK said, grinning.
“You ain’t have to.”
“I just care about the workplace environment.”
“You care about being in people’s business.”
“Same thing.”
You pressed a hand over your face, but you were laughing now, and Paige looked pleased with herself even though she was still standing too close. That was the most annoying part. She could be jealous, or whatever that had been, and then make you laugh two seconds later like your brain was supposed to keep up. You hated how good she was at slipping out of moments before they could fully become something.
The rest of the shoot continued with the team in full chaos mode, but after Tyler left, Paige stayed near your station more than she needed to. She kept pretending there was a reason. She needed water from the table behind you. She wanted to see the last take. She was asking what question she had to answer next. She was checking whether the camera was “making her look tall,” which you told her no lens on earth had that kind of power. She gasped like you had wounded her, then spent the next five minutes trying to stand straighter every time you lifted the camera.
KK, meanwhile, watched everything like she was collecting evidence for court.
By the time the shoot ended, you were exhausted in the way that came from too much noise, too much light, and too much Paige. Your memory card was full, your shoulders ached from holding the camera, and your brain kept replaying the exact look Paige had given Tyler even though you had told it several times to stop. Everyone was packing up, drifting toward the exit in groups, when you crouched near your bag to organize your batteries. You heard footsteps before you saw her.
Paige crouched beside you.
“You need help?”
You did not look up. “With batteries?”
“With anything.”
“You ask that a lot.”
“You need help a lot.”
“I do not.”
“You carry too much.”
“That’s literally my job.”
“Your job is taking pictures. Not breaking your back.”
You glanced at her then, and the softness of her expression caught you off guard. There was no audience in her face now, no cockiness, no performance. Just Paige, close and quiet, one hand resting on her knee, watching you like your answer mattered. It made you want to look away. It made you want to lean closer. Both instincts were equally inconvenient.
“I’m fine,” you said, gentler than you meant to.
Paige nodded, but she still reached for the heavier bag. “Cool. I’m still carrying this.”
“Paige.”
“Y/N.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I been told.”
You sighed, but you let her take it, because some battles were fake and both of you knew it. As you stood, KK appeared beside you like she had been summoned by the scent of romantic tension. She looked at Paige holding your bag, then at you, then back at Paige.
“Wow,” KK said. “So helpful.”
Paige gave her a warning look. “You need something?”
KK smiled sweetly. “No. I just love seeing community service.”
“It’s not community service,” you said.
“You’re right. It’s devotion.”
“KK.”
“What? I’m using my vocabulary.”
Paige shifted the bag higher on her shoulder, but the tips of her ears had gone faintly pink. You noticed because you were cursed. “You always this annoying after shoots?”
KK tilted her head. “You always carry media girls’ bags after shoots?”
There was a beat.
Not long. Just enough.
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Media girls?”
KK shrugged, too innocent. “That’s what she is, right? Student photographer. Media girl. Very talented. Very pretty. Gets compliments from random interns. Has certain people acting different.”
Your stomach dropped and flipped at the same time. “KK, please.”
Paige did not look at you. She looked at KK, and the flatness from earlier returned for half a second. “You done?”
KK’s grin softened just slightly, like she knew exactly how far to push and when to pull back. “For now.”
“For now,” Paige repeated under her breath.
“You walking her back?”
Paige’s answer came too quickly. “Yeah.”
KK’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t ask you.”
You closed your eyes. “Oh my god.”
Paige opened her mouth, shut it, then shook her head like she could not believe she had walked right into that. KK looked delighted. Ice, who had wandered over just in time to hear the exchange, covered her mouth with both hands.
“You know what?” Paige said, pointing at KK. “You’re benched from talking.”
“Can’t bench me. I’m essential.”
“To who?”
“To this plot.”
You blinked. “This what?”
KK froze, then smiled. “Nothing.”
Paige stared at her. “You’re weird.”
“And yet I’m right all the time.”
“You are literally never right.”
“I’m right about this.”
You did not ask what this meant. You already knew. Or at least, you knew what KK wanted it to mean, and that was dangerous enough. So you grabbed your smaller bag, thanked the staff still cleaning up, and started toward the hallway before KK could say anything else that made your heart attempt to exit your body.
Paige followed, of course.
She always did.
The hallway outside the media room was quieter, the overhead lights humming softly, the walls lined with UConn graphics and framed photos that made every step feel like walking through a history you were only borrowing. Paige walked beside you with your equipment bag over her shoulder, her pace slower than usual so you did not have to rush. For once, neither of you said anything right away. The silence was not awkward, exactly, but it was full. Full of KK’s teasing, full of Tyler’s compliment, full of Paige’s strange little battery inspection, full of every moment you had been pretending not to notice for weeks.
“You like him?” Paige asked suddenly.
Your head snapped toward her. “What?”
She kept looking forward. “The intern.”
“Tyler?”
“That his name?”
“You know that’s his name.”
“I don’t know that man.”
You almost laughed. “He works with athletics.”
“So do a lot of people.”
“He was being nice.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”
“You kind of looked like you wanted him removed from the building.”
Paige huffed, but there was no real humor in it. “I did not.”
“You did.”
“I looked normal.”
“You looked like you were mentally asking who he thought he was.”
That made her mouth twitch, but she fought it. “Maybe he was standing too close to your camera.”
“My camera?”
“Expensive equipment.”
“So you were protecting my camera?”
“Exactly.”
“From a guy who brought batteries?”
“Could’ve been a threat.”
You laughed then, unable to help it, and Paige finally looked at you. There was something relieved in her expression, like making you laugh had loosened whatever had been sitting in her chest. But there was something else too, something low and stubborn that did not fully leave her eyes.
“He was complimenting my photos,” you said.
Paige shrugged. “They’re good.”
“You compliment my photos.”
“Because they’re good.”
“So what’s the difference?”
The question slipped out softer than you intended. Paige’s steps slowed for half a second, and the hallway seemed to stretch around you. She looked at you like she knew there was an easy answer and a true answer, and for once she could not decide which one to give.
Then she smirked.
“Difference is I got better taste.”
You groaned, shoving her lightly in the arm. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’re jealous of a battery man.”
Paige stopped walking.
You stopped too, turning back to face her with your heart suddenly beating too hard for a joke. The word had come out before you could soften it, before you could tuck it safely behind sarcasm. Jealous. It hung between you, bright and obvious. Paige’s face changed, not dramatically, but enough. The smirk stayed, but her eyes sharpened, and for a moment she looked almost challenged.
“Jealous?” she said.
You swallowed. “I’m kidding.”
“You sure?”
No. “Yes.”
Paige stepped closer, just one step, but the hallway was empty enough that it felt louder than it was. Your equipment bag hung from her shoulder. Her hoodie sleeves covered part of her hands. She looked comfortable and dangerous and way too pleased with how quickly you had lost your nerve.
“I don’t get jealous,” she said.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to recover. “No?”
“Nah.”
“Right. You just inspect batteries aggressively.”
“Exactly.”
“And ask if I like random interns.”
“Conversation.”
“And stare like you’re about to start a fight.”
“I’m from Minnesota. That’s just my face.”
You laughed again, because she was ridiculous, because you were nervous, because the space between you had started to feel too small. Paige smiled at the sound, and the sharpness in her face softened into something that made the joke feel less like a joke. For a second, you thought she might say something else. Something real. Something that would make KK insufferable forever.
But then voices echoed from behind you, the rest of the team spilling into the hallway, and Paige stepped back before anyone could see how close she had gotten.
“There they are,” KK called, sounding far too happy. “The media department and her security detail.”
Paige turned around slowly. “KK.”
“What? I love safety.”
You looked down, smiling despite yourself, but your chest still felt strange. Like something had almost happened and then politely decided not to. Paige started walking again, and you followed, the team catching up around you in a wave of noise and laughter. KK slipped beside you, bumping her shoulder into yours gently.
“She jealous?” she whispered.
“No,” you whispered back.
KK’s eyes went wide with theatrical disbelief. “Girl.”
“She said she doesn’t get jealous.”
“Oh, well, if Paige said it, it must be true. Paige never lies. Paige is famously emotionally honest.”
You bit back a laugh. “Stop.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You do. Bad.”
Ahead of you, Paige looked back, eyes narrowing like she knew she was being discussed. KK smiled at her and wiggled her fingers. Paige rolled her eyes, but her gaze slid to you afterward, lingering just long enough to make your stomach twist again.
You hated that KK might be right.
You hated even more that you wanted her to be.
By the time Paige walked you back to your building again, the sky had gone dark and the air had sharpened with cold. She carried your bag the whole way without asking this time, and you let her without arguing, which felt like its own kind of confession. The conversation was easy on the surface. She complained about KK. You defended KK. She called you loyal. You called her dramatic. She asked when the photos would be done. You told her not to rush art. She said your “art” included pictures of her blinking. You told her those were your favorites. She looked offended for exactly two seconds before smiling.
At your building entrance, she handed the bag back but did not leave right away.
“You editing tonight?” she asked.
“Probably.”
“You eat?”
You gave her a look. “Paige.”
“What?”
“You ask me that all the time.”
“Because you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Coffee is not dinner.”
“It can be.”
“It cannot.”
“You’re very passionate about this.”
“Somebody has to keep you alive so you can keep making me look good.”
“There it is. Self-interest.”
Paige grinned. “Always.”
But she stayed there, hands tucked into her hoodie pocket, watching you like she was waiting for something. You wondered if this was what KK meant. Not the big stuff, not the teasing or the bag-carrying or the jealousy dressed up as camera protection. This. The staying. The way Paige lingered in small endings, stretching goodbyes until they became something softer. The way she looked at you like leaving was easy but not preferred.
“I’ll eat,” you said finally.
Paige nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
“You too.”
“I always eat.”
“That is actually believable.”
“Damn.”
You smiled, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Thanks for carrying this.”
“Anytime.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I mean it.”
There it was again, too simple and too much. You looked at her, and for once you did not immediately make a joke. Paige did not either. The quiet wrapped around you both, broken only by the muffled sound of someone entering the building behind you and the distant hum of campus. You wondered what would happen if you asked her why. Why she always offered. Why she cared if you ate. Why she looked at Tyler like that. Why she fixed your camera strap with careful fingers and remembered your classes and gave you hoodies and walked the wrong direction just to stand with you under bad dorm entrance lighting.
Instead, you said, “Text me if you want previews.”
Paige’s smile came back, small and private. “When.”
“What?”
“When I want previews. Not if.”
“You’re so entitled.”
“Only with you.”
You did not have an answer for that.
Paige seemed to realize it at the same time you did. Her smile softened, and for one second, she looked almost shy, which was absurd because Paige Bueckers did not do shy. Not on the court, not in front of cameras, not when half the world was watching. But here, outside your building, with your camera bag between your feet and her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, she looked like someone who had said a little too much and did not know how to take it back without making it obvious.
So she nodded toward the door. “Go eat, media girl.”
You rolled your eyes, grateful for the escape. “Goodnight, basketball girl.”
Her smile widened. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You went inside before your face could do anything embarrassing. But upstairs, when you finally opened your laptop and started importing the photos, you found that your favorite shot from the day was not one of the posed portraits, or KK laughing, or Azzi looking effortlessly pretty under the studio lights. It was an accidental frame from when you had lowered your camera too soon, catching Paige at the edge of the shot, slightly out of focus, looking not at the lens but at you.
You stared at it for a long time.
Then your phone buzzed.
kk: sooooo
kk: battery man survived
kk: but barely
You should not have smiled.
You did anyway.
y/n: she was not jealous
kk: ur actually my charity case
kk: she carried ur bag AGAIN
kk: walked u home AGAIN
kk: and looked at that man like he insulted her ancestors
kk: but okay babe!
You leaned back against your pillows, laughing quietly to yourself. You wanted to deny it. You wanted to type back something sensible and firm, something that would put all of this back in the category of friendly teammate behavior even though Paige was not your teammate and you were running out of excuses that made sense.
Before you could answer, another text came through.
paige: previews?
paige: and don’t send the ugly ones first
paige: actually u probably think that’s funny
paige: so nvm
paige: send whatever ma
Your fingers froze over the keyboard.
You clicked on the accidental photo of Paige looking at you.
Then you sent it.
For a minute, there was no response. Then the typing bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
paige: why u send this one?
You bit your lip, heart tapping too fast against your ribs.
y/n: you asked for previews
paige: i’m not even looking at the camera
y/n: still a good photo
paige: yeah?
y/n: yeah
Another pause.
paige: keep that one then
You stared at the message, warmth rising slowly through your chest.
y/n: for the post?
paige: nah
paige: for you
You stopped breathing for a second.
Across campus, somewhere you could not see, Paige Bueckers had probably thrown her phone down immediately after sending that, or smiled at the ceiling like she had said something normal, or convinced herself it was not obvious. You did not know. What you did know was that your face was hot, your laptop was still open, KK’s warnings were suddenly very loud in your head, and the photo on your screen looked a lot less accidental than it had before.
For you.
By the time the team hangout happened, you had convinced yourself that everything was normal again.
That was how you survived most things with Paige. You let the moment happen, you panicked about it privately, you stared at your ceiling or your laptop or a text message for way too long, and then by the next morning, you decided you had exaggerated the whole thing. Paige telling you to keep a photo “for you” was probably just Paige being Paige. Paige calling you “ma” over text was probably nothing, just a casual word tossed into a sentence with no deeper meaning because athletes spoke like that all the time. Paige looking at Tyler like he had personally offended her bloodline was probably because Tyler was standing too close to your camera setup, not because he was standing too close to you. Paige carrying your bag, walking you home, checking if you had eaten, fixing your camera strap, saving you a seat, remembering your schedule, stealing your drinks, leaning over your shoulder, staying after everyone else left—normal. All normal. Friendly. Harmless. Easy.
The only issue was that the entire UConn women’s basketball team seemed committed to making sure you could not keep lying to yourself in peace.
It started with the invitation, which was not really an invitation because KK had sent it like a demand.
kk: team hangout tonight
kk: u coming
kk: don’t say u have editing
kk: paige can survive one night without previews
kk: actually no she can’t but that’s not my problem
You had stared at the messages from your desk, where you were, unfortunately, editing. Your laptop was open, your SD card was plugged in, and Paige’s face was frozen on your screen mid-laugh from the content shoot, slightly blurred at the edges because she had moved right as you took the photo. You had been sorting through selects for athletics, but somehow every time Paige appeared in a frame, your workflow slowed. It was not your fault. She photographed annoyingly well. Some people had faces the camera liked; Paige had the kind of face the camera understood before you did. Even in accidental shots, she looked alive, like the frame had caught only half of whatever she was thinking.
You typed back to KK with one hand while the other hovered over your trackpad.
y/n: i literally have editing
kk: okay? bring ur laptop
y/n: to a hangout?
kk: yes??? be useful and social
kk: multitask babe
y/n: who’s there?
kk: team
kk: and u
kk: because ur basically team-adjacent
kk: like emotional support media
You laughed despite yourself, then immediately regretted it when another text came through.
kk: paige is coming too btw
kk: since ik u were wondering
y/n: i was not
kk: u typed that too fast
kk: guilty
You should have said no. You had every reason to. You had edits due, you were tired, and the responsible part of your brain knew that walking willingly into a room full of people who had made your crush their group project was a terrible idea. But then Paige texted you, separately, as if the universe was no longer even pretending to be subtle.
paige: kk bothering u?
y/n: always
paige: she told u to come?
y/n: yes
paige: u should
You stared at the words.
y/n: why?
paige: bc u work too much
paige: and kk gets louder when she don’t get what she wants
paige: mostly the first thing tho
Mostly the first thing. That was the problem. Paige could make anything sound casual and still somehow place her concern right in the middle of it. You sat there for a minute, your fingers resting against the keys, trying to think of a response that did not expose how easily she could move you. Then you typed:
y/n: are you calling me boring?
paige: i would never
paige: to ur face
y/n: wow
paige: come hang out boring girl
You went.
Obviously you went.
The team hangout was in one of those common lounge spaces that somehow looked the same in every athletic building and dorm-adjacent area on campus: couches arranged in a loose square, low tables scattered with snacks, a TV mounted on the wall, leftover blankets tossed over chair backs, someone’s slides abandoned near the corner, the whole room lit by lamps instead of the overheads because nobody wanted to feel like they were being interrogated. It was already loud when you walked in, which was comforting. Loud meant less attention on you. Loud meant KK yelling at someone, Nika arguing, Ice laughing, Ashlynn talking over Qadence, and no one having the space to notice if you looked at Paige for half a second too long.
Except that was a lie, because KK noticed everything.
She saw you the second you stepped in, her whole face lighting up like she had successfully summoned you. “Y/N!”
You barely had time to adjust the tote bag on your shoulder before she was waving you over from the floor, where she had claimed a spot between Ice and Ashlynn with a bowl of popcorn balanced dangerously close to her knee. “Come sit. We saved you a spot.”
That sentence should not have made you nervous. A spot was just a spot. People saved seats all the time. But then you looked toward the couches and saw exactly where the spot was.
Beside Paige.
Of course.
Paige was sprawled across one end of the couch in a hoodie and sweats, one leg bent under her, her phone loose in her hand. She looked up when you came in, and the shift in her expression was small but immediate, like her attention had been waiting near the door before the rest of her caught up. The corner of her mouth lifted.
“Media girl made it,” she said.
You tried not to smile too obviously. “Basketball girl is still annoying.”
“Damn, first thing you say to me?”
“You started.”
“I greeted you.”
“You labeled me.”
“It’s a nice label.”
KK made a sound from the floor. “Oh my god, can y’all sit down before I throw up?”
“KK,” Azzi said from the other couch, not looking up from her phone but sounding like she had been listening the whole time.
“What? I’m sensitive to nonsense.”
Paige shot KK a look. “You’re sensitive to being quiet.”
“That too.”
You sat down beside Paige because refusing would have been more suspicious than accepting, but the second you did, your awareness of the room narrowed to the warm line of her next to you. Not touching, not really. Just close enough that your sleeve brushed hers when you shifted your tote bag onto the floor. Close enough that she noticed you were carrying your laptop and reached down without asking, taking it from the tote before you could stop her.
“Did you bring work?” she asked, half amused, half offended.
“You told me to come. You did not tell me to stop having responsibilities.”
“I said hang out.”
“I am hanging out with Adobe.”
“That’s sad.”
“It pays me.”
“Barely.”
“Why are you in my financial business?”
Paige grinned, setting your laptop carefully on the side table instead of letting it stay on the floor. “Because you make it easy.”
You looked at where she had placed it, then back at her. “You’re weirdly careful with my stuff.”
“Your stuff expensive.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it is.”
“Is this still about Tyler threatening my camera equipment?”
Paige’s face flattened so quickly that you almost laughed. Almost. It was not enough for the room to catch unless the room was full of nosy basketball players who had apparently been born to study Paige Bueckers’s microexpressions. Unfortunately, it was. KK’s head snapped up. Ice’s eyes widened. Azzi finally looked away from her phone. Even Nika, sitting sideways in an armchair with one leg thrown over the side, glanced over like she had heard a whistle only dogs and teammates could detect.
“He’s an athletics intern,” you explained, even though you could feel this becoming worse by the second. “He brought batteries to the shoot.”
“And stood too close,” KK added.
“I’m gonna take your popcorn,” Paige warned.
KK hugged the bowl to her chest. “You can try.”
Nika leaned forward, suddenly entertained. “Wait, why do you care if he stood too close?”
Paige’s shoulders shifted, and you could feel her trying to settle into indifference like it was a hoodie. “I don’t.”
“You answered fast,” Azzi said quietly.
Paige looked betrayed. “Not you too.”
Azzi shrugged, very calm, very lethal. “I’m just saying.”
You wanted the couch to swallow you whole, but you were also trying not to smile because Paige looked caught in the most delicate way, annoyed but not truly upset, defensive but not mean. It made her look younger for a second, less like the Paige everyone watched and more like someone whose feelings had wandered into the room before she had given them permission.
“He was just complimenting my photos,” you said, mostly to rescue her.
Paige made the same tiny sound she had made at the shoot.
You turned your head slowly. “Again with the noise.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You did it again.”
“She does that when she’s bothered,” Ice said, then immediately covered her mouth like she had not meant to contribute to the group attack.
Paige stared at her. “Ice.”
Ice’s eyes went wide. “I love you.”
“That’s not saving you.”
KK was practically vibrating. “No, because this is perfect. This is actually perfect.”
“For what?” you asked, though your stomach already knew it did not want the answer.
KK set the popcorn aside with ceremony. “Truth or dare.”
