❥ i currently am only writing paige bueckers x reader fics
smut masterlist
non-smut masterlist
(if there is a fic with no link on either of these, it means it is coming soon :))
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❥ this is just for funsies, so i write when i can or want to in my free time and publish as soon as they're finished :) i currently have a brain injury!!! i am still on limits for everything, and especially strict ones on screen time!! please have some grace w me!! some days are harder than others, but i’m trying my best to post as often as i can!!
❥ REQUESTS: i do take them and they are always open, however, i cannot guarantee that i will write every one.
❥ i will NOT write smut about minors, so anything with hopkins!p will contain no adult content :)
⚠️ DISCLAIMER! ⚠️
if one of my fics contains smut, it will more than likely be sub!paige. sometimes vers!paige, but those usually still include sub!paige themes. but the dynamic is ALWAYS included in the warnings (both for smut/non-smut) so quit comin in my inbox to hate on me. there are plenty of writers who don’t write sub!paige, but i am not one of them
not taking any accountability by saying you were inspired by other ppl and have seen larger age gaps so you thought it was okay is so fucking funny lmao
already was called out once by an anon and didn’t gaf too
HEY writing characters as adults when they hook up doesn’t make it any less weird that they met when one was SEVENTEEN and the other was FIVE. like what??? and it being fictional doesn’t make it okay either???
content: just a gazillion words of fan service i fear (it's me i'm the fan), perhaps slightly suggestive, i fired curt miller because he's ass, ummm just fluff like it's so sickening and im going to throw up, author forgot when chris koclanes got fired so lets just pretend it was during unrivaled even though that makes no sense and its probably really bad that they hire a new coach one month before the draft idk how front office bullshit works ok
wc: 4.3k
notes: and with that RD is officially completely done 😵💫 still can't wrap my mind around it but i am sorry this has taken me so freaking long to write. i was lowkey just unmotivated and forgot how words worked but here's a couple words for y'all. thank you for loving cam as much as i do but as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶
On the first day of vacation, Cam wakes to the feeling of fingers pressing gently into her sides. The soft, hushed murmur of Paige’s voice falls comfortingly over her, pulling her easily from her slumber. Her back aches from hours of sitting upright on the plane and she can feel the stiffness in her neck from the awkward angle of leaning her head against Paige’s shoulder for the duration of the flight and her nap, but she finds she doesn’t mind either of those discomforts too much when she opens her eyes to see Paige.
Her girlfriend has this sort of wide-eyed, quietly-in-awe look on her face as she leans over Cam’s body. The plane window is open, revealing miles upon miles of the Parisian cityscape, buildings lit up against the dark sky. When Cam looks a little closer, she can see the stunning visage of the Eiffel Tower standing tall beneath the stars. But when she looks back at Paige, she can see the twinkling, bright glow of amazement in her irises, and Cam can’t help but soften at the childlike-wonder in her gaze.
France is as much of a part of her as Georgia is. It’s home to half of her family – perhaps a half she doesn’t speak to any longer – but if there’s anything she learned from this past year, it’s that she can’t ignore who she is or push pieces of her to the side for comfort. Cam has visited frequently, has gazed up at the Eiffel Tower, wishing for something a little more than grueling basketball clinics or the weight of expectations, has become more than familiar with this country and how she fits into it, even if she feels a little more at home in Texas.
She knows with quiet certainty Paige has never seen Paris like this before. Sure, she’s been there for Team USA and surely for some other business trips, but being somewhere is different than being present somewhere. They had two weeks to spend in Paris together, to indulge and to be and to walk around the city together, with Cam regaling Paige with tales of her childhood and her family and the fond memories she has of her time here.
“Looks pretty from up here,” Paige whispers to her, unwilling to break the tranquility of the moment. They’d departed from Texas on an early flight and the both of them knew they’d have to deal with some disgruntled passengers if they woke them up. “I’m not usually awake whenever I’ve flown to Paris.”
Cam tears her gaze away from the monument, having seen it enough times she could paint it by memory. She cranes her neck to look at Paige, who’s still staring out of the window, lips parted slightly and her face completely relaxed. Loose strands of hair frame her face, having fallen out of her bun during the flight, and Cam lifts a hand to brush her fingers through the fine blonde strands as she responds. “What’s keeping you awake?”
Finally, Paige looks away from the window, and Cam is all too familiar with the softening in her eyes, the pure, unadulterated love in her expression. “Just excited,” she says, almost reminiscent of a kid on Christmas morning. She rests her hand over Cam’s thigh, squeezing gently. “I love our friends, you know? Turks was amazing. But I’m glad it’s just us right now.”
“Aw,” Cam teases, unable to resist. “You wanna get me alone so bad.”
Paige rolls her eyes, cheeks flushing. “Shut up, bro,” she mutters. “S’not even like that.” Still, a smile twitches on her lips, her amusement shining through. “When in Paris, I guess.”
“Nobody says that.”
“I do.”
“Okay, P,” Cam says placatingly, not interested in arguing in front of a bunch of tourists on the plane, even if it’s not really an argument. They were both just so competitive that they’d go on forever about whether or not anyone actually says when in Paris. Cam knows they don’t because the phrase is when in Rome, but she doesn’t think that’s an important conversation to have on the plane.
Still, Paige smiles like she’s won, and Cam’s grin only softens. She abandons Paige’s hair to intertwine their fingers together, leaning her head against her shoulder once more. “I did book us a private viewing session for the Eiffel Tower, though,” she tells Paige, and she feels the way her body shifts in surprise. It was meant to be a surprise, but she figures now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans.
“No guide?”
Cam scoffs, glancing up at Paige through her lashes teasingly. “What, you don’t trust me enough?”
“You still use the GPS to get to the Wings facility sometimes,” Paige says gently. “Sorry for being a little worried about your guide skills.”
Cam rolls her eyes. “It was one time. And it was from your place. You don’t let me drive.”
“‘Let’ is such a loaded word,” Paige mutters. “Makes me sound controlling.” Cam huffs out a quiet, amused laugh, and she presses her body a little further into Paige’s, feeling like she could go back to sleep. “Forreal, though – private? I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I pulled some strings,” Cam says plainly, which is really code for I paid a horrendous amount of money. Paige hums. Cam can feel the weight of her stare against her face and she knows that Paige knows she’s bullshitting, but she also feels the warm press of Paige’s lips against her cheeks, thankful.
A smile grows on Cam’s lips, and she holds onto Paige’s hand a little tighter as the pilot announces they’ll be landing shortly. Then, teasingly, Paige cranes her neck to whisper to her, “Is this the part where you teach me some French so I don’t look like a clueless American tourist?”
Cam laughs softly, meeting Paige’s eyes. “Could be. What do you wanna know?”
The mischief reflected in Paige’s eyes is just as bright as her affection. “A cuss word, obviously.”
“Oh, of course,” Cam says, “because the French people will love that.” Paige nods seriously, and the dimples on Cam’s cheeks pop out from the force of her smile. Easily, she loops the string of Paige’s hoodie around her finger, pulling her closer to press the softest of kisses to her lips in the dim lighting of the plane, everyone else too lost in their own worlds to care about them. Grinning, Cam breaks away to murmur, “Your first lesson is je t’aime.”
Paige raises a brow at her, cheeks flushing slightly. “What’s that mean?” she asks, even though Cam knows she knows what it means.
“It means you can’t guard me.”
