synopsis: sometimes love is waiting patiently at the end of a road you never planned to travel. and the person who helps you survive your darkest days becomes the reason you start looking forward to brighter ones.
cw: none
wc: 1.5k
chapter one:
The city air is crisp, biting through her thick scarf, and the scent of roasting chestnuts from a nearby street vendor mingles with the exhaust fumes from the congested road. Cars inch forward in the rush-hour traffic, as cyclists weave dangerously between idling taxis, horns echoing through the narrow streets lined with centuries-old buildings.
It’s all familiar, just background noise.
What catches Azzi’s attention is across the street.
Nestled between a corner bookstore with glowing windows and a boutique, a woman stands at a bus stop, squinting at a transit map like she’s trying to memorize every route in case there’s a test later. Her gaze darts between the map and the passing crowds, frantic and unfocused in a way that’s kind of endearing.
She’s completely lost and clueless. And completely ignored.
Azzi should keep walking. She knows that. There’s a hot shower waiting at home, calling her name, promising to thaw her frozen limbs after a brutal double session. Her body aches in that all too familiar way that means she’s pushed it maybe a little farther than the trainers would approve of.
Still, she can’t tear her eyes away.
The woman steps toward a passing man, frustration tightening her sharp jawline as the wind tangles the loose golden waves escaping from beneath her beanie. She says something, her voice barely audible over the traffic, but he doesn’t even slow. Just brushes past her without a word.
More pedestrians hurry by, wrapped in wool coats and thick scarves, eyes fixed forward, too focused on getting home or making dinner reservations to spare her a glance. Every few moments, a gust of wind sweeps through the street, rattling outdoor café chairs and making the blonde tuck her chin deeper into her jacket.
Azzi knows that look.
She’s worn it herself. Not that long ago, either. Lost. Overwhelmed. Struggling with the language, the customs, the bus routes everyone else seems to understand instinctively. She’s still lost in some ways, but that’s a separate issue she doesn’t have the energy to delve into right now.
She exhales, the breath visible in the cold, tightens her scarf, and crosses the busy street.
"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?"
The blonde’s head snaps up, blue eyes wide with panic. She shakes her head quickly and turns back to the map, shoulders curling inward like she’s bracing for another failed interaction.
Okay. Different approach.
“Can I help you?” Azzi asks again, switching to English as she places a light hand on the woman’s shoulder to get her attention.
Blue eyes, bright despite the fatigue, flick over Azzi’s face. The panic softens into mild relief. Still, exhaustion lingers in the hollows beneath her eyes, suggesting she’s been fighting this city all day. The purplish tint to her exposed fingers as they trace the colorful lines on the map confirms the suspicion.
“Thank God. Someone who speaks English,” she breathes.
The sincerity of it makes Azzi smile. She takes a moment to actually look at her now that she’s closer. Between the American accent, the oversized duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and the useless leather jacket, she’s clearly not a local. A jacket like that won’t do a damn thing against a German winter, no matter how good it looks. Neither will the flimsy beanie perched on her head.
And no gloves?
Rookie mistake.
“How can I help?” Azzi asks, keeping her voice easy.
The blonde’s grin is bright despite the exhaustion settling into her bones. She seems more at ease already as she extends her hand.
“I’m Paige.”
Something warm zips up Azzi’s spine when their hands meet. She isn’t sure why that surprises her, but it does. She pulls her striped scarf tighter around her neck, unsure if she’s blocking out the cold or the feeling, and quickly releases Paige’s hand, flexing her fingers to shake it off.
Needing something to do with her hands she tucks a stray curl behind her ear.
“Azzi,” she supplies in return after finally finding the ability to speak.
Paige clears her throat and glances back at the map like she’s trying to refocus, though it’s obvious she has no idea what she’s looking at. Azzi can’t blame her. Four years in Germany and she’s mostly fluent now, but she still remembers those early months.
So when Paige looks back up at her, pleading and desperate, Azzi doesn’t hesitate.
“Where do you need to go?”
Paige exhales in relief and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She studies it, then blushes. Azzi knows it’s not from the cold this time, and takes it gently from her numb fingers.
“Oh, I know where this is,” she says, nodding vaguely behind her. “It’s a couple of miles uptown, near my favorite bar.”
Paige smiles, grateful, but the apprehension doesn’t fully fade.
“Can you point to where I should go to grab the next bus? I need to get out of the cold.”
Azzi lets out a soft laugh before she can stop herself, catching it just in time.
“What’s so funny?” Paige asks, smiling despite her current situation.
Azzi guides her gaze back toward the map mounted on the metal pole beneath the swinging stoplight, placing a hand lightly on her lower back.
“We’re here,” she says, pointing, “and you need to go all the way over here.”
Her finger drags across the map as she speaks, ignoring the bite of cold metal through her thin glove, and the warmth of Paige leaning in just a little too close. Azzi shifts, pretending it’s for visibility, not because her nervous system has suddenly become unhelpfully aware of the blonde.
“The walk to the other bus stop is as long as the walk to your place.”
Paige groans, dropping her face into her hands.
“Either the taxi driver didn’t understand me, or he saw an easy target and robbed me of a bunch of euros.”
Azzi squeezes her arm gently. “I parked my car around the corner, and I live just a few blocks from where you’re going. Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”
It’s a lie. A complete lie. She lives across town, the opposite direction entirely.
Still, something about Paige tugs at her. The homesickness she rarely acknowledges stirs at the sound of an American voice. And yes,fine, the fact that Paige is attractive doesn’t hurt.
Azzi smiles, a little shy. “We could grab some coffee on the way to warm up. There’s a cute little place right around the corner.”
Paige stiffens instantly. “I’m married.”
She lifts her left hand, platinum band catching the dull light. Azzi laughs without thinking.
“Okay,” she laughs, hands thrown in the air in surrender. “I was just offering a ride and a friendly cup of coffee. I don’t make a habit of picking up helpless Americans off the streets and seducing them over lattes.”
Although she absolutely should.
Paige relaxes, relief washing over her features.
“Alright, Azzi,” she says. “I’ll take you up on that cup of coffee.”
CW: Mentions of abandonment, neglect, plenty of angst and smut and dominant Jud. Might’ve gone overboard on this but oh well!
-
Birdie’s POV
It made no sense that Jud could both have Birdie’s coffee order memorized while being unable to make eye contact with her. Actually, it made perfect sense, but it irritated her nonetheless: She had nearly led him to break his vow. Well, she didn’t want to assume as much, but just the other day, his mouth had been about ready to go places that would confirm that theory. In the damn church. She could understand how her presence in the church might be disturbing for him. Even in death, Wicks was right: her presence led to nothing but sin. So she sipped her coffee that he wordlessly passed to her as they got to work looking through Martha’s office.
Over the last several days, they had made…small revelations in the case. Nothing as big as she wanted, but Benoit assured her that he would find what was needed to bring the killer to light. There was the devil head, the flask that Jud had hidden(which had since disappeared, quite concerningly). Then, following the funeral of Jefferson Wicks, there had been the video that Cy showed, which gave just about everyone a motive. Lastly, the clue that the fortune had been found, somehow, after all this time. Their best guess? A Swiss account. Which meant they needed nineteen numbers to access it. Or at the very least, to figure out how someone else might have accessed it.
And all the while, through all this investigating, Jud avoided her like the plague. He was polite about it, he still held open doors, said his pleasantries, and stepped in front of her when Cy insinuated that she might have come back to the church just to somehow steal the fortune. The kind of delusion she would only expect from Cy, of course. But what bothered her much more was the fact that she and Jud hadn’t been able to really talk, not since that moment shared in the alcove. So she didn’t push him, and made it easier by not trying to start any conversations with him, either.
Fortunately, through all this awkwardness, there was always a southern detective between them, to diffuse the tension. Until a few minutes into searching, when his phone buzzed with a message from Officer Scott, asking him if he could meet to discuss the investigation. “You two keep lookin’ for those numbers, won’t you? I’ll be back in a couple of hours for you.” And with little to no warning, he was gone, shutting the office door behind him. Leaving the two of them alone in a deafening silence.
The two of them shifted on their feet, waiting to see who would break and talk first. After a minute that felt like hours, Birdie cleared her throat. “Look through his desk. Check for like, secret compartments and stuff. I’ll check the files behind it.” Her demand was answered with a terse nod, and the sounds of rustling paper as Jud knelt by the desk. She stepped around him to look through the bins kept on shelves, all neatly kept, just as Martha intended.
Several minutes went on like that, and it nearly killed her. Just silence, papers, and the occasional huff of frustration from either of them. They had smashed a snowglobe, and practically toured Martha’s office, just to find…nothing.
Suddenly, Jud broke the silence with a quiet hum of thought. “What?” She spun around, to see Jud’s eyes scanning over a wrinkled, aged piece of paper with eerily familiar handwriting on it. Jud looked up to her, meeting her gaze for the first time in days, but with the look of a dog who had been caught going through the trash. “Is it the account?”
“No, it’s…uh, well. I didn’t read it, I swear. It’s not relevant.” Jud stammered out, standing up straight and folding the paper carefully.
“Okay, well, bullshit, or you wouldn’t look like I just caught you with your hand in the damn cookie jar.” Deciding not to play his games, she leaned forward to grab it from him. Nervously, Jud backed himself against the desk, holding the paper out of the way. “Give it! Stop being weird!” She grunted out, ignoring the way her hips pressed to his as she swiped at her target.
“I’m n--Birdie, listen, maybe you should--” Jud could have easily pushed her back or blocked her off, but he was never forceful like that with her. He had mentioned being a boxer to her once, and most of the town knew about the man that he had killed, but Birdie would have thought it was a joke if she hadn’t felt the rigid muscles of his abdomen in their current position. But the reporter was stubborn, and she managed to pluck the paper out of his hands.
“I’m trying to help you with this damn case, Jud, maybe you should let me--” She turned away to get a better look at the contents of the paper: a letter, signed by a “Ramona Birde.” One that had clearly been written a long time ago. Laced with romantic notions, a woman unafraid to put her heart on the line, the way her mother had always been, even when it was broke again and again. She fell silent, suddenly, a heat in her face as she stared at the handwriting, an aching opening in her chest.
After a long, heavy moment, Jud spoke again. “Ramona was your mother, wasn’t she?” Birdie had never explicitly mentioned her mother’s passing, but it wasn’t hard to imagine he could have figured it out. She was buried behind Jud’s church, after all. She didn’t answer, which was an answer of its own. “Birdie, I’m so sorry. Do you need a minute?” His voice was just behind her, but not pressing closer, just giving her space.
“To do what? It doesn’t have the numbers.” She answered much too shortly, keeping her face turned away from his as she folded up the paper again. It didn’t uncover anything she didn’t already have a sneaking suspicion about, nor did it confirm anything. There had been a reason her mother was so devoted to the church. Maybe because she thought one day, the unrequited devotion she had might lead to something real, something permanent between her and the monsignor. Birdie had never understood it. That is, not until very recently.
Birdie willed herself not to get upset. This was a man she was trying to regain her calm around, someone she was trying not to scare off. She presumed that unloading her daddy issues would not be a great way of keeping people around. So she told herself that she would keep it pushed down within her.
“I know I shouldn’t pry. I know it’s not my place. But Wicks…was he--”
“We never took any tests or anything. I think it would have crushed her if she knew for sure.” She took a trembling breath, rubbing her fingers against her lips as if to stop herself. So much for not losing her calm, she thought, as she crinkled the paper in her hand. “I was not the prodigal son. I’m just me. And while I eventually realized that it would never be enough, my mom kept her hopes up. She went on believing, going back to that church like something might change, right until the day she died.”
Jud’s hand reached out, but he stopped himself, like he had learned that it would only bring more pain. He considered his words for a long moment, still hovering behind her, though she was certain at any minute he would find a reason to. “My parents kind of gave up on me…actually, for as long as I can remember. I was an only child, and I used to get into trouble, into fights to try and get their attention. It never worked, but I learned I was good at punching things.” He chuckled mirthlessly, and she turned her head in his direction, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he ran his fingers over his knuckles. “For a while, I thought that was all I was good for. It wasn’t that I liked fighting, it was just…how I survived, I supposed. Made money off of seedy underground tournaments to pay my rent when I was old enough to move out. And then there was the…the man I--you know.” He cleared his throat, and they both knew. The man he had killed. What led him to his current path. “So I found this. I found something that gave me purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. Everyone has one. You have one. Journalism. Your vow is to give the world the truth.” He reached forward to fix the pen tucked behind her ear. “You’ve never been too much, or not enough. You’re risking your reputation, spending who knows how much to get an investigator, just to clear my name. I see who you are, and it’s just right.”
She considered his words for a long moment, the sincerity in his voice. How he knew not to tell her that religion could save her. How she had never heard him speak about his life before his vow. She was the first one to break his gaze, shaking her head. “Not right for you, though, am I?”
His face fel in an instant, and he was stepping closer. “Birdie, no.”
Her back hit the shelf as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I know that’s wrong of me to say. But I feel it. I miss you, even if I know it’s selfish of me. I just-- just felt hurt that you-you couldn’t even look at me, after I screwed up so bad--”
“Birdie, I’m not avoiding you because I’m upset with you. I’m avoiding you because every time I see you I start to see glimpses of a path outside of my vow. And I’m frightened by how direly I want to go down that path.” Jud’s touch made contact with the collar of her blouse, dragging a thick knuckle down her buttons. “And I was stupid to think avoiding you would do anything. Birdie, I hear you in the silence between prayers. I feel you with every turn of a page. I see you in all the beauty of every statue, stained window, even in nature. I don’t think I could escape you if they locked me up.”
Birdie’s eyes fluttered open as his knuckle dragged the fabric of her shirt against her bra, and continued racing its path down her stomach. Slowly, savoring every centimeter. He whispered now, the space closing between their faces. He looked almost pained with hunger, as he watched her expression with the kind of care and attention that felt foreign to her. “I’m weak, I know, and not worthy. If you don’t want this, all you need to do is say as much. But if you do, I need you to tell me.” His hand that trailed southward paused just by her waistband, struggling to control itself as it tugged at the fabric of her shirt.
She nodded, and he clicked his tongue, his hand coming to cradle the side of her face. “Come on, use that pretty voice of yours.”
“I want it. You, Father, I want you.” She shifted to move her legs together in hopes of hiding just how badly she wanted him, and he drove a thigh between her own, putting an end to that and eliciting a small intake of breath on her part.
Maybe it was that small noise, or the consent, or the title being used on him, but Birdie watched as he seemed to break, then and there. His right hand took ahold of her jaw as the other one clenched a fistful of shirt, and he kissed her, then and there. He was never forceful with her before, but when he noticed that she liked his commanding nature in this context, he had no problems getting demanding. If anything, he reveled in it. They both tried to be gentle with the other, at first, but it took mere seconds to intensify into a battle of tongues. His body was on hers, covering her like a blanket and pushing her back against the shelf until she was on her toes, his leg now pressed against her crotch, and every push against it sent her mind reeling for more. Her skirt did nothing to stop it. Maybe this was a horrible idea, maybe this would have repercussions, but Birdie was much too preoccupied with the calloused fingers slipping under her shirt to think about it. “I missed you too, Mary. Can I call you Mary, sometimes?” He spoke partially against her skin as the sloppy kisses moved over her jaw.
Birdie nodded, before remembering his command from earlier. “Mhm.” It was different when he did it. He hadn’t been around to see her past. ‘Mary’ had a new meaning when it came from his lips.
“I missed you so fucking much. I tried to pray it off, and I just kept thinking about all the parts of you I wanted to praise. Like right here.” He growled the words out, his kisses punctuating every few words, before sucking against her neck. She whimpered out needily, her hands scrambling to try and figure out what she was supposed to do with herself. Jud shushed her gently, taking both of her hands into the one that had been holding her jaw, pressing them against the shelf above her head. Papers fluttered around them like snow. He paused, just making sure she enjoyed that, before continuing. “Here, too.” He grinned before he licked his way over her collarbone, sending her head rolling back. His free hand moved from where it was beneath her shirt to slither under her bra, covering her breast in those tough fingers, before catching her nipple in between them. “Definitely here. Glory fucking be.” His voice was raspier now, and she could feel his need growing underneath his pants, from where his thigh was still teasing her. Or she was riding it. At this point she wasn’t sure.
“Jud, you…you don’t have-have to. You know that, right?” Her voice sounded pathetically breathless, and it only became more so as he freed her nipple, just to unbutton her shirt. He gave a questioning grunt, and she went on. “I-I know this is what I want, but if you don’t want this, we can do anything else. Or nothing at all.”
“I’ve been wanting this for what feels like ages now. It’s almost consumed me, how much I want this. With you.” By now, her shirt was unbuttoned, and he had no trouble at all in undoing her bra. He still hadn’t let her hands go, so the clothes stayed loose on her, but that didn’t stop him from planting wet kisses down her front. His mouth paid special attention to her right nipple, using his teeth when he noticed how she liked that. His thumb rolled against the second one, making her squirm against his thigh. “I already marked up your neck. But I think I’ll have to leave some evidence of my worship on other parts of you too. Seems only fair.” He pressed a kiss to her breast, before his mouth moved over her stomach, and her body rolled against it as liquid fire filled her belly.
“Oh my god, Jud,”
“Not God. Just me.” He gave a shit-eating grin, letting go of Birdie’s hands so that he could properly lower himself to his knees, relieving the pressure on her crotch. But not for long, as he gently undid the buttons of her long skirt, revealing her legs. There, knelt in front of her, he looked up to her in pure adoration. “Beautiful. Just beautiful, all of you.”
Birdie swallowed a lump in her throat that she couldn’t explain, though that emotion was overpowered by arousal as he traced his knuckle against her already-damp panties. “I’m sorry--” She started, embarrassed by the evidence of how needy she was. His head shook at her apology, his eyes glazed with something, like he was enchanted by the sight. Possessed, as he put it.
He ran his knuckle over it again, if only to make her squirm again, before tugging them downward. Once they were down enough, his brown curls tickled her thighs as he ducked his head through, and promptly pulled her thighs to rest on his shoulders. He didn’t even falter with all of her weight on him, still somewhat in a haze as he looked at her glistening lips. He swallowed as her hand stroked in his hair, before sucking a few needy kisses along her thighs. “Should’ve done this days ago.” He murmured, breath fanning against her wetness, as his gaze rose to hers. “Forgive me, Mary?”
She just hardly managed a whimpering “Mhm,” before his kisses moved over her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he moved over her labia, whimpering again when he stopped. Her eyes opened, seeing him still watching her expression from between her legs.
“Watch me. For as long as you can. I want you to see how much I savor you.” He spoke partially against her, which was just unfair. She grunted out another shaky reply, and he rewarded her by running his tongue over her slit. Her hand squeezed his hair, but she tried to keep her eyes on him, though she could admit she lost focus when he flicked his tongue against her clit. As if noticing that she liked it, she teased him by stroking the length of her slit again, groaning in what Birdie hoped was satisfaction. “Oh, Mary.” He grumbled against her, before lapping up as much as he could. He was the first to eventually break eye contact, squeezing his eyes shut like he wanted to focus on getting every last taste. Her body began to shake with want, her breath coming out in loud, needy whimpers with each stroke.
She opened her mouth to tell him how close she was, but he seemed to sense it in her. He sighed again, blowing air against her clit before moving one of his index fingers right up to her, easing his way into her with a gentleness that still managed to knock the air right from her lungs. Even his fingers felt thick and she knew she was probably humiliatingly tight around him. If not for how wet Jud had left her, she was sure he would never make it past even the first knuckle. But he did, inch by inch, moment by moment. He released her nerves from his mouth for long enough to murmur a soft, “There you go. You can take it. I know you can.” He soothed her as she writhed, only to push another finger into where she was sure it wouldn’t fit. And yet, he was right, never doubting her, even as she gave a cry of surprise as he pumped within her. He moved with each noise, each slight reaction prompting him on with more sweet assurances.
Her hips rolled into his every push, taking it further and further when the heat within her threatened to burst. “I-I’m sorry…I’m…I think I’m gonna…” She whined out, meeting his lidded gaze with one of her own. He soothed her with his free hand moving from her rear, up her side, cradling the side of her face. He nodded once, nose brushing against her, before flattening his tongue, kissing his mouth around her clit, and curling his fingers within her. With that, with all the desires for Jud welling up within her, she leaned her weight into Jud and squeezed around him as she came undone, crying out his name like a prayer.
Jud supported her through all of it, licking her every last twitch and all her wetness until she’d ridden out the last of her pleasure. She wasn’t even sure if this was still real, or a dream, as his hands supported her to lay her down by his side. “That was…” She murmured, interrupted by sweet kisses against her neck, up her cheek.
“It really was.”
Birdie was still gasping in air as she reached toward his belt, with intentions of making this fair. He caught her wrist, his thumb stroking over her pulse playfully. Birdie tilted her head at him questioningly. “You don’t want me to-?”
“I do.” He grumbled, as if disappointed in himself. His lips trailed lazy kisses over her wrist, down her forearm. “But if you get too close to my dick, I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from clearing this desk and taking us all the way on it.” He sighed, like he hadn’t said something that made Birdie’s stomach do somersaults. “Which wouldn’t exactly help me not look guilty.” He sighed against her arm, sending goosebumps over her body. “And besides…so long as you’re happy, I’m happy with this.” Jud smiled against her skin. “Very happy.”
For a while there, they just laid. Not thinking of their vows, their jobs, what might come next. But before long, while Birdie was picking up the fallen papers, her brow furrowed. “Jud…why would someone order the opening of the tomb the week before Wicks died?”
Please please please do something about Paige x reader based off of when did you get hot by Sabrina carpenter!!
when did you get hot? pt. 1
paige bueckers x reader
summary: you grew up with paige bueckers in minnesota, back when she was all scraped knees, oversized basketball shorts, too much confidence, and zero ability to shut up. your families were close enough that she felt less like a girl and more like a childhood habit. then years pass, paige becomes Paige Bueckers, and you convince yourself nothing has changed. until you visit uconn and realize the annoying girl from your childhood got hot. unfortunately, she notices
warnings/tags: childhood best friends to something, tension, flirting, teasing, reader being down bad and in denial, paige being cocky as hell, awholelot of annoying paige, childhood nostalgia, besties grew apart after college
word count: around 9k
part 2 up now! here
You had known Paige Bueckers before the rest of the world learned how to say her name like it meant something.
Before the highlight reels, before the trophies, before the interviews where she sat with a lazy grin and said the most confident thing possible in the calmest voice imaginable, before the white-and-blue UConn jersey made her look less like someone you used to know and more like somebody other people screamed over. You knew her when she was just Paige from Minnesota, the girl who showed up at your house with wind-chapped cheeks and scraped knees, basketball tucked under one arm like it was legally attached to her body, already talking before your mom even finished opening the door.
She was family, basically. Not by blood, but close enough that nobody questioned her walking into your kitchen without knocking, opening your fridge, stealing your snacks, and yelling, “Y/N, your mom said you gotta come outside,” even when your mom had said absolutely nothing of the sort. Her family and yours had been tangled together for as long as you could remember; cookouts, birthdays, lake days, holiday dinners where the adults would sit around talking for hours while you and Paige were shoved into the basement or backyard and told to entertain yourselves. Paige always chose basketball. You always complained. Paige always ignored you.
She was annoying. That was the thing you remembered most clearly.