The room erupted at once. Ashlynn said yes immediately. Qadence started laughing before anything had even happened. Nika groaned like she was above it but shifted in her chair like she was absolutely staying. Ice looked nervous and excited. Azzi gave KK one long look, the kind that said she knew exactly what KK was doing and was deciding whether to intervene. Paige leaned back against the couch and crossed her arms.
“No,” Paige said.
KK smiled. “Scared?”
“No.”
“That sounded scared.”
“I’m not playing your little setup game.”
“My little what?” KK’s innocence was so fake it deserved an award.
“You heard me.”
You looked between them, your face heating. “Setup game?”
Paige glanced at you, and something in her expression softened, like she regretted letting the words slip. “Nothing.”
KK clapped once. “Exactly. Nothing. Just team bonding.”
“I’m not on the team,” you said.
“You are spiritually on the team,” KK said. “You been through enough with us. You seen Nika yell at a vending machine. That bonds people.”
Nika pointed at her. “It stole my money.”
“It was out of granola bars.”
“It still took my money.”
“That’s between you and the machine,” KK said, then turned back to the group. “Okay. Rules. Truth or dare. No boring questions. No making people do anything illegal. No calling coaches. No recording unless the person says yes. And no lying because I can tell.”
Paige scoffed. “You cannot tell.”
“I can tell with you.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Paige, you lie with your whole forehead.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and Paige turned to you with exaggerated offense. “You laughing?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m a little sorry.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Because your forehead does look guilty sometimes.”
“My forehead?”
KK slapped the floor. “See? She knows.”
Paige shook her head, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. “Y’all are weird.”
The game started harmless enough, which was probably how KK planned it. She let Ashlynn dare Qadence to do an impression of Nika yelling at practice, which made Nika protest loudly enough to prove the impression correct. Ice chose truth and admitted she had once pretended not to see a text for three hours because she did not know how to respond. Azzi picked dare and had to read the last non-team-related text in her phone, which turned out to be painfully normal and therefore disappointing to everyone but her. Paige kept refusing to look amused, but she was laughing anyway, tucked into the couch beside you with one arm along the back cushion, not touching you but close enough that you kept noticing the space.
Then it was your turn.
KK looked at you like she had been waiting.
“Y/N,” she said, too sweetly. “Truth or dare?”
You did not trust her at all. “Truth.”
KK’s smile widened. “Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“No reason.”
“KK.”
“No reason,” she repeated, then tilted her head like she was thinking. The room quieted in that horrible way rooms did when everyone knew something was coming. Paige shifted beside you, and you could feel her attention sharpen. You kept your eyes on KK because looking at Paige felt dangerous. “Okay. Have you ever had a crush on someone you worked with?”
The room exploded.
“No,” you said immediately, then realized you had answered too fast and added, “I mean—what kind of question is that?”
“A truth question,” KK said, delighted.
“That’s so broad.”
“It is actually very specific.”
“I work with a lot of people.”
“Okay, then answer for the people you work with.”
“That does not make it better.”
Nika leaned forward. “Answer.”
You looked at her. “Why are you involved?”
“I like information.”
Paige had gone quiet. That was the problem. She was usually the first person to make fun of you, to throw in some comment, to make the moment lighter before it could pin anyone down. But now she was sitting beside you with her jaw relaxed in a way that seemed too intentional, like she was trying very hard not to look like she cared about the answer. Her eyes were on KK, not you, but her knee had gone still beside yours.
You swallowed, feeling heat crawl up your neck. “I mean… maybe.”
KK’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe?”
“People have work crushes. That’s normal.”
“Is it current?”
“KK.”
“Just asking.”
“That’s another question.”
“So it is current?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t say no.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands while everyone laughed. Paige did not laugh as loudly as the others. You heard it, or rather, you heard the absence of it. When you lowered your hands, she was looking at you already. Just for a second. Then away.
“Okay,” you said, trying to sound composed and failing. “My turn. KK. Truth or dare?”
KK looked thrilled by the danger. “Truth.”
“Have you ever made something your business when it absolutely was not your business?”
The team screamed.
KK placed a hand over her heart. “Yes. Constantly. God gave me a gift and I use it.”
“At least you’re self-aware,” Azzi said.
“I’m a helper.”
“You’re a menace,” Paige muttered.
KK pointed at her. “A helpful menace.”
The game kept moving, but after your question, the energy had changed. Not dramatically. Nobody was confessing. Nobody was cornered. But the room had tilted slightly toward something more charged, something hidden under laughter. The questions got bolder in the way they always did when people were comfortable enough to pretend they were joking. Ashlynn asked Nika if she had ever left someone on read because she was annoyed. Nika said yes without shame. Qadence dared Ice to give the most dramatic fake apology to the team for stealing someone’s snacks, and Ice got so into it that everyone was crying laughing by the end. Paige chose truth once and got asked what her biggest red flag was.
“Nothing,” Paige said immediately.
The whole room booed.
“That’s a red flag,” Azzi said.
“No, it’s confidence.”
“That’s two red flags,” you said.
Paige looked at you, offended and amused. “You too?”
“I’m being honest.”
“You supposed to be on my side.”
“Am I?”
She paused, and the room seemed to inhale quietly.
Then Paige smirked. “Yeah.”
It was one word. It still managed to make your stomach flip.
KK saw it. Because of course she did.
“Okay,” KK said, dragging the word out as she reached for the popcorn again. “Paige. Since you’re so confident. Truth or dare?”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “Truth.”
“Boring.”
“Truth,” Paige repeated.
KK leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her expression shifting into something more dangerous than playful. Not mean. Never mean. But targeted, like she had finally decided to aim. “Have you ever gotten jealous over someone you’re not even dating?”
For a second, nobody spoke.
The question was not loud, not vulgar, not even that wild compared to what truth or dare could become. But it landed hard because everybody knew where it was supposed to land. You felt it before you understood it fully, the way Paige’s posture changed beside you, the way Azzi looked down at her lap to hide a smile, the way Ice went completely still, the way Nika’s eyebrows lifted. Your heart started beating in your throat.
Paige leaned back deeper into the couch, but it did not make her look relaxed. “That’s your question?”
KK smiled. “That’s my question.”
Paige looked at her for a long moment. “Everybody gets jealous.”
That was not a no.
You looked at her before you could stop yourself. Paige did not look back at you.
KK’s smile grew. “That wasn’t the question.”
“It answers it.”
“No, it avoids it.”
Paige shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” KK said, but she did not sound defeated. She sounded like she had gotten exactly what she wanted. “So yes.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say no.”
“You been using that all night.”
“Because it works.”
Paige’s jaw shifted, and for one tiny moment, her eyes flicked toward you. It was so quick that if you had blinked, you would have missed it. But you did not blink. You saw it. You felt it like a spark jumping between you.
Then Nika, with the bluntness of someone who had grown tired of everyone else’s pacing, said, “It is not illegal to answer yes.”
Paige threw a pillow at her.
The room burst into laughter again, the tension breaking just enough for everyone to breathe. You laughed too, because it was funny, because Nika caught the pillow with one hand and looked unimpressed, because KK was practically glowing with victory. But underneath it, your thoughts were moving too fast.
Everybody gets jealous.
That was what Paige had said. Not I don’t. Not nah. Not a joke about battery men. Everybody gets jealous. It was the kind of answer that could mean nothing if you wanted it to. It was also the kind of answer that could mean everything if you were brave enough to let it.
You were not brave enough.
So when Paige’s turn came, and she looked around the room before her eyes settled on you, you prayed she would not pick you.
She picked you.
“Y/N,” she said, voice casual in a way that immediately made you suspicious. “Truth or dare?”
You held her gaze. “Truth.”
KK groaned. “Y’all are so safe.”
Paige ignored her. She tilted her head slightly, and for once there was no big smirk, no obvious tease. Just curiosity, sharpened by something she probably did not want to admit. “What’s your type?”
You hated the way the room reacted. It was not even loud this time. It was worse. Everyone got quiet in that fake way people did when they wanted to hear every syllable. Your face warmed instantly, and you shifted on the couch, suddenly too aware of Paige’s arm along the cushion behind you.
“My type?” you repeated, buying time.
“That’s what I asked.”
“Why?”
“It’s truth or dare.”
“Still.”
Paige’s eyes stayed steady on yours. “You scared?”
The challenge worked because you were unfortunately predictable. You sat a little straighter and tried to look like your pulse was not sprinting. “I’m not scared.”
“Then answer.”
You could have made it vague. You should have made it vague. You could have said funny, kind, smart, someone who cared about people. You could have said something so safe that the room lost interest. But Paige was looking at you like that, and KK had asked about work crushes, and Paige had just admitted without admitting that she got jealous, and some reckless little part of you wanted to push back. Not confess. Not yet. But push. Just enough.
“I don’t know,” you said slowly. “Someone confident, probably. But not in an annoying way.”
Paige’s mouth twitched.
KK made a tiny squeaking sound.
“Someone who’s funny,” you continued, looking down at your hands because eye contact suddenly felt impossible. “Like actually funny, not just someone who thinks they’re funny.”
“Damn,” Paige murmured.
You smiled despite yourself. “Someone who pays attention. Like, remembers little things without making it a big deal. Someone who acts like they don’t care but clearly cares a lot.”
The room went silent enough for you to hear someone shift on the floor.
Paige was not smiling now.
You looked up before you could stop yourself, and there she was, looking at you with an expression you could not read quickly enough to protect yourself from it. It was softer than you expected. Almost stunned. Like she had been ready to joke and then realized halfway through your answer that she did not know how.
“That’s specific,” Azzi said quietly, mercy and mischief balanced perfectly in her voice.
You cleared your throat. “It’s a type.”
“Mm-hmm,” KK said. “A very random, general type.”
“Exactly.”
“Could apply to anybody.”
“Anybody,” you agreed, too quickly.
Paige looked away then, but not before you saw the smile she tried to fight. It was small. Private. Ridiculous. It made you want to hide your face in your hands.
The game should have ended there. It would have been kinder if it had. But KK was apparently not in a merciful mood, and the rest of the team had entered that phase of the night where everyone was too invested to stop. The questions kept circling closer without ever landing directly. Ice got asked if she believed friends could become something more, and she answered yes while looking at the ceiling like she wanted no responsibility for how loud that answer felt. Qadence dared Ashlynn to give someone in the room a fake dramatic love confession, and Ashlynn chose Nika purely because Nika’s horrified expression was worth it. Azzi got asked who on the team had the worst poker face, and without hesitation, she said, “Paige when she is trying not to care.”
Paige looked personally betrayed. “What did I do to you?”
Azzi smiled. “Exist near us.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“I am. That is why I am honest.”
KK was laughing so hard she had to put the popcorn down again. You were laughing too, shoulders shaking, but Paige only rolled her eyes and shifted beside you, her knee brushing yours for half a second. The contact was so brief it could have been accidental. You still felt it.
Then came the dare that changed the room in a way no one expected.
It was Nika’s turn, and she picked dare because, in her words, she was not afraid of children’s games. KK, insulted, dared her to pick the person in the room she would trust most to set her up on a date. Nika stared at KK like the dare was beneath her, then looked around the circle with theatrical seriousness. Her eyes passed over Azzi, Ice, Ashlynn, Qadence, Paige, then landed on you.
“Y/N,” she said.
Your eyebrows shot up. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you observe. You pay attention. You would not set me up with an idiot.”
“That’s true.”
“And you have taste.”
You laughed, flattered and surprised. “Thank you?”
Nika shrugged. “You would be useful.”
“Wow. Romantic.”
“It is a compliment.”
KK leaned forward, eyes bright. “Okay, wait, actually. If Y/N had to set Paige up with somebody, who would it be?”
Paige immediately sat up. “That was not the dare.”
“No, this is a follow-up conversation.”
“I don’t need to be set up.”
“You sure?” KK asked. “Because you are not exactly taking initiative.”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “With what?”
KK’s smile was all trouble. “Life.”
You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing, but Paige caught it anyway.
“You laughing again?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You think I need to be set up?”
The question was directed at you now, and it should have been easy to answer. You could tease her. You could say yes, absolutely, because your ego needed balance. You could say no, because who would even be good enough? You could say anything except what your brain actually did, which was imagine Paige on a date with someone else and immediately hate the entire concept.
That was new.
Or maybe it was not new. Maybe it had been there the whole time and you were only noticing because the team had shined a flashlight directly on it. The thought of Paige sitting across from someone else, giving them that small private smile, carrying their bag, texting them late, calling them ma like it was nothing—it made something unpleasant twist in your stomach. Not anger. Not exactly. More like a sharp little no.
You looked down at the blanket folded beside your thigh. “I don’t know.”
KK tilted her head. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
Paige was watching you very carefully now.
You shrugged, trying to make your voice light. “I feel like Paige wouldn’t like being set up.”
That was safe. That was true. That was not the whole truth.
Paige leaned back, still watching you. “You right.”
“See?”
“Wouldn’t trust nobody’s taste.”
KK made a face. “Not even Y/N’s?”
Paige’s answer came slowly, and when it did, it was quieter than before. “Y/N’s maybe.”
Your breath caught.
The room reacted, but softly this time. A few murmurs, someone shifting, KK’s mouth opening and closing like even she needed a second. Paige seemed to realize what she had said after it landed, because she reached for a drink on the table and took a sip like she had not just made your entire chest feel too small.
“Maybe?” you said, because apparently you enjoyed danger.
Paige lowered the cup. “Don’t get cocky.”
“You just said you trust my taste.”
“I said maybe.”
“That’s basically a five-star review from you.”
“Don’t push it.”
“You’re so difficult.”
“You like it.”
The words came out easy. Too easy.
You both froze.
Not visibly enough for the whole room to call it out, but enough for you to feel the shift. Paige’s eyes stayed on yours, and for once, she did not smirk her way out of it immediately. You wondered if she heard herself. You wondered if she knew how it sounded. You wondered if everyone else could feel the air changing around you or if it only felt that way because you were sitting close enough to see the tiny flicker of uncertainty in her face.
KK saved you, if saving meant throwing gasoline on a candle.
“Okay!” she said loudly, clapping once. “My turn again.”
Paige looked away first, and you hated that you noticed.
KK spun the bottle cap someone had abandoned on the table, though nobody had agreed to use it as a spinner. It wobbled dramatically, making two full circles before pointing vaguely toward Paige and you at the same time. KK stared at it, then at both of you, then grinned like fate had just personally endorsed her behavior.
“Wow,” she said. “The universe is messy.”
“No,” Paige said immediately.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
KK ignored her. “Paige. Dare.”
“I pick truth.”
“You picked truth last time.”
“That’s allowed.”
“Not emotionally.”
“KK.”
“Fine. Truth.” KK’s eyes sparkled. “If somebody in this room liked you, would you want them to tell you?”
There was a collective intake of breath.
You stopped moving.
Paige stared at KK like she was deciding whether team chemistry was worth preserving. “You ask the worst questions.”
“I ask useful questions.”
“That’s not useful.”
“It could be.”
“To who?”
KK shrugged, infuriatingly calm. “The person in the room who likes you.”
The words were technically general. They did not name you. They did not say anything outright. They floated into the room dressed as a hypothetical, harmless if everyone agreed to pretend. But you felt them land anyway. Your hands curled slightly into the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You could feel Paige beside you, still and quiet, the heat of her body suddenly impossible to ignore.
Paige’s voice, when she answered, was lower. “Depends who it is.”
KK’s expression shifted. Just a little. Less teasing now. More careful. “Okay. If it was someone you already cared about?”
Paige did not answer right away.
Your heart was so loud you were sure everyone could hear it. The room had lost its laughter, but not in a bad way. It felt like the moment before a song dropped, everyone waiting, nobody breathing too hard. Paige looked down at her hands, then back up at KK, but her eyes moved to you before she spoke.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d wanna know.”
You forgot how to look normal.
KK’s grin softened into something genuinely happy before she covered it with dramatics again. “See? Growth.”
Paige rolled her eyes, but she did not take it back.
You sat there with the sentence ringing in your ears. I’d wanna know. You told yourself it did not mean what it felt like it meant. It was a truth or dare answer, pushed out of her by KK, spoken in front of everyone. It could mean anything. It could mean nothing. But Paige had looked at you. You knew she had. You could lie about a lot of things, but not that.
The game moved on because it had to. Nobody could live inside that silence forever. But after that, Paige stayed quieter, and so did you. The team filled the space around you, laughing again, pushing into safer dares, making Ice do a terrible TikTok dance, daring Qadence to speak in a British accent until her next turn, making Nika compliment everyone in the room with a straight face. It should have settled things. It should have made the night easy again.
Instead, everything felt more awake.
Every accidental brush of Paige’s sleeve against yours felt intentional even when it was not. Every time she laughed at something someone said, you caught yourself looking. Every time you looked, she seemed to already be aware of you. Not always staring. Not obviously. Just tuned in, like some part of her attention kept returning to you no matter what else was happening.
At some point, your phone buzzed in your lap.
kk: ur welcome
You did not look at her. You typed under the blanket with one hand.
y/n: i hate you
kk: no u don’t
kk: also she looked at u when she said she’d wanna know
y/n: stop
kk: i’m literally helping
y/n: ur literally stressing me out
kk: love is stressful babe
You locked your phone and refused to answer.
Paige noticed, because of course she did. “Who you texting?”
You glanced at her. “Why?”
“Just asking.”
“You ask that a lot.”
“You dodge a lot.”
“It was KK.”
Paige’s eyes moved to KK, who immediately pretended to be fascinated by the ceiling. “What she say?”
“Nothing.”
“That means something.”
“It means nothing.”
“She bothering you?”
The question was casual, but the tone under it was not. Paige had shifted closer without fully moving, her voice low enough that the rest of the room would not catch it unless they were trying. You looked at her, and the concern on her face was so immediate that it made you ache a little.
“No,” you said softly. “She’s not bothering me.”
Paige held your gaze for a second, then nodded. “Good.”
You could have left it there. You should have. Instead, maybe because the whole night had made you reckless, maybe because Paige had said she would want to know, maybe because KK’s stupid texts were still glowing in your mind, you asked, “Would you do something if she was?”
Paige did not blink. “Yeah.”
Your stomach dipped.
“What would you do?” you asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Paige looked at KK again, then back at you, mouth curving slightly. “Depends.”
“On?”
“How annoying she’s being.”
“She’s always annoying.”
“Then I’d always do something.”
It was ridiculous. It was soft. It sounded too close to a promise.
You looked away before your face could give you up.
The hangout started winding down close to midnight, though nobody officially called it. People just began stretching out on couches, checking phones, gathering empty bowls, arguing over who had stolen whose blanket. Nika declared she was leaving before the energy got stupid, which was funny because the energy had been stupid for at least two hours. Azzi got up with a quiet goodnight, giving Paige a look as she passed that you could not interpret but Paige clearly could, because she muttered, “Stop,” under her breath.
“What?” Azzi asked, innocent.
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You and KK do that.”
“Maybe you are just easy to read.”
“I’m not.”
Azzi smiled. “Okay.”
That one word sounded so much like a lie that even you laughed. Paige turned to you, betrayed again, but she was smiling too.
When you stood to grab your tote, Paige stood at the same time.
“Of course,” KK muttered from the floor.
Paige looked down at her. “You got something to say?”
KK smiled up at her. “Nope.”
“That’s new.”
“I’m growing.”
“You just said that about me.”
“Both of us can grow. It’s a team sport.”
You slipped your laptop into your tote, trying to hide your smile. “I can walk myself back.”
Paige reached for the tote anyway. “Nobody said you couldn’t.”
“You’re not carrying my stuff every time.”
“I already am.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“You knew that.”
“Unfortunately.”
Paige gave you a quick grin, but there was something underneath it now, something quieter left over from the game. She did not look away from you as quickly as she usually did. You felt it. KK felt it too, apparently, because she made a tiny noise and then buried her face in Ice’s shoulder.
“Do y’all need privacy or should we all walk together?” KK asked, voice muffled.
Paige did not even turn around. “You can stay here.”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not.”
The room laughed, and Paige looked pleased with herself as she lifted your tote onto her shoulder. You tried to tell yourself this was normal. You failed faster than usual.
The walk back was colder than you expected. The air hit your face the second you stepped outside, sharp enough to make you tuck your hands into your sleeves. Paige noticed instantly and slowed down beside you.
“You cold?”
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that.”
“Because sometimes I am.”
“Not right now.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You got your hands in your sleeves.”
“That’s just fashion.”
“That’s a cry for help.”
You laughed, and Paige smiled, but instead of making another joke, she shifted your tote higher on her shoulder and moved a little closer, just enough that her arm brushed yours as you walked. She did not offer her hoodie this time. Maybe because you were already wearing one. Maybe because giving you another would be too obvious after tonight. Maybe because both of you were more aware than you had been before, and awareness made even the sweetest habits feel dangerous.
For a while, neither of you mentioned truth or dare.