“Mmm,” Paige says, unconvinced, although her smile twitches, amused and hopelessly in love. “Je t’aime you too, then.”
Paige’s lips are back on hers before she can respond – because they both knew Cam was going to say something smart – their kiss soft and chaste given their surroundings. Paige’s smile tastes a little sweeter when it’s pressed to her lips, and Cam knows this feeling isn’t something she’d give up for anything.
The vacation had been much needed and is over far too quickly, especially since the both of them were immediately swept up in offseason workouts, event appearances, and the general business of a professional athlete. Cam finds herself in California for a few days during summer training, working out with the next class of Stanford Cardinals. With Unrivaled around the corner, Cam finally gets around to adopting that third cat she’d once told Paige about.
Her name is Marianne – a beautiful white and grey ragdoll who’d taken to Paige instantly at the shelter. There was no way either of them could say no to her, especially with a name like Marianne, just like Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility. She’d fit right in with Gatsby. Bobby was still Bobby, but neither Bobby nor Gatsby minded their new sister any.
October rolls around, and with it comes Paige’s birthday. Cam finds herself in her kitchen at 7am making pancakes as quietly as possible so as to not wake up Paige, who she left sleeping in her bed. She’s mixed blueberries in the batter, turning parts of the pancake purple, and she carefully stacks the finished pancakes onto a plate, where she drizzles a generous helping of syrup. She leaves the dishes in the sink – that’d be a problem for later – and she carefully tiptoes her way back into the room.
The sight is enough to make her heart grow several sizes too big. Paige is stretched out across the bed, her cheek pressed flush to the pillow, a blonde halo of hair splaying out across the white fabric. The hand not trapped under the pillow carefully holds Marianne, who had been nothing but a clinger ever since Paige and Cam brought her home from the shelter. Bobby and Gatsby have already left the room to eat their breakfasts, and Cam can hardly wipe the smile off her face as she shuffles a little closer to her girlfriend.
“Paige,” she murmurs, balancing the pancakes in one hand as she reaches out with the other to skate her fingers along Paige’s skin. She presses one knee onto the bed, careful to not drop the plate as she hovers over her girlfriend. Cam whispers her name again, unable to keep the affection out of her gaze as Paige slowly blinks her eyes open, adjusting to the dim light in the room as she stares up at Cam. When her gaze finally focuses, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, a slow, lazy smile spreads across Paige’s lips. “Happy birthday, P.”
“Cam,” Paige says in awe. Her voice is raspy in the way it always is in the mornings, and it makes Cam’s body warm all over. Paige focuses on the pancakes, her gaze softening, then her eyes slowly drag along Cam’s body. She’d gone to bed in a loose tank top and a pair of what she’s certain are Paige’s sweatpants and she’s sure her hair is a little unruly from her bonnet, but Paige looks at her like she’s wearing a thousand dollar dress and she’s had her make up done professionally. “You didn’t have to do all this. Really.”
Cam gives her a look, and Paige’s smile grows, knowing. Her eyes focus on something on Cam’s face and amusement blooms on her face. Carefully, Paige pushes herself to a sitting position, and she reaches out for the plate of pancakes, where she sets them down carefully on the nightstand, right next to the photo of her and Cam from All-Star weekend.
“You know,” Paige murmurs, voice still a little rough as she pulls Cam easily onto her lap. Cam loops her arms around Paige’s neck, smiling, and one of Paige’s palms rests warmly on her hip, exposed by the material of her tank top, while the other reaches for her face. Her thumb brushes Cam’s cheekbone just as it had millions of times before. Paige is impossibly smug as she continues, “you still don’t gotta fight the flour sack for me. Woulda been happy with just the pancakes.”
Paige’s thumb comes away smudged in flour, and Cam can’t help but laugh as she remembers that morning so many moons ago where she’d baked Paige a cake, long before she knew what her feelings were or what they meant. They’ve come so far since then. Cam softens, inexplicably in love, and she presses her lips to Paige’s softly in response. It’s warm, unhurried, and reverent; Paige holds onto her hip a little tighter, pulling her flush against her body.
“Most people say thank you when their girlfriends go to war in the kitchen for them,” Cam teases when she pulls back.
A low laugh rumbles in Paige’s chest, and she kisses Cam again softly. “Thank you,” she says affectionately, and Cam can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s thankful for a whole lot more than the apparent kitchen battle. In lieu of a response, Paige just pulls her right back in, kissing her soundly and with a sort of tenderness that makes her feel weightless. Both of Paige’s arms wrap around Cam’s waist, fingers pressing into her skin, sighing at the warmth she finds unhidden by her tank.
The intensity grows gradually, their breaths becoming ragged as they get lost in one another. Cam is so content to forget, to let her surroundings wash away, to focus on nothing but Paige, her girlfriend, who’s celebrating her birthday, who will find that Cam can be more than generous.
Unfortunately, though, Paige eventually breaks their kiss, pushing Cam away from her with great difficulty. “Cam,” Paige says breathlessly, already affected. “Our daughter.”
Cam glances down at the bed to find Marianne still curled up next to the pillow, sound asleep and completely unbothered. She huffs, affectionate yet a little cockblocked, and she rolls off of Paige’s lap to scoop the cat up in her hands. Marianne jolts with an annoyed sound although she trots off happily to the food dish in the kitchen when Cam sets her down on the ground.
Cam shuts the door behind her, already working on pulling her tank top over her head, and the last thing she sees before she kisses Paige again is that lazy, smug smirk of hers.
The holiday season is busy as it usually is. With it being their first as a couple, both Cam and Paige spend it split between their families. A southern Thanksgiving finds Cam and Paige playing pick-up in the driveway with some of Cam’s younger cousins and extended family, while Christmas in Minnesota has Paige searching for any and every reason to bundle up with Cam. Naturally, nobody escapes without a snowball fight, one that Cam most definitely wins.
(She did not win, but Paige was the one who ran her a warm bath and made her hot cocoa and only complained a little bit when Cam pressed her freezing cold fingers to the back of her neck, so Cam likes to think she’s winning something).
Unrivaled was the part of the New Year Cam was looking forward to the most, especially because it meant she and Paige would get to play on opposite teams. Don’t get her wrong – Cam loves nothing more than playing with Paige, loves nothing more than the promise of the years they’ll spend together on the same team, but she enjoys competing against her, too. This season, Cam had been selected to the Mist, with Paige being one of the Breeze’s inaugural picks.
The Unrivaled season was full of countless shenanigans. In January, the media team catches Cam and Paige on the way to the locker rooms with a challenge neither of them could resist. There’s a carton of eggs on a table and Paige’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as she echoes, “Break the egg with my bicep?”
The media admin already has a shit eating grin on her face. “Paige doesn’t go to lift,” she says to the camera, seeing Paige roll her eyes from the corner of her eyes. “She won’t crack shit.”
“Bro, she’s lying,” she exclaims. “She thinks this–” Paige rolls up her sleeve and flexes, “–this doesn’t come from the gym? Aight.” Cam does have to admit she’s bulked up a lot over the offseason. She’d never say that to Paige though.
“Crack an egg, then,” Cam says, and Paige’s eyes narrow like it’s game on.
Paige reaches for an egg in the carton and angles her body over the towel laid out on the ground. She rolls her sleeve up again, positions the egg in the crook of her elbow, and she flexes, squeezing the egg in between her forearm and bicep.
And…
It doesn’t crack.