Annoying in a loud, bright, impossible-to-miss way. Annoying like stealing the ball from you and then laughing when you got mad. Annoying like making everything a competition, even brushing your teeth at sleepovers, even who could get to the car first, even who could finish their ice cream without getting brain freeze. Annoying like calling you slow when you tripped over your own shoelace and then immediately crouching down to tie it for you because she was mean, but not actually mean. Annoying like showing up with that same grin every single time, so sure you would forgive her for whatever she did because you always had.
Back then, Paige was not hot.
Back then, Paige had bony elbows, too much energy, and the confidence of a full-grown NBA star trapped inside a lanky middle schooler who still got Gatorade stains on her T-shirts. Her hair was usually pulled back messily, flyaways everywhere, and her clothes were always some tragic combination of basketball shorts, slides, and whatever hoodie she had stolen from an older cousin. She was cute in the way all kids were cute when adults looked at them and said things like, She’s gonna be something one day. But to you, she was just Paige. Loud Paige. Competitive Paige. Paige who once cried because you beat her in Mario Kart and then demanded a rematch for two hours.
So when your mom told you, years later, that you were going to Connecticut for a few days and that the Bueckers family was going to be there too, you didn’t think much of it.
Not at first.
You were sitting at your kitchen counter, scrolling through your phone, half-listening while your mom talked about flights and hotel reservations and how nice it would be to see everyone again. It was winter break, cold enough outside that the windows had that pale, frosted look around the edges, and your mom was in full planning mode, which meant she was saying a lot of information very quickly and expecting you to catch all of it.
“You haven’t seen Paige properly in years,” she said, tapping her nail against the screen of her phone as if Paige was just another calendar event.
You hummed. “I’ve seen her.”
“On TV does not count.”
“I’ve seen her on Instagram.”
“That definitely does not count.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Okay, fine. I haven’t seen her in person in a while.”
“A while?” Your mom gave you that look mothers gave when they wanted to make a point but also wanted you to arrive there yourself. “Y/N, the last time you two were really together, you were what, sixteen?”
“Seventeen, maybe.”
“And now?”
You looked up. “Why are you making this dramatic?”
“I’m not.” She smiled into her coffee. “I’m just saying. It’ll be nice.”
Nice. That was the word everyone used when they talked about reconnecting with someone from childhood. Nice, like time hadn’t passed in a way that changed people. Nice, like you could walk into a room and pick up right where you left off. Nice, like Paige hadn’t become Paige Bueckers, the kind of girl people made edits of, the kind of girl strangers argued about online, the kind of girl whose name sat under headlines and whose face lived on posters and whose game had become something bigger than the driveway battles you used to lose by twenty.
Still, you told yourself it would be fine. It was Paige. Just Paige. The same girl who once tried to teach you how to shoot a proper jumper and got frustrated because you kept using both hands. The same girl who ate half your birthday cake before anyone had sung happy birthday and then blamed it on your cousin. The same girl who used to throw a pillow at you when you fell asleep first during movie nights because she considered sleep a form of losing.
You knew her too well to be nervous.
That was what you kept telling yourself when you landed in Connecticut.
That was what you kept telling yourself when your family checked into the hotel and your mom kept smiling like she knew something you didn’t.
That was what you kept telling yourself when you walked into the restaurant that night for dinner with both families and heard familiar laughter from the back of the room.
And then you saw her.
For one second, your entire brain went blank.
Paige was standing near the table with her back half-turned, one hand resting on the chair beside her, the other holding her phone loosely. She was talking to someone — one of her brothers, maybe, you couldn’t even process it — and laughing under her breath, not loud like you remembered, not that wild little kid laugh that used to burst out of her at everything, but something lower now, easier, warm and rough around the edges. Her hair was done in that game-day way you had seen in pictures, slicked back into a ponytail with the two front braids framing her face, clean and sharp like she had walked out of a tunnel with cameras waiting. She wore a fitted long-sleeve top under a jacket, casual but somehow not casual at all, because it sat on her like she knew exactly how good she looked without needing to try. A chain rested at her collar, catching the light when she shifted. Her jeans hung low on her hips. Her posture was loose, shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly as if the entire room had already given her permission to take up space.
Your first thought was not intelligent.
Your first thought was: Oh.
Your second thought was: No.
Because no. Absolutely not. That was not allowed. Paige Bueckers, the same girl who used to chew with her mouth open until your mom corrected her, was not allowed to stand in front of you looking like that. She was not allowed to have grown into her face like some annoying, unfair magic trick. She was not allowed to have that jawline, that grin, that slow confidence sitting on her like a second skin. She was not allowed to be the same Paige and not the same Paige at all.
Your mom touched your arm. “There they are.”
You blinked hard, like maybe if you reset your vision, Paige would turn back into the skinny kid in oversized shorts.
She did not.
Instead, she looked up.
Her eyes found yours across the restaurant, and for half a second, her expression did nothing. She just looked. Really looked. Like she was taking the years between you and measuring them quietly. Then her mouth curved, slow and familiar and devastatingly smug, and suddenly she was Paige again in the worst possible way.
Because she knew.
You didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.
“Y/N?” she called, and her voice was deeper than you remembered, still light with that Minnesota edge, still her, but older now, smoother. It hit you in the chest before you were ready.
You forced yourself to move. Forced your feet forward. Forced your face into something normal.
“Paige,” you said, and thank God your voice didn’t crack, because you would’ve had to walk into traffic.
She pushed away from the chair and came toward you with that easy athlete stride, like her body had never been awkward a day in its life. Which was a lie. You had proof. You had photos. You had mental evidence of her tripping over a sprinkler at age twelve and pretending she meant to do it.
But none of that helped when she stopped in front of you.
She looked down at you slightly, because of course she had gotten taller too, because apparently the universe had a personal vendetta against your peace. Her eyes dipped over your face, quick but not careless, and her grin widened.
“Damn,” she said. “You look grown.”
Something about the way she said it made heat rise up your neck.
You lifted your brows, trying to recover. “That’s usually what happens when people age.”
“Yeah, but you were always little Y/N to me.”
“Little?” You scoffed. “You were built like a praying mantis until sophomore year.”
Her laugh came out immediately, bright and surprised, and the sound loosened something in your chest that you hadn’t realized had gone tight. For a second, it was almost normal. Almost. Paige threw her head back slightly, eyes creasing at the corners, and you remembered being thirteen and feeling victorious any time you made her laugh hard enough to stop talking.
Then she looked back at you, still smiling, and the almost-normal feeling became dangerous again.
“Okay,” she said, nodding slowly. “Coming in hot already. I see you.”
“You started it.”
“I said you looked grown. That was a compliment.”
“You said it like you were shocked I survived puberty.”
Paige leaned in a little, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you caught the clean scent of her — something fresh, faintly expensive, mixed with the cold air she’d brought in from outside. “Maybe I’m shocked you got pretty.”
Your breath caught before you could stop it.
It was stupid. It was just Paige. Paige, who had said a million things to get under your skin before. Paige, who used to call you dramatic when you got mad and then follow you around until you laughed again. Paige, who loved winning too much not to notice when she landed a hit.
But this was not the same kind of hit.
This one sat low in your stomach.
You narrowed your eyes because it was the only defense you had. “Maybe I’m shocked you learned how to dress.”
Paige’s grin turned sharp. “You been checking?”
“No.”
“Sounded like it.”
“You’re still annoying.”
“And you still blush easy.”
“I’m not blushing.”
“You are.”
“I’m cold.”
“We’re inside.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” She said it like a fact, like something she had known for years and had no reason to question.
Your parents reached the table before you could answer, and suddenly the moment broke open into hugs and greetings and loud parental excitement. Paige’s family pulled you in like no time had passed; her dad gave you a warm hug, her brothers teased you about being taller even though you definitely were not, and your mom and Paige’s family immediately began talking over each other in that comfortable way people did when they shared too much history to bother with polite pacing.
Paige slid into the chair beside you.
Not across from you. Not at the other end. Beside you.
You noticed because of course you noticed. You noticed the way her knee bumped yours under the table when she sat down. You noticed the way she stretched one arm across the back of your chair for a moment as she turned to answer something her dad said, not touching you, not really, but close enough that your body reacted like she had placed her hand directly on your skin. You noticed the chain at her neck again. You noticed her hands, which was insane, because when had hands become something you noticed? Long fingers, short nails, a faint mark near her knuckle. Basketball hands. Hands that had stolen passes, signed autographs, probably held trophies. Hands that used to shove snow down the back of your jacket.
You hated this.
You hated every single part of this.
Paige leaned toward you while everyone else got caught in a conversation about travel delays. “You quiet now.”
“I’m literally just sitting.”
“Yeah. Quietly.”
“Maybe I matured.”
She looked at you, unimpressed. “You?”
You kicked her ankle lightly under the table. “Shut up.”
Her eyes flashed with amusement. “There she is.”
That should not have made your stomach flip. It did anyway.
Dinner was a problem after that.
Not because anything happened. Nothing happened. That was somehow worse. Paige was just there, close enough for your shoulders to brush when servers passed behind you, close enough that every time she laughed, you felt it more than heard it. She talked easily with everyone, slipping between family stories and basketball updates, making your parents laugh, letting her brothers roast her, pretending to be humble for exactly three seconds before ruining it with some smug comment about how she was still the best shooter at the table.
“Best shooter?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “You lost to me in HORSE when we were fourteen.”
Paige’s head turned slowly.
The table went quiet in that delighted, dangerous way families did when old drama was resurrected.
Paige stared at you. “You did not just say that.”
“I did.”
“You won because you made up some ugly backwards shot from behind the trash can.”
“And you missed it.”
“Because it was nasty.”
“But legal.”
“It was not basketball.”
“It was HORSE.”
“It was criminal.”
You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Sounds like something a loser would say.”
Her mouth opened slightly, offended in the most Paige way possible. The table erupted, her family laughing, your mom pointing at you like she had missed seeing you two bicker. Paige leaned back in her chair, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of her cheek, eyes locked on you with an intensity that made the room feel a little too warm.
“Okay,” she said softly.
You tilted your head. “Okay what?”
She reached for her water, still looking at you over the rim of the glass. “Just remembering who I’m dealing with.”
It was casual. It should have been casual.
It was not casual.
Because Paige had always been competitive, but grown Paige wore it differently. As a kid, she had been loud with it, all motion and noise. Now it sat quieter. Controlled. Like she didn’t need to prove she could win because everybody already knew. Like she could take her time. Like she could wait for you to mess up and still enjoy the view while you did.
You looked away first.
That was your mistake.
Paige noticed.
Of course she noticed.
The rest of dinner blurred into a strange mix of nostalgia and self-preservation. Old stories came up one after another, most of them embarrassing. Your mom talked about how you and Paige used to fight over who got the blue popsicle. Paige’s dad mentioned the time Paige slept over and convinced you to wake up at six in the morning to rebound for her in the driveway. You argued that she had tricked you. Paige said you loved it. You said you loved sleep more. Paige said you used to sit on the curb and watch her shoot anyway.
That made you pause.
Because you had.
You had forgotten that part, or maybe you had chosen not to think about it. The early mornings, summer air still cool, Paige in some oversized shirt, shooting and shooting while you sat wrapped in a blanket on the curb, complaining every five minutes but never actually going inside. She would look over after every made three like she expected you to react. You would roll your eyes. She would grin. The ball would bounce back into her hands, and the whole world would feel small and simple.
“You were my rebounder,” Paige said, nudging your knee under the table.
“I was forced labor.”
“You were committed.”
“I was sleepy.”
“You still stayed.”
You looked at her then, and for a second the teasing slipped. Paige’s expression had softened just enough to make you feel unsteady. Her eyes held yours like she was saying something more than the words, something about the years you had both walked away from without ever officially leaving behind.
Then her gaze dipped.
Not far. Just to your mouth, quick as a blink, quick enough that maybe you imagined it.
But you didn’t.
You knew you didn’t.
Your pulse jumped.
Paige looked back up like nothing had happened, but the corner of her mouth moved.
You hated her.
You really, really did.
After dinner, the adults refused to let the night end. There was talk about going back to the hotel lobby, maybe grabbing coffee, maybe sitting somewhere to catch up more. Paige’s brothers groaned. You silently agreed with them. You were exhausted from travel, full from dinner, and emotionally attacked by the fact that Paige Bueckers had grown into someone who could look at you for half a second and make you forget basic language.
But then Paige said, “I can show Y/N around campus for a bit.”
You looked at her immediately. “What?”
“What?” she echoed, too innocent.
Your mom brightened. “That’s a great idea. You two should catch up.”
“I think we caught up,” you said quickly.
Paige smiled. “Scared of campus?”
“Scared of freezing.”
“I got you.”
That made your stomach do something deeply embarrassing.
You crossed your arms. “Do you?”
She stepped closer, and because both families were busy gathering coats and bags, nobody else seemed to notice the way her voice dropped slightly when she answered. “Always did, didn’t I?”
For a moment, you had no comeback.
Paige’s face shifted, satisfaction flickering there. She had found a gap in your armor and looked far too pleased about it.
Ten minutes later, you were outside with her, bundled into your coat, breath fogging in front of you as the cold Connecticut air hit your face. The streetlights painted everything in soft gold, and the campus stretched around you quieter than you expected, all brick buildings and bare trees and patches of snow pushed against the edges of walkways. Paige walked beside you with her hands in her jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, but still somehow moving like she belonged to every inch of the place.
“So,” she said after a minute. “You nervous?”
You glanced at her. “About walking?”
“About being alone with me.”
You almost tripped.
Paige’s hand shot out automatically, fingers closing around your elbow to steady you. The contact lasted two seconds at most, but it went straight through you, warm even through your coat.
You pulled your arm back too quickly. “No.”
“You sure?”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“You almost ate pavement.”
“Because there’s ice.”
“There’s no ice.”
“There could’ve been.”
Paige laughed under her breath. “You always got an excuse.”
“And you always have an ego.”
“Earned it.”
That was so Paige that you couldn’t help looking at her. She was staring forward, smiling to herself, the cold tinting her cheeks pink. For a second, you saw the girl she used to be under all the grown-up confidence — the kid who believed she could beat anybody, the teenager who treated every driveway game like a national championship, the girl who had always been certain the world would make room for her because she planned to take it whether it did or not.
Then she caught you staring.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nah, what?”
“You’re just…” You stopped, because the honest answer was dangerous.
Paige slowed slightly. “I’m just what?”
You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets. “Different.”
Her expression changed, not enough to be obvious, but enough that you saw it. The teasing didn’t disappear, but it softened around the edges. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“In a bad way?”
You shook your head before you could think too much. “No.”
The quiet after that was not awkward. It was worse. It was charged, thick with all the things you weren’t saying. Paige walked closer than she needed to, your sleeves brushing occasionally. Every time it happened, you told yourself it was because the path was narrow. It was not narrow. Paige knew it. You knew it. Neither of you moved away.
She showed you the campus like she was trying to be casual and failing in the most charming way possible. There was the gym. There was where she spent way too many hours. There was where the team grabbed food. There was the spot where freshmen almost wiped out in the snow last year. There was Gampel, looming in the distance like a cathedral built for basketball.
“You like it here?” you asked, looking up at the building.
Paige took a second to answer. “Yeah. I mean, it’s UConn. It’s a lot sometimes, but… yeah. Feels like where I’m supposed to be.”
You looked at her. “That sounds very mature.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“Damn, okay.”
“You used to think maturity was not throwing the controller when you lost.”
“I did not throw it.”
“You launched it.”
“At a pillow.”
“At my head.”
“You moved.”
“Because survival instincts kicked in.”
Paige grinned, and the streetlight caught her face in a way that made your throat go dry. She was too pretty like this, relaxed and cold and amused, eyes bright with the kind of trouble you used to recognize instantly. Except now the trouble felt different. Older. Sharper. Like if she stepped closer, you would not know whether to shove her away or let her.
“You remember everything, huh?” she asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“What else you remember?”
You should have known better than to answer. “I remember you being shorter.”
“Everybody was shorter.”
“I remember your Justin Bieber phase.”
Her face dropped. “Don’t.”
“Oh, so you do have shame.”
“Y/N.”
“I remember the purple hoodie.”
“Stop talking.”
“I remember you thinking you could rap.”
Paige stepped in front of you then, blocking your path, and you almost walked straight into her. You stopped with barely any space left between you. The air shifted instantly. Your teasing smile faded because she was close now, close enough that you could see the tiny details of her face, the way her lips curved even when she was trying to look threatening.
“You done?” she asked.
Her voice was light, but her eyes were not.
You swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You gonna do something about it?”
The words came out before your brain approved them.
Paige’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
For one awful, electric second, neither of you moved.
Then her grin returned, slower this time. “You got bold.”
You wanted to disappear. You wanted to stay exactly where you were. “You got annoying.”
“I been annoying.”
“You got worse.”
“You got prettier.”
Your breath caught again, and this time Paige was close enough to see it.
Her eyes flicked over your face, satisfaction and something warmer mixing in her expression. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one you keep giving me.”
You tried to laugh, but it sounded weak even to you. “You’re imagining things.”
“Nah.” Paige tilted her head, studying you with the patience of someone who had spent her whole life reading defenders and finding the smallest openings. “You looked at me in the restaurant like you forgot who I was.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I was surprised.”
“By what?”
You stared at her, completely trapped.
Paige knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands stayed in her pockets. Her body didn’t touch yours. She wasn’t doing anything obvious enough for you to call her out. That was the problem. She didn’t need to. The closeness did it for her. The lowered voice. The way she looked at you like the answer was already written across your face.
You looked away. “You just don’t look like you did when we were kids.”
She hummed. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“It’s a weak one.”
“Paige.”
“Y/N.”
You hated the way she said your name. Like she still knew it. Like years apart hadn’t made it unfamiliar. Like your name belonged in her mouth because it always had.
You forced your eyes back to hers. “Fine. You grew up.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t become…” You stopped.
Paige leaned in a fraction. “Become what?”
Your heart was beating way too fast for someone standing outside in freezing weather.
“Annoying,” you said.
Her smile turned wicked. “Liar.”
You pushed past her before she could see your face properly, walking toward the entrance of Gampel like you knew where you were going. You did not. Paige let you get two steps ahead before following, laughing quietly behind you.
“You walk fast when you’re flustered.”
“I’m trying to get away from you.”
“You invited yourself to my campus tour.”
“You literally offered.”
“You said yes.”
“My mom said yes.”
“You could’ve said no.”
You could feel her catching up, and then she was beside you again, shoulder brushing yours. “But you didn’t.”
You kept your eyes forward. “Because I’m polite.”
“Because you missed me.”
That shut you up.
Paige didn’t say it teasingly. Not fully. There was a smile in her voice, sure, but underneath it was something else, something careful enough that it made you look at her despite yourself.
She was watching you, waiting.
And suddenly you remembered that Paige had not only been annoying. She had also been everywhere. In your childhood home, sprawled across your couch, eating cereal from your bowls. In your backyard, yelling your name until you came outside. At your birthdays, in your family photos, in your memories so naturally that you had forgotten she was someone you could lose contact with. Then life got bigger. Paige got busy. You got older. Calls became texts, texts became comments, comments became silence with occasional likes on Instagram stories that felt too small to count.
You had missed her.
That was the worst part.
You had missed her before she got hot. You had missed her before tonight, before the fitted shirt and chain and slow grin and all the things your body had unfortunately decided to notice. You had missed the girl who knew your worst angles and your childhood bedroom and how you liked your hot chocolate. You had missed having someone who could annoy you into feeling known.
So you said, softer than you meant to, “Maybe.”
Paige’s face changed.
Just slightly. But you saw it.
The smugness dipped, and for a second she looked younger, caught off guard in a way you hadn’t seen all night. Then she looked ahead, jaw shifting like she was trying not to smile too hard.
“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”
The words sat between you, simple and warm against the cold.
You walked for a while after that without trying to fill the silence. Paige took you around the outside of Gampel, telling you random stories about practices and games, about teammates and Geno and how Connecticut fans were a different level of intense. You listened more than you spoke, partly because you liked hearing her talk, partly because every few minutes she would glance over and catch you looking, and each time it felt like getting caught doing something far more intimate than staring.
Eventually, she led you inside.
The building was quieter than you expected at night, the halls mostly empty, the air warmer and carrying that faint gym smell of polished floors and old sweat and something metallic from the arena. Paige seemed different indoors too, more settled, like the building recognized her. She brought you through with easy familiarity, nodding at someone working late, swiping into areas you probably weren’t supposed to be in, then looking back at you with a grin that said she knew exactly that.
“Are we allowed to be here?” you asked.
“I’m allowed everywhere.”
“That is definitely not true.”
“It feels true.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that like it’s not your favorite thing about me.”
You gave her a look. “My favorite thing about you was your parents’ snack cabinet.”
Paige laughed. “Cold.”
“You asked.”
She brought you to the edge of the court.
The arena opened up around you, dim and huge, seats rising into shadow, the court glowing under partial lights. You stopped without meaning to. You had seen basketball courts before, obviously. You had been around Paige enough growing up that basketball had always felt like background noise. But this was different. This was hers. This was the world that had taken the kid from your driveway and made her into the girl standing beside you now, into the name people chanted, into the person with cameras following her and kids wearing her jersey.
Paige watched you take it in.
“Cool, right?” she said.
You nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I am.”
“Careful. I might get used to that.”
“You already are.”
She smiled, then walked onto the court. Her sneakers squeaked softly against the floor. You stayed near the sideline, watching as she grabbed a ball from a rack nearby and bounced it once. Twice. The sound echoed. She spun it in her hands with that absent ease of someone who had done it more times than she had breathed.
Then she looked at you. “You wanna shoot?”
You laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“Scared?”
“Of embarrassing myself? Yes.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“You tried that when we were thirteen. You said I had the shooting form of a wounded bird.”
Paige winced, but she was smiling. “I was a harsh coach.”
“You were a bully.”
“You were bad.”
“I was a child.”
“You were still bad.”
You crossed your arms. “This is why I don’t miss you.”
“Yes, you do.”
She bounced the ball toward you. It came slow, controlled, rolling until it tapped against your shoe. You looked down at it, then back at her.
“No.”
“One shot.”
“No.”
“For old times.”
“That phrase is how people get manipulated.”
“Y/N.”
The way she said it made you pick up the ball. You hated yourself for it.
Paige grinned like she had won something, which she had. You stepped onto the court, feeling immediately out of place. The ball felt too large in your hands, familiar only because childhood had forced familiarity onto you. Paige stood near the free throw line, watching with open amusement.
“Don’t laugh,” you warned.
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re already laughing internally.”
“Can’t control my thoughts.”
“You can control your face.”
“Not around you, apparently.”
That did not help.
You positioned yourself awkwardly, trying to remember anything she had taught you years ago. Paige’s gaze moved over you, not in the obvious way, but enough that your skin warmed beneath your coat. You lifted the ball. She made a small sound.
“What?” you snapped.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Your elbow.”
“My elbow is fine.”
“Your elbow is fighting for its life.”
You dropped the ball to your hip. “Do you want me to shoot or not?”
“I want you to make it.”
“You want to make fun of me.”
“Both can be true.”
You glared at her.
She walked toward you, still smiling, and your stomach tightened with every step. “Here,” she said. “Let me fix it.”
“No, I remember.”