You talked about safer things. The shoot schedule for the next week. KK’s inability to be normal. Nika’s vending machine vendetta. Whether the photo of Paige not looking at the camera was actually good or if you had only said that to annoy her. Paige insisted it was good because you said it was. You told her that was a lot of trust in your artistic judgment. She said, “Told you I trust your taste, maybe,” and you nearly walked into a lamp post.
She laughed about that for a full minute.
“You’re so annoying,” you said, trying to recover.
“You good?” she asked, still laughing.
“I’m fine.”
“You almost lost to campus infrastructure.”
“Because you distracted me.”
Paige’s laughter softened. “I distract you?”
The question was quiet enough that it almost blended into the night. You looked at her, and immediately wished you had not, because she was already looking back. The streetlight caught the edge of her face, the curve of her cheek, the faint amusement still sitting in her eyes. But beneath it, there was something else. Something waiting.
You could have lied.
You almost did.
“Sometimes,” you said.
Paige’s smile faded into something smaller.
Neither of you stopped walking, but the pace changed, slower now, like both of you were stretching the path without saying it. Your building was not far. It never was. Paige always walked you anyway, always made the wrong direction look like it belonged to her.
“Me too,” she said after a moment.
You looked down at the sidewalk. “What?”
“You distract me too.”
Your chest tightened so quickly it almost hurt.
Paige cleared her throat, the way people did when they had said something too honest and needed to roughen the edges. “Like when you’re taking forever with the camera and bossing everybody around.”
You huffed out a laugh, grateful and disappointed at the same time. “I do not boss everybody around.”
“You boss me around.”
“You need it.”
“Maybe.”
The word hung there, soft and easy, but not empty.
When you reached your building, Paige stopped where she always stopped. She handed your tote back carefully, her fingers brushing yours around the strap. You both noticed. Neither of you said anything. The entrance light buzzed above you, unromantic and too bright, but somehow it still felt like every other goodbye with Paige had been leading to this exact version of silence.
“Tonight was fun,” you said, because someone had to say something normal.
Paige nodded. “Yeah.”
“KK is terrifying.”
“She’s doing too much.”
“She means well.”
“She needs a hobby.”
“I think this is her hobby.”
Paige laughed softly, then looked at you with a kind of fondness that made your stomach fold in on itself. “Yeah. Probably.”
You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder. “You okay?”
Paige blinked. “Why?”
“You got quiet after the game.”
“I’m good.”
“Paige.”
Her mouth twitched at your tone. “What?”
“You always act like you’re hard to read.”
“I am.”
“You are not.”
She looked at you for a long second, and you watched the joke flicker across her face before she chose not to use it. That choice made your heart beat harder than the joke would have.
“I was thinking,” she said.
“About?”
Her eyes moved over your face, not in a way that felt too much, but in a way that felt careful. Like she was choosing what she could give you without giving away everything. “Stuff.”
“That is so specific.”
“I’m a private person.”
“You are literally famous.”
“Still private.”
You smiled. “Okay.”
Paige looked like she wanted to say more. You could see it in the way she shifted, in the way her hands tucked into her hoodie pocket, in the way her eyes dropped briefly to the ground and then came back to you. For a second, you wondered if she would mention KK’s question. If somebody in this room liked you, would you want them to tell you? You wondered if she would ask about your type again. You wondered if she would say Tyler’s name with that same irritated edge just to make you laugh. You wondered if she would do any of the brave things neither of you seemed ready to do.
Instead, she said, “Text me when you’re inside.”
You stared at her. “I’m literally at the door.”
“And?”
“You’re going to see me walk in.”
“And then text me.”
“You are impossible.”
“Been told.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you opened the door. “Goodnight, Paige.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
You stepped inside, and because you were weak, you looked back through the glass.
Paige was still there.
She lifted her eyebrows like she had caught you, and you immediately looked away, pushing through the second door with your face burning. By the time you got upstairs, your phone was already in your hand.
y/n: inside
paige: proud of u
y/n: for entering a building?
paige: big accomplishment
y/n: ur so unserious
paige: sometimes
You sat on the edge of your bed, still in your hoodie, staring at that word.
Sometimes.
Then another message appeared.
paige: did u mean it?
y/n: mean what?
The typing bubble came and went twice.
paige: ur type
Your breath caught.
You could hear KK’s voice in your head. You could hear Paige’s answer too. Yeah. I’d wanna know.
Your thumbs hovered over the screen for a long time.
y/n: yeah
y/n: i meant it
You sent it before you could lose your nerve, then dropped your phone onto the bed like it had burned you. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then it buzzed.
paige: good type
You pressed a hand over your mouth.
Another text came through before you could answer.
paige: whoever that is better not fumble
Your heart twisted.
Because you knew Paige. You knew her confidence, her jokes, the way she could step close to something real and then dodge it with a smirk before anyone could catch her. You could picture her sending that with her hood up, walking back across campus, trying to make it sound like a joke. You could picture her convincing herself she had not asked too much.
You typed carefully.
y/n: yeah
y/n: she better not
The word sat there.
She.
You had not meant to send that. Or maybe you had. Maybe some part of you had been tired of hiding behind neutral words, behind someone and anybody and work crushes and maybe. Maybe some part of you wanted Paige to know that the possibility was not impossible. Not a confession. Not even close. Just a door left unlocked.
Paige did not respond for almost two minutes.
You stared at the screen the whole time, pulse loud, regretting everything and nothing at once.
Then:
paige: she?
Your face went hot.
You could have taken it back. You could have said typo, or you could have made a joke about grammar, or you could have pretended not to understand what she was asking. But the night had changed something. Truth or dare had not forced a confession, but it had pressed on the bruise of the secret until you both could feel it.
So you typed:
y/n: yeah
y/n: she
This time, Paige answered faster.
paige: okay
Just okay.
You stared at it, your stomach sinking before another message followed.
paige: good to know
You fell back onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, smiling so hard it felt embarrassing. Good to know. That was not a confession either. It was nothing you could hold up as proof. It was not a date, not a kiss, not even a real admission. But it was something. It was Paige seeing the door you had left unlocked and not closing it.
Across campus, KK texted you again.
kk: did u survive
kk: be honest
kk: actually don’t be honest if it’s boring
You looked at the messages, then at Paige’s thread, then back at KK’s. You thought about the way Paige had gone quiet when you described your type. You thought about the way she had said she would want to know. You thought about the way her voice had changed when she asked if KK was bothering you. You thought about how her eyes had looked under the streetlight when she said you distracted her too.
Then you typed:
y/n: i think you’re making it worse
KK responded instantly.
kk: worse????
kk: babe
kk: i’m making it possible
You hated that she was right.
You hated that you were smiling.
And somewhere between Paige’s good to know and KK’s impossible confidence, you realized the truth or dare game had not revealed the secret.
short summary: team dinner turns into way more than cam expected when the girls start playing around, asking questions, and lowkey putting her on the spot. between old tension, awkward jokes, and paige being paige, cam starts realizing fitting into uconn might be easier — and messier — than she thought.
warnings / tags: slow burn, mild jealousy, awkward tension, teasing, emotional confusion, mentions of past injury/transfer, team chaos
a/n: chap 5 is hereee 🙌 this one is more of a fun team bonding chapter, but also… the tension is tensioning just a little. cam is still trying to figure everyone out, paige is trying to act normal and failing, and the team is lowkey way too nosy for their own good. hope u guys like it <33
word count: 8.1k words
By Friday night, Cam had learned three important things about the team: nobody on the team knew how to make a plan quietly, KK was physically incapable of keeping a secret for more than four minutes, and Paige was somehow even more annoying over text than she was in person. The third discovery happened because Paige had taken it upon herself to send Cam updates throughout the day that Cam absolutely did not ask for.
paige:
u shoot today or u just here for vibes
cam:
good morning to you too?
paige:
that don’t answer the question
cam:
yes i shot today
paige:
how many makes
cam:
why are you monitoring me
paige:
leadership
cam:
stalking
paige:
player development
cam:
harassment
paige:
u welcome
Cam had stared at that last text for a full ten seconds before setting her phone face-down on her desk and laughing into her sleeve like an idiot. The worst part was that Paige knew she was funny. That was the problem with people like Paige. She didn’t stumble into charm accidentally and then look confused when it worked. She knew exactly what she was doing, and that somehow made it worse.
By the time evening came around, Cam was sitting on the floor of Azzi’s room with her legs stretched out in front of her, helping Azzi decide which hoodie to wear to team dinner even though both options were navy and, in Cam’s opinion, nearly identical. Azzi stood near her closet with one hoodie in each hand, studying them with the seriousness of someone making a life-altering decision. “This one is softer,” she said, lifting the hoodie in her right hand slightly.
Cam leaned back on her palms and squinted at both options. “They look the same.”
“They’re not,” Azzi said, her voice calm but firm, like this was not a matter open for debate.
“They are both navy UConn hoodies.”
“This one fits better.”
“Then wear that one.”
“But this one is softer.”
Cam looked up at her, amused by how genuinely conflicted Azzi seemed over two hoodies that, to any normal person, looked like they had been cloned from the same drawer. “Azzi.”
Azzi looked down at her. “What?”
“You just want me to validate the one you already chose.”
A slow smile pulled at Azzi’s mouth, like she had been caught but wasn’t upset about it. “Maybe.”
Cam pointed at the softer hoodie. “Wear the soft one.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That was emotionally exhausting.”
Azzi laughed quietly and tossed the other hoodie onto her bed. Over the past few days, Cam had discovered that Azzi was funny in a way that snuck up on people. She wasn’t loud about it like KK, wasn’t sharp like Nika, wasn’t theatrical like Paige. Azzi’s humor came softly, dropped into conversations like she didn’t care whether anyone caught it. Cam liked that. She liked that Azzi didn’t make her feel like she had to perform joy every second they were together. With Azzi, quiet was allowed, and that felt rare.
Paige was technically in the room too, sitting on her own bed with one knee bent and her phone in her hand, pretending not to listen while obviously listening. She had been pretending for the last fifteen minutes, which Cam knew because every time she said something, Paige’s face reacted before she remembered to act uninterested. Without looking up from her phone, Paige said, “You know, if you needed fashion advice, you could’ve asked me.”
Cam turned her head slowly. “You?”
Paige looked up then, offended in a way that was too immediate to be real. “Why you say it like that?”
“Because you’re wearing slides with socks and a hoodie you probably found on the floor.”
Azzi made a small noise and immediately turned away like she didn’t want to be involved, though the corner of her mouth gave her away.
Paige looked down at herself, then back at Cam, completely unbothered by the accusation. “First of all, this hoodie was on a chair.”
Cam pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
Paige pointed at her like the correction mattered deeply. “Second, I make it work.”
“That’s confidence, not style.”
“Same thing if you’re me.”
Cam laughed as she stood from the floor, shaking her head. “Your ego needs its own roster spot.”
“My ego got eligibility left,” Paige said smoothly, and she looked so pleased with herself that Cam had to look away before she smiled too much.
Azzi pulled the soft hoodie over her head, her hair coming out slightly messy underneath. Cam reached up without thinking and fixed one piece near her shoulder before stepping back. It was a small gesture, the kind people barely registered, but Paige caught it anyway.
Lately, Paige had been noticing a lot of things where Cam was concerned. The way she settled into conversations without forcing them. The way people seemed comfortable around her almost immediately. The way she could make a room feel lighter without trying to be the center of it. Watching Cam laugh with Azzi and help her pick between two nearly identical hoodies, Paige found herself smiling despite herself. It was easy to like someone who made everyone around them feel a little more at ease.
“You two coming or what?” Paige asked, standing and pocketing her phone like she hadn’t just spent the last few seconds watching them.
Cam turned toward her, eyebrows lifting. “You invited us to your room and now you’re rushing us?”
“Nika said if we’re late, she’s gonna be blaming me.”
“She would.”
“She always does.”
Azzi grabbed her phone and keys from the desk. “Because it usually is your fault.”
Paige looked betrayed. “See, this is what I’m saying. Nobody on this team respects me.”
Cam followed them into the hallway, pulling her own hoodie sleeves over her hands. “Maybe earn it.”
Paige stopped walking just long enough to look back at her. The hallway light caught the amused curve of her mouth, the easy confidence in her eyes, and Cam immediately regretted giving her any kind of opening. “Careful, ma.”
Cam’s steps faltered, barely, but Paige saw it anyway. Azzi also saw it, because Azzi was unfortunately becoming very good at noticing what Cam wished she wouldn’t. Cam recovered by walking past Paige and refusing to make eye contact. “You keep saying careful like I’m scared of you.”
Paige fell into step beside her, smiling like Cam had just handed her exactly what she wanted. “You should be.”
“Of what? Your court vision?”
“My whole game, for real.”
Cam laughed despite herself. “There it is.”
Paige leaned closer just slightly, voice low enough that it didn’t carry all the way down the hall. “You like it.”
Cam looked straight ahead, face warming, and decided that if she tripped in front of Paige Bueckers, she would transfer again. Azzi walked on Cam’s other side, glancing between them with a look that was far too calm to be innocent. “This is going to be a long dinner.”
Cam looked at her quickly. “Don’t start.”
Azzi blinked innocently. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I was literally just walking.”
Cam narrowed her eyes. “With judgment.”
Azzi’s smile widened slightly. “Maybe a little.”
Paige laughed from Cam’s other side. “Look at y’all. Best friends already.”
Azzi looked at Cam with a small, resigned smile. “Unfortunately, I think we are.”
Cam gasped lightly, pressing a hand to her chest. “Unfortunately?”
“You come with a lot of noise.”
“That’s mostly KK.”
“And Paige.”
Paige pointed at Azzi. “Why am I in it?”
“Because you’re always in it,” Azzi said simply.
Cam laughed so hard she had to look down, and Paige, even while pretending to be offended, found herself smiling at the sound.
Team dinner was in Aaliyah’s room, mostly because Aaliyah had the most believable ability to keep everyone from destroying something. It was technically not a dinner so much as several takeout bags, paper plates, stolen dining hall fruit, two bags of chips, three desserts, and a very strict no-alcohol rule that Aaliyah announced before anyone even sat down. “We have freshmen,” Aaliyah said, pointing toward KK and Ashlynn with the tired authority of someone who already knew where the night could go if she didn’t set boundaries early.
KK looked offended. “Why are you pointing at me like I personally asked for tequila?”
“You would ask for something just to be included.”
KK opened her mouth, then closed it because that was harder to deny than she wanted. Cam sat on the floor beside Azzi, balancing a plate on her lap while Ice tried to explain why fries tasted better when stolen from someone else’s plate. Qadence agreed immediately. Nika said that was because theft increased emotional investment. Nobody knew whether she was joking.
Aubrey arrived a few minutes after Cam, carrying extra napkins and a bottle of Sprite under one arm. She looked brighter tonight, hair pulled back, cheeks warm from laughing at something Jana had said in the hallway. Cam looked up when she entered and smiled automatically. “Aubs,” she said, patting the space on the floor beside her. “Saved you a spot.”
Aubrey’s face softened, but this time the feeling didn’t swallow the whole room. She crossed over and dropped down beside Cam with an exaggerated sigh, bumping her shoulder into Cam’s. “You saved me floor space?”
“It’s premium seating.”
“This is carpet.”
“UConn carpet.”
“Worse.”
Cam laughed and took the napkins from her. “Thank you.”
Aubrey smiled, easy and playful, and for once there was no visible ache tucked under it. She looked like herself. Not the version of Aubrey who watched Paige too closely or measured Cam’s smiles like they might mean something. Just Aubrey, warm and dryly funny, the girl who had known Cam long enough to make fun of her without asking permission.
Paige saw that and relaxed a little. Not fully, but enough. She was sitting on the other side of the room between Ice and Nika, plate in hand, trying very hard not to look like she cared where Cam sat. Cam had saved Aubrey a spot, which made sense. Of course it made sense. They were old friends. Childhood basketball friends. The kind of friends who had survived time zones and injuries and recruiting decisions and still had a language no one else spoke fluently. Paige respected that. She did. It just made the line under her feet harder to see.
Aubrey was her friend too. Not her closest person in the world, not Azzi, but still someone Paige cared about. Someone she had laughed with, fought beside, watched work through her own injuries and setbacks. Paige didn’t want to become the person who walked into Aubrey’s life and took something she had been holding onto for years. Except Cam was not something to take. That was the part Paige kept reminding herself. Cam was a person. A teammate. A girl who was ridiculously pretty without seeming to realize the full extent of it. The kind of pretty that caught Paige off guard in random moments—the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the confidence in the way she carried herself, the easy smile she gave people without thinking. Cam walked into rooms like she belonged there, like she trusted herself, and Paige liked that. But every now and then there was something underneath it too, something quieter that flashed across her face before disappearing again. A hesitation. A question she hadn't answered yet. Paige found herself noticing those moments as much as the confident ones. Cam was joyful, warm, easy to be around, and somehow still felt a little guarded around the edges. None of this was simple.
“Paige,” Nika said beside her, cutting through the thoughts before they got too loud.
Paige blinked and looked over. “What?”
Nika pointed at Paige’s untouched food with her fork. “You are staring into space like a sad poet. Eat.”
Ice choked on her drink while Paige frowned. “A sad poet?”
“You heard me.”
“I was thinking basketball.”
“You were looking at Camila.”
Paige’s head snapped toward Nika. “I was not.”
Nika looked entirely unbothered, chewing slowly, while Ice looked down at her plate and tried very hard not to smile. “Okay.”
Paige hated that everyone on this team had learned the power of okay.
Across the room, Cam was laughing at something Aubrey said. Nearby, Azzi handed Cam a fry off her plate like it was nothing, and Cam accepted it with a dramatic little nod of gratitude. Paige caught the exchange and immediately felt mildly betrayed because Azzi had not once offered her a fry.
“I saw that,” Paige called across the room.
Azzi looked up calmly. “Saw what?”
“You giving away fries.”
Azzi glanced at Cam, then back at Paige. “I share with people I like.”
The room made several noises at once. Cam covered her mouth, laughing into her sleeve, while Paige stared at Azzi with a hand pressed to her chest. “That’s crazy. After everything we’ve been through?”
Azzi smiled. “You steal.”
“I borrow.”
“You don’t return.”
“I return vibes.”
“Keep them.”
Cam leaned into Azzi, laughing harder now, and Azzi looked pleased with herself in that quiet way she had when a joke landed exactly how she wanted. Paige shook her head, but she was smiling. “Cam, you see this? She switching up on me after four days.”
Cam’s mouth opened, but for once she had no immediate comeback. The room noticed. KK noticed hardest. “Oh?” she said, sitting up straighter.
Cam pointed at her. “No.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You said oh.”
“That’s a word.”
“That’s a dangerous word from you.”
Aaliyah clapped her hands once before KK could escalate. “No. We are not starting this before food is finished.”
KK leaned toward Ashlynn and whispered loudly, “We are starting this after food.”
Ashlynn nodded. “Obviously.”
Cam looked at Azzi. “Should I be worried?”
Azzi took another calm bite of food. “Yes.”
After dinner, the paper plates were thrown away, the drinks were moved to the desk, and KK announced that they were playing truth or dare with the absolute authority of someone who had not asked the host. Aaliyah immediately said, “No,” and KK immediately said, “Yes,” with equal seriousness.
“No,” Aaliyah repeated, crossing her arms.
“It’s team bonding.”
“It’s chaos.”
“That’s bonding.”
Nika, already sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, looked at KK with deep suspicion. “You cannot be trusted with questions.”
KK put one hand over her heart. “I am mature.”
Ashlynn snorted, and KK turned to her with betrayal written all over her face. “You are supposed to support me.”
“I support honesty.”
“I feel attacked.”
Cam leaned toward Azzi. “Is this normal?”
Azzi shook her head. “Unfortunately.”
Paige, who had moved to the floor by then and was leaning back on her hands, looked far too entertained. “Let the freshman cook.”
Aaliyah pointed at her. “Do not encourage her.”
Paige shrugged, grinning. “I like mess.”
Nika looked at Paige. “You are mess.”
“Exactly. Expert opinion.”
Aubrey laughed from beside Cam, the sound easy and bright enough that Cam smiled without thinking. It made her happy to see Aubrey like this — relaxed, involved, not carrying whatever quietness had been sitting between them since yesterday. Cam didn’t know what it had been, and part of her was afraid to ask because she had the feeling the answer might require more emotional skill than she currently had. But tonight Aubrey was laughing and stealing chips from KK and rolling her eyes at Paige, and that felt like enough for now.
The game started with rules, which lasted approximately one round. “No anything illegal,” Aaliyah said, looking directly at KK.
KK frowned. “Why are you all acting like I’m a criminal?”