Paige huffs dramatically, already a little breathless, and Cam can see her face going red with effort as Cam fights to keep her expression neutral. She struggles for a few more moments, gasping, “This is not a real egg, bro!”
“It’s real,” Admin says, amused.
Eventually, Paige gives up, and the egg falls off of her arm and splatters against the ground with a satisfying crack. Paige stares down at it – yolk and all – with a deadpan, disbelieving expression. “Well, obviously it’s gonna break after I did all the work.”
“Right,” Cam agrees.
In wordless challenge, Paige hands Cam an egg, and she rolls up her sleeve to notch the egg near her bicep. She flexes, squeezing the egg between her arm and the muscle. It takes a little work but the egg eventually bursts and the taste of victory is so much sweeter than the disgusting, cold feeling of the yolk sliding down her arm.
Paige doesn’t talk to her after that, but Cam manages to butter her up in the locker room with the promise of dinner, which is always the way to Paige’s heart.
Cam’s birthday is on February 7th. She does have a game scheduled, but Cam can’t think of a better way to spend her birthday. Coley makes sure she’s there to watch Cam play the Phantom, and, obviously, Paige is there too, having the day off since she played the Hive the night prior. The game is neck and neck, fighting to the very last possession in the fourth quarter.
The game had been tied with the score at 81-81, both teams being 2 points away from taking the victory. Fittingly, it’s Cam who scores the game winner for Mist – a midrange jumper that she and Paige had workshopped together during Paige’s rookie season when they were spending nights together in the gym. She’s sure Cam and Coley are the loudest in the arena when the ball falls through the net, and the hug she and Paige share on the sidelines is only slightly better than the victory.
The three of them go out to dinner after the game. Paige and Coley fight over who gets to pay until they eventually agree that Paige can cover dinner if Coley covers dessert. Coley is far too smug as she swipes her card at the froyo place, and, admittedly, she is third wheeling a little bit, but even she doesn’t seem to mind this time.
They go their separate ways with Coley needing to catch a flight to New York for a photoshoot and Cam and Paige back to Cam’s Miami apartment, a place that Paige has spent most of her time at despite having an apartment of her own. There, they settle on a quiet night in with a movie on the TV, though the peace is eventually derailed by wandering hands and warm lips and Cam is sure this might have been one of her best birthdays yet.
The 1v1 Tournament begins a few days later. Paige, unfortunately, loses to Chelsea Gray in the quarterfinals, but Cam makes it to the finals where she’s facing off against none other than Chelsea Gray. Cam doesn’t think she’s ever been more motivated for anything else in her life, even though Chelsea does take the first round. Cam quickly comes back and takes the second and the third round and she’s named the second 1v1 Champion in Unrivaled history, which is pretty good if she does say so herself.
Not that it needed to be said, but she does fully intend on holding this against Paige if she ever gets too sassy. Like, remember that time in Unrivaled where you lost to Chelsea Gray but I held her to 0 points in a win or go home 1v1 match?
February gave way to March, where both the Breeze and the Mist had made it into the playoffs. Fate seems to have a sick, twisted sense of humor, as Cam and Paige have to play each other in the semifinals. Cam always knew this was a possibility – playing against Paige in an elimination game. They were both mature enough to move past whatever outcome, although she didn’t really have much to worry about when Paige asks her at half-court, “Loser buys dinner?”
After a convincing 73-69 victory over the Breeze, Paige buys Cam dinner. And two days after that, when the Mist take on the Phantom in the finals, it’s Cam’s turn to buy Paige dinner after the Mist are announced the year two champions.
The one thing sweeter, however, than being named an Unrivaled Champion? The news that not only had Chris and Curt been fired, but also that Lisa Leslie had been named the next general manager for the Dallas Wings and they were in the midst of hiring a new head coach for the season. Cam did find it a little funny that she was playing on the same basketball team as her girlfriend, the same team that was now being managed by who was effectively her step-mother, but she tried not to think too hard about it.
With Unrivaled over for the year, there was only a short amount of time before the 2026 season was underway. The CBA negotiations took up the brunt of that time, but they were extremely successful. It was historic for the league, truly signifying a new era for the sport, and Cam couldn’t help but be so grateful to be a part of it.
April arrives quickly. UCLA blows out South Carolina to win the national championship, led by a hungry senior core that had no plans of leaving college without a ring. Following the hire of their new head coach, the Wings made some excellent free agency moves, most notably in Alanna Smith, Jessica Shepard, and Alysha Clark. Cam and Paige are overwhelmingly busy in the days leading up to the draft, but when they finally make it to New York to welcome in the 2026 class, Cam can’t help but feel like she’s made it.
Cam has always loved draft night.
There’s something so bittersweet, yet so impossibly exciting about it. She attended her first one in 2019 to support her Stanford teammate, Alanna Smith, who was drafted 8th overall to the Mercury. Cam was a rising junior when she heard Alanna’s name be called, when she watched her walk to the stage and pose with the jersey, when she realized just how monumental it is.
The last one she attended was in the spring of 2025. Truthfully, she didn’t expect much to come out of it. She was there to support the rookies, to congratulate them on making it this far, to be the kind of support she wished she had when she was a rookie trying to navigate the big leagues. Cam watched as Paige Bueckers was drafted first overall by the Wings – her team, and how she hugged everyone at her table and carefully braced a hand over her chest because for all of her NIL money, she couldn’t seem to afford a shirt.
Sleeping with Paige on draft night certainly hadn’t been part of the plan. Nor was that paradoxical, carefully reckless relationship of theirs that burned until they gave into it. Life, however, seems to have a way of coming full circle, because Cam is attending the 2026 WNBA Draft with Paige, her girlfriend of a little over eight months; with Alanna Smith, who is now her teammate once more thanks to Paige’s free agency pestering (okay, Cam had pestered a little, too); and with Lisa Leslie, the new general manager of the Dallas Wings.
Simply put, Cam was over the moon. There wasn’t much that could take away this happiness from her, not even the startlingly neon green Wings draft caps. She’s standing backstage with the aforementioned cap resting gingerly over her curls, her gaze locked on the TV broadcasting the analyst’s discussion about the potential number one picks – as though there was truly a debate – when her phone buzzes in her back pocket.
Alysha: Cam, I want you to know I have dibs on this rookie
Alysha: I have to protect her from you
Cam: Protect her from WHAT
Paige: Yeah protect her from what ?
Paige: I love it over here
Zaza: call your uber
Maddy: What does that even mean
Cam: I’m ignoring Paige on purpose
Paige: Rude
Cam: She’s all yours Alysha
Cam: But don’t be jealous when she wants to learn from a real vet
In lieu of a response to that, Alysha sends a picture of her hand, weighed down by three championship rings. Cam’s lips twitch, amused, and all she can muster is a thumbs down emoji as she pockets her phone. THE PICK IS IN is emblazoned across the screen as the cameras pan to Cathy Engelbert, who marches her way across the stage to stand at the podium.
Cam knows who they’re drafting. Cam knows that she knows she’s being drafted. All she feels is an overwhelming excitement – she signed with the Wings on a lengthy deal, making her the highest paid player in franchise history; she and Paige were both thriving and healthy; and the Wings made positive front office and coaching staff changes. They were moving in the right direction and Cam is so ready for this upcoming season.
Draft night is a monumental moment. Cam knows that as well as she knows that she loves this city and this team. It’s a feeling that doesn’t disappear, although it’s one that only grows when Cathy finally announces, “With the first pick in the 2026 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select… Azzi Fudd, University of Connecticut.”