“You do not.”
“I do.”
“You’re holding the ball like it owes you money.”
“Maybe it does.”
Paige stopped in front of you. “Can I?”
It was such a simple question. Two words. But it landed differently because her voice had gone softer, because she wasn’t touching you yet, because she was actually asking.
You nodded before you trusted yourself to speak.
Paige stepped closer.
Her hands came up, not quite touching yours at first. “Relax,” she said.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re gripping the ball like you’re about to fight it.”
“I’m cold.”
“You use that excuse a lot.”
“It’s versatile.”
She laughed quietly, then placed her hands over yours.
Everything in you went still.
Her hands were warm. That was the first thing you noticed. Warm and sure as she adjusted your grip, fingers guiding yours into place with casual precision. She stood close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed your chest, close enough that you could see the small curve of concentration between her brows as she focused on your form. You tried to listen as she explained where your shooting hand should be, how your guide hand wasn’t supposed to push, how your elbow needed to come in, but the only thing your brain understood was that Paige’s hands were on yours and her voice was low beside you and the entire empty arena suddenly felt like a locked room.
“Y/N,” she said.
You blinked. “What?”
Her eyes flicked to your face. “You hear anything I just said?”
“Yes.”
“What’d I say?”
“Basketball.”
Paige stared at you.
You stared back.
Then she laughed, not loud, but close enough that you felt the breath of it. “You are so unserious.”
“You’re distracting.”
The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.
Paige’s laughter faded.
Her eyes moved over your face, and there it was again — that shift, that little spark of recognition, like she had been waiting all night for you to slip. Her hands were still on yours. Neither of you moved.
“I’m distracting?” she asked.
You swallowed. “You talk a lot.”
“That’s what you meant?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep lying.”
Her thumb brushed lightly against the side of your hand. Maybe by accident. Probably not. Your grip tightened around the ball, and Paige noticed that too. Her gaze dropped to your hands, then back to your face.
“You nervous?” she asked again, quieter.
The teasing was still there, but now it had heat under it.
“No,” you said.
“You sure?”
“You ask that a lot.”
“You keep giving me reasons.”
You wanted to say something sharp. Something funny. Something that would put space back between you. But Paige was looking at you like that, and the arena was empty, and the court lights made everything feel unreal, and suddenly the years between you didn’t feel like distance at all. They felt like a fuse.
You forced yourself to raise the ball. “Are you going to help me shoot or keep flirting with yourself?”
Paige’s mouth curved. “So you admit I’m flirting.”
“I said with yourself.”
“Still heard flirting.”
“You hear what you want.”
“Right now?” she said, stepping slightly behind you to adjust your stance, her hands hovering near your waist before settling carefully at your elbows. “Yeah, maybe.”
Your breath caught.
Her chest was not touching your back. There was space. Barely. But you could feel the warmth of her behind you, the shape of her presence, the way her voice came from over your shoulder now.
“Bend your knees,” she said.
You did, badly.
Paige made a sound like she was trying not to laugh. “Not like you’re about to sit in an invisible chair.”
“I hate basketball.”
“No, you hate being bad at it.”
“I hate you.”
“You keep saying that too.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
Her hands adjusted your elbows, gentle but firm. “You always this mouthy now?”
You turned your head slightly. Mistake. Her face was closer than you expected, close enough that your noses were almost aligned, close enough that the rest of the sentence died in your throat. Paige’s eyes dropped to your mouth again, slower this time. Not a blink. Not imagined.
Your entire body forgot how to be casual.
Paige looked back up. “What?”
You whispered, “Nothing.”
She smiled faintly. “You sure?”
You looked forward quickly. “I’m shooting.”
“Go ahead, ma.”
The nickname hit like a shove.
You shot the ball.
It missed everything.
For one full second, silence.
Then Paige lost it.
She doubled over laughing, hand over her mouth, trying and failing to contain herself as the ball bounced uselessly off to the side without touching rim, backboard, net, anything. You stood frozen, humiliated, betrayed by basketball and by your own nervous system.
“Oh my God,” Paige choked out.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not, that was crazy.”
“You distracted me!”
Paige pointed at herself, eyes bright. “I didn’t shoot it!”
“You were standing behind me whispering like some evil basketball demon.”
“Evil basketball demon is insane.”
“You sabotaged me.”
“You airballed from ten feet.”
“I said don’t.”
Paige was still laughing when she jogged after the ball, ponytail swinging behind her. You tried to be mad, genuinely tried, but the sound of her laughter filled the arena in a way that made it impossible. She looked happy. Not interview happy. Not camera happy. Real happy. The kind you remembered from being kids, when making you angry was the funniest thing in the world to her.
She came back with the ball tucked against her hip, still grinning. “Okay. Redemption shot.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, I’m retiring.”
“After one airball? Weak career.”
“I’m protecting my legacy.”
“What legacy?”
“My childhood HORSE win.”
Paige pointed at you. “Fraudulent.”
“Still counts.”
“Run it back then.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What?”
“One game of HORSE.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“In UConn’s arena?”
“You scared?”
“You’re literally Paige Bueckers.”
“And you’re the alleged champion from 2015.”
“That was different.”
“Because I wasn’t hot then?”
You froze.
Paige froze too, but only because she was waiting for your reaction.
Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing came out.
The smile that spread across her face was criminal.
“Oh,” she said softly. “That’s what it is.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You just glitched.”
“I didn’t glitch.”
“You fully stopped working.”
“Because you said something stupid.”
“Because I said hot.”
“Because you referred to yourself as hot, which is embarrassing.”
Paige walked closer, dribbling once. “But you didn’t disagree.”
You looked anywhere but her face. “I don’t need to respond to everything.”
“You respond to everything.”
“I’ve changed.”
“Nah.” She stopped in front of you again, ball balanced against her side, eyes fixed on you with that slow, merciless amusement. “You still can’t lie to me.”
Your heart thudded.
“I can lie to you,” you said.
“Try.”
“You’re not hot.”
Paige stared at you.
You stared back.
It lasted maybe three seconds before her mouth twitched.
“That was terrible,” she said.
“Shut up.”
“No conviction.”
“I had conviction.”
“You looked like you were in pain.”
“I am. This conversation hurts.”
Paige leaned down slightly, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Say it again then.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Say I’m not hot.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t take orders from you.”
“You used to.”
“You used to be less annoying.”
“You used to be less obvious.”
Your face burned. “I’m leaving.”
You turned, but Paige caught your sleeve gently, not enough to stop you if you really wanted to go, just enough to ask you not to. The softness of it made you pause more than force would have.
“Y/N,” she said, and this time her voice wasn’t teasing.
You looked back.
Paige’s smile had faded into something smaller. Still confident, still her, but not mocking. Her fingers slipped from your sleeve, and she shifted the ball under one arm. “I’m playing.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
You let out a breath. “I know.”
The quiet returned, but it had changed. Less sharp now. More vulnerable, which somehow made it scarier. Paige looked at you like she wanted to say something, then didn’t. You could almost see her deciding against it, locking it behind that easy grin she wore so well.
Then she stepped back and tossed you the ball.
“HORSE,” she said. “No mercy.”
You caught it against your chest. “You’re challenging me after I just airballed?”
“Yeah. I like my odds.”
“You’re such a loser.”
“I’m a winner, actually. Public record.”
“Your ego needs medical attention.”
“And your jumper needs a funeral.”
You gasped. “That was personal.”
“That airball was personal to basketball.”
You laughed then, because you couldn’t help it, and Paige smiled like she had been trying to get that from you all night.
The game was ridiculous.
You lost badly, obviously. Paige didn’t even try at first, which offended you more than if she had destroyed you properly. She made lazy shots from the elbow, casual floaters, one-footed nonsense that still went in because the universe loved her too much. You made two shots total, one of which Paige generously called “valid” even though it barely survived. Every time she missed, which was rare, you celebrated like she had lost a championship. Every time you missed, which was constant, she made a face so dramatically pained that you threatened to throw the ball at her.
At some point, you forgot to be nervous.
Almost.
Because then Paige took off her jacket.
It was not dramatic. It should not have been dramatic. She just got warm from moving around, pulled her jacket off, and tossed it onto a chair near the sideline. Underneath, the long-sleeve top fit her even better than you had realized. You looked away instantly, but not fast enough.
Paige caught the ball after a made shot and turned, eyes narrowing with delight. “You good?”
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Stop asking me that.”
“You keep looking like you need medical assistance.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’ve shot four times.”
“Emotionally tired.”
“From losing?”
“From your personality.”
She laughed and walked toward you, spinning the ball on one finger because of course she could do that too, because apparently she had decided to be insufferable in every possible category tonight. “You know what’s funny?”
“Unfortunately, you’ll tell me.”
“You used to talk so much trash.”
“I still do.”
“Not like before.”
“I’m being polite.”
“You’re being careful.”
That landed too close.
You looked at her sharply. Paige’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes did. They were watching you in that way again, not teasing now. Reading.
“I’m not,” you said.
“You are.”
“You don’t know me like that anymore.”
The words came out harsher than you intended.
Paige stopped.
For a second, you wished you could pull them back. Not because they were untrue, but because they were. Because she did know you once, maybe better than anyone, and now there were years she had missed, things she didn’t know, versions of you she had never met. And maybe that was why tonight felt so strange. Because she was familiar enough to hurt and unfamiliar enough to want.
Paige lowered the ball slowly. “You’re right.”
You swallowed. “Paige—”
“No, you’re right.” She looked down, nodding once, then back at you. “I don’t know everything anymore.”
The vulnerability in her voice made you feel awful.
Then she added, softer, “But I still know when you’re lying.”
Your chest tightened.
She stepped closer, not crowding you this time, just closing some of the space. “And I know you do that thing where you act annoyed when you don’t know what else to do.”
You stared at her.
She smiled faintly. “You’re doing it tonight.”
You wanted to deny it. You wanted to say something sharp enough to make her back off, but she was right, and you hated that she was right. You had been acting annoyed because annoyed was safe. Annoyed was familiar. Annoyed was what you and Paige had always been. It was easier to roll your eyes than admit that seeing her again had knocked something loose in you.
“It’s weird,” you admitted quietly.
Paige’s face softened. “What is?”
“You.”
Her brows lifted.
You rushed to fix it. “Not you. I mean—this. Seeing you. Being here. You’re still Paige, but you’re also…”
“Hot?” she supplied.
You groaned. “Oh my God.”
She grinned. “Sorry. Keep going.”
“No, I’m done.”
“Wait, I was locked in.”
“I doubt that.”
“I was listening.”
“You ruined it.”
“I’ll behave.”
“You don’t know how.”
Paige’s smile lingered, but her eyes stayed soft. “I can try.”
That was worse.
You looked at her, really looked, and the words came before you could stop them. “When did that happen?”
Paige tilted her head. “What?”
You gestured vaguely at her, immediately regretting every life choice that led you there. “This.”
Her grin returned slowly. “This?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really wanna hear you say it.”
“I’m not saying it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll be unbearable.”
“I’m already unbearable.”
“Exactly.”
Paige stepped closer again, and this time you didn’t move away. The ball rested against her hip. Her shoulder was bare of the jacket now, the fitted fabric of her shirt catching lightly across her chest and arms, and you hated that you noticed, hated that your gaze betrayed you for half a second before snapping back up.
Paige’s eyes darkened with amusement.
“Y/N,” she said softly. “When did what happen?”
Your pulse beat in your throat.
You could lie. You could dodge. You could make a joke and escape, which was what you had done all night. But something about the empty arena, about the years between you, about the way Paige was looking at you like she wanted the truth not just because she could tease you with it, but because she wanted to hear it, made you tired of pretending.
So you looked at her and said, “When did you get hot?”
For once, Paige Bueckers went quiet.
Not for long. Barely a second. But enough. Enough for you to see the words land. Enough for her smugness to flicker into surprise, then pleasure, then something deeper that made your stomach twist.
Her tongue pressed briefly against her cheek.
Then she smiled.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
You rolled your eyes, but your face was burning. “And there it is.”
“What?”
“The ego.”
“Nah.” Paige stepped closer, close enough now that the ball between you was the only thing keeping your bodies apart. “That wasn’t ego.”
“No?”
“No.” Her voice dipped. “That was patience.”
Your breath caught.
The air between you changed so fast it almost scared you. One second you were teasing, the next you were standing in the middle of an empty basketball court with Paige looking at you like the game had become something else entirely. Her eyes moved over your face, slow and careful, like she was checking for permission without saying the word. You hated how much you wanted her to find it.
“Paige,” you whispered, though you had no idea what you meant by it.
Her gaze dropped to your mouth.
The ball slipped slightly between you as her grip loosened.
Somewhere outside the arena, a door opened and closed.
Both of you snapped back like you’d been caught.
Paige stepped away first, clearing her throat as she tossed the ball lightly from one hand to the other. You turned toward the seats, heart racing, even though nobody had come in. The sound had been distant, probably from another hallway, but it was enough to shatter whatever had almost happened.
Almost.
That word would kill you.
Paige looked at you again, and the grin was back, but it wasn’t as steady as before. “You scared?”
You laughed breathlessly. “Of what?”
“Me.”
You should’ve said no. You should’ve teased her. You should’ve said something normal.
Instead, you looked at her and said, “A little.”
Paige’s expression shifted.
The honesty sat there, exposed.
Then she nodded once, slow, like she understood more than you had meant to give her. “Good.”
Your eyes widened. “Good?”
“Yeah.” She spun the ball once, then caught it against her side. “Means I got a chance.”
You stared at her. “A chance?”
Paige smiled, but this one was softer. Less performance. More real. “To make you nervous on purpose.”
Your stomach flipped so hard it was embarrassing.
“You are unbelievable,” you said.
“You already knew that.”
“I knew you were annoying.”
“Now I’m hot and annoying.”
“Unfortunately.”
She laughed, and the tension loosened just enough for you to breathe again, though it didn’t disappear. It stayed under everything after that. Under the jokes, under the last few shots, under Paige walking you back through the empty halls with her jacket over one arm and her shoulder brushing yours every few steps. It stayed when you walked outside again into the cold, when she looked at you and asked if you were warm enough, when you said yes even though your hands were freezing.
Paige noticed, because of course she did.
She stopped near the hotel entrance, where the lights spilled gold onto the sidewalk. Your families were probably inside somewhere, still talking, still assuming the two of you were just catching up like old friends. Maybe you were. Maybe this was what catching up felt like when the person in front of you had once known your childhood and was now making you think things you had no business thinking.
“You’re cold,” Paige said.
“I’m fine.”
“Y/N.”
You sighed. “A little.”
She held out her hand.
You looked at it. “What?”
“Your hand.”
“Why?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“I ask normal questions when people randomly demand my hand.”
Paige gave you a look. “You trust me or nah?”
That was unfair.
Because you did.
Even now. Even after years. Even with your heart doing strange, stupid things in your chest. You trusted Paige in a way that felt older than attraction, older than tension, older than whatever had sparked to life tonight. You trusted her because a part of you still remembered scraped knees and stolen snacks and her tying your shoelace while calling you dramatic. You trusted her because she was Paige.
So you gave her your hand.
She took it between both of hers and rubbed warmth into your fingers. The gesture was practical. Almost innocent. Almost. Except her hands were too warm, her touch too careful, her eyes too fixed on yours.
“You still get cold easy,” she murmured.
“You still act like you’re in charge of everything.”
“I am right now.”
“You’re warming my hand, not running a country.”
“Same skill set.”
You laughed softly, and her thumb brushed over your knuckles.
The hotel doors opened behind you, voices spilling out, and you both pulled apart just before anyone could see. Your mom appeared first, smiling, coat over her arm. “There you are. We were wondering where you two went.”
“Campus tour,” Paige said easily.
Your mom looked between you, eyes bright in a way that made you deeply suspicious. “That was nice.”
“Yeah,” Paige said, glancing at you. “Real nice.”
You gave her a warning look.
She smiled like an angel. A fake one.
Everyone began organizing rides and room keys and breakfast plans for the next morning. You stood slightly apart, trying to look normal, trying not to stare at Paige while she talked to her dad. You failed twice. Maybe three times. The third time, Paige looked over and caught you.
She didn’t smirk.
That was somehow worse.
She just held your gaze for a second, eyes soft and knowing, then looked down with a small smile like she was keeping something to herself.
Your phone buzzed in your coat pocket.
You pulled it out.
A text from Paige.
paige: still got my number?
you: clearly
paige: good
you: why
paige: so next time you wanna call me hot you don’t have to wait ten years
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.
Across the lobby, Paige watched you read it, her own phone loose in one hand, expression far too pleased.
You typed back.
you: next time?
paige: yeah
paige: unless you scared
You looked up at her.
She lifted her brows slightly.
You should not have smiled.
You did anyway.
you: goodnight paige
paige: night y/n
paige: dream about my jumper, not the airball
You looked at her with pure betrayal.
Paige laughed silently, shoulders shaking, and for one second it was childhood again. For one second she was still the girl who existed to bother you, to make you laugh when you were trying to be mad, to turn every ordinary moment into a competition she planned to win.
Except now your heart was racing.
Except now her eyes dropped once to your mouth before she looked away.
Except now you were standing in a hotel lobby thinking, with complete horror and no real desire to stop it:
gosh this one was soooo hard for me to write for some reason. i hope yall like it!! pls lmk your thoughts!
huge thank you to @girliblue for reading/editing for me you're the best <333
also i know this gets super religious-y at times, but i hope it's still readable for people who aren't religious or aren't christian/catholic!! (also this is me saying i think it'd be cool if people talked about religion more in fics. like i wanna read about the faith journey of someone that's muslim or buddhist or hindu or literally anything. iiiii think that'd be so cool)
TWs: Catholic guilt
see that girl, watch that scene
digging the dancing queen
Thursday, August 29th, 2024 – The Bueckers’s, Anderson, SC
Paige felt like an idiot.
Of course she had a boyfriend.
Sitting in that bathroom stall at school trying not to cry for the entire lunch period had felt like some type of humiliation ritual. She’d just kept repeating to herself in her head you’ve only known her for a few weeks and this is literally the closure you wanted and get over yourself you loser, which would all usually work to get her head back on straight. But, for some reason, she just couldn’t shake the feelings she had. The realization that Azzi had a boyfriend brought up so much shame and embarrassment within her. She could reason with herself all she wanted about why, logically, she had done nothing wrong and she had nothing to be self-conscious about. But reason did nothing to get rid of the nausea in her stomach or the racing of her heart or the shaking of her hands.
At one point, Kayla had come knocking on her stall door and asking if she was alright. To which, Paige pretended (probably unconvincingly) that she just didn’t feel well. She knew there was no way Kayla actually believed her, but she gave her the space she needed for the rest of lunch. When she’d returned, she must’ve looked as shitty as she felt, because no one questioned her. The pit in her stomach that followed her for the rest of the school day was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
She just wanted to be normal.
She was, for once, so glad that they only had practice once a week so that Paige could just go home instead of having to keep up her not-melting-down facade all day. Now that she was finally home and free from prying eyes, Paige swiftly closed the door to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed.
It still didn’t feel like hers. She missed Minnesota.
Paige felt her eyes welling up with tears. She hated that she was being so dramatic about something like this, but she couldn’t convince herself to calm down. She was at such a loss for what to do that she found herself googling “how to get over a crush”. Which was pitiful, but really, what else was she supposed to do in that situation. The results pretty much summed up to:
Go no contact. Not possible–there are 12 people in our class and we play on the same school team and AAU team. Nice try though.
Focus on their flaws. Paige knew she was putting the girl on a pedestal, but really, what flaws had she learned besides the fact that the girl was slow to warm up to you.
Redirect your energy. …Right. Time to get a fucking hobby, Paige.
She made a mental note. Maybe it was time to become an arts and crafts girl. Maybe she should start a garden. Or become a master chef. Learn to paint. Or she’d start training for a marathon. Become one of those runners that post their Strava on their Instagram story every day and run like a hundred miles a week. She found herself actually cracking up at the notion of doing any of the above, which did momentarily help her feel slightly better. God help me.
Journaling was a common self-help hobby suggestion, but she already sort of did that–she already wrote out a prayer every night before bed because, if she didn’t write them out, she’d get distracted and either forget that she was praying all together or she’d just fall asleep before she could finish. So at least she had that going for her.
The reminder brought her to reach over to her nightstand and grab her journal and the pen she always left sitting on top of it. Her little nightly journal-prayer ritual always recentered her, no matter how much she was struggling with religion at the given moment. Something about writing out all of her feelings, putting her hopes and dreams to words, and physically putting pen to paper what she was thankful for was cathartic. She always started out by listing what she was thankful for, followed by a word dump of all of her thoughts and feelings and grievances and opinions, which would then be followed by all of the things and people she wanted to pray for.
Her stupid, shitty ballpoint PaperMate pen stopped writing halfway through her list of gratitudes, despite the fact that she could see that the ink cartridge was almost full. Which led her to scribble at the top of the page aggressively until the pen started flowing ink again. The cycle repeated at least three times while she wrote out her prayer.
Once she finished and her head was in a moderately better place, she came to the ultimate decision that she was just going to focus on herself and volleyball. Yes, Azzi was wonderful and Paige’s feelings were probably here to stay. And that sucked. But she had always believed she was put on this earth to be a setter, so that was what she was going to keep living like.
She didn’t even really want to tell Nika what she’d learned, because the thought of anyone else knowing just how down bad she still was for a straight girl who literally had a boyfriend was humiliating. However, she also knew Nika wasn’t just going to stop mentioning the girl. So she had to suck it up and tell her. She took the cowards way out and decided to text her instead of call.
Paige: she has a bf
Paige: also why tf does this school have a homecoming lol
Nika: WHAT???!!
Paige: yeah ik like it’s an all girls school it doesnt make any sense
Nika: bruh. no
Nika: boyfriend???
Incoming call from Nika Mühl. Paige immediately clicked decline.
Nika: bruh
Nika: pick up
Paige: no
Nika: bruh
Paige: i just don’t rly wanna talk abt it
Nika: are you okay??
Paige: yeah. just gunna focus on vb i think
Nika: okay well i’m always here for you if you wanna talk
Paige told her thanks and then changed the subject, asking Nika about how her own team’s season was going so far. Which was, unsurprisingly, much better than St. Anne’s. Because she went to a real school with a real coach. Paige didn’t think she’d ever reach a point in her life where she’d be jealous of someone having a coach that knew things about the sport, but here she was.
——
Wednesday, September 4th, 2024 – The Bueckers’s, Anderson, SC
Paige had gotten home from the school team’s practice a few hours ago.
Azzi had asked her about practicing together again after school on Friday and Paige had agreed. The notion filled her with dread–being around her still made her feel wrecked with a bone-deep embarrassment she couldn’t shake. But Paige had promised herself she’d focus on volleyball and she would be an idiot to pass up the opportunity to hit and set with a drill partner like her.
The past two days of school had been normal. She’d done what she’d thought was a good job compartmentalizing her emotions. Or, at least, no one else had mentioned anything about her seeming off. She still sat next to Azzi at lunch and in most of their classes and they still talked. They still fit together seamlessly on the court.
Despite all of the grief her feelings were giving her, Paige would never let anything stand in between herself and the dreams she had in her sport. Genuinely, the world would have to be ending for her to stop chasing them. It was the one thing that had been constant in her life despite all of the changes with her parents’ divorce and now the move. Volleyball was ingrained into her soul and she would do anything for it.