“Because you asked if we could sneak into the men’s practice facility last week,” Nika said.
“For educational reasons.”
“You said you wanted to see if their snacks were better.”
“That is educational.”
“No alcohol,” Aaliyah continued. “No dares that get us in trouble. No asking anything too personal if someone doesn’t want to answer.”
KK looked around the room. “So boring truth or dare.”
“Respectful truth or dare,” Aaliyah corrected.
Paige leaned toward Cam from across the loose circle. “Respectful truth or dare is crazy.”
Cam smiled. “You scared of respectful questions?”
Paige’s grin came slow. “I don’t get scared, shooter.”
Cam hated the way that nickname still worked on her, especially now that half the team knew Paige used it. She forced herself to hold Paige’s gaze anyway. “Then you won’t mind answering them.”
Paige looked entirely too pleased. “Ask me something then.”
Aubrey glanced between them, and for a second the room seemed to tilt toward the challenge. Cam noticed the attention and immediately looked away, pretending to adjust her sleeve. She was not trying to flirt with Paige in front of everybody. Actually, she wasn’t trying to flirt with Paige at all. Paige just had a way of turning normal sentences into something else, and Cam kept walking directly into them like a person with no survival instincts.
KK, delighted by the tension she had no business controlling, clapped once. “Okay, I’m starting. Cam, truth or dare?”
Cam groaned. “Why me first?”
“Because you’re new.”
“I’ve been here almost a week.”
“Exactly. New.”
Azzi leaned closer to Cam, voice low enough that it felt like advice. “Pick truth. Never let KK dare you first.”
Cam looked at her. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is.”
Cam turned back to KK. “Truth.”
KK’s smile became dangerous, and Aaliyah immediately sat up. “KK.”
“What? I haven’t even asked yet.”
“That’s why I’m warning you.”
KK waved her off, then looked at Cam with the seriousness of a journalist asking the question that would define her career. “Who on the team scared you the most before you got here?”
Cam blinked. That was not the question she expected. The room immediately got loud, Ashlynn calling it a good question while Nika leaned forward, interested, and Paige crossed her arms, smiling like she already knew she was the answer. Cam noticed and rolled her eyes.
Aubrey nudged her. “Be honest.”
Cam looked around the circle, stalling. “Scared is strong.”
Paige pointed at Cam. “Nika scared you more than me?”
Cam looked at her, amused. “Why are you offended?”
“I’m intimidating.”
“You’re loud.”
The room erupted. Paige’s mouth fell open as if Cam had just personally attacked her legacy. “Loud?”
Cam nodded. “Very.”
Azzi, without hesitation, said, “She’s right.”
Paige turned to her. “You too?”
Azzi shrugged. “Truth or dare.”
Ice laughed into her cup while Paige leaned forward, competitive now for absolutely no reason. “So Nika scared you because what? Defense? Passing? Croatian energy?”
Cam smiled. “All of the above.”
Nika looked at Paige smugly. “She respects me.”
“I respect you,” Cam added, then looked at Paige with a grin. “I also respect you.”
Paige lifted her chin. “Barely saved it.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
Paige narrowed her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth ruined it. KK looked between them like she had just watched a very interesting tennis match. “Okay. Cam asks next.”
Cam scanned the circle and decided, maybe foolishly, to choose safety. “Azzi. Truth or dare?”
Azzi looked at her, betrayed but softly. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
“And yet.”
Cam smiled. “Truth or dare?”
Azzi sighed. “Truth.”
Cam thought for a second. She didn’t want to embarrass Azzi. Not really. Azzi had been kind to her in a way that felt quiet and deliberate, and Cam didn’t want to reward that by throwing her into chaos. So she asked, “What’s something people get wrong about you?”
The room settled a little, not silent, just softer. Azzi looked down at her hands, turning one of her rings around her finger. “Probably that because I’m quiet, I don’t care as much.”
Cam’s expression softened immediately.
Azzi glanced up, not looking embarrassed, just honest. “I do care. I just don’t always need to say everything out loud.”
Cam nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
Paige watched them from across the circle, the warmth in her chest returning. Azzi didn’t answer questions like that for everyone. She didn’t offer pieces of herself just because someone asked nicely. But Cam had asked it in a way that didn’t feel like prying, and Azzi had trusted the space enough to answer.
Aubrey noticed Paige noticing. This time, it didn’t hurt in the same way. Instead, she found herself looking at Cam and thinking it was nice to see her getting comfortable here. Cam was settling in here. She was laughing easier, finding her place, building connections that had nothing to do with old history or familiar faces. Aubrey liked seeing that, even when it was complicated.
Maybe that was the part Aubrey kept forgetting when her own feelings got too loud. Cam had not transferred to UConn to belong to Aubrey. She had transferred to belong somewhere. Aubrey wanted to be happy about that. Most of her was. The rest of her was trying.
Azzi, apparently done being emotionally perceived, turned quickly to Paige. “Truth or dare?”
Paige smirked, leaning back on her hands. “Dare.”
Nika groaned. “Of course.”
Paige looked at her. “What? I’m not boring.”
“You are predictable.”
“That’s different.”
Azzi looked thoughtful, and Cam leaned toward her and whispered, “Make it good.”
Paige’s eyes snapped to Cam. “Why are you plotting?”
Cam smiled innocently. “I’m supporting Azzi.”
“You just got here and already corrupting her.”
Azzi looked between them, then smiled. “Paige, I dare you to say one nice thing about everyone in this room.”
Paige’s face fell as the room exploded around her. KK screamed, Aaliyah clapped once and called it a good dare, and Nika looked deeply pleased. Paige pointed at Azzi, already preparing her defense. “That’s not a dare. That’s emotional labor.”
Azzi smiled, calm and victorious. “You picked dare.”
Paige looked around the room like she was searching for a legal loophole, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. Light work.”
“Real nice things,” Aaliyah said.
“No backhanded compliments,” Nika added.
Paige gave her a look. “You want yours or not?”
Nika gestured for her to continue, so Paige started with Ice because Ice was closest and least likely to make it weird. “Ice, you're funny without trying, which is rare because a lot of people try and fail.”
Ice considered that with a serious nod. “I’ll take it.”
“Q, you got energy people need. Like, good energy. Not KK energy.”
Qadence laughed while KK shouted, “HEY.”
“KK,” Paige said, turning to her with a grin. “You annoying as hell, but you make people feel included, so that’s cool.”
KK’s face softened for half a second before she covered it by throwing a pillow at Paige. “You’re annoying as hell too.”
“Yeah, but I’m great.”
“Compliment people,” Aaliyah warned.
Paige moved on, visibly enjoying herself now that she had found a way to make sincerity sound like swagger. “Ash, you calm KK down, which should be a paid position, and you got more confidence than you think.”
Ashlynn looked surprised, then smiled down at her lap. “Thanks.”
“Aaliyah, you keep everybody together. Like, if this team was a group project, you’d be the reason we pass.”
Aaliyah laughed. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Nika,” Paige said, turning toward her with exaggerated seriousness. “You irritate me daily, but you see the game different. And you care about winning the right way. Even when you’re yelling at us like we committed crimes.”
Nika looked almost touched, which lasted about two seconds. “Acceptable.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “High praise.”
Then her eyes moved to Aubrey, and something in the room quieted slightly, not because everyone knew everything, but because Paige and Aubrey had a history too. Different from Aubrey and Cam, different from Paige and Azzi, but real. Paige’s voice softened, just enough, when she said, “Aubrey, you’re tough as hell. And not just basketball tough. Like, real tough. You show up for people even when you got your own stuff going on.”
Aubrey looked at Paige, and for a second the tension that had been quietly gathering between them loosened. “Thanks, Paige,” she said, voice warm.
Paige nodded, then looked away first. Cam watched that exchange and felt something in her chest ease. She didn’t fully understand what had been sitting between them lately, but she felt the relief of seeing them smile at each other. She loved Aubrey. She liked Paige. She liked the team whole. The idea of anything making the room split in two made her stomach hurt.
Paige turned to Azzi next, and her expression shifted into something softer, more familiar. “Azzi, you my person. You know that.”
Azzi looked down immediately. “That’s not a compliment.”
“It is.”
“It’s a statement.”
“It’s both,” Paige said, and for once she didn’t make it into a joke. “You make people better just by being around. And you see stuff people don’t say.”
Azzi’s face softened in a way that made Cam look away, feeling like she had accidentally witnessed something private. Then Paige turned to Cam, and the room went too still — or maybe Cam just felt too aware of it. Paige’s eyes met hers, and for the first time since the dare started, the cockiness didn’t arrive right away. Paige looked like she had too many possible answers and not enough safe ones. Cam tried to help by smiling, but it only seemed to make Paige’s problem worse.
“Cam,” Paige said, and the nickname sounded different without the teasing around it. “You… you make people feel like they got room to be themselves.”
Cam’s smile faded into something softer. Paige looked down briefly, then back up, regaining a little of her usual confidence because sincerity without armor was apparently too much for her nervous system. “And you can shoot it, for real. Even if your peanut butter opinions are trash.”
Cam laughed, but it came out quieter than usual. The team reacted loudly enough to save them both. KK clutched her chest and called it beautiful while Nika told Paige she survived. Paige leaned back, relieved to have the spotlight scattered again. “Barely. Never ask me to do that again.”
Azzi smiled at her. “You did good.”
Paige pointed at her. “You owe me.”
“You picked dare.”
“I was set up.”
Cam looked at Paige from across the circle, still feeling the compliment sitting warm under her ribs. Room to be themselves. That was not the kind of thing Paige said by accident. At least, Cam didn’t think so.
The game continued, becoming progressively less structured and much louder. Qadence dared KK to do her best Geno impression, which nearly got everyone killed from laughter. KK stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and said, in a terrible gruff voice, “You people think basketball is optional?” and Aaliyah had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Nika told KK she sounded like an angry uncle from Wisconsin, and KK said that was basically the same thing. Ice got dared to text someone “we need to talk” and then immediately follow it with “about snacks,” which she sent to a manager who replied with a thumbs-up and no questions. Everyone agreed that was concerning.
Aubrey picked dare and got told to do five push-ups with KK sitting on her back. Aubrey did them easily while KK yelled motivational nonsense above her, and Cam laughed so hard she nearly fell sideways into Azzi. Aubrey looked up from the floor afterward, cheeks flushed from laughing, and pointed at Cam. “You’re next.”
Cam sat up quickly. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re laughing too much.”
“I’m expressing joy.”
“You’re next,” Aubrey repeated, smiling wide now, genuinely happy in a way that made her whole face open.
Cam felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly knocked the air from her chest. This was Aubrey. Her Aubrey. Not sad, not waiting, not quietly hurting at the edges. Just joyful and strong and ridiculous, letting KK climb off her back while pretending she hadn’t just made push-ups look easy. Cam loved her. She did. Just not the way Aubrey hoped. And because Cam didn’t know about the hope, the love stayed simple in her hands.
When Cam finally got picked again, it was Nika who asked. “Truth or dare?”
Cam did not like the way Nika’s eyes looked. Nika had been waiting. That was obvious. She had spent the entire game watching people answer and react, saving whatever question she had like a point guard holding the ball for the final possession. Cam narrowed her eyes. “Truth.”
Nika smiled slightly, and Paige muttered from across the circle, “Bad choice.”
Cam looked at her. “Why?”
Paige shook her head. “You’ll see.”
Nika leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Who on the team surprised you the most?”
Cam blinked. That was not as bad as she feared, until Nika added, “And why?”
The room shifted again, attention sharpening. Cam looked around the circle. The obvious answer was KK, because nobody could truly prepare for KK. Another easy answer was Nika, because Cam had expected intensity but not the specific brand of terrifying humor. Aubrey would be safe too, but maybe too safe. Then her eyes landed on Paige. Paige was already looking at her, not smirking now, just waiting. Cam felt the answer before she decided to say it.
“Paige,” she said.
Paige’s eyebrows lifted. Aubrey looked down at her hands for one second, then back up, trying to keep her face open. KK whispered, “Oh my God,” and Ashlynn hit her arm.
Cam swallowed, suddenly aware that she had walked herself into a room full of people who enjoyed making things worse. She tried to keep her tone light. “I thought she’d be more intimidating.”
Paige’s face immediately turned offended. “Again with this?”
Cam smiled, grateful for the interruption because it made the answer easier to carry. “I mean, you are intimidating sometimes. But you’re also…” She paused, searching for the right word and hating that everyone was watching. “Softer than I expected.”
The room went quiet. Paige stared at her, and Cam’s face warmed. She rushed to add, “Not soft on the court. Don’t make that face.”
Paige’s mouth had parted slightly. “I wasn’t making a face.”
“You were.”
“I’m not soft.”
Cam smiled despite her embarrassment. “Okay.”
“Don’t okay me.”
“You are a little soft.”
Azzi, who had been silent beside Cam, said calmly, “You are.”
Paige turned to her. “Betrayal.”
Aubrey laughed softly, and this time it was real. The room followed, the tension breaking around them. Cam let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Paige was still pretending to be offended, but something in her eyes had gone warm. The compliment had landed. Maybe more than Cam meant it to.
Paige looked down for half a second, then back up at Cam with her usual smirk trying to return. “You think I’m soft, ma?”
Cam’s entire body betrayed her. She didn’t blush dramatically. She didn’t gasp or freeze completely. But her eyes widened just enough, her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her sleeve, and her mouth closed around whatever comeback she had been about to make. Paige saw it. Azzi saw it. Nika definitely saw it. KK looked like she was about to explode.
Aaliyah pointed at KK without even looking. “Don’t.”
KK pressed both hands over her mouth.
Cam recovered by throwing a pillow at Paige. Paige caught it easily, laughing now, and held it against her chest like a trophy. “That all you got?”
Cam shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re so annoying.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep being annoying.”
“And yet,” Paige said, leaning back with pure ego, “you picked me.”
Cam looked away before her face could do anything else embarrassing. Aubrey watched the exchange with a strange feeling in her chest. Not the sharpest version of hurt. Not jealousy exactly. More like standing outside a gym and hearing a game happening inside without her. She could still enter. She was still welcome. But the play had already started without her. She took a sip of Sprite and forced herself to breathe. Then Qadence leaned over and whispered something about KK’s face looking like she was holding in a medical emergency, and Aubrey laughed because it was true.
The night kept going, and it was not ruined. That mattered. Paige and Aubrey still joked. Aubrey called Paige dramatic for complaining about being called soft, and Paige told Aubrey she had no room to talk because she “laughs at inspirational Nike commercials.” Aubrey threw a chip at her. Paige caught it in her mouth on the second try and acted like she meant to miss the first. Cam laughed with Azzi until her stomach hurt.
At some point, Azzi leaned into Cam’s side while they watched KK attempt to dare Nika into singing. Cam let her, bumping her shoulder lightly against Azzi’s. It was casual. Comfortable. New, but somehow not strange. “You’re my favorite,” Cam whispered.
Azzi smiled without looking up. “You say that to everyone?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Cam laughed softly. “Possessive.”
“Selective,” Azzi corrected.
Across the room, Paige watched them and felt something tug at her mouth. Azzi and Cam. Who would have thought? Actually, it made sense. Cam seemed to fit naturally with people once she got comfortable, and somehow she'd settled into the team faster than Paige expected. For a brief second, Paige forgot to be nervous. Then Aubrey laughed at something beside her, and Paige remembered.
The dare that finally ended the game came from KK, obviously. “Cam,” KK said, sitting up straight with the expression of someone about to commit a felony in the name of entertainment. “Truth or dare?”
Cam looked around the room, saw no help coming, and sighed. “Truth.”
KK looked directly at Cam. “Have you ever had a crush on a girl?”
The room went silent so fast it was almost impressive. Cam’s stomach dropped, not because the question offended her — it didn’t, not really — but because the directness of it landed heavier than KK probably intended. Cam became suddenly aware of Paige across from her, Aubrey beside her, Azzi against her shoulder, and half the team pretending not to react while absolutely reacting.
Aaliyah said, “KK,” in a warning tone, but Cam lifted a hand before anyone could rescue her too quickly. “It’s okay,” she said, though her voice came out softer than usual.
KK’s face shifted immediately, guilt replacing mischief. “You don’t have to answer. I didn’t mean— I was just—”
“I know,” Cam said, smiling gently because KK looked like she might combust from regret. “You’re good.”
Paige was very still. Aubrey too. Cam looked down at her hands and tried to decide how honest she wanted to be. She wasn’t openly anything. Labels had just always felt like something she would figure out later, after basketball, after school, after life slowed down enough for her to sit with herself without a schedule breathing down her neck. Part of it was her upbringing too. Her dad had always been strict when it came to dating, especially anything involving girls or conversations that drifted anywhere near sexuality. It wasn't something they talked about openly at home, and over time Cam had learned to keep certain thoughts to herself rather than invite questions she didn't want to answer. She’d dated boys. Liked them, even. Some more than others. She’d kissed girls too, or almost kissed them, or had moments that felt charged enough to count even if nothing happened afterward. But none of it had been serious. None of it had forced her to choose language, and she wasn't sure she was ready to put a label on herself in front of other people when she was still figuring it out on her own.
“Yeah,” Cam said finally.
Nobody spoke. She looked up, face warm but voice steadier now. “Not, like, serious relationship crush. But yeah. I’ve had moments.” She hesitated, then laughed softly at herself. “There was this girl back home once. We never dated or anything, but we kissed at a party and then spent like three months pretending it never happened.” A few people smiled. Cam rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed now that she'd started talking. “So, yeah. I've had crushes. I've had... whatever that was too.”
KK nodded so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. “Okay. Cool. Yep. Thank you for sharing,” she said, voice climbing higher with every word. She immediately looked down at her lap, then at the ceiling, then anywhere except Cam. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”
Nika looked at her. “You sound like a teacher.”
“I panicked,” KK whispered.
Cam laughed, and the room breathed again. Aubrey looked at Cam with something unreadable in her eyes. Hope, maybe, but careful hope. Quiet hope. Paige saw it, and that was the problem. She saw Aubrey hear the yes and tuck it away like evidence that maybe someday could happen. Paige looked down at the floor. She should have felt discouraged. Instead, she felt guilty, because the answer had made her pulse jump too.
Azzi, still beside Cam, nudged her lightly. Not a question. Just support. Cam nudged back, grateful. Aaliyah cleared her throat and said, “Okay, new rule. KK does not get to ask personal questions anymore.”
KK nodded immediately. “Agreed. I resign from that category.”
“Good,” Nika said.
Paige looked up just in time to see Cam glance at her. It was quick, almost nothing, but it happened. Cam looked away first. Paige felt it everywhere.
The game ended soon after, partly because the energy had gotten too charged and partly because Aaliyah insisted everyone had early workouts and needed to leave before KK invented a worse question. People stood slowly, stretching, grabbing phones and hoodies and leftover snacks. Aubrey helped clean without being asked. Paige did too, mostly because Aaliyah gave her a look and Paige knew better than to argue with Aaliyah when she had that expression.
Cam glanced at her, surprised by the softness in her voice. “Yeah. I think so.”
“KK didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“I know.” Cam looked across the room, where KK was now apologizing to Aaliyah with both hands moving wildly. “She’s sweet. Just… no filter.”
Azzi smiled. “Freshman problem.”
Cam laughed. “Exactly.”
Azzi took the cups from her and set them on the desk. “For what it’s worth, nobody here cares in a bad way.”
Cam looked at her, and Azzi’s expression stayed calm, steady. “Like, whatever you figure out or don’t figure out. You’re good.”
Something in Cam’s chest loosened. She hadn’t realized she needed to hear that until Azzi said it. “Thanks,” Cam said quietly.
Azzi shrugged like it was nothing, but her shoulder brushed Cam’s gently. “I told you. Favorite.”
Cam smiled. “You said selective.”
“That too.”
Paige watched that exchange from across the room while tying a trash bag. Aubrey came to stand beside her with a stack of napkins, and for a few seconds, they worked silently. Then Aubrey nodded toward Cam. “She fits here fast.”
Paige glanced over. Cam was laughing at something KK said, one hand still resting against the desk as she talked to a few teammates at once. “Yeah,” Paige admitted. “Kinda annoying how easy she makes it look.”
Aubrey laughed softly. “She’s always been like that.”
Paige looked at her. Aubrey’s expression had softened, not sad exactly, just thoughtful. Like she was watching someone she cared about settle into a place she’d hoped would feel like home.
“She makes people comfortable,” Aubrey said after a moment.
Paige followed her gaze back to Cam and nodded. “Yeah. She does.”
For a second, neither of them said anything. The tension that had been hanging awkwardly between them all week felt lighter tonight, not gone, but easier to carry.
Then Aubrey bumped Paige lightly with her shoulder. “You seem less stressed.”