As the venue rouses in ovation, clapping and cheering for Azzi, there is only one thing Cam knows for sure: year six is going to be her best one yet.
#supportfarmers bc user iluvbuckets is currently standing in a field with 2 sweatshirts and a winter coat on hoping the feeling in her hands and feet returns soon 💔
synopsis: three times paige should have kissed azzi, and one time she actually did.
notes: paige is a LOSER. azzi thinks that's hot. paige isn't sure if azzi is flirting with her, and she also isn't sure if she's flirting back. both are a definite yes.
----
two people had already asked paige if she and azzi were dating. aziaha, two weeks ago; jessica, last thursday. that’s why it was particularly humiliating when she got a text from arike at two in the morning, having just returned from a group hangout at alanna’s place downtown.
arike: so…
arike: u n azzi?
not this shit again. paige threw her head back against her headboard with a sigh.
chillllll bro
it’s a vibe
she couldn’t think of any better way to explain what was happening. they didn’t really hang out alone, but they texted a lot. and flirted. paige was trying beyond comparison to be chill and normal, and was doing her damnedest to not hit on her.
the only problem was that azzi fudd was jawdropping. paige had never in her life seen someone that gorgeous. to make things worse, she had a thing for talent, and the way azzi could shoot– paige got genuine heart palpitations watching her sink shots in practice.
they were only a year apart, but azzi was her fellow number-one-draft-pick and her rookie of a whopping one month. it was stupid to have a crush on her, stupid to send her dumb jokes and to hang around her after practice as much as possible. paige should be leading. paige should be setting examples.
well if she was leading the homo brigade and setting examples on how to look pathetic, she was doing a pretty good job.
arike: wait did u know each other in college?
no, paige replied, too quick. the answer was more complicated than that; of course paige had known who azzi was in college. they’d played each other a handful of times. but college-paige had only cared about one thing while on the court: a natty. azzi was nothing more than another player to scout, some straight girl with a good shot.
only, azzi wasn’t straight. and she was certainly no longer just another player that paige could ignore.
sure, she’d seen the headlines back in the day– bueckers vs fudd, who will carry their team to victory– but it was all some bullshit.
arike: bullshit 😂
arike: [picture attached]
paige squinted. it was a picture of her and azzi at some conference, azzi mid laugh at something and paige making a face.
dang, paige had no clue where that had been taken. she’d given so many speeches with so many players over the years, made so much small talk– it could have been taken the week prior and paige wouldn’t have had the faintest idea.
i dont even remember that bro fr fr
arike: she looks mad good tho
yeah
arike: 😂🫵
shut up. paige locked her phone, rolling her eyes. bait.
after about three seconds, she unlocked it again, re-opening the picture and zooming in a little on azzi. dang, she really did look good.
arike: don’t look too hard at it. you gotta look her in the eye at practice tomorrow ;)
kill yourself, paige shot back, locking her phone again and throwing it on her nightstand. it buzzed once more, but she refused to look.
laying on her back and staring at the ceiling, she rested her hands on her chest. stupid. her heart beat against her palms.
she closed her eyes, deciding to fall asleep. the image of azzi sprung into her mind, mid-smile, bathed yellow in the living room light. her mind supplied a little glint in her eye, a detail of a freckle on her cheek, a little curl by her ear. her heart rate sped up, pounding against her hands.
“fuck,” she groaned. this was bad. she should not be thinking this much about azzi. but at the end of the night… she let herself flash back to earlier.
…
if you asked paige what project hail mary was about, she’d be able to give you about a two word summary. first word: azzi. second word: fudd.
the team was getting to know each other with all the new additions, hanging out at alanna’s house and watching a movie. it was literally nothing special– alanna just happened to have the biggest space to hang out, and they ordered food to eat and lounged around.
half the team was off to the right, talking at the kitchen table in the next room. the remainder were huddled in the living room around two bowls of popcorn.
when the movie started, paige was cognizant of about thirty seconds of science fiction freakiness before her gay brain took over entirely. azzi sat directly to her left, muscular arm brushing against paige’s, thigh pressed into hers. she didn’t seem to be aware of how close they were, at all, which was unfortunate because the situation was a little catastrophic for paige.
she exhaled a little strangely and winced. smooth. nice.
it was honestly ridiculous, feeling her stomach jolt at the feeling of a pretty girl next to her. paige had cuddled with plenty of girls on couches before, had lounged around with tons of her friends. she should know what to do with her hands, should be able to keep her anxious stomach in check.
but azzi was a category that paige couldn’t define; one year paige’s junior, and her athletic equal, paige felt responsible for ensuring her well-being. paige also felt like her brain melted like a popsicle every time azzi spoke words to her. which was unfortunate, because that was a lot.
if this was a date, or if azzi was anyone but paige’s coworker that she was sitting with at a group function, paige would have leaned right into the touch and played along. if azzi were her longtime friend, paige would have manspreaded into her space to try to get on her nerves. but azzi was neither, and paige couldn’t decide how to act, so she just sat there, stiff.
paige’s internal monologue was as follows: arm. she smells good. her hair is brushing my shoulder. can she feel how fast i’m breathing from the rise and fall of my shoulder? arm. thigh. dang, she really smells good. should i kill myself?
after about twenty minutes, azzi grew visibly uncomfortable. she shifted her torso away from paige, against the armrest of the couch, and drew her feet up to where they stopped just shy of resting on paige’s legs.
paige stared really hard at her feet. she wanted to ask her– was it weird?
no, it was weirder to overthink it. it was a friendly gesture, a kind gesture. they were hanging out. it was chill.
“azzi,” she muttered. the brunette turned towards her, eyes wide and expectant. “stretch your legs out.”
azzi’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. trying to stop her cheeks from pinkening, paige patted her own lap. here.
azzi smiled gratefully, understanding. she shifted her body so that her back was against the armrest, legs splaying across paige’s lap.
bzzz. bzzz. paige’s phone vibrated violently from her pocket. her eyes snapped up, scanning the room. aziaha, who was sitting on a chair to their right, was pointedly raising an eyebrow at her.
aziaha: bro….
aziaha: be fr
paige stole a frantic glance at azzi to see if she was watching paige’s screen. which she wasn’t, clearly. why would she be?
dude chill i’m just helping her be more comfortable
aziaha: wouldn’t have done ts for me 🤨
ur feet stink like poo
she smells like sunshine and rainbows
aziaha: there’s a word for the likes of you and it rhymes with bomosexual
i swear bro i swear
don’t even know her middle name stop talking crazy
of course paige knew her middle name. her middle name was jazlyn. she’d found that out when she’d looked up azzi fudd on google, and also azzi fudd college highlights, and also azzi fudd from where and what perfume smells like jasmine but like better and valentino born in roma perfume and is there a born in roma cologne. she’d gotten distracted.
okay, jesus. she needed to focus.
ryan gosling, in the movie, was wearing a really distracting yellow coat that made paige think of curious george. they were saying something about the sun dying, and paige wondered if they made him yellow on purpose. like the sun. that was dying. maybe he was going to die later in the movie, and it was foreshadowing.
she kept trying to see him as a serious scientist, but she couldn’t stop thinking of him as ken from barbie. this was Depressed Ken, maybe. he was certainly dressed the part, in some bullshit a depressed person would pull from their closet without thinking twice.
her brain launched into an impromptu performance of i’m just ken, and she lost track of a decent amount of minutes before she came crashing back online.
azzi’s legs were shifting uncomfortably again. don’t move, she wanted to say, but that would be pathetic.