She hadn’t wanted to accidentally run into Azzi at the rec center today, so she was stuck making do at home. It was late, probably nine already. It was dark out. Humid. The grass was wet and it had made Paige’s shoes and the bottoms of her legs damp. There were a few lightning bugs hanging around keeping her company.
She was just standing there, practicing hitting the ball against the exterior of her house on the side of their yard. Hitting it, then receiving it, then hitting it again. Occasionally, a neighbor that was on their nightly walk would pass her. Some of them said hello. Most of them just gave her a weird look.
Truthfully, she wasn’t actually doing anything productive. Just working muscle memory and staying volleyball fit, since Chris wasn’t giving her much to work with in practice. She’d already done plyometrics and lift before practice. But she wanted to do more.
Her hands stung from how many times they’d slapped the ball against the siding. Her left knee had already started to ache—but that was normal. Ignorable. A small price to pay if she wanted to become great one day.
She was honestly surprised her dad waited as long as he did to go out and get her to stop. He usually hated the noise of the volleyball slapping against the side of the house. Said it was like nails on a chalkboard. She didn’t blame him.
She felt her dad’s eyes on her when he walked outside, but she wasn’t really in the mood to talk. She just wanted to let volleyball keep her head clear. It was good for that.
“Paige.”
“Hm?” She kept hitting the ball, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead and following the ball’s trajectory.
“Paige,” he tried again, walking up and grabbing the ball in between reps.
She sighed, defeated. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, moving grass around with the toe of her shoe. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her.
“Why don’t you come inside? Your dinner’s getting cold.”
“Sorry. I’ll be in in a few,” she muttered.
He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, a concerned look in his eyes. “You sure you’re alright?”
She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Just school stuff.”
“Okay,” he said, gently. “Always here if you ever want to talk.”
She knew that. He loved her unconditionally and she was very grateful. But they had never had the talk-about-your-feelings type of father-daughter relationship. She’s not sure what she’d say. Where she’d even start.
“Thanks.”
He looked at her for a few more moments before he handed her back her ball, gave her a small smile, and turned to walk back inside.
She didn’t continue hitting. Just sat there, like she was stuck in some cutscene, staring off into space trying to collect her thoughts. Her stomach growled, which she decided to take as a sign to stop fucking around and go eat dinner like a functional human being.
The house was quiet when she walked in. A lone takeout bag was left on the counter, pasta and a small side salad from some Italian place in the area she hadn’t heard of before. Her dad must’ve already gone up to bed.
She grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and tied it around her knee. Popped a couple Advil. Her body throbbed in that satisfying way it always did when she’d put in a good day of workouts and practices as she sat down to eat.
Her pasta was, in fact, cold. As she was finishing up eating, Drew came downstairs.
“Paigey,” he exclaimed as he tugged on her arm. “Can we go get shakes?”
Paige felt herself soften. He always seemed to find her when she needed a pick-me-up.
“Sure,” she answered, getting up from her stool, grabbing her keys and wallet as she walked towards the front door. “C’mon.”
He cheered, speed walking to catch up with her as he followed her out the door. He tugged on her shirt as he walked next to her. “I really wanna try the orange push-up one. My friend at school told me it tastes like sherbert.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
——
Thursday, September 5th, 2024 – Chesterton Academy, Greenville, SC
South Carolina even looked hot. Even though it was September, nothing had cooled off. Everything looked like it was edited to have the saturation turned up. She’d finally successfully bargained to get normal seat privileges off of grounds that it made no sense for someone five-foot-eleven to be in the tiny middle seat when Ava was four-foot-nothing. Which did mean she couldn’t see Azzi’s face from the seat situated directly behind her, but it was a tradeoff her knees really appreciated.
Their second away game was in Greenville. It was a little under an hour of a drive and Virginia still played country music the entire time.
Greenville was much, much larger than Pendleton. Chesterton Academy was much larger than St. Anne’s–which wasn’t hard to do, but still. It meant their volleyball team would probably be better than the last one they faced in their last away game. It was right on the outskirts of the city.
The gym was decently large, but the stands didn’t have that many people in them–just the friends and family of the players. She could feel eyes on her the second she stepped into the room. A few girls on the other team were staring straight at her, giggling to each other, clearly talking about her. One even pointed at her.
She felt herself flush at the attention. She still hadn’t gotten used to people knowing who she was and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
She took a deep breath to recenter herself. Just focus on the game.
Azzi must’ve noticed her reaction to the looks. She bumped her shoulder as they moved to walk onto the court for warmups. “Someone’s popular.”
She flushed even harder. “Shut up.”
Azzi let out a small laugh as they started stretching. Paige pointedly looked anywhere except at the girl while they warmed up. Stupid high knees and butt kicks. Not helpful.
Her pulse thrummed in anticipation the way it always did before a match. Chris was actually on time for once and had already started rambling on about “togetherness” and “connectivity”. Surely if they just all started meditating right now and breathed at the same time, they’d win the set. Blegh. She’d rather just coach the team herself.
They were still playing a 6-2 lineup with Marissa and Paige both setting, which was truly just so unfortunate. The game looked hopeful at the very beginning, when Paige served and no one could receive it and all was right with the world. It took them five tries (and four points for St. Anne’s) for them to finally receive her serve and begin an actual rally. Unfortunately, that meant that Paige wouldn’t serve next, which meant that the ball wouldn’t make it over the net and Chesterton would get the point. And then they’d serve again–aiming for someone who couldn’t receive (Marissa). Then someone who sucked at serving would flub again, and the cycle would repeat. It really was just so irritating.
Surprising no one, they lost. Azzi and Paige had both played great, but there’s only so much two people could do in a game of six. No one else besides them and Kayla could get a serve across the net. The other team, unfortunately for them, did know how to do basic serving and receiving.
After the game, once Chris had finished giving them his extremely unhelpful closing remarks, a few of the girls from the other team walked up to Paige.
“Hey, um, sorry, could we maybe have a picture?” one of them–the brunette with the braid that had aimed all of her serves and hits at Marissa–asked.
“Oh yeah, sure.” Paige offered a smile, going to stand by them as one of their moms reached out her phone to get a picture. She put her arms around them politely and smiled for the picture before turning back to them.
“Good game today, you guys were great.”
They started making small talk about the game, the other brunette (with the ponytail) having a lot of nice things to say about her sets. The compliments made her feel slightly better about their loss. Slightly.
“Paige!” Azzi called at her from across the gym. Their team was ready to leave and start the drive home.
“Sorry, gotta go,” Paige said, waving goodbye to the girls with a polite smile. “Nice meeting you guys!”
Paige jogged over to Azzi, who’d already grabbed Paige’s bag from the bench. She grabbed it from her, their hands brushing lightly. “Thanks.”
“Yep.”
——
Friday, September 20th, 2024 – Anderson Mall, Anderson, SC
“Can I just not go?” Paige asked Nika, having just completed searching through her third department store. Dillard’s was dead to her. If she had to spend one more second trying on dresses with crappy Millenial music blaring on the speakers in the stale dressing rooms, she was going to vomit.
“Bro, the dance is literally tomorrow.”
“Ugh,” Paige whined.
“And didn’t you tell Kayla you’d drive her?”
“Uuugh.”
Nika was right and she hated it.
She was on facetime with her as she was looking for a dress that fit the St. Anne’s dress code requirements. She was convinced they simply didn’t make homecoming dresses that fit the laundry list of requirements. Paige’s least favorite rule was that you had to wear a dress–no suits or pantsuits or rompers allowed. But that requirement wasn’t shocking. However, said dress had to be longer than your fingertips, it couldn’t be strapless, it couldn’t have a plunging neckline, and it had to cover the back. No slits, no sheer. It also couldn’t be too tight. God forbid teenage girls showed the general shape of their bodies. Horrifying. Might as well be a straight shot to Hell.
Paige had been wandering around the mall like a depressed chicken with its head cut off looking at dresses for several hours already and she hadn’t found a single one that fit the requirements, much less fit her and looked good on her and was within her budget.
At the very least, the ridiculousness of it was momentarily distracting her from her wallowing.
“Why don’t you try a Windsor? Do they have one of those there?”
“Dunno. I’ll look.”
She stood off to the side and googled the store. There were a few in South Carolina. None within an hour drive. “None that I can make it to before they close,” she groaned. “Are you sure I can’t just skip it?”
“Yes,” Nika insisted. “This is literally your first dance because you’ve been playing volleyball every other time. And who knows if you’ll get another chance after this either.”
“Stop making sense.”
“Not until you stop being a weasel.”
Paige didn’t dignify that with a response. “Back to JCPenney’s I go, I guess.”
JCPenney’s was a ridiculously popular place considering the fact that it was five fifteen in the afternoon on a Friday. There were people everywhere. Paige kept getting weird looks as she drug herself up and down the homecoming dress aisle (which was a little pitiful). The whole masc lesbian vibe was probably throwing everyone off with the dress shopping. Which just served to make Paige even more pissed at her situation, because why the fuck was she homecoming dress shopping.
There were only two dresses she could find that would fly in St. Anne’s: a light blue one and a green one. The green one was a weird shade that resembled vomit, so the blue dress it was. She’d checked out right before the store closed at eight.
It was fine. As far as dresses went. She still didn’t really want to go. But, whatever. She’d suck it up.
——
Saturday, September 21st, 2024 – Dolce Vita Italian Bistro and Pizza, Anderson, SC
Paige felt her heartbeat quicken and anxiety curled in her gut as she tried to take a deep breath. Fuck.
As she parked in the parking lot, she could see all of the other girls gathered by the fountain, smiling and giggling. Azzi’s boyfriend was there. She could see him. She tried not to look at him for too long, lest she actually throw up in her mouth.
Kayla was watching her from where she sat in the passenger seat. Paige pretended she didn’t notice as she gathered her things and got out of the car.
Time to get this over with.
Paige was wearing the tiniest heels on the planet and she still almost rolled her ankle on the first step she took when she got out of the car. She felt like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. Awww, look at Paigey taking her first steps! God help her.
Azzi’s sweet face lit up when she saw her, bringing her in for a hug once she got close enough. Paige felt sick. She hugged her back, plastering as believable of a smile as she could on her face.
She took turns hugging the rest of the girls, everyone exchanging happy coos over each other’s dresses and hair and makeup.
All Paige could think was that Azzi was beautiful. So, so breathtakingly beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. Jealousy thrummed through her veins and she hated it.
She was wearing the most gorgeous sparkly pink dress with white sandals and a little white clutch bag. Her hair was in a gorgeous updo, in a fancy bun with two soft strands out in the front to frame her face. She had her makeup done, and it made her eyes look even more beautiful. Her nails were done with french tips that matched her dress. She had such a bright, happy smile on her face, her eyes crinkling with laughter. Paige didn’t know what to do with herself in her presence. There were so many emotions welling up in her chest and she didn’t have a say in any of them.
She couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room any longer when the stupid boy standing next to her reached a hand out, introducing himself. “I’m Christian.”
Christian. Like the religion. What a ridiculous name.
“Paige. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Azzi wasn’t even wearing heels and she was still maybe half an inch taller than the guy. She wanted to tell herself to stop being so miserable and vain–maybe Baptist was super sweet and a great boyfriend, what does she know–but she couldn’t help it.
Christian looked like your typical guy. That’s all Paige could really say to describe him. White guy, brown hair, brown eyes. Decently fit looking, but standing next to Azzi made him look skinnier. He was wearing slightly poorly fitting dress pants with a button up and pink tie that matched Azzi’s dress. Azzi’s corsage had pink flowers on it. It was clear that they’d coordinated about it.
Only one of the other girls had a date. Military family girl had brought a military boy (biologically un-related). He seemed fine. Buzz cut and maybe a little disturbed looking, but fine.
“Alright, let's get situated for pictures!” one of the moms said, all smiles.
They started lining up for your stereotypical school dance photos. Paige and Azzi ended up standing next to each other in the back for all of the group ones, since they were the two tallest. Which meant that Paige got to put her arm around her waist and feel Azzi’s arm around hers in return. It had her reeling.
After they got group pictures, they got their two couple pictures. Watching the boy put his arms around her waist had her feeling nauseous, but she couldn’t look away. They both looked so happy. She was smiling so brightly, eyes crinkling. Paige felt like she couldn’t move.
After their couple pictures were done, Azzi talked to him for a few more minutes while some friends got pictures together. Paige hadn’t planned on getting any. She definitely wasn’t going to be posting any pictures of herself in a dress on her Instagram, that’s for sure.
But, after a few moments, Azzi walked over to Paige and grabbed onto her wrist, dragging her over towards the area in front of the fountain. “C’mon, I wanna get a picture of us.”
Paige’s skin burned where she touched her. “Okay,” she choked out.
She felt exceedingly awkward as they posed for a handful of pictures. Being able to put her hand around her waist was truly a surreal feeling that she wished she’d never gotten the chance to feel. This was doing exactly what Dr. Google had said not to do when she’d asked how to get over a crush. Whatever. Consequences be damned.
After pictures had finished, they walked over to the Italian restaurant for their dinner reservation. She’s not sure what the reaction of the hostess would’ve been if they’d told her that she was actually seating their entire grade minus Marissa. Who was invited–they weren’t mean like that. She just chose not to show up.
The restaurant was decently fancy. Probably what one would expect for dinner before a high school Homecoming. Given that it was a Saturday afternoon, it was incredibly crowded and almost too loud to hear the person next to you speak. Paige ended up, predictably, sitting between Azzi and Kayla. Azzi’s stupid boyfriend was on her other side. Paige was also, unfortunately, sitting across from Veronica and her military boyfriend.
She didn’t even really feel like talking because she was already so overstimulated. It was so loud, and seeing Azzi lean over to her side to hear her boyfriend as he spoke burned.
Military boyfriend guy, however, apparently had great hearing. He kept inserting himself into conversations around him to loudly “play the devil’s advocate”. It was obnoxious.
She didn’t want to be rude, but if she kept sitting there in silence trying not to wince at how loud it was and trying to ignore Azzi and her boyfriend touching shoulders in her peripheral vision, she thought she might actually start crying. So she pulled out her phone (from her handbag, not her pocket, since she didn’t have pockets).
Paige: help
Paige: we’re at dinner and i’m dying
Nika’s response came in the form of a game of 8-ball, which brought a smile to her face. Typical.
After a few minutes of sending 8-ball back and forth (Paige was playing stripes and was absolutely wiping the floor with her), Azzi leaned over to her. “Whatcha doing?”
She titled her phone over so Azzi could see. “Winning.”
“Wait, I wanna play.” Azzi pulled out her own phone from her little white handbag that was hanging on the back of her chair.
Paige found herself smiling, giddy, as they started their own game of 8-ball. Paige was the first to go after Azzi broke the center, getting one ball into its pocket before horrifically missing her next shot and sending the white ball into a pocket instead. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
Azzi laughed at her when she watched the replay, then continued to get not one, not two, not three, but four balls in. Making Paige look exceptionally awful.
“Damn,” Paige said as she watched the replay, Azzi smiling smugly.
Paige then continued to miss her next three shot attempts. Azzi won.
“That was a fluke,” Paige insisted. “Again.”
She sent another game. Lo and behold, Azzi won again. And was so, so smug about it. Paige wanted to be butthurt about it, but instead she found herself actually giddy at getting to make the girl smile.
They went back and forth until their food finally arrived, signaling that they needed to put their phones away to eat.
Once dinner was over, Paige and Kayla drove to St. Anne’s. Kayla was kind enough to complain about military boyfriend the whole time and pointedly did not mention Azzi’s boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named. Paige was very grateful.
The St. Anne’s lunchroom had been poorly converted into a dance venue. There were a few disco balls and streamers taped to the ceiling and there were a few dispensers of punch, sweet tea, and lemonade. The tables had all been pushed to the side in the corner to give them a “dancefloor”. The music was violently shuffling between KidzBop and that one really specific brand of Christian pop music.
Paige would bet $100 that it was someone’s older sibling who had been paid to be the DJ. Every time they played a song that got everyone dancing and excited, they immediately changed it to something else. It was bizarre.
Paige had enjoyed making fun of the dance in her own mind for about a solid two minutes before the first slow song was played, and then everything stopped being funny. Azzi and Christian were right in front of her swaying gently to the music, her hands around his neck and his hands sitting snugly on her waist. She was gazing into his eyes sweetly, them both talking quietly. Paige wanted that to be her so badly that it ached.
When she rested her head on his shoulder halfway through the dance, Paige swore she almost threw up right then and there. Everything suddenly became too much for her to handle.
She quickly excused herself to go grab a cup of punch.
After she grabbed her drink and the song had changed, she just stood there leaning up against the wall in the corner of the room, swirling around her punch, trying to steady her breathing while also maintaining the appearance of someone who was not at all affected by anything ever. She knew it was unlike her to be standing alone on the sidelines, but she couldn’t force herself to enjoy anything about the dance. She wanted so badly for her brain to just let go. The same thoughts were swirling around in her head: She has a boyfriend. She’s straight. There’s the closure you prayed for, handed to you on a silver platter. You can stop feeling like this now. Please, God, let me stop feeling like this.
That line of thought led her to feel like she was going to actually throw up. She needed to get out before she did something stupid like vomit all over her shoes.
She sought out Kayla, getting ready to leave. She found her across the room dancing with a few other girls from their class. Paige made a beeline for her and touched her shoulder to get her attention, pulling her aside, hands shaking.
“Hey, I think Imma head out. Do you wanna come with, or is there someone else that could drive you home?”
Kayla stared at her for a second, reaching out a hand to grab onto Paige’s elbow. “You good?”
Paige hated being asked that. It always made her want to cry. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she muttered, “Yeah.”
“I’m always here if you need anything,” she said, kindly. “I should be okay to find a ride if you want to head out.”
“Thanks.” Paige turned to head out, grabbing her keys from her bag.
Paige walked out of the room without saying goodbye to anyone else, just heading to her car where she could be sad without anyone else catching on. It was embarrassing enough that Kayla clearly had her figured out. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if one of the other girls found out, or, God forbid, Azzi found out.
Once she got to her car, Paige found herself begging. God, please. Please take these feelings away if they aren’t meant for me. Or please just stop it from hurting so much if you’re asking me to wait. Please.
She hated that she was crying. She felt ridiculous. She’d thought she’d gotten a handle on her feelings and was doing better, but having seen Azzi with her boyfriend in person had taken her ten steps backwards. She just wanted the feelings gone–they were getting too much for her to handle. She just wanted to be normal.
It took her far longer than she’d like to admit to be okay enough to drive home.
Hi!! Omg I love your writing so much and I was wondering if you could please write soft paige x reader maybe were their married or dating and are cooking in there house together and then maybe soft smut 🙂↕️ I just feel like it would be so cute 😩🫶
morning light- p.b x fem!reader
pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader
warnings: fluff & smut
synopsis: a glimpse of what it’s like being married to paige.
a/n: thank you mllll <3333
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
you had heard her before you saw her, a soft shuffle of socks sliding lazily across the hardwood floor, followed by a gentle creak of the hallway as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. there was something familiar—almost rhythmic—about the way paige moved in the mornings, like she was still half-dreaming, existing in that warm, in-between space of sleep and wakefulness.
you didn’t need to turn around to know the look on her face. you could picture it perfectly: eyelids still heavy with sleep, hair messily piled on top of her head, and a sleepy pout tugging at her lips, the kind she wore when she wasn’t quite ready to join the world yet. she always emerged like that on sundays—untouched by alarms, schedules, or the outside world, wearing whatever hoodie had ended up closest to her side of the bed.
“good morning.” she mumbled, voice low and raspy. her arms snaked around your waist from behind, her body pressing gently against your back as her chin rested on your shoulder. the heat of her skin seeped through the soft cotton of the hoodie, her warmth wrapping around you in a way that made your shoulders relax, the kind of comfort you could never quite explain to anyone but her.
you smiled to yourself, continuing to stir the pancake batter in the ceramic bowl in front of you. “morning, honey. sleep okay?”
“i would’ve slept longer if the bed wasn’t cold,” she replied, lips brushing your shoulder. “why do you wake up so early?”
“some of us enjoy being productive,” you teased, glancing at her over your shoulder. her eyes were still only half-open, and her cheeks were flushed in that endearing way they always were right after she woke up.
“and some of us don’t believe in suffering,” she yawned dramatically, then gave you a half-smirk. “you’re lucky you’re cute or I’d report this level of morning energy as a crime.”
you chuckled, leaning your weight into her a little. “you say that, but you always find your way into the kitchen the second you smell pancakes.”
“because you put drugs in them. love drugs. secret wife drugs,” she muttered, letting go of your waist only to snatch a peeled banana from the counter. “you cook like someone who’s trying to trap me.”
you raised an eyebrow and turned to face her. “you literally proposed to me.”
she shrugged, her smile widening. “you wore that dress that day. you know the one. i had no choice.”
“unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, biting down a grin. “go make yourself useful and set the table or something.”
but instead of moving, she took a big bite of banana and hopped onto the counter, legs swinging gently. “nope. i’m just here for moral support and affection.”
you shook your head, laughing softly. it was always like this—easy and calm. being married to paige didn’t feel like some milestone or huge lifestyle shift, it felt like coming home. every day. in moments like this, with music playing low from your phone on the counter, the sizzle of bacon beginning behind you, and her leaning toward you like she couldn’t physically stay away, you realized how much peace she brought to your life.
she watched you stir the batter with narrowed eyes, like she was analyzing your every move, and then tilted her head. “can I flip the pancakes this time?”
you hesitated. “you burnt them the last time.”
her jaw dropped in mock offense. “that’s slander. i was trying a new technique.”
“you literally walked away mid-flip to answer a facetime from kk.”
“that was an emergency,” she defended, crossing her arms, and you raised your eyebrows as you waited to hear what she came up with. “she wanted to know which sneakers to wear.”
you could only shake your head as you handed her the spatula with an amused sigh. “fine, you can flip. i want golden brown, not charcoal art.”
“yes ma'am,” she saluted dramatically, hopping down and taking position in front of the stove like she was about to enter the culinary olympics. you let her have her moment. she hovered over the pan with intense focus, biting her lip as she waited for the right moment. when she finally flipped the pancake, it landed perfectly, and she turned toward you, triumphant. “boom. pancake goddess unlocked.”
“you flip one pancake and suddenly you’re martha stewart?” you teased.
“better,” she said, leaning toward you, proud grin in full effect. “i’m paige bueckers, wife of the year, pancake flipper extraordinaire.”
you walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her waist, and kissed her lips. “you’re also dramatic.”
she leaned into your embrace without hesitation, resting her hands on your waist. her body melted against you, and for a moment, the playfulness gave way to quiet. there was something sacred about how she stilled in your arms, how her breath slowed like she felt safest right there. she turned her face slightly toward yours and spoke softly, “i love this. you and me.”
you kissed her cheek, gently. “me too.”
once breakfast was fully underway, the kitchen was alive with the smells of sizzling bacon and the rich aroma of coffee lingering in the air. paige, having declared herself a master chef after her pancake win, insisted on cracking the eggs, and you watched her do so with intense concentration—tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth in the most endearing way.
“you’re staring,” she said without looking up, carefully dropping the yolk into the bowl.
“you’re cute,” you said simply. she paused to glance at you, cheeks flushing slightly despite her usual confidence.