Paige snorted. “That’s a lie.”
“A little less stressed.”
“I’ll take a little.”
Aubrey looked back toward Cam, who was laughing at something Azzi had said while helping stack cups. Her smile softened. “I’m glad she has all this, though.”
Paige followed her gaze. “Yeah?”
Aubrey nodded. “The team. Azzi. Everybody.” She paused, then added honestly, “You too.”
Paige looked at her.
Aubrey shrugged one shoulder. “She seems happy here. Happier than she’s been in a while. I think you all make that easier.”
Something warm and uncomfortable settled in Paige’s chest at the same time. “She does that herself too.”
“She does,” Aubrey agreed. “But people still matter.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Aubrey smiled faintly. “Even if you’re annoying.”
Paige exhaled a laugh, grateful enough to play along. “Everybody keep saying that like it’s not part of my charm.”
Aubrey smiled. “It’s a small part.”
“Big part.”
“Medium.”
“I’ll take medium.”
Aubrey shook her head, laughing lightly, and walked away to grab another cup. Paige watched her go, feeling both relieved and more trapped than before. Because Aubrey was good. Aubrey was funny and kind and stronger than most people knew. She loved Cam quietly and was trying very hard not to make that love anyone else’s problem. Paige respected that. She also knew respect was not the same thing as distance. And distance was getting harder.
The group left Aaliyah’s room in clusters. KK and Ashlynn were still debriefing the game like it had been a nationally televised event. Nika was telling Ice that truth or dare was proof Americans needed more hobbies. Qadence was trying to steal the rest of the chips. Aaliyah was pretending to be annoyed but clearly loved having everyone there. Cam ended up walking back down the hall between Azzi and Aubrey, with Paige a few steps behind beside Nika. Azzi’s sleeve brushed Cam’s, Aubrey leaned over to say something about KK’s Geno impression, and Cam laughed, warm and easy, the sound settling somewhere deep in Paige’s chest.
At Cam’s door, everyone paused. KK, already halfway down the hallway, asked hopefully, “Movie tomorrow?”
Aaliyah immediately answered, “No.”
KK ignored her. “Cam?”
Cam laughed. “Maybe.”
KK pointed at Aaliyah. “See? Hope.”
“That was not yes,” Aaliyah said.
“It was emotionally yes.”
Nika muttered something in Croatian while Cam turned to Azzi and hugged her first. It surprised Azzi for half a second, but then she hugged back, quick and comfortable. “Night, favorite,” Cam whispered.
Azzi smiled into her shoulder. “Night.”
Paige heard it and looked personally offended. “Favorite?”
Cam pulled back and looked over at her, amused. “Jealous?”
Paige stepped closer, hands in her hoodie pocket, confidence returning like a reflex. “Of Azzi? Nah. She can have that.”
Azzi looked at her. “Generous.”
Paige ignored her, eyes still on Cam. “I got my own nickname.”
Cam’s face warmed before Paige even said it. Paige noticed immediately and looked far too pleased with herself, which only made Cam roll her eyes harder.
Cam lifted her chin slightly. “Shooter?”
Paige’s smile turned slow. “Among other things.”
KK, who had been halfway into her own room, stuck her head back out. “WHAT OTHER THINGS?”
Aaliyah shouted, “KK, go to bed,” and the hallway dissolved into laughter. Cam covered her face, laughing into her hands, while Paige grinned like she had won something. Aubrey, already standing in front of her room, laughed too, because it was funny, because KK’s timing was terrible, because Paige looked ridiculous and Cam looked embarrassed and the whole team was warm around them. For one night, Aubrey let herself be part of the laughter instead of standing outside it.
Cam dropped her hands and looked at Paige, still smiling. “Goodnight, Paige.”
Paige’s expression softened just slightly at the use of her first name. Not Bueckers. Not full government. Paige. “Night, Cam,” she said. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Don’t be texting me too late now.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “You texted me first today.”
Paige lifted her shoulders, all fake innocence. “Leadership.”
“Harassment.”
“Player development.”
Cam laughed and opened her door. “Goodnight.”
She slipped inside before Paige could answer, and Paige stood there for a second, still smiling at the closed door. Azzi walked past her and patted her shoulder. “Subtle.”
Paige snapped out of it. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Okay.”
Paige pointed at her. “That word is banned.”
Azzi smiled and kept walking.
Inside her room, Cam leaned back against the door and listened to the team drift down the hallway, voices fading into the soft late-night quiet of the dorm. Her phone buzzed.
paige:
u still think im soft?
Cam stared at the message, her smile arriving before she could stop it.
cam:
yes
A second later, Paige replied.
paige:
crazy
cam:
truth hurts
paige:
nah u just don’t know me yet
Cam read that one twice, then a third time. Something about it felt different from the other texts. Still Paige. Still confident. Still casual. But quieter underneath. Cam sat on the edge of her bed and typed slowly.
cam:
then i guess i’ll have to find out
She stared at the message for three full seconds, panicked, then sent it before she could delete it.
Down the hall, Paige read the text while standing in the middle of her room. Azzi was brushing her teeth at the sink, and Paige didn’t even notice. She stared at the screen, her pulse doing something stupid, then looked toward the wall separating her from the hallway, from Cam’s room, from Aubrey’s room, from all the lines she was still trying not to cross.
paige:
bet
Cam read the reply and threw her phone onto the bed like it had burned her. Then she laughed quietly into her hands, alone in her room, heart too loud for a chapter of her life she still thought was only about basketball.
Down the hall, Aubrey sat on her own bed, smiling faintly at a video KK had sent of her terrible Geno impression. She replayed it twice and laughed both times, then sent it to Cam with one message.
aubrey:
your freshman is broken
Cam replied almost immediately.
cam:
MY freshman???
aubrey:
yes. you adopted her.
cam:
i was forced.
aubrey:
you love it.
cam:
maybe.
Aubrey smiled at the screen. For tonight, that was enough too.
Looks like the title when did you get hot is famous😭😭 (im not saying this in a rude way i just mean that there's another creator with a fic called "when did u get hot" coming soon and its so funny because im gonna be so lost between them😭😭
ohhh it’s cuz someone requested a oneshot inspired by the song!! hope that clears it up 😭🫶
summary: after the campus tour and the world’s most embarrassing realization that your childhood best friend got hot, you try to act normal around Paige the next day. unfortunately for you, Paige Bueckers has never let anything go in her life, especially not the fact that you called her hot in the middle of Gampel. things only get worse when both your families go out again, some random guy decides you’re worth flirting with, and Paige realizes she does not enjoy watching someone else try to make you smile. like, at all.
warnings/tags: jealous paige, childhood best friends to lovers-ish, suggestive moments, kissing yesssss ik, paige being cocky and possessive in a soft but insane way, reader is down bad and fighting for her life, random guy flirting with reader
a/n: okay sooooo part one had the realization, part two has the CONSEQUENCES. i fear Paige is cocky, jealous, and way too aware that reader is folding. enjoy the jealous blondie spiral <333
word count: 7.8k
read part one here!
You woke up the next morning with one thought sitting in your chest like it had paid rent.
Paige Bueckers knew.
Not just in the vague, teasing way she had always known things about you when you were kids, like when you were lying about being mad or pretending not to care that she won another stupid driveway shooting contest. Not like that. This was worse. This was grown-up Paige knowing. Paige with the two front braids and the low voice and the chain at her collarbone. Paige with warm hands wrapped around yours in an empty arena. Paige with that slow, stupid smile after you accidentally said the quiet part out loud, like she had been waiting ten years for you to finally catch up.
You stared at the hotel ceiling for an embarrassingly long time, replaying the night before in pieces you wished your brain would stop offering you like a highlight reel. Her standing in the restaurant, looking unfairly good under warm lights. Her hands on yours while she fixed your shooting form. Her voice near your ear saying, go ahead, ma, like she had not just reached inside your ribcage and rearranged your nervous system for fun. Her gaze dropping to your mouth in the middle of Gampel. Your own voice, traitorous and breathless, asking her when she got hot. Her answer. Took you long enough.
You turned onto your side and shoved your face into the pillow.
It did not help.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand.
For half a second, you considered ignoring it, but your body was already reaching before your pride could stop you. The screen lit up with Paige’s name, which was another problem. There was no reason her name should make your stomach flip. You had known this girl when she had a backpack covered in Gatorade stains and once cried because her brothers hid her basketball shoes. You had childhood proof. You had emotional evidence. You had years of reasons not to act like this.
Still, you unlocked the phone.
paige: you awake?
you: no
paige: crazy how you texting in your sleep
you: i have many talents
paige: shooting not one of them
you: good morning to you too
paige: morning, airball
you: i hate you
paige: you keep saying that
paige: starting to think it means something else
You sat up so fast your blanket slid halfway off the bed.
Absolutely not. Absolutely no. She was not allowed to do this at nine in the morning. Not when you had barely slept. Not when you were still emotionally recovering from realizing that her hands were warm and her voice could do actual damage. You typed and deleted three different responses, each worse than the last, before settling for the least revealing option.
you: starting to think you need attention badly
paige: from you? yeah maybe
you: paige
paige: y/n
You stared at the screen like the phone had personally attacked you.
The worst part about Paige was that she didn’t need to say much. She could be annoying with a full paragraph, obviously, but she could also do it with your name. Just your name. Five letters on a screen, and suddenly you were back on that court with her standing too close, eyes on your mouth, asking if you were scared. You hated how easily she got under your skin because it meant she had never really lost the map. She might not know every version of you anymore, but she still knew the doors.
Before you could respond, another text came in.
paige: family brunch at 11
paige: don’t duck me
you: why would i duck you
paige: because you called me hot and then got shy
you: i’m blocking you
paige: do it after brunch
paige: wanna see what you wear
You locked your phone and threw it face down on the bed.
Then immediately picked it back up.
No new message.
You hated yourself a little.
By the time you got downstairs for brunch, you had spent far too long choosing an outfit for someone you were supposedly not trying to impress. That was the issue. You weren’t trying. You were just being normal. It was normal to change your top twice. It was normal to check how your hair looked in three different mirrors. It was normal to put on lip gloss and then wonder if lip gloss was too obvious and then tell yourself that Paige Bueckers did not own the concept of lips. Perfectly normal. Very chill. Very casual. Not pathetic at all.
Your mom was already in the lobby when you arrived, talking with Paige’s dad near the couches like they had never stopped being close. The hotel lobby looked brighter in the morning, all clean glass and pale wood and people rolling suitcases past with coffee in hand. It should have made everything feel less intense than last night. Daylight was supposed to be humbling. Daylight was supposed to make midnight almost-kisses feel dramatic and silly.
Then Paige walked in.
Daylight did not help.
She came through the side entrance with her phone in one hand, hair pulled back again, wearing a cream hoodie under a jacket and loose sweats in a way that should have been casual enough to save you. It did not. Somehow the simplicity made it worse. She looked soft and comfortable and still completely aware of herself, like she could roll out of bed and make it seem intentional. Her eyes found you almost immediately. Not your mom. Not the lobby. You. Her gaze dipped quickly over your outfit, just enough for you to catch it, then came back up to your face with the smallest smile.
Your stomach folded.
You gave her a look that said don’t start.
Paige’s smile said too late.
“Morning,” she said when she reached you, voice warm and easy.
You crossed your arms. “Morning.”
Her eyes flicked to your mouth for half a second, to the gloss you had definitely not chosen because of her, then back up. “You sleep good?”
“No.”
“Damn. Thinking about your jumper?”
“Thinking about ways to humble you.”
“Hard job.”
“Someone has to do it.”
Paige leaned a little closer, hands in her hoodie pocket, her shoulder nearly brushing yours. “You look nice.”
There it was again. That drop in her voice that made a basic sentence feel like it had stepped too close. You hated that she could say something normal and make it land suggestive just by looking at you like that, like she was privately remembering the exact same moment you were trying not to remember.
You looked away first. “You say that to everyone you bully?”
“Nah.” She smiled. “Just you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Very.”
Your mom called your name before you could embarrass yourself further, waving you both toward the hotel restaurant. Paige walked beside you, close enough that your sleeves brushed. It was becoming a pattern. You wondered if she was doing it on purpose. You knew she was doing it on purpose. Paige Bueckers did not accidentally take space. Paige took space like she was born with a claim on it.
Brunch was somehow worse than dinner.
At least at dinner, you had been shocked. Shock gave you a reason to act strange. This morning, you had no excuse. You knew now. You knew exactly what she looked like, exactly how she talked, exactly how your body reacted when she said your name. And Paige, evil as ever, seemed to have decided that her goal for the day was to see how many times she could make you lose focus without doing anything obvious enough for your parents to notice.
She sat across from you this time, which should have helped. It did not help because being across from Paige meant you had to look at her. It meant you had a full view of her leaning back in her chair, hoodie sleeves pushed slightly up, long fingers wrapped around her coffee cup. It meant when she laughed at something her dad said, you had nowhere to hide from the way her eyes creased, from the way her smile spread slowly like she was trying not to give too much away. It meant every time you looked down at your plate, she somehow caught you the second you looked back up.
“You two were out late last night,” Paige’s dad said, casual enough that it should not have made you choke on your orange juice.
Paige glanced at you.
You glared at her over your glass.
“Just showing her around,” Paige said, sounding entirely too innocent.
“Mhm,” one of her brothers said, not even looking up from his food. “Campus tour at night. Normal.”
Paige kicked him under the table. He yelped. You tried not to laugh and failed.
Your mom smiled. “It’s sweet. You two used to be attached at the hip when you were little.”
You nearly begged the earth to open.
Paige, however, looked delighted. “Attached at the hip is crazy.”
“You were,” your mom insisted. “Y/N would pretend she was annoyed, but the second Paige didn’t come over for a few days, she’d ask where she was.”
You froze.
Paige’s eyes locked on yours.
Her smile softened into something far more dangerous than a smirk.
“Oh?” she said.
You pointed your fork at your mom. “Betrayal.”
Your mom laughed. “It’s true.”
“I was probably asking so I could enjoy the peace.”
Paige tilted her head, still looking at you. “You missed me.”
“I was a child.”
“You missed me as a child.”
“I missed having someone to beat at Mario Kart.”
“You never beat me.”
“I beat you emotionally.”
“You cried when I stole your star.”
“You cheated.”
“It’s Mario Kart. That’s the point.”
Your families laughed around you, but Paige’s eyes stayed on yours a beat too long. There was something warm beneath the teasing now, something that had been creeping in since last night. Every time childhood came up, it stopped being just funny. It became proof. Proof that you had been part of each other once, proof that whatever was happening now wasn’t appearing out of nowhere. It had roots. Messy, tangled roots under years of growing apart.
After brunch, the plan was loose. Paige had team obligations for part of the afternoon, your parents had errands and people to see, and everyone agreed to meet later for dinner at a slightly nicer place near the hotel. You thought that meant you would get a break from Paige and, by extension, a break from whatever humiliating emotional event your body kept staging every time she looked at you.
You were wrong.
Because Paige caught you near the elevators while everyone else was distracted.
“You free for a bit?” she asked.
You eyed her. “Why?”
“Damn, suspicious.”
“Because every time you ask me to do something, I end up embarrassed.”
“You embarrassed yourself.”
“You were involved.”
“I was supportive.”
“You laughed at my airball for two minutes.”
“It was funny for two minutes.”
You tried to step around her toward the elevator, but she shifted just enough to block you. Not aggressively. Just smoothly, with that athlete timing that made it seem effortless. You stopped, looking up at her, painfully aware of the fact that nobody else was paying attention. Her hands were in her pockets again. Her expression was easy. Her eyes were not.
“I gotta go to the facility for a little,” she said. “Come with me.”
You blinked. “To watch you practice?”
“Not practice. Just gotta grab something, maybe get shots up.”
“So practice.”
“Light work.”
“I’m not rebounding for you.”
Paige smiled. “You used to.”
“I used to be easier to manipulate.”
“You sure?”
You hated how quickly heat rushed to your face.
Paige saw it. Of course she did. Her smile sharpened, but she kept her voice soft. “Come on. I’ll let you redeem yourself.”
“I don’t need redemption.”
“That airball says different.”
“My legacy is secure.”
“Your legacy is in crisis.”
You should have said no, if only for your own dignity.
You went with her anyway.
The second time at Gampel felt different from the first. Less magical, maybe, because you were in daylight now and there were people around in the halls, athletes and staff passing through, doors opening and closing, the distant thump of balls from somewhere deeper in the building. But it felt more dangerous too because now you knew what the court could turn into when it emptied out. You knew the way Paige could stand behind you and make the space between your bodies feel like a dare. You knew that one sound from a hallway had been the only thing that stopped something from happening last night.
Paige seemed to know it too.
She was more casual this time, or at least she pretended to be. She talked while walking, telling you about team stuff, pointing out photos on the wall, making a joke about how one poster did not capture her best side. You rolled your eyes, called her impossible, and she looked pleased like your irritation was a gift. It was almost normal until you reached the court and she started shooting.
Watching Paige play basketball had never been new to you. In theory.
In practice, it was deeply unfair.
Because when you were kids, she had just been good. Annoyingly good. She moved faster than everyone, shot better than everyone, talked more than everyone. But now, watching her shoot in person on a college court, you understood in a way you hadn’t before. Her movements had become fluid, sharper and smoother all at once. The ball looked like an extension of her body. She didn’t rush. She didn’t need to. She caught, rose, released, and the shot dropped clean through the net with a sound that seemed too soft for the amount of work behind it. Again. Again. Again. Her hoodie came off after a few minutes, leaving her in a fitted short-sleeve workout top, and you immediately decided the universe was testing you personally.
“You staring again,” she called without turning around.
You startled. “I’m literally sitting here.”
“Staring from sitting.”
“I’m watching basketball.”
“You watching me.”
“You are the basketball.”
Paige caught the ball off the bounce and turned, laughing. “I’m the basketball?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
“I’m observing the activity.”
“Uh-huh.”
She walked toward you, ball on her hip, a few loose strands of hair sticking near her temple from moving around. She looked too alive like this, a little flushed, breathing light, eyes bright. It was annoying. It was devastating. It made you want to say something mean just to protect yourself.
“Want another lesson?” she asked.
“No.”
“You sure? Could use it.”
“My airball was an artistic statement.”
“Against who? The sport?”
“Against male-dominated expectations of athletic excellence.”
Paige paused, then laughed hard, head tipping back. “Okay, art school.”
You smiled despite yourself. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“I get buckets. That’s enough.”
“Very poetic.”
“Thank you.”
She stood in front of you where you sat courtside, close enough that her knee almost brushed yours. You tried to keep your gaze on her face. You really did. But she was right there, and your eyes betrayed you for just a second, dropping to where the shirt sat against her, then to the chain at her neck, then back up.
Paige stopped smiling.
Not completely. Just enough.
“You do that a lot now,” she said.
Your pulse jumped. “Do what?”
“Look at me and then pretend you didn’t.”
You leaned back in your seat, trying to appear unbothered. “Maybe you’re imagining things because you crave attention.”
“Maybe.” She bounced the ball once, catching it with one hand. “Or maybe you’re still scared to say it.”
“Say what?”
Her eyes held yours. “That you like what you see.”
Your entire face went hot.
Paige looked pleased, but not in the loud way. Quietly. Like she was enjoying taking her time with you. “That’s cute,” she said.
“You are so—”
“Hot?”
“Annoying.”
“Both?”
You crossed your arms. “You’re fishing.”
“And you’re biting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” She leaned down slightly, one hand gripping the back of the chair beside you, bringing her face closer to yours. Not too close. Just close enough for your brain to start making bad decisions. “You always bite when it’s me.”
You had a comeback. You did. It was there somewhere, probably. But Paige’s voice had dropped, and she was looking at you like the rest of the arena had gone quiet again, and suddenly words felt slippery.
A door opened across the court.
Paige straightened before you could decide whether you were relieved or disappointed.
A couple of UConn staff members walked in, followed by someone you didn’t recognize, and the spell broke. Paige gave them a nod, tossed the ball onto the rack, and told you she had to grab something from one of the back rooms. You followed because apparently you were now simply following Paige around buildings like a person with no free will. She seemed amused by it, but thankfully did not comment, probably because even she had limits. Maybe.
The day moved too quickly after that. Paige had to go, you returned to the hotel, and for a few hours you had no choice but to sit with what had happened and what had almost happened and what kept almost happening. That became the pattern. Almost. Paige almost touched your waist. Paige almost said something too direct. Paige almost leaned in. You almost let her. Every almost made the next one heavier.
By the time dinner rolled around, you were tired of almost.