“you uncomfortable?” she murmured. stupid. clearly, azzi was uncomfortable.
“yeah,” azzi whispered. “this armrest is really hard.”
“that’s what she said,” paige whispered back. azzi socked her on the arm.
aziaha sat up straight. “what are y’all whispering about over there? i’m getting fomo.”
“i’m wondering if there’s a pillow i could use? the armrest is kind of hard,” azzi asked.
at the conversation, everyone’s heads turned towards them. paige suddenly became incredibly aware of the two legs draped across her thighs, of the way her hands laid on top of them awkwardly.
shit. she desperately did not want to seem like she was trying to make moves on the rookie, regardless of how incredibly badly she wanted to make moves on the rookie.
“just use paige,” aziaha suggested. to azzi, she might have looked genuine, but to paige, who’d known her longer, she could see the shit-eating smile aziaha was trying to hide. she narrowed her eyes at her.
“hey!” she complained.
“paige got all that muscle now. go head and put it to good use.” paige was going to smack her the next time she got within arm’s reach.
azzi’s eyes flicked down for a second. paige unintentionally flexed a little. “yeah, alright.” azzi decided, shifting herself around.
paige’s mind went full blown static as azzi laid down on her lap, on her back, head facing the screen and feet hanging over the armrest. it was a wonder sparks didn’t fly out of her head by the way that she was short-circuiting. azzi’s head was warm against paige’s thighs, flyaways brushing her bare skin with every breath.
paige had the horrible urge to smooth her hands over azzi’s head, to play with her hair and scratch her scalp, and then she decided that she needed to die. honestly, she genuinely didn’t know how azzi was comfortable, but she wasn’t about to ask and risk her moving.
she needed to distract herself, stat. could azzi hear her heartbeat in her thighs? was that a thing? because that could be a problem. clearing her throat, she squinted at the television and tried to pay attention again.
on the screen, ryan gosling was having an existential crisis in a tunnel while eating some shit from a thermos. then, he was staring really hard at a plaque. then, he was doing some sciency shit in a lab coat that tried to cover up the world’s ugliest striped sweater.
the best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time, paige’s brain sang. she snorted out loud. that was a good spongebob reference.
azzi turned her head so she was looking up at paige.
“what?” she asked, quiet. christ, she was beautiful. and really near paige’s crotch. enough.
paige blinked back at her.
“what’s funny?” azzi tried again, whispering.
“nothing,” paige muttered, “was thinking about something else.”
that seemed to be good enough for azzi, who rolled back over. paige spent the next few minutes thinking about the shape of azzi’s lips and pretending that she wasn’t.
paige’s leg started to feel numb. azzi, bless her heart, was completely restricting blood flow to her lower left extremity. unfortunately, paige would rather die than kick a beautiful girl out of her lap, and she didn’t want to look fucking stupid, so she resolved herself to ignoring it and hoping her leg would figure it out.
“wait, why is he on a plane?” azzi turned again, asking under her breath.
“i really couldn’t tell you,” paige admitted. “i’ve been thinking about how to get the last piece of popcorn from that bowl without moving your head.”
azzi’s mouth curved upwards into a small smile. she reached her hand out and grabbed the last piece, holding it in front of paige’s face. the demons in paige told her to take it with her mouth, but she was a rational human being, and she let azzi drop it into her hands.
“isn’t it cold now?” azzi asked.
“eh,” paige shrugged, “like, room temperature. it’s still nice and salty, and that’s what matters.”
azzi wrinkled her nose. “makes me too thirsty.”
“good thing you have a water then, thirsty girl.”
thirsty girl? was paige fucking serious?
azzi snorted. she was fully looking up, then, not paying any attention to the movie. paige stared at her, hoping the dim lighting of the room was enough to cover the way she greedily drank in the sight of all of azzi’s face.
“what’s he doing now?” azzi whispered.
paige, with great effort, tore her eyes away from azzi to look at the screen. “he’s standing in front of a room of people who look like they’re in the military.”
azzi listened for a second. “i keep hearing ken whenever he opens his mouth.”
paige’s head snapped back down. “right?”
“he was just so good in that role. it ruined any of his other movies for me.”
“he was the perfect casting,” paige agreed.
they looked at each other. dang, paige’s leg was really numb.
paige was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to bend down and kiss her, awkward and mismatched, uncaring of anything but the feeling of their lips against each other. she held azzi’s gaze, dark and unblinking, and her thoughts started moving a million miles a minute.
no, she shouldn’t. azzi was her fucking rookie, for god’s sake, and who knows what the team, let alone the rest of the world, would have to say about it. and it would be ridiculous to do it right there, in front of everyone. she’d never in her life gotten the impulse for such drastic pda.
but she wanted to.
azzi’s tongue darted out and wet her lower lip. paige followed the movement with her eyes, eyelids falling just a fraction.
there was a sudden warmth at the corner of paige’s mouth, and she startled as she realized that azzi’s gentle thumb was brushing at her skin.
“salt,” azzi murmured in explanation, like she hadn’t just given paige a heart attack. paige wanted her to do it again. the way azzi looked at her lips, the feeling of her soft and sweet, was intoxicating.
paige’s breath caught in her chest, and her mind went a little blank, and–
she hissed loudly, leg jolting hard. fucking pins and needles, jesus christ, her entire leg was being stabbed–
azzi shot up. “what? oh my god, are you okay?”
even through the pain, paige felt immediately cold. “yes, yeah, pins and needles.”
someone paused the movie. “paige, bro, what–”
“pins and needles,” she groaned again, louder, “ignore me, play the movie.”
azzi laughed in her face, the rest of the team joining in. azzi patted her thigh gently.
“fuck,” paige muttered, “sorry.” she tried to give her a sheepish smile.
“s’okay,” azzi shrugged, “my fault.” she knocked her shoulder against paige’s, turning back to the tv. paige needed to get her fucking act together.
____
TWO:
paige had now known azzi for two and a half months. in the last week, alanna and jj had both singled her out to inquire about the status of her and azzi’s relationship; she’d had to tell them both a miserable no.
with how chill all of her teammates were being about it, she figured that the whole “azzi is a rookie” hangup didn’t hold much water now. paige herself had only been in the league for one measly year, as arike liked to remind her.
the point was that that was a good thing, because she was now pretty sure that azzi was flirting with her.
she wasn’t positive, of course– it was very much a possibility that paige’s own delusional thoughts were misinterpreting azzi’s actions entirely. maybe azzi was looking for a super close best friend when she texted paige good morning with a little sun and a heart every day. they clicked so well on and off the court, it would make sense.
but paige had to let hope cloud her vision a little, especially at times like this, where–
arike: bro where did u guys go
arike: always disappearing somewhere together i swear
arike: this my own house
arike: don’t desecrate it
woah woah calm down
we’re just talking in the driveway
arike: don’t wanna watch the fireworks out back with the team?
we’re having fun
ur buffalo chicken dip is fire
arike: of course it is
arike: come inside and eat my wife’s dessert before i whoop you both
be there in a minute mom
arike was hosting the team for a fourth of july party. everything was going well this season, and the wings were coming off a much-needed win. they were celebrating in the dallas heat, everyone a little happy and sweaty.