“you’re obsessed with me.”
“guilty,” you agreed. she grinned and turned back to the eggs, but her shoulders were a little more relaxed now, and you noticed her humming under her breath—a soft rnb melody that drifted lazily between you like smoke curling in the sunlight. she moved around the kitchen barefoot, and there was something painfully beautiful about the image.
you plated the food together in quiet harmony, bumping hips a few times as you navigated the small space. at one point, she wrapped an arm around your waist and just held you there for a second while you reached up to grab two mugs from the cabinet. her touch wasn’t rushed or even particularly purposeful—it was just hers. warm. steady. like she couldn’t not be touching you.
you ate outside on the small patio table, birds chirping from somewhere in the trees beyond your fence. paige sat across from you with her legs pulled up in the chair, one hand holding her fork, the other stretched toward yours across the table. she kept stealing bites off your plate, smiling innocently every time you glared at her. there was a smear of syrup at the corner of her mouth, and you leaned over to wipe it away with your thumb, only for her to catch your wrist and kiss the pad of your finger, eyes locked with yours the whole time.
conversation came easy, as it always did. she talked about off-season training ideas, about how much she missed the girls, about wanting to visit your families together next weekend. you told her about a book you were reading, about a funny video you saw, about how you’d dreamed of mornings like this when you were younger—before you even knew her name.
after breakfast, she helped you rinse the dishes, her hip bumping yours playfully. she sang loudly and off-key as she dried the plates, and you joined her, laughing until your stomach hurt. she danced around the kitchen with a dishrag like it was a microphone, then twirled you into her arms like it was the middle of a wedding. she dipped you dramatically, nearly dropping you in the process, but the laughter between you made it worth the stumble.
and when the kitchen was clean, and the sun had risen higher in the sky, and the rest of the world started to buzz awake, the two of you curled up on the couch under the same throw blanket, her head resting on your shoulder and your fingers gently tracing circles on her thigh. no words were needed. no plans. just this. just her. she turned her face toward you, eyes soft, and murmured, “i’d do this with you every morning for the rest of my life.”
you looked down at her, heart aching in the best way, and smiled. “good thing you married me, then.”
her lips found yours again, slow and sure, and you knew in that moment that you’d never stop choosing her. paige's hands roamed under your shirt, her palms laying flat on your skin as she guided you onto your back.
"can I show you how much i love you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. you nodded, breathless, and she kissed you again. you lifted up slightly so she could pull your shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. her lips trailed down your neck as she moved lower, settling between your legs. the feeling of her lips against your skin was electric, but still slow—slow enough to make you shiver, slow enough that you could feel every brush of her lips, every tender touch, as though it was the first time.
with each kiss she placed on your body, you felt more and more like you were melting into her, becoming one with the softness of her love. her hands were gentle as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs until you were able to kick them off. there was nothing harsh or rushed about it—just her, loving you in the most tender way.
paige placed a soft kiss to your thigh, then to your clit. you were already soaked and she had barely touched you. it didn't matter how many times you did this, it still felt like something new with her every time. you tangled your fingers in her hair, your heart racing as she continued, her touch as delicate as ever, taking the time to explore you without any sense of urgency.
her mouth worked at your clit, gentle sucks that had your eyes fluttering shut. she brought her fingers up and gathered your slick before pressing them in, two at a time because she knew you could take it. you gasped her name, back arching slightly, and you could already feel yourself teetering on the edge.
your breath hitched slightly, looking down to see paige already studying you. your eyes met, soft and unguarded. it wasn’t long before your hips were jerking forward, chasing the pleasure. a strangled breath left your lips, your fingers gripping her hair like it was the only thing keeping you on earth. you whined out her name as everything came to a head, the knot in your stomach unraveling.
paige worked you through it and when she finally pulled back, her eyes met yours again, full of adoration. she moved up your body and rested her forehead against yours. "you’re everything to me," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
you smiled, tracing her jawline with your thumb, and tilted your head, brushing your lips against hers. "and you’re everything to me, paige."
Take Me to Church | Paige Bueckers x blackfemale!oc
summary: Zoelle grows up in a strict religious household where she’s taught that being gay is wrong. She fully believes it—until she meets Paige Bueckers in high school.
warnings: language, homophobia, hurt to comfort, mentions if smut, mentions of disowning.
A/N: been working on this for so long might be a lil ass buttt
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
For as long as Zoelle Quinn could remember, she was a straight, little miss perfect.
That was until she met Paige Bueckers.
Zoelle grew up in a church day in and day out. Everyday after school she’d go home and immediately get dropped off at church school. She spent every day and holiday at the church. She prayed every night. Every morning. Every time she ate.
When Zoelle got to 8th grade, her parents sat her down for a talk.
Same sex love is a sin, her father would tell her. You will go to hell if you date a girl, her mother would tell her.
Zoelle grew with that mindset. Girls loving girls is a sin. Boys loving boys was a sin. “People who are like that are born sick” Zoelles mother told her.
And then, in 10th grade, she met Paige Bueckers.
Paige was confident. The kind of kid that took tag at recess way to seriously. She was loud. Punctuated with everything she said.
Paige had every girl flocking to her feet. She was good- great even- at basketball. Ranked #1 in the country.
Her blonde hair shined like Rapunzels in the sunlight. Her blue eyes looked just like the sky on a warm, summer day. Her smile was electric. Her personality was infectious.
Paige and Zoelle met in gym class. How ironic. Zoelle was sat on the bleachers reading her favorite book while everyone else played dodgeball.
Paige noticed her immediately. Her brown curls were long and defined. Her glasses sat perched on the bridge of her nose. Her lips were full and pink. Her lashes long and thick.
She was everything Paige wanted and more.
“Hey.” Paige breathed heavily to Zoelle. “Uhm, Hi.” Zoelle smiled thinly, closing her book.
“I’m Paige. You’re really pretty.” She say next to Zoelle, blonde hair sticking to her face from the sweat.
“I know exactly who you are. I’m Zoelle. And thank you.” Zoelle blushed.
“You do?” Paige smirked. Cocky and confident. “Of course. You’re the best basketball player in Minnesota. besides Maya Moore.” Zoelle shrugged.
“No way. You watch basketball?” Paige looked genuinely shocked. “Yeah. My older brother got me into it.”
And they were history since then.
In 11th grade, their relationship got intimate. Zoelles parents noticed.
If Paige stayed over for dinner they would ask questions like “Any cute boys you two are interested in?”
Zoelle and Paige would cringe every time. Paige would say she was just focused on basketball and school. Zoelle would say she was just focused on school like always.
Zoelle knew she was gay since 11th grade when her and Paige kissed. They were at a party. Tipsy from drinking punch. Dancing wildly. They stepped outside to get some air, then it happened.
Paige was watching Zoelle ramble about random things. Then she kissed her.
A couple weeks later, Paige took Zoelle’s virginity. They always tiptoed that line between friends and something more. And their parents noticed.
Amy and Bob would tease Paige about how she got red any time Zoelle’s name was brought up.
Then, one night, Amy walked in on the two. Zoelle was staying over.
“Oh-“ Amy blurted, closing the door immediately when she walked in and seen her shirtless daughter going down on a naked Zoelle.
“Please, don’t tell my parents.” Zoelle cried to Amy after. She was petrified. Her parents would disown her.
In 12th grade, they made their relationship official. Paige asked her at a beautiful picnic at the beach. Zoelle said yes.
She hid it from her parents. The gifts she bought Paige, the gifts Paige bought her, the hickeys, all of it.
It made Zoelle sick to her stomach. She was fighting for a relationship with her parents and they could care less.
When Paige committed to Uconn, Zoelle did everything to get accepted into there. And she did.
In college, they were at peace. Free. Until they went back home for the holidays. Zoelle’s parents started to catch on while Paige’s parents already knew.
When Zoelle invited Paige over for their christmas eve dinner, Zoelle’s mother asked her, “Is there something going on between you two.” with a disgusted look painted on her face.
She didn’t feel like lying anymore. She was grown and hiding a relationship from her parents for fucks sake.
So she told them. They were together. Been together since senior year. Her dad went ballistic. Her mom started crying.
“I never want to hear from you again.” Her dad told her through gritted teeth. Zoelle sallowed her tears, grabbed her bags, left that house and never looked back.
She’d spent every holiday since then at the Bueckers household.
Late at night, Paige would find herself comforting a broken, sobbing Zoelle. “They just threw me out like I was nothing.” She would sob into Paige.
“It’s fine. You got me.” Paige would reply, hands stroking her hair. After college, Paige went #1 overall to the league.
She proposed to Zoelle. When Zoelle’s mother heard about the news, she reached out.
It was a random Tuesday. Zoelle was cleaning up after dinner. Paige was behind her, arm snaked around her waist, trying to coerce her to come to bed.
Zoelle’s phone rung on the kitchen counter. She looked down and her heart dropped. ‘mom’ the phone read.
Paige’s brows furrowed. Zoelle picked the phone up and put it on speaker.
“Hey. I heard about the engagement. I never should’ve did this to you, Zoey. I was wrong. I never thought I’d be missing out on this big chapter of your life.”
Zoelle swallowed hard. Paige rubbed her back soothingly. Zoelle snapped.
“You don’t get to randomly show up into my life. You abandoned me. I was 18. You both left me for dead just because I love someone. That’s not parenting. That’s not love. So, I don’t know what you’re calling for, but whatever it is, no. You can’t have money. You can’t be invited to my wedding. But, what you can do is delete my number.” And with that, she hung up.
She spent all night crying into Paige after that. “You did the right thing, mama.” Paige whispered to her fiancée, wiping away at her tears.
Now, it’s their wedding day. Zoelle is nervous as all hell. Her hair is pinned up, natural and curly. Her makeup is done, beautiful and pink. Her dress makes her cry before she even walks down the aisle.
Her dress is white as snow, flowy and big. She looks beautiful. Breathtaking.
It’s her big day. But she’s not as happy as she should be. She doesn’t have a dad there to walk her down an aisle. She doesn’t have a mom there to make a speech and embarrass her by showing old baby videos and photos.
“Can you get Paige?” Zoelle sobs to her best friend, Lynn.
“Hey,” Paige says, walking in the room looking like she just walked out of a movie.
Her suit white and purple. Her hair straight and flowing down her shoulders. Her makeup light and natural.
“I just. I dunno. Most of my family isn’t even here. And it’s the biggest day of my life” Zoelle shakes her head.
Some of her cousins she kept in touch with were here. Her aunt Kierra was here. She’s an only child, much unlike Paige.
“Hey, It’s okay, mama. Don’t let that ruin today. It’s their fault. They chose to miss out on this chapter of your life. Not you.” Paige reassures Zoelle. “We’re kinda not supposed to see each other before the wedding.” Zoelle chuckles, swatting at her eyes.
Paige shrugs, “My girl needed me.”
And in that moment, Zoelle knew, Paige was all she ever needed. She suddenly didn’t care about her family. Paige is her family.
Paige didn’t think she was gonna cry like this. She was on the verge of sobbing in front of everyone at the sight of Zoelle reading her vows.
“Paige, my love. You’ve been there since 10th grade. You’re my best friend, my partner, all in one. From the first day I laid eyes on you in 10th grade gym class, I knew it was always going to he you. No matter all we’ve been through, all the challenges, all the struggles, everything, you’ve been there. You never gave up on me. You never let me go. When I lost contact with my family, you were the only one there. You helped me through it. You made me realize you’re all I ever needed. You are my family. I don’t need anyone else. I just need you. From this day forward, I promise to be the best wife anyone could ever ask for. I love you, baby. Forever and always.”
Paige couldn’t contain herself. She couldn’t hold the tears.
“Zoelle, when I first saw you in the halls, I knew you were gonna be mine. No one was gonna stop that. And no one did. From late night ‘studying’ to early morning beach walks, you have been there. Everything I do is for you. I go to sleep happy every night that I get to wrap my arms around you. I remember one night when we were juniors, you were rambling on about the future. And I confessed my feelings. You didn’t back away. You didn’t get weirded out. You laughed. You laughed and told me I was an idiot for not seeing that you were madly in love with me. Ever since that day, I knew I was gonna make you my wife. I love you more than you can think. I love you more than the stars love the sky. I love you so much, and I will never stop loving you. Til’ death do us part, my beautiful Zoelle.”
After they exchange rings, Paige bounces on her feet. “I now pronounce you wife and wife.”
“Can I kiss her now or?” She smiles a gummy smile. The crowd laughs, Zoelle shakes her head. “You may now kiss your bride.”
Paige wastes no time, hooking Zoelle by her waist and kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.
The reception was nothing short of fun and memorable. It was just after midnight when the newly married couple finally got to their hotel room.
“I can’t believe we just got fucking married, dude.” Paige chuckles in disbelief.
“I can. It was always you. It’s always gonna be you.” Zoelle smiled at her wife.
Zoelle didn’t need shitty parents who disowned her. She didn’t need anyone. She just needed Paige. And that, she had.
The two laid in each other’s arms all night. Crossing memory lane. Kissing. All the works. And that was all they need.
Hello all! I still have shit in my lungs, but this is the best I've felt in days! Physically at least (still severely depressed 🤪) Anywho, I didn't proofread this, but I hope you love it anyway!! xx Elle
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On Monday morning, Azzi found herself taking a little more care in choosing her outfit for the day. Most of her favorites were too much for days where the temperature hit ninety by noon. There were other dresses that were pretty, but she didn’t want to just be pretty today – she wanted to be memorable.
She chose a soft pink, pleated, plaid skirt and an eggshell button up. The baby pink cardigan and white ballet flats tied her outfit together. It was a simple outfit, one that she had a million variations of, but the skirt landed a few inches above her knees. It was the shortest she owned, and it highlighted her long legs.
She curls the ends of her long hair and gathered them all into a tight, high ponytail. A satin bow was wrapped around her locks, knotted perfectly at the back of her head. She smoothed her hair back one more time and frowned.
She wasn’t enough – she just needed…more
Azzi applied an extra layer of mascara, making her lashes look even longer. A few extra swipes of blush. Mixing together two different shades of lip gloss to add more shine.
She tried to convince herself that she just wanted to feel extra pretty today. But she knew the real reason – the sessions started today.
She’d been wanting Paige to just look at her since field day in Mrs. Johnson’s class ten years ago. But she was never loud enough, never magnetic enough to bring the blonde into her orbit.
These sessions were going to be the only opportunities for her to show Paige who she really was.
Guilt flooded her body.
Her father had just spent two hours lecturing his congregation about submission – submitting to God, submitting to men, submitting to fathers and husbands.
And Azzi wasn’t submitting.
Sure, it looked like she was being the same, obedient girl she always was. She did read her Bible and pray this morning, like she did every morning. And if they were at her house, Azzi’s outfit would have been praised by the whole congregation.
But she wasn’t submitting to them, and she was surely not submitting to her father.
Her dad would want her to primp herself every morning to impress her boyfriend, not for her high school’s star receiver.
But her dad wouldn’t accept her for who she was, who she loved, and he never would.
Azzi shook herself out her disappointing spiral and grabbed her backpack. It was much heavier than normal, carrying her own work, as well as the assignments Paige needed to work on.
She grabbed her typical breakfast of strawberries and cottage cheese, grabbed a granola bar, before walking outside.
Today was going to be a great day, she could feel it.
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Jacob Gibson was a pain in Paige’s ass. He never knew how to shut the fuck up. Sometimes, he teased Paige and Tash about being trans because both of them were taller than him. Other times, it was about having a faster 40 time during summer training when she had the stomach flu. Today, he wouldn’t shut up about Friday’s game.
Everyone was heading back to the locker room after practice when he started again.
“Coach only calls routes for Bueckers because he wants the support from all the other libtards in the county.”
Paige rolled her eyes, sick of his rambling.
“If I got half the opportunities she got, that game wouldn’t have been half as close as it was.”
Multiple teammates scoffed loudly at his idiocy.
“That catch should’ve been called back. Should’ve been offensive pass interference. That bitch pushed off.”
Outside of a couple of their teammates, the team ignored his rants. They’d never had a teammate who complained about the play that won them the game, but they all digressed.
But Paige was fed up. Natasha tried to grab the back of her practice jersey, but it was slick with sweat. The blonde was able to slip away and deliver a firm push to his back.
“I’m the bitch? You only got rid of your defender twice all game.” Paige pushed again once he turned around. “I might be a bitch, but it’s crazy that you get outplayed by a bitch every day.” She smirked.
Before Jacob could come back at her, Tash was in between them, pulling Paige away. “Chill, P. He’s not worth it.”
Her temper flared as she looked at his smug face, but she’d have to put T out of the way to get back to him, and she respected her friend too much to do that.
Instead, she yanked away from the shorter woman’s grip and stalked out of the locker room.
She walked out to Natasha’s truck, agitation still coursing through her body.
Who the fuck did Jacob think he was? He is better than me. He is a harder worker. He’s just an ignorant piece of shit. A little boy who –
And that is what made her halt in place. Because that’s what it was.
He was a boy. Something that Paige would never be. Something she never wanted to be.
But that’s why he was allowed to be less than mediocre and still have a starting spot.
“Paige,” she heard a voice call. “You gotta stop letting him get you riled up like that, man.” Natasha looked weary – she was sick and tired of having to step in between the two receivers, always going at it about something.
“Nah, bruh,” Paige huffed in reply. “He always chirping bout something. Wish he would just shut the fuck up for two seconds.”
Tash held back a chuckle. “P, you know why he’s doing it. He’s just insecure.”
“That’s not my fucking problem, bro,” she rolled her eyes. “If he wanted to be better than me, he could just work harder. Like he expects everything to just be handed to him without doing none of the work. I grind my ass off every single day to make sure I’m the best.”
“And nobody’s denying that, Paige. But letting him get you out of character makes it look like you’re just as immature as him.” T brought a hand to her shoulder, forcing eye contact. “Everyone who matters already knows you’re better than him. Start acting like it.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Tash was right. Blowing up in the locker room wasn’t a good look for someone who was supposed to be a leader. She didn’t want to ruin the offers she’d gotten by letting anybody get under her skin. No one was worth that.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sassed, turning towards the passenger door. “I’ll be better tomorrow. Can we stop by Torchy’s? I’m starving.”
“Um, no. You got something you need to do first. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”
Paige groaned loudly. “Bro, I’m not apologizing to him. He doesn’t even deserve it.”
“That’s not –” Tash paused. “Wait, did you really forget?” At Paige’s blank stare, she continued. “Your tutoring!” She exclaimed.
Fuck. Coach was gonna kill her if she didn’t fix her grades, and she wasn’t gonna be able to do that without a tutor.
Paige broke out into a dead sprint, taking the locker rooms to get back into the main hallways.
It took her a few minutes, but she made it. But the lights were dimmed – there was no one there.
She looked to the ceiling, eyes welling with tears. God, she’d ruined everything.
Then, she saw it. A small glow at the other end of the massive room. She couldn’t see it’s source from her position outside of the library, but she hoped and prayed it was Azzi Fudd.
She pulled the door open gently, not wanting to frighten the girl.
She stepped further into the space, and at the back of the library was her new tutor. She was sitting criss crossed on the floor, which seemed a bit odd to Paige, but who was she to judge. What was even weirded was the girl using the flashlight on her phone to shine a light on the book cradled in her lap.
Paige steeled herself, gathering the courage and willpower to head over to the girl and get started.
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The sound of the media center door closing broke Azzi’s attention on her reading.
She’d been reading – and translating – Tartuffe for her AP French class. It was a fun project – each student got to pick a piece of classical French literature and do a presentation on it. The project was worth thirty percent of her nine weeks grade, and it wasn’t due for another five weeks, but Azzi wasn’t one to put off assignments. Besides, it was a good way to pass the time as she waited for a certain someone to show up for her tutoring sessions.
From her splendid relationship with Jacob, Azzi knew that football practice ended around six on Mondays because they had to watch film before they went on the field. So Azzi set up the table for tutoring at 5:45.
Fifteen minutes later, the table was organized into four sections. The first was for English – two copies of The Great Gatsby were stacked on top of an empty notebook, one that would be just for Paige. They would be talking about literary elements and the layers they added to the plot of the novel. The next was for liberal arts. The first half of the course was dedicated to financial literacy, so Azzi wanted to make sure that Paige understood all of the variables on the formula sheet, and which formula should be used for certain problems. For economics, they only needed to talk about supply, demand, and what could make them fluctuate. Spanish was the final course they’d be working on. She printed out a practice Spanish 1 final she’d made for a client last year – she and Paige would work through it throughout the week, so Azzi could see what she did and did not understand.
For class, she’d already printed the syllabus and highlighted important information – blue for English, pink for math, purple for Spanish, yellow for economics and government, and green would be for chemistry. There was also a list of all of her missing work.
She knew it was a lot for just one day, but she would rather be over prepared than run out of material and look like she didn’t know how to do her job. She was ready for Paige.
But then it was 6:15 and Paige wasn’t there.
Then 6:30. She thought that maybe she just took really long showers after practice.
At 6:45, Azzi decided to get a head start on her own work. Maybe the football player had a meeting with her coach after, needed to go over extra film or something.
When seven rolled around, Azzi promised that she’d wait until 7:30 before getting on her bike and going home. She didn’t know why she thought that Paige would actually want to work with a know it all, goodie two shoes.
Then, at 7:28, when the sky had turned to cotton candy, a throat cleared.
At the entrance to the library was Paige Bueckers. She stood tall in navy sweats and a plain white t-shirt. Azzi could see the places where the water from her hair soaked into the fabric. It wasn’t often that people saw Paige with her hair down – it was almost always in a flawless bun, but Azzi thought she looked beautiful.
She felt her face start to heat at the thought, and immediately told her brain to calm down, desperate to cool off before Paige got to the table.
Azzi didn’t say anything – couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t embarrass her – as the blonde walked towards her.
When she finally made it over, Azzi peered up at her, forcing her teeth to stay clenched so her jaw didn’t drop. She saw blue eyes beneath furrowed brows, eyes that weren’t looking at her, but at the book in her lap instead.
“You’re reading French?” She questioned incredously.
Azzi couldn’t do anything to stop the heat that rushed to her cheeks. “Oh, um yeah. I wanted to work on one of my assignments while I waited,” she smiled softly.
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Paige watched the girl stand and pull out a chair at the table.
Of course Azzi Fudd knew French and knew Spanish enough to tutor someone. Part of Paige envied the girl for having access to the resources needed to speak multiple languages, but more than anything, she hater how pretentious and stuck up she probably was.
Instead of voicing her disdain, the blonde swallowed her comments. Instead, she sat in her own chair.
She saw the papers and books on the table as she approached Azzi, but she wasn’t expecting…this.
The material was separated by subject. Paige could see all of the handouts her teachers had provided as well as printouts with all of the assignments she hadn’t turned in. And the list wasn’t that bad yet, but it was only the fourth week of school.
“You…did all this?” Paige’s voice was airy and full of shock.
She could see Azzi playing with her ponytail nervously. “Well, I spent all of Saturday reading through your syllabi and figuring out the most important topics. Then, I emailed your teachers to get the missing work list. Mrs. Pacheco is being difficult though, so I don’t have the list for chemistry yet. And after I knew that, I just needed to put together some material for us to work on during our sessions.”
Paige forced her face to stay neutral. “You did all of this in one weekend?”