Unfortunately, dinner was not the private, tension-filled movie scene your brain had apparently signed up for. It was a group thing again, both families plus a few family friends, at a busy restaurant not far from the hotel. Warm lighting, crowded tables, music low under the hum of voices, the kind of place where people dressed just nicely enough that you had once again spent too long getting ready and then pretended you hadn’t.
Paige noticed immediately.
She was already there when you arrived, standing near the bar area with her family, wearing dark jeans, a black fitted top, and a jacket that made her look like she had no right to be anyone’s childhood best friend. Her hair tied in a messy bun, and the second her eyes landed on you, her expression shifted in a way that made your knees feel unreliable.
You watched her look at you.
Not quickly this time. Not teasingly hidden. She looked from your shoes up to your face, slow enough to be intentional, slow enough that your breath caught halfway up your throat. When her eyes met yours again, she didn’t smile right away. She just stared for one beat, like she had forgotten she was supposed to be arrogant about it.
Then her mouth curved.
You hated her. You loved it. Both things could be true.
“Y/N,” she said when you got close.
“Paige.”
“You look…” She paused, eyes flicking over you once more. “Good.”
There was something about the pause that made the compliment worse. Better. Both.
You tilted your head, fighting for control. “Just good?”
Her tongue pressed into her cheek, and she looked away briefly like she was trying to behave. The thought of Paige trying to behave because of you did something to your insides that you did not want to name in public.
“Careful,” she said.
“With what?”
“Asking me to say too much in front of your mom.”
Your mouth went dry.
Paige’s smile turned lazy, and then she stepped back like she hadn’t just said that. Like your entire nervous system wasn’t in a blender. Like she was just being normal.
Dinner started, and for a while, everything was fine in the way things were fine right before they absolutely were not.
You sat with Paige diagonally across from you, which should have been less intense than beside or directly across, but somehow created the perfect angle for stolen glances. She talked with everyone, but her attention kept finding you. A look when you laughed. A smile when you said something under your breath. A raised brow when you took a sip of your drink and caught her watching. She had always loved attention, but tonight she seemed more interested in giving it to you in small, private ways, like each glance was a hand under the table.
It was embarrassing how quickly you started waiting for it.
After dinner, the adults lingered, because adults always lingered. They ordered coffee. They debated dessert. They found new topics when old topics ran out. The restaurant got busier around you, people moving through the bar area near the entrance, groups waiting for tables, servers weaving past with trays. Paige’s family got pulled into conversation with your parents, and for the first time all night, Paige wasn’t watching you.
You took the opportunity to breathe.
Bad idea.
You excused yourself to the restroom mostly because you needed a second away from Paige’s eyes. You checked your reflection, told yourself to get a grip, reapplied lip gloss with a level of concentration that was frankly ridiculous, then stepped back out into the hallway leading toward the main restaurant.
That was where the random guy appeared.
He was standing near the wall by the bar entrance, probably waiting for friends, maybe around your age, dressed nicely enough, with the kind of confidence men developed after being told they were funny twice. You noticed him glance at you as you walked past. You did not think much of it until he pushed off the wall slightly.
“Hey,” he said.
You slowed because politeness was unfortunately hardwired into you. “Hi.”
“You with that big group over there?”
You glanced toward the restaurant. “Yeah.”
“Family thing?”
“Kind of.”
He smiled. “You look like you’re trying to survive it.”
That was mildly funny, so you smiled back. “A little.”
His smile widened. “I’m waiting for my friends, so I’m also in survival mode. Figured we could form an alliance.”
You laughed politely, already trying to figure out how to exit without being rude. “Tempting.”
“I’m serious. You from around here?”
“No, just visiting.”
“Shame.”
You blinked. “Shame?”
“Yeah.” He leaned slightly closer, not enough to be scary, but enough to be obvious. “Would’ve asked for your number if you were local.”
There it was.
You opened your mouth, ready to give some vague polite decline, when you felt the energy behind you change.
You didn’t need to turn around to know.
Some people made noise when they entered a space. Paige didn’t have to. She had presence. A kind of quiet pressure you had become painfully aware of in the last twenty-four hours. You felt her before you saw her, the way the guy’s eyes shifted over your shoulder and his smile faltered just slightly.
“Everything good?” Paige asked.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
You turned.
Paige stood a few feet behind you, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, head tilted slightly. If you didn’t know her, you might have thought she was relaxed. But you did know her. You saw the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes moved from the guy to you and back again, the way her shoulders sat easy but ready, like she had walked into a game she had no intention of losing.
You almost smiled.
Almost.
“Yeah,” you said. “We were just talking.”
Paige’s gaze flicked to you.
Something flashed there.
Jealousy looked different on Paige than you expected. You thought it would be loud, maybe cocky, maybe some joke about how the guy had no chance. But this was quieter. Sharper. It sat in the way she stepped closer, not touching you, but close enough that the air changed. It sat in the way her eyes didn’t leave the guy’s face when he tried to smile again.
“Cool,” Paige said.
The guy looked between you. “You two together?”
Your heart stopped.
Paige did not even blink.
You, unfortunately, did.
That was all Paige needed.
She smiled then, small and unreadable, and looked at you instead of him. “Yeah, Y/N.” Her voice was smooth, almost lazy. “Are we?”
You stared at her.
This girl was insane.
The guy let out a faint awkward laugh. “My bad, I didn’t know.”
Paige’s eyes stayed on yours. “Now you do.”
You should have corrected her. Technically, there was nothing to correct because she hadn’t answered. Not fully. She had thrown the question at you and let the implication do the work. But still, you could have said no. You could have said you were childhood friends. You could have said it wasn’t like that.
You did not.
Instead, you said, “It’s fine.”
Paige’s mouth twitched.
The guy held up his hands. “I’ll leave you to it. Nice meeting you.”
“You too,” you said, because your manners were apparently stronger than your survival instinct.
He walked away toward the bar, glancing back once. Paige watched him go with a look that could have cut glass. Then she turned to you.
The hallway suddenly felt too small.
“You were just talking?” she asked.
There was nothing casual about her voice now.
You crossed your arms, partly to look unbothered and partly because your heart was doing something stupid. “We were.”
“He was asking for your number.”
“He said he would’ve if I were local.”
Paige gave you a look. “So he was asking without asking.”
“You sound annoyed.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
You tilted your head. “Paige.”
Her eyes snapped to yours.
There it was. That same thing from Gampel, but hotter now. Less playful. Less controlled. Her jaw shifted, and she looked away for a second, exhaling through her nose like she was trying to talk herself down from something. When she looked back, the jealousy was still there, but so was something else. Something almost vulnerable, which made it harder to tease.
“He was looking at you like he had a chance,” she said.
The honesty of it hit you straight in the chest.
You swallowed. “And that bothered you?”
Paige laughed once, but it had no humor in it. “You asking me that for real?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Her eyes darkened.
Something about throwing her own game back at her thrilled you more than it should have. Paige noticed that too. She always noticed. Her gaze dropped to your mouth, to the gloss you had reapplied minutes ago, then back up. When she stepped closer, you did not move away.
“You want me to say I didn’t like it?” she asked.
Your voice came out softer. “Did you?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I didn’t like it.”
The air between you pulled tight.
You should have been nervous that someone might walk down the hallway. You should have remembered that both your families were just around the corner. You should have considered literally anything besides the fact that Paige was jealous and close and looking at you like she had been trying not to all night.
“Why?” you asked.
Paige’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know why.”
“Maybe I want to hear that too.”
For a moment, she just looked at you. Then she gave a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head like she couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or impressed.
“You got bold since last night,” she said.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep testing me.”
“Testing you?”
“Yeah.”
You stepped closer this time. Just an inch. Enough that Paige’s eyes flicked down again. Enough that her breath changed.
“And what happens if I am?” you asked.
Paige went very still.
The hallway noise faded behind the pounding in your ears. Somewhere near the bar, someone laughed loudly. A server passed the far opening without looking your way. Paige’s hand came out of her pocket slowly, her fingers brushing the side seam of her jeans like she was deciding whether to reach for you.
“You really wanna know?” she asked.
“Yes.”
It was barely a whisper.
Paige’s eyes held yours for half a second longer, and then she moved.
The first kiss was not slow.
Maybe it should have been. Maybe after all those years, after all that almost, after childhood and distance and warm hands and airballs and jealousy, the first kiss should have been gentle. A careful question. A soft landing. It was not. Paige stepped into your space, one hand coming to your waist while the other touched your jaw, and kissed you like she had been holding herself back so tightly that the second she let go, there was no polite way to do it.
Your entire body lit up.
For one dizzy second, you didn’t move because your brain had to process that Paige was kissing you. Paige, who used to steal your fries. Paige, who tied your shoes. Paige, who had become this, who tasted faintly like mint and coffee, whose hand was warm at your waist, whose thumb brushed your jaw like she was trying to make sure you were real. Then you kissed her back, and whatever restraint had been left in the hallway disappeared.
Paige made a soft sound against your mouth, almost a breath, almost a laugh, like she was pleased and surprised and not surprised at all. Her hand tightened slightly at your waist, pulling you closer until your body met hers, and your own hands found the front of her jacket because you needed something to hold onto. She kissed like she played, confident but not careless, reading every reaction, adjusting the moment you gave her something, turning your own breathlessness into evidence.
You had thought about kissing Paige for less than twenty-four hours.
Your body reacted like it had been waiting years.
When you finally broke apart, it was not because either of you wanted to. It was because the hallway still existed, because your families still existed, because some innocent restaurant employee could turn the corner and find you gripping Paige’s jacket like it was the only thing keeping you upright.
Paige stayed close, forehead nearly touching yours, her breathing uneven in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest.
For once, she did not immediately say something smug.
Then, because she was Paige, she whispered, “Damn.”
You let out a breathless laugh and pushed lightly at her chest. “That’s what you have to say?”
“I got more. Just trying to be respectful.”
“Since when?”
“Since your mom is twenty feet away.”
That made you laugh again, quieter this time, and Paige smiled against the space between you like she liked the sound. Her thumb moved once at your waist, a small absent stroke that made your stomach tighten all over again.
You looked at her, still trying to catch up. “You kissed me.”
“You kissed me back.”
“You started it.”
“You asked what happens if you test me.”
“I didn’t know that was the answer.”
Paige’s grin turned slow. “You mad at the answer?”
You should have said something witty. Instead, your eyes dropped to her mouth.
Paige saw.
The grin faded.
The heat came back fast.
“Y/N,” she murmured.
You looked up. “What?”
“You can’t look at me like that right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to be respectful.”
The way she said it made your knees weak.
Before you could respond, a voice called from the restaurant area. Your mom. Not close, but close enough. “Y/N? Paige?”
You and Paige separated so quickly it would’ve been suspicious if anyone had seen it. Paige ran a hand over her mouth, then through the side of her hair, trying to look normal. You did the same, except worse, because your lips felt swollen and your entire face was hot.
Paige looked at you and immediately looked like she wanted to laugh.
“Don’t,” you hissed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“You look guilty.”
“You kissed me in a hallway.”
“You participated.”
“Paige.”
“Y/N.”
Your mom appeared near the entrance of the hallway, smiling innocently. “There you are. We’re heading back to the hotel soon.”
Paige turned toward her with the most normal expression you had ever seen, which was infuriating because she had just kissed you like the world was ending. “Yeah, we’re coming.”
Your mom looked between you for one second too long.
You nearly died.
Then she smiled wider. “Okay.”
When she left, you stared at Paige. “She knows.”
“She does not know.”
“She absolutely knows.”
“She suspects.”
“That’s worse.”
Paige shrugged, and the smugness returned. “She always liked me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Still kissed me.”
You pointed at her. “Do not start.”
“I’m not starting.” She leaned in just a little, voice dropping again. “I already started.”
You had to walk away before you did something stupid, like kissing her again with your mom within emotional hearing distance.
The ride back to the hotel was torture.
Not because anything happened. Nothing could happen. Your family and Paige’s family were all together, walking in a loose group, then arranging cars, then sitting close enough that you and Paige had to behave like normal childhood friends instead of two people who had just detonated a decade of tension next to a restaurant bathroom. But that was exactly what made it torture. Paige kept looking at you. Not constantly. Not obviously. Just enough. Her knee bumped yours in the car once, and neither of you moved away. Her fingers brushed yours when everyone piled out in front of the hotel, and the contact sent a spark up your arm so ridiculous you almost hated her for it.
Inside the lobby, the adults decided — because apparently they had endless energy and no respect for your emotional crisis — that they wanted one last drink at the hotel bar. Paige’s brothers disappeared somewhere. Your mom asked if you wanted to come sit. You said you were tired. Paige said she was tired too. The way she said it was perfectly normal. The look she gave you was not.
The elevator ride up was silent because there were other people inside.
That somehow made it worse.
You stood beside Paige, shoulder nearly touching hers, both of you facing forward while an older couple chatted softly in the corner. The elevator hummed upward. The numbers changed slowly. Paige’s hand hung at her side, close to yours but not touching. You stared at the doors and tried not to think about the hallway kiss. Tried not to think about her hand on your waist. Tried not to think about the way she had said she was trying to be respectful like respect was a fragile thing she was barely holding onto.
The older couple got off two floors before yours.
The doors closed.
Paige touched your hand.
Barely.
Just her pinky brushing yours.
Your breath caught.
She did not look at you.
“You good?” she asked quietly.
You stared forward. “No.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
“Me neither,” she said.
The elevator dinged.
You stepped out together on your floor, and suddenly the hallway seemed too long and too empty. The carpet muffled your steps. The lights were warm and dim. Your room was halfway down. Paige’s family’s rooms were somewhere near yours because of course they were, because apparently your parents had booked everything in the most dangerous arrangement possible.
You stopped outside your door.
Paige stopped with you.
For a second, neither of you said anything.
You fumbled with your key card, mostly because your hands were not cooperating. Paige leaned one shoulder against the wall beside your door, watching you with barely concealed amusement.
“You struggling?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“If you ask me that one more time—”
“What?” she asked softly.
You looked up.
Mistake.
Paige looked different in the hotel hallway. Less polished than at dinner, less playful than at brunch, less untouchable than on the court. The light softened her face, made her eyes look warmer, made the space between you feel private in a way that was dangerous. Her hands were in her pockets again, but you knew what they felt like now. You knew how one felt at your waist, how the other had cupped your jaw. Your body remembered so clearly that it felt unfair.
You swallowed. “You should head back.”
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you want?”
You hated her for asking. Hated her for making you answer. Hated her for standing there like she would actually leave if you said yes, because the worst part was you knew she would. Paige could tease and push and flirt until you forgot how to breathe, but underneath all of that, she was still the girl who had asked can I? before fixing your shooting form. She would not cross a line you didn’t let her cross.
That made you want her more.
“No,” you admitted.
Paige’s expression changed.
The hallway went quiet.
“No?” she repeated.
You shook your head once.
She pushed off the wall slowly. “Y/N.”
You slid the key card into the door. The light turned green.
Neither of you moved.
You should have gone inside alone. You knew that. This was the moment where a smarter person would laugh nervously, say goodnight, and close the door. A smarter person would remember that both your families were downstairs, that this was Paige, that one kiss did not mean you had to sprint directly into a second one.
Unfortunately, you had never claimed to be smart around Paige.
You opened the door and stepped inside.
Then you looked back.
Paige was still in the hallway, eyes fixed on you, jaw tight.
“You coming?” you asked.
For half a second, she looked like she might actually lose her mind.
Then she stepped inside.
The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded much louder than it was.
Your hotel room was dim except for the lamp near the bed. Your suitcase sat half-open against the wall, clothes folded badly because you had been too distracted that morning to care. The curtains were drawn, the air warm, everything too quiet after the restaurant and the lobby and the elevator. Paige stood near the door for a moment, like she was giving you one last chance to change your mind.
You appreciated it.
You also hated the distance.
“So,” she said.
“So.”
“You invited me in.”
“I did.”
“You sure?”
There it was again, but this time you didn’t snap at her for asking. This time you heard what she meant underneath it.
You nodded. “I’m sure.”
Paige exhaled slowly, eyes dropping for a second before coming back to yours. “Okay.”
She took one step forward.
Then another.
You stayed where you were, but your heart started racing so fast it felt impossible that she couldn’t hear it. The first kiss had been heat and jealousy and impulse. This was different. This was the part after. The part where both of you knew exactly what you were walking into. Paige stopped in front of you, closer than she had in the hallway, and lifted one hand to touch your face. Her knuckles brushed gently along your jaw, softer than you expected after the way she had kissed you earlier.
“You were driving me crazy all day,” she said.
Your breath caught. “Me?”
Paige gave you a look. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You existed.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“It became my problem.”
You smiled despite yourself. “You poor thing.”
Her thumb brushed near the corner of your mouth. “You think you’re funny.”
“I know I am.”
“Still mouthy.”
“Still annoying.”
“Still want me to leave?”
Your smile faded.
“No.”
That was all it took.
The second kiss was slower at first, but only for the first breath. Paige leaned in like she wanted to remember the moment before it happened, her mouth brushing yours once, then again, softer than the hallway, almost careful. It made something ache in your chest. You kissed her back with the same softness for maybe two seconds, maybe three, and then your hands slid up to her shoulders, and Paige made a quiet sound, and the whole thing broke open.
This kiss was not like the first.
The first had been a match strike. This was the fire catching.
Paige stepped into you until you had to step back, her hand finding your waist again, the other sliding into your hair with enough care to make you dizzy. Your back touched the wall near the bed, and Paige paused for half a second, like she was checking, like she was still letting you choose. Instead of answering with words, you pulled her closer by the front of her jacket.
That ruined her.
You felt it in the way she kissed you harder, in the way her grip tightened at your waist, in the way her body pressed closer but still not close enough. Her mouth moved against yours with a confidence that made your thoughts scatter, warm and insistent and maddeningly good. You had imagined, maybe, in those very unhelpful hours after last night, that kissing Paige would be strange because of the history between you. You had known her too young. You had too many memories of her being ridiculous. You thought maybe that would make it awkward.
It did not.
It made it worse.
Because this with Paige felt familiar and new all at once. Like your body knew the shape of her presence even if it had never known this. Like all the years of fighting, laughing, missing, pretending, had been leading to the moment she pressed you gently against a hotel wall and kissed you until you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought this was a bad idea.
Paige pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting near yours, lips still close enough that every word brushed against your mouth. “Say it again.”
You blinked, dazed. “What?”
Her smile was barely there. “What you said in Gampel.”
You huffed a laugh, breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Y/N.”
“Your ego doesn’t need this.”
“My ego’s fine.” Her hand at your waist slid slightly, not far, just enough to make your breath hitch. Her eyes sharpened at the sound. “I need it.”
That should not have worked.
It worked.
You swallowed, hands still gripping her jacket. “You’re hot.”
Paige’s eyes darkened.
“Yeah?” she murmured.
You nodded once. “Yeah.”
Her mouth curved, but there was something almost hungry in it now, something that made your stomach twist. “You know how long I wanted to hear you say that?”
Your heart stopped for a second.
“What?”
Paige’s expression flickered, like maybe she hadn’t meant to say it that honestly. Then she kissed the corner of your mouth, soft enough to make you ache. “Longer than I should’ve.”
Your entire chest went warm.
“Paige,” you whispered.
She kissed your cheek, then your jaw, not rough, not rushed, just enough that your fingers tightened on her automatically. “You were always so annoying.”
You laughed breathlessly. “That’s romantic.”
“I’m serious.” Her mouth hovered near your jaw, voice low. “You’d be sitting on the curb in that blanket acting like you hated being there, but you stayed every time. You’d roll your eyes when I made a shot, but you’d still watch. You’d talk all that mess, then get mad when I had to leave.”
Your throat tightened.
Paige pulled back to look at you. Her face was close, eyes softer now, the heat still there but mixed with something that scared you more. “I missed that.”
You looked at her, and for once, the joke didn’t come. “I missed you.”
She kissed you again.
This one was different from the others, not less heated, but deeper in a way that made your chest ache. Your hands slid from her jacket to the back of her neck, and Paige stepped fully into you with a quiet exhale, like the words had undone something in her. The kiss turned messy after that, not careless, but full of everything you had both been trying to hold back. Her hand moved along your side, your fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of her neck, and when you tugged lightly, Paige broke the kiss with a sound that made heat rush through you so fast it was almost embarrassing.
She stared at you.
You stared back.
Then she laughed once, low and disbelieving. “Oh, you’re trouble.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You kissed me first.”
“You invited me in.”
“You got jealous.”
“He was flirting with you.”
“You asked if we were together.”
Paige’s smile faded into something more intense. “Wanted to know what you’d say.”
“And?”
“And you didn’t say no.”
The room felt warmer.
You lifted your chin slightly. “Did you want me to?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast to be casual.
Your stomach flipped.