there’s a line paige remembered from to kill a mockingbird about the southern heat, something about the ladies being like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum. she said as much to azzi, who looked at her kind of funny. it sparked a conversation about whether or not talcum was a carcinogen, a topic on which neither of them were particularly knowledgeable.
the point of her thought process was that azzi looked sweet and shiny and smelled really good, and paige kind of wanted to eat her whole.
as previously mentioned, half the season gone by had done wonders for getting rid of the azzi-is-a-rookie nerves. paige tried not to be corny, but azzi fit into her life in a way that she never expected her to. they had similar interests, hobbies, and humor, and they became practically inseparable. sports media adored them, calling them all kinds of names and gushing over their chemistry.
it wasn’t something paige was proud of, having a fat and massive crush on azzi, but it was truly impossible not to. the more she’d gotten to know her, the worse it had become. she kept expecting azzi to do something weird and offputting that would change the way paige felt, but paige was endeared to all of her quirks. they just fit together.
time after practice was spent grabbing food together, time off on the weekends was spent hanging out with each other’s friends, and time before bed was spent texting back and forth about whatever crossed their mind. it was nice.
dressed in a striped blue tube top and little shorts, azzi looked like a muscled vision sitting next to paige on the pavement. her knees were drawn up to her chest, chin resting atop one. paige had been resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her for about twenty minutes straight.
paige looked like an idiot in a white wifebeater and massive firetruck-red jorts, her butt in genuine pain from digging into the driveway. she probably had pebbles stuck up her crack. not really. but it felt like that. that was the common theme with paige when it came to azzi; she was stupid around her. every time she considered making a move, she managed to make herself feel so dumb that she thought azzi would get weirded out.
“i just think it’s unrealistic for king kong to be that massive. like, think of evolution. everything got small again before apes even evolved,” paige complained.
“not everything,” azzi disagreed, “think about whales.”
“yeah, but that’s underwater. they got their own freaky shit going on down there. i’m talking about on land.”
“well, why don’t you have a problem with godzilla?”
“because they didn’t make godzilla a massive fucking ape. massive fucking ape implies real-world evolution.”
“they probably have some logic for it. maybe he got chemicals spilled on him, or he was part of a species of giant apes living on an island and he was the last one, or something,” azzi mused.
azzi rolled her eyes, but paige could see her biting back a smile.
a loud popping sound rang out, and they both winced.
“oh– there, there!” azzi pointed, excited. the house diagonal from arike’s must have been setting off fireworks from their backyard, because the sparks were loud and massive.
azzi’s eyes were wide as she looked up at the trailing colors streaking the sky. she looked beautiful, calm and happy, fully at peace in the moment. paige studied the way the lights fizzled out in the reflection on azzi’s pupils.
on instinct, she moved her pinky so that it overlapped azzi’s. azzi turned to her, then; paige couldn’t tell if her cheeks were a little pink in the fading light or if it was a lingering beam from the almost-set sun.
“this is romantic,” azzi said quietly.
paige blanked, eyes widening. “what,” she said, more caught off-guard than a question.
“i mean,” azzi clarified, flustered, “like, y’know, in the sense of the word where it means something pretty. like romanticize. like it– it just feels really lovely.” she tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
right. sure.
“i guess it could also be romantic,” azzi was definitely blushing, “with the right person.”
“yeah,” paige agreed, dumbly. she didn’t know why she said what she said next, but she did. “at my family’s cabin in minnesota, we used to go to the lake every fourth of july. my dad and my stepmom, well, my first stepmom, used to always stop what they were doing and kiss at the first firework.”
azzi leaned her shoulder against paige. “that’s really sweet.”
paige laughed. “yeah, i mean– they didn’t work out, clearly, but i always kinda wanted to do that some day. have a family, have a woman i love, make up stupid reasons to kiss each other. y’know.”
azzi’s pinky twitched underneath paige’s. “my dad does something similar,” she said. “he does this stupid thing called pancake kisses, where he makes pancakes on saturday mornings, and he kisses my mom once for every pancake she eats.”
paige grinned. “i could get behind that. i eat a lot of pancakes.”
“oh, you wouldn’t be the one making them?”
“depends. which would you prefer?” paige asked.
“i like waking up to the smell of batter and eggs,” azzi admitted.
“then i change my mind. i’d be the one making them.”
“whatever,” azzi grumbled, but she looked away and tried to hide a pleased smile.
“are you someone who,” paige cleared her throat, “really likes things like that?”
azzi thought about it for a second before nodding. “yeah, i mean. my parents have always been like that, so i guess it’s by example. i just think it’s so sweet, always doing things to keep the relationship special,” she paused, “what about you?”
“probably, for the right person. i like keeping things fun. and i like to make people i care about feel appreciated,” paige admitted.
azzi made a playfully intrigued face. “good to know.”
“taking notes?”
“maybe. you want me to?”
paige choked a little on her own spit, and tried to pass it off by clearing her throat. “wouldn’t complain.”
“then i’ll jot it down, boss.”
“perfect.”
“aren’t i?”
“yeah.” paige should kill herself. what the hell was she even saying? she couldn’t flirt for shit. was this flirting? jesus, what if azzi wasn’t even flirting?
“i get that a lot,” azzi sighed, scooting a little closer to paige so their sides pressed together fully, “usually in more,” she paused, “intimate context.”
nope, azzi was flirting.
“oh?”
“you heard me.”
paige laughed softly. “i’ll jot it down, boss.”
“perfect.”
the conversation lulled for a moment. another round of fireworks went off, red and spiraling high into the air before exploding. paige took a moment to appreciate what a blessing it was that she was able to be there, seeing something beautiful, warm and full of something like hope, with someone she cared about.
she turned to face azzi. she kind of wanted to see the awe on azzi’s face as she looked up at the lights, to trace the curves of her face in mental graphite and commit it to memory forever. azzi, though, was already looking at her, eyes deep and dark.
“you look pretty,” azzi whispered.
which was ridiculous, because azzi was making paige’s heart functionally arrhythmic in her chest. paige couldn’t even think of the words to rebut that, just let her eyes drag down azzi’s frame and back up to her face. she raised an eyebrow as if to say really? coming from you?
azzi scrunched up her nose and smiled. paige felt a little breathless, a little captivated. jesus christ, she wanted to lean in so badly. she was fairly sure that azzi wanted her to. she let herself imagine moving forward, capturing azzi’s lips in hers, cupping her jaw and finally, finally, kissing her.
azzi blinked up at her slowly, and paige’s pinky curled around azzi’s. her heart fluttered against her chest like a caged bird, violent and frenzied.
she wanted it bad. she wanted it like an angel pleading for its fucking wings.
but they were sitting outside of arike’s house. in public, on the pavement, in front of the windows, where anyone could be watching. she couldn’t. she couldn’t do it right there.
azzi stared at her for a second like she was still processing her words. “yeah,” she said, slowly.
“we’re dead,” paige groaned, “they’re gonna give us shit for the next week.”
“yeah,” azzi repeated, brushing off whatever haze she was in. she shook her head and stood up, facing the door. “nice night, huh?”
paige brushed her hands off as she scrambled to stand up, too.
“let’s go eat lala’s dessert,” azzi said, turning away and walking.
that was abrupt, paige thought. did she look a little disappointed? shit.
azzi made it to the door, opening it and waiting for paige.
“one second, i need to tie my shoe. go on ahead,” paige lied, waving azzi in. the younger woman disappeared through the door.