“Yes, I wanted to be prepared.”
Paige was confused. Azzi Fudd, the perfect girl next door, goodie, little church girl had spent her entire weekend to prepare to help her, and she was an hour and a half late for their session.
“You know that’s not normal, right?” Shit, that came out wrong. God, she felt like such a bitch.
Azzi’s smile faltered a bit. “Oh.”
“Why did you do all this?” She asked, trying to fix the joy she’d broken.
Big brown eyes entranced her as Azzi tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? You need the help, and I can help you.”
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t big or anything, but for some reason, Paige knew she wanted to see it again.
“Besides, you’re supposed to be the first girl to get a football scholarship from a big school. We can’t have you missing out on an opportunity like that.” Azzi finished sweetly.
The blonde almost choked on her spit.
For someone homophobic, Azzi seemed really supportive of a girl doing “boy” things.
“Well, thanks. I really appreciate you being willing to help me.”
The tutor visibly perked up before turning back to the organized papers on the table. She frowned a bit before turning back to Paige. “Well, we only have half an hour before we have to be off campus. So maybe we can start with math?”
Paige was shaking her head before she could stop herself. “I don’t think there’s a single math concept that I’ll be able to understand in under thirty minutes.”
Instead of choosing something else, Azzi just stacked the papers from the other classes, small smile still painted across her lips. She slid the math packet over to the footballer. “I have a trick for this. Just trust me.”
The blonde shrugged. Azzi had a good reputation for a reason – it was time to see if she was as good as everyone said.
Azzi moved her chair a little closer to Paige’s. “So how much do you understand about simple versus compound interest?”
“Um, I think interest is like a percentage of what’s added or subtracted to something.” Paige’s cheeks colored. She knew it was more complicated than that, but she had no clue how to explain it. “But that’s probably wrong.”
“No, no!” Azzi beamed. “That’s right! There are just different types of interest, but you’re totally right about the basics.”
Paige’s chest puffed out a bit at the praise. She’d practically been floating through classes, so, even though it wasn’t a big deal, she was proud of getting that one right.
“So simple interest is exactly like it sounds – simple. With that, the interest, I, is just your principal, P, or original value, times the interest rate, r, in decimal form, times the length of time, t, in years.” Azzi wrote as she spoke, making each variable a different color. Paige wasn’t even sure where she pulled the notecard from – it seemed to just appear.
The brunette pointed to the first problem. “So the way these problems are worded can be a little tricky, but once you have a good system, it’ll be super easy!”
At Azzi’s pause, Paige figured she was supposed to read the question. “Charlie borrowed $350 from Liza. He has to pay the money back in 2 years, paying 8% in interest. How much money will Charlie pay?”
“Okay, so what do you think the principal is?”
“He borrowed 350, so I think that would be the principal, right?”
Azzi beamed again, “Excellent!” She underlined the number with the same blue she’d used to write the P on the formula notecard.
“Then, 8% would be the interest rate, so that would be 0.08, then the time is two because he’s paying her back in 2 years, right?” Paige questioned, hoping she said everything correctly.
“Exactly,” Azzi smiled again. “And you told me you weren’t gonna be able to get it. And it’s only been five minutes!” She paused, sliding her calculator over to the blonde. “Now, I want you to solve for the interest.”
Paige plugged the numbers in. Then she cleared the calculator and did it once more to make she it was right. “Is it 56?”
“Perfect job, Paige. But when you look back at the question, does it make sense for 56 to be the final answer?”
Paige reread the question three times before coming up with the answer, “It can’t be 56 because they’re asking for how much he’ll pay her back. And if he borrowed $350, he can’t just give her back 56.”
Azzi moved the notecard closer to Paige. “You’re right, and that’s because 56 is just the interest. To figure out the future value, or A, we have to add the principal and the interest.” She said, writing A = P + I beneath the previous formula.
“Oh, so he pays back $406, right? Because it’d be 350 plus 56.” Paige said, writing the interest and future value equations on her homework.
When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige looked up, scared that she got it wrong. But instead, she saw Azzi sitting up, spine straight and pride clear on her face. “Very good. How about you work on the next two, just to make sure you’ve got a good understanding of simple interest.”
It took Paige five minutes to finish the problems, constantly looking at the formulas to make sure she was doing them right. She had no interest in getting something wrong and having to start over.
After Azzi checked over her work, she pulled out a fresh notecard.
“Okay, compound interest can be kind of tricky, but focus on my tips. So, think of compounding like practicing. Think of the person that works on catches and getting stronger and more coordinated once a week. Now think of someone who do extra work three times a week, and someone who does more every day. It may not make a big difference in a week, or even a month, but over a year? There will be clear differences in all three players, right?”
Paige nodded, appreciating the sports metaphor. “Obviously the one who did extra work every day will have a much bigger advantage because they got in a lot more reps.”
“So that’s what compounding is. You’ll she an ‘n’ in the compound interest formula, and that stands for how many times something is compounded every year. So the higher the n is, the more the interest is. Does that make sense?”
The wheels were turning in Paige’s head, typing the abstract concept of compound interest to something she understood well. “I think so. So, like something that’s compounded weekly would end up having more interest than if something was only compounded monthly. Because there are 52 weeks in a year, but only 12 months.” She looked up, “Is that the right way to look at it?”
Azzi’s doe eyes shined with pride. “That’s exactly the right way to look at it, Paige.”
An alarm broke their eye contact. “Damn, it’s late,” Paige commented, looking at her watch with furrowed brows. “We probably need to be heading out.”
“Yes,” Azzi started, scrambling to collect the materials. She handed the first page of the Spanish practice test and a copy of The Great Gatsby to the blonde. “If you have time, I’d really appreciate it if you could read the first chapter, so we can have a discussion tomorrow. And then I made a Spanish 1 crash course last year, so working on it throughout the week will help me know how I can help you.”
Paige raised her brows at the unofficial homework she’d been given. She didn’t want to do any of it, but if doing extra work was gonna get her to pass, she was more than fine with doing it.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Paige. I think you did a great job today,” she said, slipping her backpack on. “Will six be an okay time?”
“That should be fine,” Paige nodded. “I may be a little late after practice – not like today though, I forgot, and that was my fault.”
Azzi shooed away her excuse, “No worries. I get schedules changing. I’m just happy you showed up.”
The two walked to the front of the school in comfortable silence, not even passing a custodian on their trek.
Tash’s pickup truck was waiting out front – Paige continued straight ahead, while Azzi veered off towards the bike rack.
“Your parents aren’t here?” She questioned.
Azzi looked down at her feet, “No, they’re in Pennsylvania, I think. They travel a lot.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “Have a good night, Paige,” she called sweetly.
Paige looked over her shoulder at the girl unlocking her shiny, pink bicycle. “You, too Azzi.”
As she climbed into the truck, Tash was waiting with a toothy smile. “Soooo, how was your first session with the brainiac?”
“She’s kinda weird. She was reading French – like a regular book in French – like it was just a completely normal thing to do,” she held back a giggle at how outrageous it seemed.
Natasha scoffed, “I didn’t ask you about Azzi. I asked you how tutoring was.”
“Everything is color-coded, T,” Paige grumbled.
Tash looked impressed, “Good. You could use some order. But did she help you with anything? Are you gonna go back?”
“I kinda don’t have a choice,” she paused. “But yeah. I understand the interest thing, and I think I’m gonna show up on time tomorrow.”
Paige let Natasha clown her until they pulled up at her house. She was content to look at the way the trees blurred during the drive and think about the dark-haired girl who had agreed to help her.
Sure, Azzi Fudd was still a good, little church girl who wanted to be a perfect angel. And sure, she was only tutoring Paige because Coach asked her. And sure, she probably thought Paige was going to hell for her sexuality, even though she was nice about football earlier.
But maybe, just maybe, this tutoring thing would work out.
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Azzi was giddy the entire way home.
Not only had she talked to Paige Bueckers without embarrassing her, but the other girl actually seemed interested in what Azzi was saying.
And sure, maybe it was mainly a bunch of stuff she needed to pass her classes, but she actually asked Azzi questions about speaking multiple languages.
There was nothing that could bring the girl down on her cycle home.
Not even the sweat that trailed down her forehead since she refused to remove her cardigan.
Not even the text from Jake where he complained about not being able to see her because she was more focused on “stupid losers” than their relationship.
Even when she opened the door to her empty house.
Even when her footsteps echoed on the cold marble floors.
Even when she cooked steak and rice to make homemade chipotle bowls.
There was nothing that could dim her mood because her crush saw her today.
For thirty minutes, Paige saw Azzi for who she was.
summary: azzi is annoyed at paige and paige probably deserves it, but that doesn't mean she can't be annoyed back.
wc: 3k
ao3 link
tags: domestic-fluff, established-relationship
a/n: posting this here bc its completed #yay
paige was mad at azzi.
it started in the late morning. they were lazing together in bed when paige told her she invited jess and lan over for a movie night. she felt a huff of breath against her neck before azzi lifted her head from her shoulder, blinking slowly, the haze of sleep still wrapped around her.
“fine,” azzi said. she dropped her head back down for a brief moment, pressing her forehead against paige’s cheek. then she got up, the blanket slipping off of her, and headed to the bathroom. paige listened to the muffled sounds of azzi’s footsteps against the carpet and sighed at the ceiling. azzi didn’t kiss her before leaving. that meant she was irritated.
paige pulled the blanket up and waited.
she heard the toilet flush, the tap run, and then the door creak open, and she looked up to see azzi in the bathroom doorway, her curls frizzy from sleep, t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. the morning light painted her skin golden, her shirt swallowed her frame, and she yawned widely, which made paige yawn too.
paige stretched her arms out, beckoning her back into bed, pouting just a little bit to soften her. azzi paused and leaned against the doorway. she bit her lip, brows furrowing as she looked at paige thoughtfully. then she went back to the bathroom, ran the tap again, and crossed the room to the bed.
“hey–” paige scrunched up her nose as azzi flicked a few drops of cold water in her face. azzi giggled, softer than her regular laugh, voice still a little sleep-rough. she swung a leg over paige’s waist before she could retaliate, leaning down to kiss her, one hand braced on the pillow beside paige’s head.
paige pulled her in closer, an arm looping around her neck, another finding its way to her ass. she kissed her back in the curtain of her curls, slow, unhurried, forgetting what she’d been sighing about.
azzi pulled back after a moment to look at her. her eyes were still a little puffy, her curls falling forward around her face, lips slightly curved. paige reached up and traced her thumb slowly over her mouth, following the shape of it. azzi let her, staying still, that same thinking-look settling over her face—the one where she was deciding something, or just watching paige the way she sometimes did, like she was trying to drink in as much of her as she could.
"just waking you up," azzi said finally, soft against paige's thumb.
"mean," paige murmured.
azzi's smile deepened at the corner. she stayed there for another second, and then she settled herself back down under the blanket, her weight warm and familiar on top of paige.
outside the window, two birds were trading short sweet notes back and forth. azzi exhaled slowly through her nose, her shoulders dropping, the last of the tension from getting up draining out of her all at once. paige felt it go.
there were always two types of birds outside their window; the sweet ones that sang to each other in the early morning, and the other kind, the ones that squawked and rattled and made azzi groan into her pillow and pull the blanket over her head. today they had the sweet ones, thankfully. azzi's breathing evened out, slow and easy, her nose tucked back into paige's neck like she was considering falling asleep again.
“how late?” azzi said finally, the words mushed into her shoulder.
“like, eight or nine-ish.”
“hmm.”
“it’ll be fun,” paige said.
“hmm.”
paige slid a hand under azzi’s t-shirt, rucking it up to scratch her back lightly. azzi shivered, pressing closer, and paige smiled.
“sorry,” she said, pressing a quick apologetic kiss to the top of her head. “should’ve told you earlier. or asked first.”
"'s fine,” azzi said, pressing a matching kiss on her neck.
it wasn't entirely fine, they both knew that, but it also wasn't a big deal, they both knew that too, and that was enough for the morning.
soon, azzi would force herself out of bed first, getting up to make eggs the way she liked them before paige could complain about her adding too much spinach. paige would distract her as much as she could while she made them, hovering at the counter, wrapping her arms around azzi’s waist, kissing her cheek until azzi turned around to kiss her properly.
then paige would get shooed away to cut some apples and strawberries on the side, and she’d take her time with it to make sure she didn’t slice a finger off in the process too. azzi would make fun of her uneven apple slices but she’d steal one to snack on while the eggs cooked anyway. and by noon it would be mostly forgotten, a small friction smoothed out over the course of the day until they slotted together neatly again.
paige had decided early on when they first started dating, that it was one of her favorite things about them. that she could be annoyed with azzi and love her the same, that azzi could be annoyed with her and love her the same, the fact that both of them knew it about each other and that they’d always settle back to the same balance even if the scales temporarily dipped to one side or the other.
azzi peeled herself off paige's shoulder eventually, squinting in annoyance at the light coming through the curtains.
"gonna make eggs," she announced, and climbed out of bed.
"can you make me some too?" paige called after her.
azzi paused in the hallway. "...yes," she said, in a tone that said she'd already been planning to, and was now annoyed that it seemed like she was going to do it because paige had asked.
paige smiled to herself.
so it didn't start this morning.
it started this afternoon; they were at the grocery store getting snacks. their cart was almost filled to the brim, azzi’s coffee bear ice-cream sitting on top of a pile of quinoa chips and lightly-salted popcorn bags. a very pastel haul of items, in paige’s opinion.
“baby,” she called out, waving around the dark purple bag with bright yellow lettering in her hands.
azzi ignored her. she kept pushing the cart forward, occasionally picking up another pastel-colored bag, reading the ingredients on the back, then putting it back on the shelf.
paige jogged to catch up with her. “az,” she said, and tapped on her shoulder.
azzi turned around. “what?”
she held out the bag with two hands, straightening the edges. “takis.”
azzi looked at paige, frowning, and then at the cart filled with overly healthy snacks. “we’ve already got takis at home, though.”
“but we’re almost out.” paige looked at the bag of blue chips in her hands forlornly. the takis at home were the red ones anyway, so it wasn’t like they were doubling up on the same flavor.
“because you eat them all in one sitting,” azzi said, already pushing the cart forward again. the back wheel was wobbly and azzi let out an irritated huff as the cart kept veering to the side.
paige stepped in quickly, covering azzi’s hand with her own and shifting her out of the way with her hip to take over driver duties. she held the takis between her index and her thumb, not yet putting them atop their groceries, but not ready to let go just yet. “you sneak some too, literally every time. you always say oh those are so bad for you and then you dip into my bag, so don’t even play.”
"they give me a tummy ache," azzi said indignantly. "so no, i don't."
"yeah, because we eat the whole bag in one sitting together. that's why your tummy hurts."
azzi rolled her eyes, but in a softer way than she would if she was properly annoyed, probably because she knew paige was right. she reached out and yanked the takis from where it was trapped between paige’s hand and the cart handle without looking at her, dropping the bag on top of their growing pile of snacks.
paige smiled and azzi walked ahead of her, pointedly not smiling.
“but we’re gonna start portioning better,” azzi said, and paige nodded dutifully, following after her.
that was fine too.
it was also fine when azzi made her carry both reusable bags up the stairs even though they were roughly the same weight and paige was the one who suggested splitting them evenly. and it was fine when azzi claimed the shower first—not letting paige join her because we just had sex and i wanna actually get clean as her reasoning—and used all the hot water. which she knew and apologized for immediately with her chin tucked down and her eyes slightly guilty, making it very difficult for paige to be annoyed about the hot water.
and it was mostly fine when azzi spent the hour before jess and lan arrived on her phone with one-word answers to whatever paige was talking about and periodically saying things like i just think it would have been nice to know earlier when there was a pause in conversation, which paige acknowledged each time with a yes, you're right, you're completely right, i should have told you sooner, i'm sorry, which azzi accepted with a nod and then brought up again twelve minutes later.
so actually, none of it was that bad.
but it actually started two hours ago.
jess and lan had arrived with drinks, lan's laugh carrying through the door, jess telling her to be quiet, lan laughing harder at being told to be quiet.
paige and azzi had already set out all the snacks, spread out in bowls on the coffee table in front of the tv. but they spent some time in the kitchen first, getting the drinks sorted, and catching up with each other. lan had a story about practice that kept branching into other stories. jess had opinions about something she'd watched recently that turned into a whole separate conversation, that turned into a heated debate about whether or not there were bears in dallas, texas. azzi leaned against the counter next to paige, their shoulders touching as paige argued with jess, and paige leaned back without thinking about it.
"okay, are we actually watching something tonight or," lan said eventually, looking between all of them.
"yes," azzi said, straightening. she grabbed her drink from the counter. "i've been ready for an hour."
"you were reorganizing the snack bowls for an hour," paige said.
"i was getting ready," azzi said, and walked into the living room, trailing after lan.
paige watched her go, eyes drifting a little—because azzi was wearing shorts, and paige was very attracted to said shorts. jess watched paige watch her go, and then paige looked at jess.
"shut up,” paige said, her ears heating up, knowing what she probably looked like from jess’s point of view.
"hey, i didn't say anything," jess said, already smiling, and followed azzi into the living room.
and when paige went to the living room, cheeks probably still pink, she saw azzi waiting for her, hovering between the big couch and the smaller loveseat. azzi looked at the loveseat, then she looked at paige. she sat down on the two-seater, stretched her legs across both cushions, and smiled to herself when she saw paige’s eyes widen in disbelief.
and that was when paige was mad at azzi.
not actually mad, though, because she knew what azzi was doing. it was a very specific kind of pettiness that paige had learned to recognize, it came with an air of innocence like she didn’t know what the issue was and a small suppressed smile that said she knew exactly what the issue was, and was azzi's version of i'm still a little annoyed but i'm also not going to make it a big deal about it. a punishment and a peace offering at the same time, and paige accepted it, but she didn’t have to enjoy it.
she sat down on the big couch next to jess with a thump, and gave azzi a squinty glare, which only made the smile on her face stretch wider. and then she reached for the remote on the table to pick a movie that she knew azzi would absolutely hate, because she could be petty too.
"ooh, yes, this one," lan said immediately, pointing at the screen.
"perfect," paige said as azzi pressed her lips together, face twisting up in annoyance.
they watched the movie. or paige watched the movie with one eye and watched azzi with the other—the way she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie, the way she laughed under her breath when something funny happened, the way she glanced over at paige every time something happened that she wanted to react to together, reflexive and unconscious, then quickly turned away to hide her smile when she saw paige was already looking at her.
it was unfair in paige’s opinion; azzi all comfortable and cozy and soft under the tv light, scrunched up on the couch, wrapped up in paige’s hoodie, but not in paige’s arms. very unfair. and the movie wasn’t even that good.
and then azzi fell asleep.
which, actually, paige was almost impressed. she lasted quite a long time, longer than lan at least, who had her mouth open and was snoring on the armchair across from azzi—maybe lan had absorbed some of azzi’s usual movie-induced sleepiness.
but paige watched as the inevitable happened; azzi blinking heavier, her head tipping sideways until it reached the armrest and stayed there, the yawn that came soon after. by the time they were halfway through the movie, azzi had completely passed out, cheek pressed into the cushion, curls coming loose around her face as the hood of paige’s hoodie fell back. her lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly as her brows furrowed at a loud noise from the movie, before smoothening out again.
paige watched her for another moment before getting up.
“‘m getting a blanket, you want one?” she asked jess, who already had the throw blanket covering her lap.
jess looked at her confused, and shook her head. “i’m good, thanks.” and then she laughed at something happening on the screen because she’d been actually watching the movie, unlike paige.
paige went to the hallway closet, rifling through the sheets and blankets stored there before pulling out a nice fluffy purple one, big enough for two people. perhaps two people on a two-seater couch watching a movie.
she walked back to the living room, blanket in hand, and stood in front of azzi for a moment, mentally doing the math on how she was going to execute her plan. she got an arm under azzi's shoulders and azzi stirred, made a small unhappy sound, and paige paused to make sure she didn’t wake up, before she lifted her up a bit higher.
it was a slightly awkward fit; paige had to slip in under her almost diagonally with her back to the armrest, then unfold the blanket over them because she forgot to do it before.
but eventually azzi’s cheek found her chest, one hand loosely fisting paige’s shirt, and paige wrapped her arms around her, pushing the curls away from her face to get a better view.
under the dim light of the tv, completely asleep, unguarded, features smoothed out, azzi looked beautiful. she always looked beautiful to paige, but there was a different kind of beauty to her when she was sleeping—the small line between brows was gone, dark lashes dusting her cheeks, mouth soft.
and paige had a problem, a very specific compulsion that had chased her ever since she’d known azzi. which was that azzi asleep produced in her an almost overwhelming urge to do several things all at once—press her mouth to her cheek, bite her ear very gently, squeeze her nose, kiss the corner of her jaw, wake her up just to look at her properly, to have azzi look at her. because she loved the way azzi looked at her. and she wanted to do all of these things but she did none of them, because she had years of practice at this point and enough self control to not wake up her girlfriend just to bite her ear.
instead, she settled for reaching up slowly, carefully, and hovering the pad of her thumb just above azzi's lips without touching, close enough to feel the warmth of them, the slight exhale of her breath. there was a sensation there, right at the edge of contact, the buzz of an almost. she traced the shape of azzi's lips without landing, but she thought she could still feel the softness. maybe because she already knew what it felt like against her thumb, against her mouth.
azzi didn't stir. her lips parted slightly and paige took her hand back, watching for a moment. then, she traced her cheek instead.
she wondered distantly if azzi could feel it somehow, if the almost of it registered somewhere in her sleep. if she liked it. she did know that azzi woke up right now and saw paige doing what she was doing, she’d laugh, mumble “creep,” at her affectionately, then bury her face in paige’s shoulder to hide her blush.
paige looked up at the tv, a loud crash from it distracting her for a moment. then she felt eyes on her.
jess was watching her from the other end of the couch, the movie entirely forgotten, chin resting in her hand. when paige looked at her she pressed her lips together like she'd been caught, and then gave up on hiding it entirely. she mouthed at paige: so cute.
paige flipped her off.
jess grinned and mouthed it again, adding an awww and punctuating it with her fingers curving into a heart.
paige pointed at the tv. jess looked at the tv for maybe four seconds and then looked back at paige with the same expression. paige exhaled through her nose, which was as close to a laugh as she was willing to give her, and looked back down at azzi.
she was already looking forward to tomorrow morning, she realized, when azzi would blink awake and find her, and look at her. tomorrow, paige would apologize properly, a real one, a sorry i do this sometimes, sorry i assume you'll just be fine with things, i know it annoys you and i'll do better. and azzi would say i know, and then i'm sorry for being grumpy all day, and paige would say you weren't that bad, and azzi would say yes i was, i know you hate cold showers, and paige would say okay yes, but that just means you owe me a shower together now, and azzi would laugh and then they'd kiss.
she pulled the blanket a little higher around azzi's shoulder and settled back against the armrest.
pairing: paige x azzi
au: shark taggers
synopsis: azzi moves to cape cod after accepting a temporary job at an old, rusty marine center. she immediately clashes with paige, whose working style is the complete opposite of hers... or the enemies to lovers story with a pinch of sharks.
wc: 3k
JAWSome fact of the day: sharks’ ears are located inside their heads.
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Azzi could already feel the regret creeping out of her skin before the plane had fully stopped moving.