Paige’s eyes dropped again to your mouth, and the air between you tightened. “Not even a little.”
You pulled her back in.
This time, there was no slow start. Paige kissed you hard enough that your back pressed fully against the wall, and you kissed her back with everything you had been pretending not to feel. It turned heated quickly, faster than before, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the room disappear. Paige’s hands stayed respectful but not distant, her palms warm at your waist and side, fingers flexing like she was trying to control herself. You could feel the restraint in her body. It made you want to ruin it.
“Paige,” you breathed when her mouth moved to your jaw again.
She paused immediately. “You okay?”
The question was soft, serious, instant.
Your heart squeezed.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”
Her gaze searched yours. “Tell me if you’re not.”
“I will.”
She nodded, then leaned in again, slower, kissing you once like a promise before the heat returned. That was the thing about Paige that made you feel insane. She could be cocky, unbearable, smug enough to make you want to shove her into a snowbank, but then she would check on you with that steady softness and suddenly you remembered exactly why you had trusted her since before you even understood what trust was.
You kissed until your lips felt swollen, until your hands had learned the shape of her shoulders, until Paige’s breath grew uneven against your mouth. At some point, you shifted, and she guided you away from the wall with gentle hands, walking you backward until the backs of your legs touched the edge of the bed. You sat without meaning to, and Paige stopped between your knees, looking down at you with an expression that made every thought in your head go quiet.
The lamp cast warm light across her face. Her hair was a little messier now, one braid loosened near her cheek, lips pink from kissing you, eyes bright and dark all at once. She looked nothing like the kid who used to steal your snacks. She looked like trouble. Like a bad decision you were going to make on purpose. Like the answer to a question you had been too late to ask.
You reached for her hand.
She let you take it.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Paige squeezed your fingers lightly. “You still scared?”
You looked up at her. “A little.”
Her mouth curved. “Good scared?”
“Yeah.”
Her expression softened. “Okay.”
She lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles, and the gesture was so unexpectedly tender that it made your chest hurt. Then, because she apparently couldn’t let you live, she leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, one knee pressing into the mattress beside you as her hand touched your waist. The shift made your breath catch, and Paige noticed immediately, smiling against your mouth in a way that should have annoyed you but only made you pull her closer.
“You’re smug,” you murmured.
“You like it.”
“I tolerate it.”
“You invited it into your room.”
“You’re still talking too much.”
Paige pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes amused. “You want me to stop talking?”
The question landed hot.
You did not answer.
You pulled her down instead.
Paige laughed into the kiss, but the sound disappeared quickly when your hands slid to her shoulders and her body angled closer over yours. The mattress dipped under her weight, and the world narrowed to warm light, quiet breaths, and the feeling of Paige kissing you like she had all the time in the world and none at all. It was not rushed, exactly. It was worse. It was patient enough to make you feel every second. Her hand skimmed your side, paused at your waist, then settled there like she was grounding herself. Your fingers curled into her shirt, and when she pulled back, her eyes were darker than before.
“Y/N,” she said quietly.
You knew what she was asking without her saying it.
Your breathing was uneven. So was hers.
Your families were downstairs. The hotel hallway was outside your door. Childhood was somewhere behind you, laughing from a driveway in Minnesota. But here, in the small golden room, Paige was close and warm and real, and you were tired of almost.
You touched her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Stay.”
Paige’s eyes searched yours for one more second.
Then she nodded.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m staying.”
She kissed you again, and this time, when the kiss deepened and the room seemed to tilt around you, there was no hallway interruption, no distant door, no family calling your names from around the corner. There was just Paige, her hand sliding into yours, her mouth warm against yours, her body careful and close as the night folded around you.
And maybe, tomorrow, you would have to figure out what this meant. Maybe tomorrow, you would have to sit across from both families at breakfast and pretend your entire world had not shifted behind a hotel room door. Maybe tomorrow, Paige would smirk at you over coffee, and you would kick her under the table, and your mom would look between you with that suspicious little smile like she already knew everything.
But tonight, Paige kissed you like she had spent years becoming someone you could not ignore.
Tonight, you kissed her back like you were done trying.
And when she pulled away just enough to whisper your name against your mouth, soft and wrecked and still somehow smug, you realized the worst part was not that Paige Bueckers had gotten hot.
The worst part was that she had always been Paige.
where reader deals with really bad insomnia and nightmares
can't go to sleep intill like 5 or 6 am even with sleeping aid
and maybe you can write something about paige reacting to that
when the whole world sleeps. 💤
pairing: paige bueckers x reader
summary: reader has always been good at hiding how bad her insomnia really gets, but paige starts noticing the little things — the late-night texts, the tired eyes, the way y/n acts like sleeping until sunrise is normal. when a nightmare finally catches up to her, paige refuses to let her deal with it alone.
tags / warnings: insomnia, nightmares, trouble sleeping, mild anxiety, mentions of sleeping aids. comfort, flufffffff, soft paige, flirty teasing, established-ish feelings, uconn paige, late night talks, sleep-deprived reader,
a/n: hiiii your wish is my commandddd. this was such a soft request and i loved writing it so bad. insomnia is so exhausting and can feel so lonely sometimes, so this is basically paige being annoying, sweet, protective, and secretly so down bad while trying to make reader feel safe enough to rest. hope u like it <3
word count: around 4.2k
The worst part about insomnia was that the world made it feel like a personal failure. Like sleep was this easy thing everyone else could do without thinking, a light switch they flicked off at the end of the day, while you lay in bed staring at the ceiling like it had answers written across it. You knew all the advice. You had heard it from everyone. No caffeine after noon. Put your phone away. Try tea. Try melatonin. Try white noise. Try sleeping on your side. Try not thinking so much, which was always the funniest one, because if you knew how to stop thinking, you probably would’ve done it years ago.
By now, you had a whole routine. A sad little bedtime performance for an audience of nobody. You washed your face, changed into soft shorts and an old oversized shirt, plugged your phone in, took whatever sleeping aid you were allowed to take, turned off the lights, and pretended like this time would be different. Like this time, your body would understand the assignment. Like this time, you would close your eyes around midnight and wake up like a normal person.
Instead, most nights went the same.
One a.m. became two. Two became three. Three became that horrible quiet hour where even the hallway outside your dorm seemed to stop breathing. Then five or six would creep in, soft blue light leaking through the curtains, and your brain would finally decide it was safe to shut down just as everyone else was starting their day.
You hated that part too. The way morning felt like losing.
And because you hated it, you got good at hiding it.
At UConn, everyone was busy enough that tiredness blended in. People were always running on too little sleep, too much schoolwork, too many practices, too many lifts, too much pressure, too much everything. So when someone asked why your eyes looked heavy, you shrugged and said you stayed up studying. When you zoned out during lunch, you blamed an assignment. When you yawned through a movie night, you made a joke about being secretly ninety years old.
It worked on most people.
It did not work on Paige Bueckers.
Paige noticed things in the most irritating way. She had this whole casual act, like she was just floating through life with her slides on and her hood up, joking around, talking trash, acting like nothing ever stuck to her. But she noticed everything. She noticed when someone changed their shot pocket. She noticed when a teammate was quiet at breakfast. She noticed if the energy in a room shifted even half an inch. And, unfortunately for you, she noticed the exact kind of tired you were.
Not regular tired. Not college tired. Not practice tired.
The kind of tired that sat behind your eyes.
The first time she called you out, it was after a late team hangout in one of the common rooms. You weren’t on the team, but you were close enough with some of the girls that you ended up around them often, half because you had friends there and half because Paige had made it extremely difficult not to be around her. She had a way of dragging you into things without really asking. A text that said come watch this movie, followed by another that said don’t be lame, followed by a third that said i saved you a seat, which was her version of being sweet without admitting she was being sweet.
You were sitting beside her on the couch, your knees tucked to your chest, trying to focus on whatever movie KK had insisted was “actually good” even though half the room was talking over it. Paige had one arm stretched along the back of the couch behind you, not touching you, but close enough that you were painfully aware of it. Her hoodie sleeve brushed your shoulder every time she shifted, and each time it happened, your brain reacted like a loser.
You told yourself it was because you were sleep-deprived.
Everything felt dramatic when you were sleep-deprived.
Paige leaned closer sometime near the middle of the movie, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “You good?”
You blinked, turning your head slightly. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve watched like twenty minutes of this movie and I don’t think you processed a single thing.”
“That’s because the movie is bad.”
Paige’s mouth opened immediately, offended on behalf of a movie she had not even chosen. “See, that’s crazy, because you can’t even say that. You not even watching it.”
“I’m spiritually watching it.”
“Oh, spiritually?” she repeated, amused. “My fault. Didn’t know we had a film critic in the building.”
You rolled your eyes, but you smiled despite yourself. Paige smiled back, all smug and pretty, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Then her expression softened just enough to make your stomach twist.
“You look tired for real, though,” she said.
“I’m always tired.”
“Nah.” Paige shook her head. “Different.”
You looked back at the TV, pretending the conversation didn’t land the way it did. “What are you, my sleep doctor?”
“I could be.”
“You would be so bad at that.”
“Cap. I’d be great.” Paige shifted, her knee bumping yours. “First prescription, stop acting like you fine when you not.”
You gave her a look. “Very professional.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m fine, Paige.”
She watched you for a second too long. That was another thing about Paige. She could be loud and ridiculous and cocky, but when she went quiet, it was dangerous. Her attention felt too direct, like she was seeing more than you wanted to show.
Finally, she leaned back, but her arm stayed behind you. “Aight,” she said, like she didn’t believe you at all. “But I’m just saying. You been looking like you fighting demons.”
You huffed. “That’s so dramatic.”
“Am I wrong?”
“You’re annoying.”
“Still not wrong, though.”
You didn’t answer because she wasn’t.
The thing was, Paige didn’t push that night. She went back to joking with the others, yelling at the TV, laughing when KK said something dramatic, acting like the conversation had already left her mind. But later, when everyone started leaving and you stood to go back to your room, Paige walked beside you without asking.
“You don’t have to walk me,” you said, glancing over at her.
She had her hands in her hoodie pocket, shoulders relaxed, hair pulled back messily from her face. “I know.”
“My dorm is literally not far.”
“I know.”
“So why are you walking me?”
“Because I want to.”
You stared at her, and Paige stared back like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like she hadn’t just said something that made your chest feel weird.
“You always this difficult?” you asked.
“Only when I’m right.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you still walking next to me.”
You tried not to smile. Failed. Paige noticed, of course, because Paige noticed everything, and her grin widened like she had just won a game nobody else knew you were playing.
At your door, you turned, expecting her to say goodnight and leave. Instead, she rocked back on her heels, looking at you with that same too-careful expression from earlier.
“You gonna sleep?” she asked.
You snorted softly. “That’s the plan.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
You looked down at your keys, turning them over in your hand. “I’ll try.”
Paige nodded slowly. “Text me if you can’t.”
Your eyes flicked up. “What?”
“Text me,” she repeated. “If you can’t sleep.”
“Paige, you have practice.”
“And?”
“And you need sleep.”
“You need sleep too.”
“That’s kind of the problem.”
For a second, the teasing faded. Paige’s face went serious in a way that made you feel exposed, but not judged. Never judged. Just seen.
“I’m up late sometimes anyway,” she said. “So text me.”
You wanted to make a joke. You wanted to say something light enough to escape the warmth gathering in your chest. But Paige was still looking at you, waiting, and the hallway was quiet, and you were too tired to pretend you didn’t want someone to care.
“Okay,” you said softly.
Paige nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”
“Bossy.”
“Helpful.”
“Annoying.”
“Pretty.”
You froze.
Paige grinned, eyes bright with trouble. “What? We just naming true things now, right?”
You felt heat rush to your face so fast it was embarrassing. “Goodnight, Paige.”
She laughed as you opened your door, but before you could disappear inside, she said, “Night, ma.”
You hated how much that one little word followed you into your room.
You really hated that it made you smile.
For the next week, Paige became part of your nights in a way you did not know how to explain. It started small. You didn’t text her the first night because you felt weird about it. You lay awake until almost six, phone face-down beside you, her message thread sitting there untouched like a dare. The second night, you typed something, deleted it, typed it again, deleted it again, then gave up and stared at the ceiling until sunrise.
The third night, at 3:17 a.m., your phone buzzed.
paige: u sleep?
You stared at the message, then smiled despite the ache behind your eyes.
you: obviously not
paige: knew it
you: creepy
paige: observant
you: annoying
paige: pretty
you: oh my god go to bed
Her response came almost immediately.
paige: can’t. someone told me to text if i couldn’t sleep
you: that was YOU telling ME
paige: same difference
You ended up texting for almost an hour. Nothing deep at first. Paige complained about class. You complained about your professor giving feedback that made no sense. She sent you a blurry photo of her ceiling fan with the caption “this thing loud as hell,” and you laughed quietly into your pillow, the sound feeling strange in your dark room. At some point, she asked what you usually did when you couldn’t sleep, and your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before you answered.
you: nothing really
you: just wait it out
paige: every night?
you: most nights
The little typing bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
paige: damn
paige: that’s lonely
You swallowed.
Because yeah.
It was.
You didn’t know why that hit harder than advice. Maybe because she didn’t try to fix it right away. Maybe because she didn’t ask why, didn’t make you explain your entire brain at four in the morning. She just named it. Softly. Simply.
you: yeah
you: kinda
Paige called you two seconds later.
You almost dropped your phone.
When you answered, whispering, “Paige?” her voice came through low and sleepy and warm.
“Hi.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because texting is slow.”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“So are you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bad at it.”
Paige laughed quietly, and the sound settled something in you. “That’s crazy. You competitive about everything except sleeping.”
“I am not competitive.”
“You are.”
“I literally am not.”
“You arguing right now.”
You pressed your face into your pillow. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
No. You didn’t.
You really, really didn’t.
After that, the calls became a thing. Not every night, because Paige was busy and you refused to let your insomnia become her responsibility, but often enough that you started expecting her name to light up your phone when the hours got too quiet. Sometimes she talked until her voice got heavy. Sometimes you listened to her breathe on the other end while she fought sleep like she had something to prove. Sometimes she told you random stories from practice, about Geno saying something dry, about Nika being Nika, about KK and Ashlynn acting like they had been placed on earth specifically to cause chaos. Sometimes she asked you about your day, and because it was dark and late and her voice made everything feel softer, you told her the truth more often than you meant to.
She learned little things.
That sleeping aids helped your body feel heavy but didn’t always shut your mind off. That nightmares made it worse because even when you did sleep, you sometimes woke up feeling like your heart had been dragged out of your chest. That you hated naps because waking up confused in the middle of the day made you feel worse. That you were embarrassed by how much it affected you. That sometimes, when people joked about “pulling an all-nighter,” you wanted to laugh because they had no idea how different it felt when it wasn’t a choice.
Paige listened.
Really listened.
And then, because she was still Paige, she also started sending the most ridiculous goodnight texts you had ever seen.
paige: close ur eyes challenge
paige: if u sleep before 3 u get a prize
paige: prize is me saying good job
paige: actually that’s a fire prize idk why u not motivated
You told her she was insane.
She told you she was inspiring.
The flirty part was harder to survive.
Because Paige flirted like she breathed. Casual, confident, half-joking until it wasn’t. She called you pretty too easily. Told you your morning voice was cute the one time she called too early and you answered half-asleep. Said “miss me?” every time she walked into a room you were in, even if she had seen you twenty minutes earlier. When you got annoyed, she looked delighted. When you blushed, she looked victorious.
But she was also careful. More careful than people gave her credit for.
She teased you about being stubborn, about refusing help, about acting like you were allergic to being taken care of. But she never made fun of the insomnia. Never made you feel dramatic for having nightmares. Never acted like your tiredness was annoying or inconvenient. If anything, she got gentler with it over time.
One night, after a home game at Gampel, you stayed behind with some friends while the arena slowly emptied. Paige had played well, all sharp passes and smooth confidence, the kind of game where she looked like she could see the floor two seconds before everyone else. You had cheered until your throat hurt, bundled in a UConn hoodie that definitely was not yours even though Paige kept pretending she had “no idea” how it ended up with you.
Afterward, when she came out from the locker room, her hair still damp from a quick shower, she found you leaning against the wall scrolling on your phone. She looked tired but pleased, her bag slung over one shoulder, slides on, that familiar cocky tilt to her mouth appearing the second she saw you.
“You see me hoop?” she asked.
You looked up. “Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately is crazy.”
“You were okay.”
Paige stopped in front of you, eyebrows lifting. “Okay?”
“Decent.”
“Decent?”
“Like, you know. You had some moments.”
She stared at you, then leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You lucky you cute.”
Your stomach did something deeply embarrassing. “You say that to everyone who insults your game?”
“Nah.” Her eyes flicked over your face. “Just you.”
You forgot how to be normal for a second.
Paige noticed. Obviously. Her smile softened into something less teasing, and she tugged lightly at the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing. “You look good in my stuff.”
You glanced down like you had somehow forgotten what you were wearing. “Your stuff?”
“That’s my hoodie.”
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I lied.”
You laughed. “Wow. Role model behavior.”
“Don’t steal from me then.”
“You literally gave it to me.”
“Borrowed,” she corrected. “But you can keep it for now.”
“For now?”
“Yeah.” Paige’s fingers were still holding the sleeve, thumb brushing once against the fabric near your wrist. “Looks better on you anyway.”
The hallway felt louder suddenly. Or maybe your heartbeat was just being annoying.
You cleared your throat. “Are you flirting with me after a basketball game?”
“After I won a basketball game,” Paige corrected. “Context matters.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re wearing my hoodie.”
You tried to roll your eyes, but your smile ruined it. Paige’s face softened again, and for one tiny second, neither of you said anything. The team noise echoed faintly behind her, voices and laughter from down the hall, but she kept looking at you like the world had narrowed to just this.
Then her gaze sharpened slightly.
“You sleep last night?”
The question caught you off guard. Your smile faded before you could stop it.
Paige saw that too.
“Some,” you said.
“How much is some?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“You’re so nosy.”
“Yeah.”
You looked away.
She let the silence sit for a second, then nudged your shoe with hers. “Bad night?”
You shrugged, trying to make it smaller than it felt. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Nightmare?”
You didn’t answer right away.
Paige’s expression changed, not dramatically, not in a way anyone else would notice, but you did. Her jaw tightened a little. Her eyes softened. She shifted closer, enough to block you slightly from the busy hallway without making it obvious.
“You don’t gotta tell me here,” she said quietly.
Something about that almost hurt. The way she understood the difference between asking and asking in front of people. The way she gave you privacy without making a show of it.
You nodded. “Okay.”
“Come with me?”
“To where?”
“Walk.”
“Paige, you just played a whole game.”
“And I’m still faster than you.”
“Rude.”
“True.”
But she smiled when she said it, and you followed her because of course you did.
The walk was short, just around campus, cold air brushing your cheeks while Paige kept close beside you. She had changed into sweats and a hoodie, her hands tucked in her pockets, shoulders relaxed. Every now and then, your arms brushed. She didn’t rush you into talking. She told you about one of the freshmen messing up a play in practice, about Nika yelling something dramatic from the bench, about how she swore Ice had stolen one of her snacks even though Ice denied it with her whole chest.
You laughed at the right parts. Paige smiled like that was the point.
Eventually, when the campus got quieter and the cold made your fingers numb, Paige glanced at you. “You wanna come chill for a little? Not sleep. Just chill.”
You knew what she was doing. Making the offer casual so it didn’t feel like a big deal. Giving you an out. Giving you a place to be that wasn’t your room and your ceiling and the long stretch of night ahead.
“You sure?”
Paige gave you a look. “Y/N.”
“What?”
“You always ask that like I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I just don’t wanna bother you.”
“You don’t.”
“You have practice tomorrow.”
“Yup.”
“And class.”
“Sadly.”
“And you need rest.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
Paige stopped walking.
You stopped too, turning toward her.
The teasing was gone now. Her face was serious, but not angry. Just steady.
“I know that,” she said. “I’m not here because I think you’re my responsibility.”
You swallowed.
“I’m here because I care about you,” Paige continued, voice low. “There’s a difference.”
The cold air pressed around you. You looked at her, at the way the streetlight caught the side of her face, at the softness in her eyes that she never tried to hide from you as much as she probably thought she did.
“You can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal,” you whispered.
Paige’s mouth twitched. “Who said I want you normal?”
“Paige.”
“What?” She stepped a little closer, cocky spark returning just enough to make your heart trip. “You cute when you nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You lying.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You say that a lot for someone who keeps hanging out with me.”
You groaned, pushing lightly at her arm. She laughed, catching your wrist for half a second before letting go, her touch warm even through the cold. It wasn’t a big moment. Not a confession. Not a kiss. Not anything you could name properly. But it stayed with you anyway.