“fuck!” paige cursed, kicking a rock on the pavement. “stupid!”
__
THREE:
it was the beginning of august. count of people who’d asked paige if she and azzi were together: fourteen. her mother, for one. her college best friends. the trainer. her dietician. name them, and they’d asked paige if she’d had her tongue three thousand leagues down the length of azzi’s gullet. it was beginning to piss her off, honestly. if that wasn’t obvious.
don’t say a word.
arike: wasn’t gonna
arike: later… 😏
NOTHING later. i will kill you. with a gun.
arike: hey man
arike: you’re digging your own grave
the team were sitting around a table, plenty of drinks for everyone. the place was a nice one, crisp black tabletops and comfortable chairs. they’d even given the table a bowl of chips to snack on, which paige was pleased with. the music was fairly loud, enough to really worm into paige’s brain when she finished her second beer, but it was nothing unpleasant.
underneath the table, azzi’s hand was on paige’s thigh.
it had started with her turning to the side, quietly complimenting paige’s rings while the rest of the team were arguing about something. paige had shown them to her, and she’d leaned in to get a better look, and paige had lost her breath at the proximity and felt like a fucking loser.
azzi said, “i like the one that spins. i always need something to fidget with.”
paige replied, “feel free,” and stuck her hand out. azzi giggled, dragging her fingernail up paige’s hand to the ring on her middle finger. she spun it gently once, twice, and gave paige a grateful smile.
paige tried to tune back into the conversation after that, but she noticed that her and azzi’s chairs seemed inexplicably closer. she tried to laugh at something alanna was saying, tried to make fun of aziaha, but her brain kept replaying that little tilt of azzi’s lips.
she was wearing this really shiny gloss that somehow hadn’t come off as she sipped her cocktail with a straw, and she also smelled really nice, and–
paige felt a finger trail across her knuckles. her eyes shot down to her lap, where her hands rested, and she saw azzi’s hand gently stroking her way back up to paige’s ring. paige felt her face pinken, and her free hand nervously came up to stroke at her ponytail.
she stole a glance at azzi, but azzi was turned forwards, intently listening to the conversation in front of them. her hand was as low as possible, trying to be discreet– and she knew paige would let her. paige felt hot.
not five minutes later, azzi’s fingers drew a sharp path down, onto paige’s lap.
paige looked over, eyes widening in question, and azzi breathed a laugh. “these rips are bothering me.”
rips? what rips?
right. the rips in her jeans. paige begged her brain to come back online. “what, you want them bigger? can’t see enough of me?”
not that online, jesus christ. middle ground. middle ground.
azzi’s eyelids lowered just a fraction, barely noticeable. “no, the little white strands that come off of them– they’re all tangled.”
“so detangle them,” paige muttered, shifting her attention back to arike. the older woman was complaining about her brother-in-law, something about coming over to her house to detail his own car in her driveway.
azzi didn’t need to be told twice. for a few minutes, she tugged on the outside of the rips, combing fingers through and separating them. she didn’t even look down as she did, just felt around paige’s thigh for the next rip and kept moving.
when she finished tugging on the strands, her fingertip would circle the tear gently, as if seeking out another strand to focus on. if there were none there, she’d stay there for a minute, softly stroking the skin of paige’s thigh. she’d start with the pad of her finger, little lines, then edge it over to her fingernail, drawing little shapes. when she was bored of that, she’d go back to stroking, a little firmer and bolder.
it only became a problem when she reached one particularly close to the inside of paige’s thigh. the top half of paige wanted to jerk away– not appropriate for team dinner– and the bottom half of paige wanted– well. it wanted.
a bit more forcefully than she would have liked, she brought her hand over top of azzi’s, forcing it flat and stopping her movements.
alanna turned towards her questioningly, looking down. paige drew her hand back up, tucking her hair behind her ear. she tried so hard to be nonchalant that her elbow knocked against the top of azzi’s chair, and she ended up extending her arm across it.
great. now her arm was practically around azzi. subtle! cool!
it definitely did not help her case. clearly, nobody cared about what was going on between them, but paige was still nervous. it was rude, if anything, to be overly absorbed in one person at a group hangout.
what also definitely did not help her case was the fact that azzi didn’t move her hand at all. for the next hour, azzi’s hand just rested on top of her thigh, tightening minutely as she laughed, absentmindedly fidgeting, and paige felt as red as a tomato and twice as wet as one. or whatever.
past a certain point, she could almost forget about it; then, azzi would crack a joke too loud, and someone’s eyes would move from her face down to where her arm was slightly too far away from her own body, and someone would raise an eyebrow at her. whatever! whatever.
slowly, people peeled off, paying for their own meals and excusing themselves to go home. eventually, it was just arike, paige, and azzi.
paige was grateful that arike was there– she and azzi weren’t paying any special attention to each other, and minus the hand on her thigh, the interactions between them were perfectly friendly. it was three people settling deeper into their dynamic, talking life and firsts and basketball, and it was chill.
it wasn’t even her fault that her and azzi had parked next to each other, and arike had parked down the street.
when they left the bar, she and azzi lingered outside of their respective cars for a few minutes too long. paige leaned against her door, a casual elbow resting on her side mirror.
“arike’s so funny,” azzi said quietly, lips curving upward.
jesus, she was beautiful. paige’s brain took a mental snapshot. the short distance between them felt much bigger after their proximity all night, and paige wanted so badly to touch her again, to be close to her.
“she’s aight,” paige shrugged, a lopsided smile on her face. “you know she’s real stubborn sometimes.”
“aren’t we all?” azzi asked with a laugh, and paige nodded.
“for real, though, you’re really lucky to have her as your vet. on the personal level, she’s been through it all. ups, downs, getting overlooked….anger issues,” paige said, seriously.
azzi snorted. “and being a lesbian. publicly. that’s pretty cool.”
“everyone’s a lesbian, bro.”
“yeah, but not everyone is open about it. i’m not. it’s brave.”
paige had to agree. “yeah. it is.”
“especially because, y’know, until recently nobody really watched us. the stereotype was that we were all dykes. nobody wanted to watch a league full of dykes. and now they do watch us, and there’s so much hatred being brought into our space, and she’s still proudly who she is. that’s really fucking cool.”
paige looked at her, her eyes wide and earnest, and felt something in her chest soften. “you should tell her that,” she agreed quietly, “i think she’d love to hear it.”
azzi shrugged. “someday.”
“tomorrow, first thing at practice,” paige smiled.
“fat chance,” azzi rolled her eyes.
they looked at each other for a minute, quiet and soft.
“i should get going,” azzi said, eventually.
“you should,” paige agreed.
they stood there for another moment. paige grinned. azzi mirrored her expression.
“seriously,” azzi insisted.
“sure,” paige nodded. neither of them moved.
a feeling passed through paige that was too gentle to handle, and she finally shook her head and stepped forwards, arms wide. “c’mere,” she muttered.
azzi stepped into her arms, hugging her goodbye.
“i’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” paige said, cheek pressed up against azzi’s hair.
“yep,” azzi agreed from somewhere next to paige’s neck, “don’t be late.”
“i’m never late.”
“you were late to this.”
“this isn’t practice.”
“well, you better practice being on time, because i better see you tomorrow.”