Cape Cod Gateway Airport looked tired in the flat gray light. It mirrored Azzi’s current feelings and life.
When she stepped outside the airport, the air greeted her with dampness that stuck to skin and clothing despite the absence of rain.
June apparently meant nothing here. A similarity they have in common. She meant nothing to the world and everyone right now. Apparently.
Temporary. Azzi reminded herself as she let reality sink in.
She would only be here until she could find her footing again. For how long? She didn’t know.
For now, she found her name on a sign that was handwritten poorly. It looked like a third grader made it.
The boy holding it barely looked a day older than seventeen though, definitely not in third grade. Maybe he had his younger sister or brother write her name.
Azzi sighed as she read the squiggled DR. AZZI FUDD again before approaching the teenager.
He stood awkwardly beside an aging red pickup truck. His blond curls sticking beneath a dark green beanie while his slim figure was swallowed by an oversized black Nike hoodie. One of his hands gripped the cardboard sign lazily.
Azzi wondered how much he was getting paid to pick her up from the airport.
When he saw her walking toward him with her suitcase in tow, he straightened immediately.
“Hi! Are you Dr. Azzi Fudd?” His voice cracked a little when he said her name.
“That’s me.” Azzi pointed at his sign. “Are you my ride?”
“Yeah. Dr. Collier asked me to pick you up.”
“Are you even allowed to drive that thing?” Azzi nudged her head toward the old Dodge Power Ram. It was probably a 1985 model, Azzi guessed. She didn’t know much about cars as she knew about sharks, but her grandfather had a fair collection. Growing up, he used to show her some photos of vintage cars from magazines.
“I do! I just got my license three months ago.” The young boy smiled brightly, glancing at Azzi’s pink suitcase. “I can go ahead and load it on the truck for you.”
“Uh, sure. Thanks —?”
“Charlie.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
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The drive went smoother than what Azzi expected. Charlie was a decent driver. So, she relaxed.
She had never been to this side of the country. She pressed her forehead lightly against the cool window glass and noticed that the farther they drove, the less familiar everything became. Charlie was talking nonstop, trying to fill the silence. She could tell he was trying to make her comfortable, even for only a little while.
He was explaining things about what to expect in town.
Where to eat.
What day the drive-in movie theater would play some really good classic movies.
How the fishermen preferred their local beer brands over imported ones like Guiness or Heineken.
And how to avoid Mrs. Murray’s crochet store down Mabrey Street. He mentioned something about her hating everyone because she was born to just hate everyone. She liked cats, though. That was probably the only positive aspect of the old grumpy lady.
Azzi didn’t mean to shut off the rest of what Charlie said, but she was tired. Her layovers in San Francisco and Philadelphia felt endless and had worn her down.
All she wanted was to sleep for the rest of the day. Or the whole week, if she could.
“Grams is going to make her signature burger for you.”
“Wait, what?” That made Azzi blink and look at Charlie.
“Did the mention of food save you from going into coma?”
“Oh, you got jokes?” Azzi glared, before placing her head back on the window. “I gotta admit though, food sounds good right now.”
“You’ll love her burger!” Charlie said enthusiastically, fingers drumming nonstop on the wheel.
“She knows me?”
“Of course!” He glanced at her before making a turn. “Everybody heard about you.”
That surprised her enough that she looked at him twice after he mentioned it casually.
“Sounds like I’m the saving grace you’ve all been waiting.” Azzi sighed.
The last thing she wanted was attention.
One of the reasons why she accepted this job was because of how small and isolated this research facility was.
The Auriemma Marine Center sat near the far end of Taurasi Point, a small working harbor town on the outer curve of Cape Cod. The town was known less for tourism and more for commercial fishing. The location was one thing Azzi approved of. It looked withdrawn from the rest of Cape Cod.
The research facility was also not grand. It was understaffed, underfunded, and barely functional. If not for her situation, she wouldn’t even know this marine center existed.
So, yes, working with less people at the other end of the country where no one knew her was what tempted her to accept the job offer.
But now, it seemed she was some kind of a local celebrity with people outside the research center knowing who she was.
That was not a good start.
Charlie noticed her discomfort and explained. “Don’t worry, it’s just that everyone working at the marine center regularly eats at the restaurant. I guess they’re just excited to have a new person joining their team.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. You can ask Dr. Collier yourself if you don’t believe me. She and I are tight!”
Azzi raised her eyebrows at Charlie, not knowing if she would like to know what he meant.
“It’s just I do some errands for her or for the center whenever extra help is needed.” Charlie smiled at her before stopping the engine. “I don’t mind though. The extra dollars I get will help me buy a small sailing boat. Then, Paige can teach me how to sail it!”
Azzi didn’t notice they had already arrived and were parked outside an aging restaurant overlooking the harbor, its windows glowing dimly against the gray afternoon. It looked worn and rugged by years of ocean wind and salt. Its sign which survived all rain and storms hung crooked.
Husky on Board
But she noticed the name Charlie mentioned.
Paige.
She made a mental note to ask Charlie about Paige, and as to why his eyes sparkled with excitement just by mentioning her name.
It wasn’t love. He was too young for that. It was more of admiration. Like he sort of saw this Paige as his hero.
Interesting.
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The burger was, in fact, great.
If Azzi could wipe that smug grin off Charlie’s face, she would’ve done it with the burger’s patty. He had that annoying I told you so look, and it irritated her how badly she had been underestimating everything about this town. And his Grams’ burger.
Well, not her new coworkers. She already had an idea they would be loud and rowdy.
Azzi met three of them while dining at Husky on Board. Automatically, they knew who she was, and they directly approached her the moment they saw her sitting by the window.
They all looked young, like fresh graduates. Or were they still interning?
They were also chatty, to the point that they sat on Azzi’s table and asked her a bunch of questions. She almost didn’t finish her meal, but she was so hungry, she kept taking bites between answers. She didn’t want them to think she was rude.
But her patience was running very thin.
When could she go to her accommodation and rest?
“After you meet the big boss, we should drive up to Orleans and catch this local band. Their lead singer is seriously hot! Like, ungodly hot!” Kelis excitedly suggested. She looked the youngest out of the three.
“Easy, Guppy! Let her breathe on her first day!” Ines tossed a fry at Kelis. She had an innocent face and a light accent.
“I told you not to call me that! It’s Big Fish to all of you!” Kelis wrinkled her nose at them.
"It’s alright, but I’ll take a rain check on it. I think I have a lot of things to catch up with Dr. Collier today.” Azzi said.
“Phee wouldn’t mind.” Kelis mumbled. She seemed drawn to Azzi.
Before Azzi could respond, the restaurant door burst open and a young woman in an Auriemma Marine Center gray polo shirt hurried in, eyes darting all over the restaurant, scanning all the faces.
Azzi heard the three young researchers gulp loudly upon seeing her.
“Oh crap!” Ice, the tallest of the three, attempted to duck down. It was futile when they were all spotted.
“You! You! And you! Back to work now!” The young woman barked while weaving between tables toward them. Her thick eyebrows looked like they could use some lunch break of their own. She had that intimidating aura, and Azzi didn’t know if she should also hide from this woman.
“Jeez, KP! Chill! You’re making us look bad in front of Dr. Fudd.” Kelis pointed at Azzi.
Again, the last thing Azzi wanted was attention.
So much for keeping things low-key.
“You’re Dr. Fudd?” The young woman asked, calming down a little.
“Uh, yeah?” Azzi squeaked out.
“Okay, great! You’re needed there too! Let’s go! Chop chop!” Without waiting for any of them to answer, she spun around and marched out the door.
“Sorry about that, KP is just being overdramatic.” Ines stood first and dusted off some crumbs on her shirt.
“KP?” Azzi blinked.
“Kelsey Plum. She’s our wrangler.” Ice explained.
“And that’s why you’re all afraid of her.” Azzi laughed. “I’d be probably hide too, but I think I got enough muscles in me to fend off Ms. Hot-headed wrangler.”
“Please don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll demand an arm-wrestling match immediately.” Kelis looked horrified with the possibility.
The three of them waited for Azzi who was still sitting on the table.
“We can walk you inside and escort you to Phee.” Ines offered.
Being around other people still felt unnatural for Azzi. She had isolated herself for the past year that even meeting her new coworkers seemed foreign. She had forgotten the basics of casual talking and being social.
Oh, well. At least she wouldn’t be wandering alone on her first day.
Where was the harm in tagging along?
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The official meeting turned out to be less formal than what Azzi expected.
She was brought into a small office where she met Dr. Sue Bird, the head researcher in the Auriemma Marine Center — AKA the big boss — and Dr. Napheesa Collier, the lead scientist who headed the shark tagging and rescue program.
“Welcome to Taurasi Point, Dr. Fudd.” Sue smiled behind her desk. “I hope its grim skies didn’t affect your first day. We should be getting clear skies for the next couple of days.”
“Your weather here is absolutely fine, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“But I bet you missed your California sun.” Sue grinned.
Azzi didn’t think so. Over the past year, she spent her time in her lonely midcentury house in Los Angeles self-wallowing. So, no, she did not miss anything outside of her house. Not even the beautiful sunny California weather which she used to love growing up.
But she nodded, for the sake of it. “Only a little.”
“Well, I hope you’ll get used to our moody weather here in Cape Cod. We need you and your expertise to help us out.” Sue had that warm, motherly smile.
The old and rusty marine center could collapse around her, and she would probably still look calm.
“We’re happy to have you here, Dr. Fudd. I know it’s not much, but we built a solid foundation, and we do have a pretty good team out there. Albeit young, but pretty good.” Phee chimed in.
Azzi thought of the three ladies she met in the restaurant. Young, indeed. And not to mention, full of energy.
“We’re not going to lie, you surprised us. We had to do a double take on the name written in the application form.” Sue added.
Azzi surprised herself too when she submitted it. Not that she would admit that in front of them.
“Well, I gotta ask, Dr. Fudd. What made you consider applying to a small marine facility in the end of nowhere?” Phee asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of judgmental.
“The opportunity was just there.” Azzi said with a shrug that she hoped it looked casual.
Neither Sue nor Phee looked convinced.
But they didn’t push it. They moved on to the logistics of her lodging.
Phee explained Azzi would be staying in one of the apartments near the town center, above a row of local shops and within a fifteen-minute walk from the marine center. And if she needed a ride, Phee had already told Charlie to give Azzi his number after he dropped her off tonight.
So, this was what the teenage boy had meant earlier. Him doing stuff for Phee and the marine center.
Azzi wasn’t used to relying on people anymore, so she didn’t know if she would ever need Charlie and his number, but she said her thanks.
“You being here is a big help to us. Summer is around the corner and if we blink, shark calls will be coming in nonstop.” Sue said, leaning back in her chair.
“Do you get a lot of calls?” Azzi asked.
This set up was not uncommon or unheard of, but Azzi only had a few experience shark tagging in a place where sightings seemed woven into daily life.
Of course, she did her research on how Auriemma Marine Center operates before accepting the position. She knew they wouldn’t be doing something major or wouldn’t be running massive expeditions out at sea.
Still, it felt strange and a little surreal that she ended up here.
She felt like she went back to grad school, interning in a huge marine center in Alaska, only to do minimal but tiring work.
The difference, though, was that it had all the gear and supply, and a working air conditioning system.
“It’s not overly done, but tourists tend to panic.” Phee explained, lazily playing with a pen between her fingers. She looked relaxed, but there were that authority and talent hidden beneath her easy smile.
Azzi had a feeling that they would get along well.
“As you can see, we don’t have those fancy tools and amenities, but we do have the minds of hardworking young people. You don’t get to underestimate them because they will prove you wrong.” Phee continued, there was still her warm smile, but Azzi could hear the subtle warning. She was protective of her team.
“I met a few of them in the restaurant across the street. They really are a lovely bunch.”
“That they are!” Sue laughed. “They give me headaches most of the time, but you should see how their minds collectively work.”
“And that is why we’re so excited to have you join us, Dr. Fudd.” Phee extended her hand for a shake. “Welcome to Auriemma Marine Center.”
“Thank you.” Azzi shook her hand.
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“Tomorrow’s gonna be a loooooong day.” Nika groaned, leaning back against the smooth fiberglass rail while the boat rocked gently in the marina.
Paige snorted beside her and held out the hip flask again. The cheap whiskey was already warm from passing between them.
Nika took another burn of it, grimacin as it slid down her throat before handing it back. Somewhere across the docks, halyards clicked against aluminum masts in uneven little rhythms.
Paige tipped the flask toward her in a lazy salute before taking a swallow of her own. Both of them were sitting in the salt air with their knees bumping every time the boat rocked.
“You excited to meet the new marine biologist tomorrow?” Nika looked up at the dark skies. If she squinted enough, she could see some stars trying to break out from the evening clouds.
“Meh.” Paige shrugged. “I just hope Sue is not making me babysit her.”
“What do you mean by that? I bet she’s old enough to tie her shoelaces, P.”
“Have you read her credentials?” Paige turned to ber best friend slowly, eyebrows raised.
“No! But I know she’s a hot shot prodigy or something.” Nika glared back. “Plus, the nerd kids won’t shut up about her. So, that says a lot.”
“Exactly!” Paige pointed the flask at Nika. “People like that always come in thinking they know better than everyone because they studied at some fancy science school and spent years in huge marine research companies or whatever.”
“You got a beef with her or something?”
Paige took another sip before muttering. “All I’m saying is that the second she starts acting all high and mighty and treats me like I’m one of her interns, I’ll toss her out of my boat, and she can swim back to the marine center.”
“Dr. Bird and Dr. Collier will toss you before you toss the new girl.” Nika laughed.
Paige elbowed her best friend before laughing alongside. “This whiskey is getting us good.”
“I feel like we’re gonna get a bad hangover tomorrow.”
“I can already hear Phee screaming in my ear.” Paige sighed.
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It was barely fifteen past five in the morning when Azzi walked into the Auriemma Marin Center, hugging her old UCSC hoodie. Her backpack hung on one shoulder. This really felt like being back in university.
The place was already busy despite the hour. A few staff members were already moving with coffee cups in hand. They never missed to greet her a warm ‘Good morning, Dr. Fudd’ and Kelis even volunteered to lead her to her desk.
The desk was plain and mostly bare. She could probably throw a few pens or notebooks on it, but that was about it. She didn’t see the point in decorating it when she wasn’t planning to stay long.
Temporary. Azzi sighed, reminding herself as she got ready to start her first working day.
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Azzi didn’t notice that it had already been two hours she was clicking on her laptop. The coffee Ines made for her sat untouched at the corner of her desk. She had a bad habit of forgetting everything else when she concentrated. Food and drinks included.
It was time for a break.
Her thoughts of getting a proper breakfast across the street disappeared when someone opened the door loudly and came marching into the marine center.
She was painfully enthusiastic at around seven in the morning.
“Rise and shine, little fish nerds!” The woman exclaimed, making Azzi's coworkers groan in unison.
They didn’t pay attention to her, though. But Azzi had the misfortune of making an eye contact with the newcomer.
“Well, what do we have here? The new little fish nerd!”
Azzi caught a thick European accent she couldn’t quite place.
“You must be the infamous Dr. Fudd.” A hand was shoved into Azzi’s direction. “I’m Nika.”
Before Azzi could take Nika’s hand, she was pushed aside and Azzi found herself face to face with Dr. Collier.
"Muhl, behave. We need Dr. Fudd, and we need her today." Phee said. "Azzi, we need to map feeding grounds along the coast. We're trackign possible feeding activities near Monomoy. Something's keeping them in the same area longer than usual. Come with me."
Azzi barely had time to answer before Phee was already dragging her to Ines' workstation.
She was greeted with two glowing monitors which displayed rows of acoustic detections, timestamps, and coastal maps cluttered with colored tracking markers. There were sticky notes on the side of the monitor frames as well.
"What do we have here?" Azzi asked Ines.
"There are multiple tagged sharks pinging repeatedly from the same stretch of water near Monomoy Island." Ines pointed the location on one of her screens. "You can see the colored tracking points crowded one section and the same receiver stations kept lighting up over and over again."
"We need to deploy and retrieve the data. That's what's Nika is here for." Phee gestured to Nika who made a salute.
"First mate, Nika Muhl! At your service!"
"First mate, huh?" Azzi raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"As you can see, we're not OCEARCH or something, but we do have a decent boat crew when we go out there." Phee explained.
"Speaking of crew, my fearless captain awaits." Nika grinned, directly at Azzi.
"Paige is already here?" Kelsey walked into the group.
"Oh yes! And I can't wait for Paige to meet the new little fish nerd." Nika's grin turned downright dangerous.
Azzi already didn't trust that smile, because she refused to admit that name haunted her the first time she heard it yesterday.
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The retrieval crew — consisted of Phee, Ines, Kelsey, Azzi, and Nika —headed down to the marine center’s private dock.
Azzi gripped her take-out sandwich as she heard the gulls screaming nearby. She should have eaten it before coming down. But she was kind of excited and nervous for her first mission with this team.
As they followed Phee, Azzi noticed how peaceful the morning sky looked. The early sunlight barely touched the water.
Her gaze tracked along the dock to the vessel moored at the end. It looked old but solid. As they came closer, she read the name R/V Hangover at the sides. She could also see the boat had been modified to fit their research work. It had been retrofitted for shark tagging and other things the marine center did.
Azzi’s eyes continued to scan the vessel, landing on a blonde figure leaning against the upper deck railing with an unimpressed look.
Oh.
“Nice of you all to finally show up.” Piercing blue eyes stared into Azzi’s soul.
Drenched in sapphire moonlight - pt2 of it’s all for you
Long overdue, am so sorry but here’s pt2 as promised :) —the lollipop story is legit something that happened to me
~Coming of age, wlw yearning, best friends to lovers ofc, homoerotic friendship, heavy on the erotic part, young love, mildly internalized homophobia
Word count : 2.7k
Warnings : smut 😁 but romantic and sweet not so porny
Part 1 here - it’s all for you
Azzi’s bedroom is steeped in blue moonlight, the sound of crickets masking their careful footsteps. Paige turns on the shower in the bathroom connected to Azzi’s room while she tosses their damp towels over the bedframe to dry. She gingerly joins Paige under the water to rinse off the chlorine, as they’d done a hundred times before. Only this time she’d had Paige’s tongue in her mouth ten minutes prior, a notable line they’d yet to cross. They stifle their laughter and tease each other with a newfound lightness. They don’t yet dare discuss the moment they’ve just shared, but it’s recognized nonetheless through the noticeable weight lifted from the air between them. Paige doesn’t feel like she’s choking on Azzi’s presence anymore. She feels giddy and breathless, like nothing could intrude on the delicate sanctuary this room and tiny cabin has brought them. After a final complaint about the heat of the water, Paige excuses herself from the shower.
She stands just outside, watching the droplets fall from her skin onto the fuzzy green bathmat. They bleed a deeper, mossy color as the fabric absorbs them. She reaches back to unclasp her swimsuit top, unintentionally catching a glimpse at the shower beside her. The glass is fogged up and steam curls around them. She can still vaguely make out Azzi’s now nude form from behind the frosted wall. She snaps her head away, suddenly embarrassed. Something about seeing the vague blur of her body from outside the shower feels more intimate than having just been in there with her. She slides her wet bottoms from her body, the material sticking to her knees as she tugs them off. She contemplates hanging the suit from the shower door next to where Azzi’s draped hers, but she decides against it. The breach of their ever so delicate dance of friendship having already complicated things. Before this confirmation of their feelings for one another, they could get away with doing wildly intimate things under the guise of being “just close friends.” Sharing a bed with their limbs entwined and showering together after the lake was allowed to mean nothing when, for all they knew, they were best friends. She’s reminded of the lollipop they shared earlier, just a thing Azzi had found in her backpack and plucked the plastic from as they got ready to walk down to the lake. They passed it back and forth between one another, sometimes with Azzi taking the red sucker out of her mouth with a pop, and placing it right between Paige’s lips. She’d swirl her tongue around it, searching for any flavour of Azzi in the cherry sugar. They’d lock eyes while they did it, reading every micro expression to try and figure out what the other was thinking. It drove Paige crazy. They would push and push, carefully toeing the line of what the other was okay with, having yet to find a limit. This sudden shift meant Paige wasn’t sure what she was allowed to do anymore. She didn’t want Azzi to feel uncomfortable with anything. 24 hours ago, Paige likely would’ve thrown her wet top over the shower wall and attempted to hit Azzi in the face with it. She opts to leave it on the window sill.
The sound of crickets takes over as the muffled hum of water stops.
Paige is sitting on the side of the bed, held up by the heels of her palms when Azzi steps out of the bathroom. She looks half zoned out, her gaze turning to Azzi as she’s absorbed by the sliver of orange light swallowing the bedroom as it pours from the bathroom door. For once, she looks almost bashful, her eyes on Azzi as she flicks off the light. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she takes in the girl on her bed. She’s in gray calvin klein boxers and a thin white t-shirt that looks almost blue in the moonlight. She looks pretty. Her low messy bun and the few escaped strands dripping water onto her shirt. The peaks of her breasts through the thin material and the way that despite her timid expression, she sits relaxed with her legs slightly apart. Azzi takes a step toward her, the floor creaking lightly beneath her feet. Both girls jump, instinctively looking toward the door to the hallway. Their eyes meet again, both enjoying a breathless giggle.
Azzi’s right above her now. Paige smiles, blinking up at her as she breathes in the scent of her skin. Some type of sweet, tropical lotion and the familiar floral smell of her curls. She rakes her eyes down her body, over the little black tank top and her pink plaid pj shorts. Her hand comes up instinctively, curling around the back of Azzi’s thigh, anchoring her where she stands between Paige’s legs.
“We should talk.” Azzi mumbles, smiling.
“Yeah.” Paige agrees, dropping her head, letting it rest against Azzi’s middle.
“But not right now.” She responds, her voice a whisper as she tilts Paige’s chin back up. Paige’s eyes are wide and before she knows it she’s on her back against the cool white sheets and Azzi’s lips are on hers. They kiss like that for a while, content with only the sounds of their mingled breathing and mouths moving together. Paige tangles her fingers in Azzi’s curls, maneuvering them onto their sides. They part for a moment to breathe and Paige swears she sees stars in Azzi’s big brown eyes. They can’t help but grin, their hands on each other's faces like the other might slip away, even now. Paige sits up onto her elbow, whispering into Azzi’s jaw. “C’mere.” She plants a kiss following her words. She slides backwards until she’s up against the bedframe. Azzi shuffles until her knees are on either side of Paige’s legs. The blonde taps the outside of her thigh, prompting her to lift her leg enough for Paige to move hers through. Now Azzi’s straddling her thigh. She pulls her down with a gentle guiding hand on her lower back, pressing her thigh up just enough to spark that delicious pressure between Azzi’s legs. They kiss again, tentative and slow. Azzi’s lips are soft and all Paige can taste is her sweet chapstick. She rolls her hips against Paige’s thigh and breathes out soft sounds into her mouth. Paige swallows everything she gives her, her long, lithe fingers dragging along the sides of Azzi’s torso, fingertips slipping under her tank top. They stop carefully under the ridges of her breasts, with Paige breaking the kiss. “Can I?” She breathes, her blue eyes wide and pleading. Azzi grins, planting a long kiss on Paige’s mouth before sitting back on her heels. She grips the bottom of her tank top, pulling it over her head. Paige’s lips are parted and slick with her spit and Azzi thinks it’s the prettiest she’s ever seen her. Maybe because she rarely sees Paige without words. The blonde’s hands find her waist, pulling her forward. They wander shamelessly, her thumbs kneading her breasts, sliding over the peaks of her nipples as her tongue finds Azzi’s neck. “You’re so perfect.” Paige’s tongue soothes her words, sucking gently on the soft skin behind her jaw. Azzi hums in contentment, gasping softly as Paige’s mouth covers her nipple. She tangles her fingers in the loose tangle of blonde hair from Paige’s bun that's come undone. Paige swirls her tongue over Azzi’s nipple, sucking softly. She thinks of the lollipop, of how her bare skin is a thousand times sweeter than the cherry sugar. Paige keeps one of her hands busy on Azzi’s breast, dropping the other to trace a delicate path on the inside of Azzi’s thigh. The other girl whines almost desperately and it’s beautiful. Paige wants to drink the sounds she makes as the fist in her hair tightens. “Please.” Azzi pleads, staring down at her, her pupils wide and black as ink.