That night, you ended up in Paige’s room.
It wasn’t the first time you had been there, but it felt different after midnight. Softer. More private. Azzi was out, sleeping elsewhere after making some joke you didn’t fully process because you were too busy trying not to overthink the fact that you were sitting on Paige’s bed wearing Paige’s hoodie while Paige moved around the room like it was completely normal.
She tossed you a blanket. “Here.”
You caught it. “Bossy.”
“Cold people don’t get to complain.”
“I didn’t say I was cold.”
“You rubbing your hands together like a cartoon character.”
You looked down at your hands. “I hate that you notice everything.”
“No, you don’t.”
You pulled the blanket around yourself, settling against the pillows near the wall. Paige grabbed her laptop and climbed onto the bed beside you, leaving a respectful bit of space that somehow made you feel more insane than if she had sat closer. She opened Netflix, scrolling through options.
“You want something funny? Boring? Comfort show? Documentary that’ll put you out?”
“Are you trying to bore me to sleep?”
“I’m trying to win.”
“Win what?”
“Against your insomnia.”
You laughed softly. “That’s not how it works.”
“I know.” Paige glanced at you. “But I’m competitive.”
Something warm spread through your chest.
You picked a comfort show you had seen too many times, something familiar enough that you didn’t need to focus. Paige set the laptop between you, but as the episode played, neither of you really watched. Your body was tired in that awful wired way, heavy and restless at the same time. Paige sat with one knee bent, shoulder against the headboard, occasionally looking over to check on you.
You could feel it every time.
Eventually, she said, “Can I ask you something?”
You kept your eyes on the screen. “Depends.”
“When the nightmares happen… is it like, you wake up and can go back to sleep? Or you’re up after?”
Your throat tightened.
You appreciated the question, weirdly. She wasn’t asking what they were about. Not forcing details. Just trying to understand the shape of it.
“Usually up after,” you said. “Sometimes I’m scared to go back to sleep. Sometimes I’m just… awake. Like my whole body thinks something happened even though nothing did.”
Paige nodded slowly. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“Do you tell anybody?”
You gave her a look.
She sighed. “Yeah. Dumb question.”
“I don’t like worrying people.”
“Mm.”
“What?”
“That’s your favorite line.”
“It’s true.”
“Still don’t mean you gotta deal with everything by yourself.”
You looked down at your hands in the blanket. “I know.”
“Do you?”
You didn’t answer.
Paige shifted closer, just a little. “Y/N.”
The way she said your name made your eyes sting, which was unfair and rude and entirely not your fault.
“I don’t want people thinking I’m dramatic,” you said quietly.
Paige’s expression softened so much it almost undid you. “Ma, you can’t sleep and when you do, you get nightmares. That’s not dramatic. That’s hard.”
You blinked fast.
“And you still show up to class and games and hangouts and act like you fine,” she added. “Which, honestly, kinda pisses me off.”
You looked at her, startled. “Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to be that good at hiding it.”
The room went quiet except for the low sound of the show. Paige looked away after she said it, like maybe she thought she had said too much. Like maybe vulnerability scared her too, just in a different way.
You leaned your head back against the wall. “You’re being really nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“You are absolutely not always nice.”
“I’m nice to you.”
“That’s different?”
Paige looked back at you. “Yeah.”
Your heart felt too big for your chest.
She held your gaze for a second, then cleared her throat and reached for the laptop like she needed something to do. “Anyway. We need a game plan.”
“A game plan?”
“Yeah. For tonight.”
“This is not basketball.”
“Everything is basketball if you’re smart enough.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Made sense to me.”
You laughed, and Paige smiled like she had been waiting for it.
Her “game plan” was simple. No pressure to sleep. No staring at the clock. No pretending you were fine if you weren’t. You could stay as long as you wanted. You could talk, watch something, sit in silence, whatever. If you got tired, you could rest. If you didn’t, that was okay too. Paige made it sound so easy that you wanted to believe her.
For a while, it worked.
You watched another episode. Then another. Paige got up at some point to grab water, handing you a bottle with a pointed look until you drank. She complained that you were “hardheaded as hell” when you refused the granola bar she offered, then looked way too pleased when you eventually took half. She dimmed the lamp without asking, making the room softer around the edges.
Little by little, your body started to loosen.
You didn’t realize you had leaned against her until Paige went still.
Not stiff. Just aware.
Your shoulder was touching her arm, your head tilted close enough that if you moved another inch, you’d be resting against her. You froze, about to pull back, but Paige spoke before you could.
“You good.”
Two words. Quiet. Certain.
So you stayed.
Paige shifted carefully, giving you an easier angle, and your head ended up on her shoulder. Her hoodie was soft beneath your cheek. She smelled like laundry detergent and something clean and warm, and you hated how safe it made you feel because safety was dangerous. Safety made you want things. Safety made you soft.
Paige’s voice came low near your temple. “You comfortable?”
“No.”
She laughed under her breath. “Liar.”
You smiled faintly. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Your eyes opened.
Paige seemed to realize what she said at the same time you did, because the air changed immediately. Not uncomfortable. Just charged. Warm. Her shoulder shifted under your cheek, and when you looked up, her face was closer than you expected.
She looked down at you, eyes flicking briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.
Your breath caught.
Paige smiled, slow and unfair. “You nervous again.”
“Maybe you’re just annoying again.”
“Mm.” Her voice dropped slightly. “That what it is?”
You should have moved. You did not move.
The laptop kept playing some scene neither of you were watching. Paige’s gaze stayed on you, soft but confident, teasing but careful. Like she would keep going if you wanted, and stop the second you didn’t.
But then a yawn caught you off guard, sudden and deep, ruining the entire moment.
Paige blinked.
Then she started laughing.
You groaned, hiding your face against her shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Nah, that was crazy timing.”
“I hate my body.”
“Your body said wrap it up, lover girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why? You blushing?”
“I’m tired.”
“And blushing.”
You pinched her arm lightly.
“Ow,” Paige said, even though you barely touched her. “Assault after I opened my home to you.”
“Your home is a dorm room.”
“My sacred space.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And yet…” She let the sentence trail off, her cheek brushing lightly against the top of your head. “You still here.”
You were still there.
And somehow, against all odds, you started to fall asleep.
It didn’t happen quickly. Sleep never came to you like that. It approached slowly, suspiciously, like a stray animal deciding whether your hand was safe. You drifted, woke a little, drifted again. Each time your body startled itself back toward awareness, Paige was still there. Sometimes scrolling quietly on her phone. Sometimes watching the show. Sometimes murmuring something stupid just to make you smile without fully waking.
At some point, you felt her hand touch the blanket near your arm.
Not grabbing. Not trapping. Just there.
“Paige?” you whispered, barely awake.
“Yeah?”
“If I fall asleep… wake me if I’m bothering you.”
“You not bothering me.”
“But—”
“Y/N.”
You went quiet.
Her voice softened. “Sleep.”
And because she said it like she meant it, because the room was warm and the blanket was heavy and Paige was steady beside you, you did.
For maybe forty minutes.
Then the nightmare came.
It wasn’t always the same, but it always felt the same. Panic with no clean edges. A dream made of running and not moving, speaking and no sound coming out, reaching for something that kept getting farther away. You woke with a sharp inhale, body jerking like you had been dropped back into it. For a second, you didn’t know where you were. The room was dark. The laptop had gone quiet. Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Then Paige sat up beside you.
“Hey,” she said immediately, voice calm but alert. “Hey, you’re okay.”
You couldn’t answer. Your breathing was wrong, too fast, too shallow, and embarrassment crashed in almost as quickly as fear. You tried to pull away, but the blanket tangled around your legs.
Paige didn’t grab you. She moved into your line of sight, careful and steady. “Y/N, look at me.”
You tried.
“There you go,” she said softly. “You’re in my room. You’re safe. It was a dream.”
Your hands were shaking. You curled them into fists, trying to hide it, but Paige saw.
Of course she saw.
“Can I touch you?” she asked.
The question almost broke you.
You nodded.
Paige reached for your hand, slowly enough that you could pull away if you wanted. When you didn’t, she wrapped her fingers around yours and squeezed once. Her hand was warm. Real. Anchoring.
“Breathe with me,” she said.
“I can’t.”
“You can. You are.” Paige shifted closer, eyes locked on yours. “In through your nose. Slow. I got you.”
You followed her because it was easier than following yourself. In. Hold. Out. Again. Paige did it with you every time, patient in a way that made your chest ache. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look annoyed. She didn’t look like she regretted letting you stay.
She just looked there.
After a while, the room came back. The shape of the desk. The hoodie thrown over a chair. The water bottle on the floor. Paige’s thumb moving gently over your knuckles.
Your breathing evened out.
Shame came next.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Paige frowned. “Don’t do that.”
“I woke you up.”
“I wasn’t really asleep.”
“Still.”
“Y/N.” Her voice was firmer now. Not harsh. Just enough to stop you. “You had a nightmare. You don’t gotta apologize for that.”
You looked away, eyes burning.
Paige squeezed your hand again. “Look at me.”
You did, reluctantly.
Her face softened. “I’m serious. You don’t scare me. You don’t bother me. And I’m not sitting here thinking you’re too much.”
Your lips pressed together.
“I know that’s probably where your head goes,” she said, quieter. “But don’t put that on me. Let me tell you what I think.”
You swallowed. “What do you think?”
“I think…” Paige looked at you for a long second, and when she spoke again, her voice was gentle. “I think you’re tired. I think you been trying to handle something really hard by yourself for way too long. And I think I really wanna hold you right now, but I’m trying to be respectful and not make you pass out from stress.”
A laugh broke out of you before you could stop it, shaky and small.
Paige smiled. “There she is.”
“You’re so dumb.”
“Made you laugh.”
“I had a nightmare.”
“And I’m still funny.”
You wiped at your face, embarrassed when your fingers came away damp. Paige pretended not to notice in the kindest way possible, looking down at your joined hands instead of your tears.
After a moment, you whispered, “You can.”
Paige looked up. “I can what?”
“Hold me.”
Her expression changed.
Softened. Warmed. Went so open that you had to look away again.
“You sure?” she asked.
You nodded.
Paige moved slowly, giving you every chance to change your mind. She sat back against the pillows and opened one arm, and you shifted into her before you could overthink it. Your head found the space beneath her chin, your body tucked against her side, and Paige wrapped her arm around you like she had been waiting to do it all night.
Maybe longer.
For a few minutes, neither of you spoke.
Her hand moved gently up and down your back, slow enough to calm you but not so soft it tickled. Your ear rested near her chest, close enough to hear her heartbeat. It was steady. Strong. You focused on it until your own started to match.
“You okay?” Paige murmured.
You nodded against her hoodie. “Better.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What did I just say?”
You sighed. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying.”
Paige’s hand paused, then continued. “That counts.”
You smiled faintly.
Outside, the world was still asleep. Or maybe waking up. You had no idea what time it was, and for once, you didn’t want to check. The clock always made you feel like you were failing. Paige’s room didn’t. Paige didn’t.
After a while, you said, “You’re weirdly good at this.”
“At what?”
“Comforting people.”
Paige made a thoughtful sound. “I mean, I got siblings. Teammates. Been through stuff. You learn.”
“That was a real answer.”
“My bad.” Her voice turned teasing again. “I’m also just naturally gifted.”
You laughed into her hoodie. “There it is.”
“Can’t stay humble too long. Bad for my brand.”
“Your brand is being annoying?”
“And pretty. And elite.”
“And humble.”
“Exactly.”
You tilted your head up to look at her. It was a mistake. Paige was already looking down at you, face close in the dim light, hair messy, eyes soft in a way that made your brain go quiet for once. Her hand had stilled against your back.
“What?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never nothing.”
“I just…” You hesitated. “Thank you.”
Something flickered across her face. “You don’t gotta thank me.”
“I want to.”
Paige’s gaze dropped again, just briefly, to your mouth.
Your heart remembered how to be annoying.
She looked back at your eyes. “You always this sweet after nightmares?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“I’m not.” Her smile was small. “I’m just asking.”
“You always flirt with emotionally vulnerable people?”
Paige huffed a laugh, but her cheeks looked a little warmer. “Only when they cute and wearing my hoodie.”
You smiled. “So specific.”
“I got standards.”
You should have looked away.
You didn’t.
Paige’s hand moved slightly on your back, fingers flexing once like she was holding herself in place. “Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
“You gotta stop looking at me like that if you want me to behave.”
Your breath caught.
“Who said I want you to behave?” you whispered.
For once, Paige looked genuinely caught off guard.
It lasted half a second.
Then her smile turned slow, pleased, a little cocky. “Oh, okay.”
You hid your face immediately. “Forget I said that.”
“Nope.”
“Paige.”
“Nah, stand on it.”
“I was sleep-deprived.”
“You been sleep-deprived for weeks. That’s not a legal defense.”
You groaned into her chest while she laughed quietly, her arm tightening around you. The laughter helped. The teasing helped. Paige helped. She made the nightmare feel less like a monster and more like something that had happened, something you had survived, something that did not get to own the whole night.
Eventually, the room settled again.
You didn’t know how long you stayed curled against her. Long enough for your breathing to slow. Long enough for the last bits of panic to drain from your body. Long enough for Paige’s hand on your back to become familiar.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” you admitted quietly.
“That’s okay.”
“I want to.”
“I know.”
“It’s frustrating.”
“I know.”
You lifted your head slightly. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I do.”
“How?”
Paige looked at you for a moment, then shrugged. “Not the same way. But I know what it’s like when your body don’t trust peace. Like even when everything’s good, you still waiting for something.”
That landed somewhere deep.
You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“So we don’t force it,” she said. “We just chill. And if sleep happens, cool. If not, I’m still here.”
Your throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from panic.
“You’re gonna regret saying that when I keep you up until six.”
Paige smirked. “Ma, I’ve played overtime. I’m built for this.”
“This is not overtime.”
“You right. This harder. You way more stubborn than any defender I’ve seen.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re still smiling.”
You were.
She looked proud of that too.
The second time sleep came, it was softer. No dramatic fade. No sudden heaviness. Just Paige talking quietly about nothing, her voice low and familiar, her fingers tracing absent shapes over the blanket near your arm. She told you about a shot she should’ve taken. About how she missed being able to eat cereal at weird hours without someone judging her. About how she was absolutely convinced one of the managers was hiding the good snacks. You answered less and less until your replies became hums.
At some point, Paige whispered, “You falling asleep on me?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Shut up.”
“You want me to keep talking?”
You nodded against her.
So she did.
You didn’t remember what she said after that.
When you woke again, the room was pale with early morning. Not bright yet, but close. Your first instinct was fear, that automatic check for panic, for nightmare residue, for the heavy dread that usually came with morning. But this time, you were warm. Wrapped in a blanket. Tucked into Paige’s side, her arm still around you, her head tilted back against the pillow, mouth slightly open as she slept.
You stared.
Then smiled so hard it hurt.
Paige Bueckers, loudest person alive when she wanted to be, looked ridiculously peaceful asleep. Softer. Younger. Still unfairly pretty, which was annoying, honestly. One of her hands was resting near your waist over the blanket, loose and careful even in sleep.
You tried to move without waking her.
Failed immediately.
Paige stirred, blinking slowly. “You good?”
Her voice was raspy with sleep, and it did something terrible to your stomach.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
She frowned, eyes barely open. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
She studied you for a second through half-lidded eyes, then seemed satisfied. “You slept.”
“A little.”
“That’s a dub.”
You smiled. “A dub?”
“Big dub.” Paige shifted, pulling the blanket more securely around you like she wasn’t even thinking about it. “Might hang a banner.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You slept in my room one time and already disrespecting me in the morning.”
“I disrespected you before that.”
“True.” Her eyes opened a little more, and she smiled lazily. “Consistency. I like that.”
You were quiet for a moment.
Then you said, “Thank you for staying.”
Paige’s expression softened, sleep still clinging to her features. “Told you I would.”
“Most people say stuff like that and don’t mean it.”
“I’m not most people.”
“That was very humble.”
“I’m serious.”
You looked at her.
She looked back.
And yeah. She was.
“I know,” you whispered.
Paige’s gaze moved over your face, slower now, morning-soft and unguarded. “You scared?”
“Of what?”
“This.” Her thumb brushed lightly over the blanket near your side. “Me being here. You letting me.”
You thought about lying. You almost did. Then you remembered her voice in the dark, telling you not to pretend.
“A little,” you admitted.
Paige nodded. “Me too.”
That surprised you. “You?”
She gave you a look. “What, you think I’m just out here fearless?”
“Kinda.”
“Good. My image working.”
You laughed softly.
Paige smiled, but it faded into something more honest. “I don’t wanna mess it up,” she said. “With you.”
Your heart went very, very still.
“You won’t,” you said.
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” you agreed. “But I know you try.”
Paige watched you like that meant more than you realized.
Then, because she apparently couldn’t handle sincerity for too long, she said, “So… does this mean I’m officially part of your sleep routine?”
You groaned. “Paige.”
“What? I’m asking important questions.”
“You are not a weighted blanket.”
“I could be.”
“You have practice.”
“I also have elite cuddling potential.”
“Elite?”
“Everything I do is elite.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that like you not literally still cuddled up with me.”
You looked down and realized she was right, which was deeply unfortunate for your pride.
Paige grinned. “Caught.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you not.”
“I should.”
“You should rest.”
“I already slept.”
“For like, what, two hours?” She gave you a pointed look. “Don’t start acting brand new.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bossy in the morning.”
“I’m bossy all day.”
“True.”
Paige’s smile softened. “Stay a little longer.”
There it was again. That gentle honesty tucked beneath the teasing.
You felt yourself melt. Just a little.
“Okay,” you said.
Paige looked pleased but tried not to show it. Failed badly.
You settled back down, not quite as anxious this time. Your head found her shoulder again, and Paige adjusted like it was natural, like you belonged there, like her body had already learned the shape of yours. She pulled the blanket up, then rested her cheek lightly against your hair.
For a while, neither of you talked.
The sky outside got brighter. Somewhere down the hall, a door opened and closed. The day was beginning, whether you were ready for it or not. But for once, morning did not feel like proof you had lost the night.
It felt like you had made it through.
With Paige.
“You know,” Paige murmured after a while, voice still rough with sleep, “you really are pretty when you’re not fighting for your life at four a.m.”
You lifted your head. “That is the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
“What? I said you’re pretty.”
“You added trauma.”
“Context.”
“You’re so bad at this.”
“I’m actually great at this.” Paige’s eyes dropped to your lips again, quicker this time but not quick enough to miss. “You just picky.”
You went quiet.
Paige did too.
The air shifted for the second time in that room, but this time, neither of you hid behind a yawn or a joke. Paige’s hand was still around you. Your faces were close. Close enough that you could see the tiny details of her expression, the hesitation beneath the confidence, the question she wasn’t asking out loud.
You could have answered it.
Maybe you would have.
But then Paige’s phone alarm went off, loud and violent, making both of you jump.
You burst out laughing first.
Paige grabbed her phone with a groan, shutting it off. “I hate that thing.”
“That was so romantic.”
“Don’t play with me. I can recover.”
“Oh, can you?”
“Absolutely.”
She turned back to you, still half-asleep, hair messy, eyes warm, and somehow more charming because of how unpolished she looked.
Then she leaned in and kissed your forehead.
It was soft. Slow. So gentle it made your laughter disappear in your throat.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were faintly pink, but her expression was steady.
“There,” she said quietly. “Recovered.”
You stared at her.
Paige looked smug for about two seconds before nervousness flickered across her face. “Was that okay?”
Your heart squeezed.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “That was okay.”
“Good.”
“You’re still annoying.”
“And you still like me.”
You should have denied it.
You didn’t.
Paige’s smile grew, bright and sleepy and beautiful.
“Yeah,” she whispered, like she already knew. “Thought so.”
Later, you would still have bad nights. The insomnia would not magically disappear because Paige held you once. The nightmares would not suddenly decide to be kind just because someone cared. You knew that. Paige knew it too. There would still be nights where sleep felt impossible, where your body fought rest, where the ceiling became too familiar again.
But something had changed.
Because now, when the world went quiet and lonely, your phone would light up.
paige: u awake?
paige: don’t lie
paige: i can feel u being stubborn from here
And sometimes, when the nightmares were bad, you would call before you could talk yourself out of it.
And Paige would answer.
Always with that same sleepy, steady voice.
“Hey, ma. I’m here.”
Not a cure. Not a fix.
But a hand in the dark.
A voice reminding you that morning was not a failure.
A person who stayed.
And maybe that did not make sleep easy.
But it made the night less lonely.
And for now, that was enough.
ps: when did u get hot part 2 coming soon. <3 love yall