“bro, i’m gonna be there,” paige complained, finally pulling back. neither of their hands quite left the other, still in each other’s space.
azzi’s face was a few breaths from paige’s, just below her, luminescent under the street lamps. her eyes were dark, wide and bright, and she was smiling again, and paige’s chest did some awful squeezing motion that almost knocked her breathless.
she looked down at azzi’s lips. her eyes darted back up to azzi’s eyes in a fraction of a second, trying not to overstep, but azzi’s gaze was pointed right at her mouth.
okay. she should kiss her.
azzi had just spent an hour feeling up her thigh. azzi was looking up at her like she’d hung the moon. azzi’s hands were still around her back.
she wanted to kiss her.
azzi was right there, beautiful, perfect, and it would be so easy to just lean down and take her lips in a kiss–
right. paige was overthinking. all she had to do was lean down– or– wait. should she ask her first? was azzi the sort of person who assumed a kiss was okay, or was she someone who wanted to be asked? shit, if paige asked, would it be good, or would it ruin the moment– or– god, she should just do it, fuck–
azzi moved her gaze back up to paige’s. she searched her eyes, pausing, and for a moment everything was still; then, at the same time, they both pulled away.
“bye,” paige tried to say, but no sound came out. their hands dragged against each other for a heartbeat too long.
see you tomorrow, azzi mouthed at her. she gave her one last smile before disappearing into her car.
paige felt like a marionette, limbs uncoordinated and jerky as she forced herself back into her own car. she fumbled with the ignition for a moment, cursing under her breath.
out of the corner of her eye, she saw azzi’s car back out of the parking lot and disappear. immediately, she groaned and slumped against the steering wheel. she sat like that for five full minutes, feeling pathetic and miserable and like a giant fucking loser. finally, she straightened up and put on her seatbelt.
“FUCK!” she yelled, slamming her fist against the horn. BRAAM, her car protested loudly. she jumped.
—
paige’s mouthguard hung halfway out of her mouth. she bent over challengingly, hands on her knees, eyebrow cocked.
azzi smirked, dribbling the ball between her legs once, twice. she bent her knees like she was going to move forward, pretending to fake paige out.
“go,” paige called out. her voice echoed in the gym. “you playing or just showing off?”
azzi shrugged, keeping the ball moving. “doesn’t matter. you can’t guard me either way.”
someone behind paige whistled, and paige narrowed her eyes. her gaze landed on the sweat on azzi’s collarbone. her bicep. her thigh. she shook her head.
azzi started forwards, and paige sucked her mouthguard back in, hands immediately out. azzi stopped, grinned, and went the other way.
fuck no. paige dogged her determinedly, fighting through a li screen and trying to get her hand on the ball before azzi shot. as her hand came down, azzi passed it to maddy on the three-point line. shit. she caught paige’s gaze and smiled, and there was a glint in her eye that sent a jolt down paige’s spine.
the ball bounced off the backboard to alanna, who shot it back to maddy.
odyssey got in maddy’s face, and paige saw azzi’s body turn before the idea even came to maddy’s head. paige knew azzi’s catch-and-shoot, knew she was going to release it immediately–
the ball flew to azzi and paige was already jumping as azzi moved the ball up. azzi pivoted, turning past paige and sprinting in for a clean layup.
absolutely not. paige hit the ground running, chasing her back, following the movement of her arm up, and BAM.
the ball slammed back down to the earth before it had the chance to fly for more than half a second. paige’s chest pounded with exhilaration, and she shot azzi a cocky look as she turned on her heel.
azzi, usually known for being calm and collected, looked pissed. it made something in paige’s stomach churn. she couldn’t stop a wild grin from taking over her face as she waited for azzi’s team to inbound the ball. her heart pounded. this was fun.
alanna inbounded to arike. jessica ran a screen on odyssey. arike to alanna, paige shifted, alanna to maddy, paige shifted.
her eyes, focused on the ball, never strayed for long from azzi. she looked intense and determined, brows furrowed and face flushed with exertion. she looked godlike.
maddy to azzi, outside the arc, and before paige could blink, azzi nailed a three over her head.
she froze, dumbfounded. how–?
azzi backpedaled and winked at her. paige wanted to tear her clothes off.
“that’s game! arike’s team, twenty points. water break,” jose yelled.
“she traveled,” paige complained weakly, but she knew it was a lie. she thought of azzi’s shirt riding up her stomach as she jumped up for the shot. she couldn’t think straight.
arike raised an eyebrow at her. “that’s it? no hitting the wall? no yelling? just a ‘she travelled?’” she clicked her tongue. “you’re soft on her.”
“no, i’m not,” paige grumbled, eyes flicking over to azzi. azzi grinned at her, reaching over and hitting her lower back. the touch rippled through paige like fucking sonar, and she needed to leave stat before her brain drove her absolutely insane.
arike snorted.
“whatever,” paige muttered. “i left something in the car. be right back.”
ducking the rest of the group, she jogged out of the practice facility doors and through the hallway that led to the parking lot. she pushed open the exit, desperately fanning herself. she kept thinking about azzi’s face, determined, her perfect shot, how unfairly fucking attractive it was for her to be so good.
she walked over to her car and rested her forearm against it, putting her head down for a fraction of a second before yelping at the hot metal and drawing back. she deserved that, she thought miserably, for being incapable of having normal, friendly thoughts about–
“paige!” azzi called out, walking out of the facility.
jesus christ. this was not going to help. “hm?” she tried, unable to say much else.
“oh,” azzi shrugged, “you left your phone inside.” she held it out, waiting for paige to take it from her.
paige stared at her, trying to read her expression. slowly, she took her phone from azzi’s hand, letting their fingers brush together for longer than strictly necessary.
“you know i don’t need my phone to get something from my car, right?” she didn’t even need to get anything from her car. she just needed some air.
“i know,” azzi said, matter of fact. “i just wanted to see you.”
paige held back a laugh. “you just saw me.”
“sure did.”
“and you came out here in the scorching hot sun to see me again.”
“is there a problem with that?” azzi challenged, stepping closer to her. her eyes sparkled mirthfully. paige wanted to swallow them whole.
“depends.”
“depends on what?”
silence.
paige couldn’t take it anymore. azzi was so– and– she was right there, and there were no excuses, there was nobody around– paige didn’t just want it, she needed it. azzi was a fire and paige had to stoke it, needed to breathe life into this thing that was driving her fucking mad.
azzi raised an eyebrow at her, and paige stared back helplessly. they were so close, hovering on the verge but not quite daring to fall over it, and she was going to do it, she was finally going to do it, fuck it, she was going to ask–
“can i–”
azzi interrupted her by kissing her full on the mouth.
paige felt like she was bursting into flames. azzi’s lips on hers were hot, perfect, firm and absolutely sure of what she wanted. paige’s hands clung to her waist like it was keeping her on earth, kissing back for all she was worth.
it was whatever paige had fantasized about since the moment azzi had walked into practice on the first day, letting her hand linger in paige’s for a second too long when they shook hands. it was perfect. paige was fucking melting.
after a moment, azzi pulled back. “god, i’ve been waiting for you for months. you’re such an idiot.”
“well,” paige shrugged, “did it live up to the hype?”
“i need a second opinion.” azzi kissed her again, and paige smiled so wide she nearly broke their lips apart, and azzi only kissed her harder, and paige felt so happy she could fucking die.
yeah, she could get used to this.
___
[11:04 am]
arike: u massive liar
arike: “i need something outside” headass yeah needed some TONGUE
arike: i can see u thru the window
[11:05 am]
arike: u dont get paid to kiss women on the clock get a move on