Paige’s fingers press deeper into the flesh of Azzi’s thigh. “What?” She smiles, a glint in her eye.
“Touch me. Please?” Azzi mumbles gingerly, her hips pressing forward into Paige’s grip.
“I am touching you.” She replies, her thumb swiping over the bud of Azzi’s breast. Azzi cocks her head, sliding a hand from Paige’s chest to cup her jaw. “Fuck me, Paige. Please.” She whispers, boldly and bluntly. Paige feels her throat tense and her brain short circuit. She’s looking at Azzi and her gaze is on fire. It reminds Azzi of the look she gets when somebody starts shit talking to her on the court. It’s that crazy eyed stare she gets when she’s only thinking about one thing. Usually it’s winning, but right now it’s Azzi. Something about it makes her nervous to have it directed at her. She’s snapped out of it by Paige’s lips below her navel. “Take these off f’me.” She mumbles, tugging on Azzi’s shorts. She shuffles back, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere on the floor.
She has on the prettiest white cotton panties, delicate lace trimming the edges and Paige just wants to go down on her right then and there. But she paces herself, kissing just above her waistband, trailing each press of her lips with her tongue. Azzi makes the most delightful sounds above her, and she thinks they can’t possibly get better until she brings two of her agile fingers between Azzi’s legs, pressing down gently. She’s so wet it drives Paige insane. She makes a choked sound between a gasp and a moan and pulls her blonde hair. Suddenly all Paige wants to hear is her name in that same tone. “Lie down.” She orders curtly but gently, following Azzi’s body with her own. Paige’s lips are on hers the moment the brunette is on her back. Paige is propped up on one elbow, the other arm dragging softly over Azzi’s tawny skin. She stops to toy with her breast and then ghosts her fingertips over the piercing on Azzi’s navel. She jerks her hips as Paige’s fingers meet her waistband, sliding down to rub soft circles over the wet fabric of her underwear. Azzi whines into Paige’s mouth, which she takes as a signal to stop her teasing. She breaks apart the kiss briefly to tell Azzi to lift her hips as Paige slides her panties down her legs. She can read the nervousness in Azzi’s eyes, kissing her gently as she finally slides her fingers through the wetness between her thighs. Azzi gasps, tossing her head back against the pillow. Paige grins, triumphant, continuing her gentle motions. She glances down in awe at where her hand sits between the girl's toned thighs. She’s never seen a more beautiful thing in her life.
Azzi lifts her head from its place on the pillow, concern and shyness in her wide eyes. She smacks Paige lightly on the side of her arm. “Stop looking!” She scolds in a hushed voice. Paige grins, abruptly removing her hand as she kisses Azzi’s neck. “You say stop?”
“Paigee..” Azzi whines, long and drawn out as she reaches for the blonde's wrist, placing her hand back between her legs. “Mhmm?” She hums in response, a lazy smile in her voice as she goes back to her previous motions. Their playful moment lulls as Azzi’s mouth finds hers again, every so often stopping as she raggedly exhales.
Paige collects the wetness on two of her fingers, slipping them inside. She curls her fingers just right. “Fuck, fuck.” Azzi breathes into her ear. “That feel good?” Paige asks, knowing the answer. “Feels so good.” Azzi parrots, practically babbling.
They kiss for a while as Paige’s fingers find their way back to Azzi’s clit. She’s pulling on Paige’s hair now, and kissing her hard. “You’re so good at that, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She pleads, and Paige isn’t sure there’s anything on this earth that would make her stop. She breathes Paige’s name alongside a string of curse words and Paige thinks she must be in heaven. Azzi’s body shakes as she comes, her thighs closing tightly around Paige’s hand. She’s louder than Paige had expected, having to muffle her soft moans with her own mouth.
The air between them is thick with their mingled heavy breathing as Azzi comes down. Paige’s heart is suddenly racing and she’s filled with fear that Azzi will regret what has just happened. She anxiously meets her eyes when Azzi finally opens them and tilts her chin down to face Paige. She wears a timid smile. “How are you so good at that?”
Paige opens her mouth before Azzi cuts her off. “Actually, don't answer that.” They both laugh, breathless and Paige is filled with relief. Azzi suddenly feels aware of her nakedness and glances rapidly between Paige’s face and the silver cross rocking against her white shirt. She tugs on the fabric, indicating she wants it off. Paige smiles, incredulous as she reaches back to pull the shirt over her head. She drops it on the bed near their feet and Azzi presses up onto her palms to be on her level. Paige swallows nervously as Azzi rakes her fingernails over the girl's chest. They catch on the cross and their eyes meet at the same time. Azzi has no way of proving it, but she knows they’re thinking the same thing. What that cross means to them, for them. To others about people like them. She decides this is not the time to think about it, wrapping and arm around Paige’s ribs to kiss her tenderly. She takes the opportunity to explore, her fingers tracing the small roundness of her breasts and the pink of her nipples. She plants kisses along Paige’s collarbone, hearing her gasp as her tongue finds the peak of her breast. She sucks on the milky skin, separating briefly to admire the few purple marks littered over her chest. She grins. “White people bruise so easily.” she whispers, a teasing giggle as her fingers touch the skin. “Hey, not too much on me now.” Paige rolls her eyes, her hand clasping the one on her chest. “White girl just made you come–” Paige is cut off from her cocky and ever audacious remark by Azzi’s muffling hand over her mouth. “Shut up!” She scolds, her cheeks red and her dimples showing. Paige simply chuckles and kisses her again. Azzi’s hand trails lower, slipping past Paige’s waistband between her thighs. She’s wet, it’s soaked through the gray cotton of her boxers. She sighs into the kiss as Azzi starts moving her fingers in shy, tentative circles. Paige hums, content, which encourages Azzi to add a bit more pressure. “Is this okay?” She asks nervously. “I haven’t–” “Yes. You couldn’t possibly touch me and have it not be okay, Az.” Paige cuts her off, comforting her as she tucks a few curls behind her ear. “Can I… try?” Azzi asks, her fingers hovering over the waistband of Paige’s boxers. Paige pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling as she nods bashfully. She lifts her hips, sliding the material down her legs and tossing it on the ground to join Azzi’s shorts. Azzi slides her fingers a few times through the slick between her legs and Paige feels like she might die if she hasn’t already. There’s something so beautiful about the earnestness with which Azzi moves, careful but eager to please. Paige tangles her fist in Azzi’s curls and pulls her down for a kiss. Her tongue is in Azzi’s mouth as she moves her hips in time with the motions between her legs. She pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting their lips. “You’re doing so good, please don’t stop Az.” She praises breathlessly before leaning in to kiss her again. Paige is all ragged breaths and curse words as she comes. She tugs on Azzi’s hair and pulls her impossibly closer by the waist.
They catch their breaths in sync, lying face to face under the thin white sheet, a sheen of sweat on their bodies from the summer heat. Drenched in sapphire moonlight, they fall asleep to the chirping of the crickets outside the window. Maybe they'll talk tomorrow.
Arthur note hey freaky folks here yall smut yall been worry me hell about btw this my first smut book so umm idk how I feel about this one imma get better with the smut … let me know what you like about this and what I need to do better Tyy xoxobre ps shoutout to my girl @villauconnbarcafball been here since day 1 thank you girly❤️
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The rain drummed a steady, heavy rhythm against the window of the dorm room. Azzi sat at her desk, surrounded by open textbooks and crumpled pieces of paper. It was Friday night, and while most people were out, she was stuck trying to finish her math homework. The air in the room felt thick and sleepy from the storm outside.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the wood desk. The screen lit up, showing a notification, but Azzi didn't even look at it. She just wanted to finish this last page. A few seconds later, a text popped up
Kaylabug💜“Come downstairs and open the door. Meet me.”
Azzi sighed, dropping her pencil. "What does she want now?" she muttered to herself.
She stood up, stretched her sore back, and grabbed her black umbrella from the corner. The walk down to the lobby was quiet, the hallway smelling like floor wax and old carpet. When she reached the heavy glass front doors, she pushed them open. The cold air hit her face, and the sound of the rain got much louder, splashing against the concrete.
Right there at the curb, a car was idling with its lights blurred by the downpour. Azzi pulled her hood up, popped her umbrella, and jogged over to the back door.
As soon as she pulled the door open, a thick, sweet cloud of smoke rolled out into the rainy air. The smell of weed was so strong it hit her instantly. She looked at the driver’s seat. Paige was sitting there, her back slumped against the leather. Her eyes were red and heavy, barely staying open as she stared at the dashboard. She was man spreading
in the driver’s seat, her knees knocked wide apart and her hands resting loosely on the bottom of the steering wheel. She looked completely spaced out.
"Finally, you made it," Kayla said from the back. She sounded impatient, leaning back into her seat and checking her nails.
Azzi didn't say a word. She closed her umbrella, shaking the water onto the floor mat, and climbed into the passenger seat. She shut the door, cutting off the sound of the rain, leaving them in the quiet, hazy warmth of the car. Kayla leaned forward, her hand heavy and damp from the rain as she gripped Azzi’s shoulder.
So, girly," Kayla started, her voice dropping to a persuasive whisper. "I really need a huge favor. I need your keys so I can run up and use your bathroom. I’ve been holding it forever and Paige is being a hater she won't even let me out to find a gas station."
Azzi felt the heat of Kayla's hand through her hoodie. She looked over at Paige, who was still slumped in the driver’s seat. Paige didn't even turn her head; she just stared blankly at the windshield wipers flicking back and forth, her jaw relaxed and her legs still spread wide, taking up the entire footwell. She looked like she was in another dimension.
Azzi scoffed, the sound sharp in the cramped, smoky space. She looked back at Kayla in the rearview mirror. "You’ve got to be kidding me," Azzi said,
shifting her weight away from the hand on her shoulder. "You made me walk all the way down here, in the middle of my homework and a literal thunderstorm, just because you have to pee? And you want my keys to go up there by yourself?"
She looked at the dashboard clock, then at the heavy rain blurring the world outside the window. The idea of letting Kayla loose in her room while she was stuck sitting in a car with a high off her mind Paige felt like a bad setup.
"Why can't Paige just drive you to the corner store?" Azzi asked, even though she already knew the answer just by looking at Paige’s glazed expression.
"She’s not moving, Azzi," Kayla groaned, giving Azzi’s shoulder a little shake. "Look at her. She’s locked in. Just give me the keys, it’ll take two minutes, I swear."
"You’re lucky," Azzi muttered. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her keys, and pressed them into Kayla’s hand.
Kayla grinned. "Thanks, Az." She hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind her, and disappeared into the lobby, leaving Azzi alone in the quiet, smoky car with Paige. The silence in the car felt heavy, thick with the scent of weed and the sound of rain drumming against the roof. Azzi stared out the side window, watching the drops race down the glass in blurry streaks. The lobby lights looked far away through the storm, and she wondered how long Kayla would actually take.
Slowly, the leather seat creaked. Paige shifted her weight, finally turning her head toward the passenger side. When Azzi finally looked over, Paige was watching her with those heavy, red-rimmed eyes. She reached up, dragging a thumb across her bottom lip before slowly licking them, her gaze never leaving Azzi’s face.
"You always this quiet?" Paige asked.
Her voice was different than usual. It was deep and dropped into a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate in the small space of the car. She was still sitting with her legs spread wide, one arm draped over the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console, inches away from Azzi’s hand.
Azzi felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain outside. Paige looked completely wrecked, but the way she was staring made the air in the car feel even tighter than before.
Azzi narrowed her eyes, trying to read whatever was going on behind that glazed, heavy-lidded stare.
"What you talking bout?" Azzi asked, her voice steady but cautious.
Paige didn’t blink. She just let out a slow, lazy breath that smelled like blunt wraps, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She shifted slightly, her knee brushing against the center console as she leaned a bit closer into Azzi’s space. That deep, raspy voice came out even lower this time, almost like a growl.
"I’m just saying," Paige muttered, her words dragging just a little. "I’ve been sitting here watching you. You just stare out that window like you're a million miles away. You don't got nothing to say to me now that your bestie gone?"
She tilted her head to the side, her braids falling over her shoulder. The way she was looking at Azzi wasn't like her normal, goofy self. There was something intense and heavy about it, fueled by whatever she had been smoking. She reached out with her right hand, trailing her fingers along the edge of the gear shift, moving closer to where Azzi’s leg was.
"I know you ain't that shy," Paige added, her eyes dropping down for a second before snapping back up to lock onto Azzi’s. "Or maybe you just don't like being alone with me. Which one is it?"She leaned back against the passenger door, putting a little distance between her and that heavy, smoky energy Paige was putting out. She looked Paige up and down from the messy braids to the way she was slumped so low in the seat and let out a short, dry laugh.
"Shy? Please," Azzi said, her voice cutting through the quiet. "I'm not shy, Paige. I’m just wondering why you’re looking at me like I’m a snack when you can barely keep your head up straight."
She crossed her arms over her chest, staring right back into those red, heavy eyes. "And I got plenty to say. For starters, you're lucky you didn't hit a pole driving over here in that state. You look like you're seeing three of me right now."
Paige's smirk didn't fade; if anything, it grew wider, her tongue sliding over her teeth as she took in Azzi’s attitude.
"I see you just fine," Paige rasped, her voice sounding like velvet and sandpaper. She moved her hand from the gear shift, letting her fingers graze the fabric of Azzi’s sweatpants near her knee. "And I like the view. You're real cute when you’re acting all tough and concerned."
Azzi felt a heat crawl up her neck, but she didn't move her leg. She just raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her cool. "Keep your hands on the wheel, Paige. You’re high as a kite and Kayla’s gonna be back any second. Don't start something you're too faded to finish."Paige smacked her lips again, a slow, lazy sound. Without a word, she reached out with both hands, her grip surprisingly firm as she hooked them around Azzi’s waist. Before Azzi could even protest, Paige pulled her across the center console and right onto her lap.
The steering wheel pressed against Azzi’s back, and the space felt impossibly small. Paige’s legs were still spread wide, making room for Azzi to sit. The smell of weed and expensive cologne was everywhere now, overwhelming and warm.
Azzi didn't fight it, but she felt her heart racing. She leaned forward, hiding her face by tucking her head into the crook of Paige’s neck. The skin there was warm, and she could feel the vibration of Paige’s slow, steady breathing.
"Stop, Paige," Azzi mumbled, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin. She didn't move to get up, though. Her hands rested weakly on Paige’s shoulders.
Paige didn't let go. Instead, she tightened her hold on Azzi’s waist, leaning her head back against the headrest. She let out a low, raspy chuckle that Azzi felt more than she heard.
"You saying stop, but you ain't moving," Paige whispered, her voice vibrating right against Azzi's ear. She turned her head slightly, her lips grazing Azzi’s hair. "Make up your mind, Az."
Azzi didn't answer Paige’s teasing; she couldn't find the words even if she wanted to. Instead, she let her head heavy against Paige’s shoulder and began to press soft, lingering kisses into the warm skin of her neck. She moved slowly, her lips grazing the spot just below Paige’s ear where the scent of her perfume was the strongest. It was a familiar, aching feeling the kind of habit they both fell into whenever the world got quiet and they were finally alone.
Paige let out a sharp, jagged breath. The lazy, slumped posture she had earlier vanished as she reacted to the touch. Her hand, which had been resting loosely at Azzi’s waist, slid down with a sudden, possessive energy. She gripped Azzi’s rear firmly, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sweats, pulling her body even tighter against her own.
The sudden pressure and the heat of Paige’s palm made Azzi’s breath hitch. A low, soft moan escaped her, vibrating directly against the pulse point in Paige's neck.
The sound was muffled by the thick air in the car, but it was enough to make Paige groan back, a deep sound that rumbled from her chest.
Paige’s grip tightened, her knuckles grazing the leather of the seat as she held Azzi in place. "You're gonna make me forget Kayla's coming back," Paige rasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into the kisses, her head falling back against the headrest. She looked completely gone now,
She moved from the soft, lingering kisses to something more intense. She caught a small patch of skin right above Paige’s collarbone and bit down hard. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was firm enough to leave a mark that would definitely be there tomorrow.
Paige’s reaction was instant. Her head snapped back against the headrest with a dull thud, and a sharp, breathy "fuck" escaped her lips. The sound was thick and strained, caught somewhere between a growl and a gasp. Instead of pulling away, Paige tilted her chin up and moved her head to the side, exposing the full length of her neck and giving Azzi even more room to work.
The low eye, heavy lidded look Paige had been wearing since Azzi got in the car sharpened into something much more focused. Her hands didn't just stay at Azzi's waist anymore; she pulled Azzi closer, her fingers hooking into the waistband of Azzi’s sweatpants, dragging her flush against her. The friction of their clothes and the intense heat building between them made the windows fog up even faster, turning the rainy world outside into nothing but a grey, blurry smear.
"You're wild for that," Paige rasped, her voice sounding completely wrecked. She reached up with one hand, her fingers tangling into the hair at the back of Azzi’s head, pulling just enough to keep her pressed firmly against her skin. "Do it again."
Azzi could feel Paige’s heart hammering against her own chest, a fast, rhythmic thumping that matched the frantic pace of the raindrops on the roof. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Paige’s skin and the fading smell of the blunt, before leaning back in to find another spot. Every time Azzi’s teeth grazed her, Paige let out another shaky breath, her body vibrating with every muffled sound Azzi made against her. They were completely locked in
She slid her hand upward, the cool air of the car hitting Azzi’s skin as the fabric of her shirt was pushed up. With practiced, shaky fingers, Paige reached behind Azzi’s back and unhooked the clasp of her bra.
The sudden release made Azzi’s breath hitch. Her chest felt heavy and sensitive in the dim light of the dashboard. Paige didn't waste a second; she reached out and cupped one of Azzi's breasts in her large, warm palm, her thumb grazing the peak. The contrast between Paige's rough, calloused hand and Azzi's soft skin sent a jolt through the car's silent cabin.
Paige leaned forward, her heavy lidded eyes dark and focused. She let her head drop, her mouth replacing her hand on the other side. As soon as she took Azzi into her mouth, a loud, broken moan tore from Azzi’s throat, echoing against the glass. Azzi arched her back, her fingers digging desperately into Paige’s shoulders, clutching the fabric of her hoodie as she was pulled deeper into the seat.
Paige groaned low in her throat, a sound of pure satisfaction. She used her free hand to squeeze and knead, her grip firm and possessive, while she continued to swirl her tongue with a lazy, rhythmic pressure. The steering wheel was pressed into Azzi’s side and the gear shift was digging into her leg, but she didn't care. The world was just the smell of Paige’s skin, the sound of the rain, and the intense, dizzying heat of Paige’s mouth.
Azzi’s head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave in to the feeling, her body trembling on Paige’s lap. Every time Paige sucked harder or squeezed, Azzi let out another soft, shaky sound, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.
zzi was trembling, her hands shaking as she gripped Paige’s hair. Every breath she took felt like she was inhaling Paige’s scent.
"Please, Paige..." Azzi whispered, her voice cracking as another moan escaped her.
Paige didn't stop. Her movements were heavy and determined. She reached down, pulling Azzi’s shirt over her head and tossing it into the back seat. Then, her hands moved to the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, sliding them down and off her legs until Azzi was completely exposed in the dim, smoky light.
Paige leaned back just an inch, her red eyes wandering over Azzi’s body with a slow, hungry look. She looked like she was in a trance, her chest rising and falling heavily.
"You want it?" Paige rasped, her voice deeper than before, sounding like a growl. She gripped Azzi's hips, her thumbs digging into her skin. "Tell me how bad you want it, Az. Say it."
She waited, her mouth hovering just inches from Azzi’s, her hot breath ghosting over her lips. She wasn't moving until she heard the words.
Azzi’s head fell back against the steering wheel, her eyes squeezed shut. She felt the cold air from the car’s vents on her skin, but where Paige was touching her, she was burning up.
"I want it so bad," Azzi whimpered, her fingers tightening on Paige's shoulders. "Please, Paige... right now."
Paige let out a dark, satisfied hum and
Azzi reached down, her fingers trembling but determined, and caught Paige’s wrist. She guided Paige’s hand downward, past the heat of her stomach, until she pressed Paige’s palm firmly against the damp heat between her legs.
"I want it bad," Azzi whispered directly into Paige’s ear, her lips brushing against the lobe as she shivered.
Paige let out a ragged, guttural sound, her head falling back against the seat again. The contact was electric. Her hand was large and warm, and as soon as she felt how ready Azzi was for her, her fingers didn't stay still. She began to move with a slow, heavy rhythm that matched the dazed, high energy she’d been carrying all night. Her thumb found the center of everything, applying a lazy but firm pressure that made Azzi’s knees go weak.
"Yeah?" Paige rasped, her voice a low vibration that Azzi could feel in her own chest. "You're so slick for me, Az."
Paige hooked a finger under the edge of Azzi's lace, tugging it aside so there was nothing left between her skin and Azzi's. She began to work, her touch deep and rhythmic, making Azzi’s hips roll instinctively against her hand. Every time Paige's palm pressed flat against her, Azzi let out a sharp, broken gasp, her forehead dropping onto Paige’s shoulder as she tried to muffle her sounds.
Paige’s other hand stayed locked on Azzi’s waist, her thumb digging into her hip bone to keep her from moving too far away.
"Look at me," Paige commanded, her voice thick and commanding.
Azzi lifted her head, her hair messy and her eyes hazy with a mix of want and exhaustion. Paige was staring at her with a look of pure, clouded hunger, her pupils blown wide. She moved her hand faster, her fingers curling and sliding with an expert touch that had Azzi arching her back, her breath coming in short, frantic hitches as she neled closer to the edge.
Paige’s hand moved with a sudden, sharp intent, her fingers curling upward and finding that one sensitive internal ridge with a heavy, rhythmic pressure. The friction was intense, perfectly timed with the slow, deep grind of her palm against Azzi's exterior.
Azzi’s entire body went rigid. Her fingers, which had been tangled in Paige’s hair, tightened so hard her knuckles turned white. Her back arched in a sharp, elegant curve, her chest pressing hard against Paige's as the sensation built into something unbearable.
“I-I’m—” Azzi started, her voice a frantic, high pitched thread of sound, but the words died in her throat.
The climax hit her like a physical weight. Her internal muscles clamped down hard on Paige’s fingers as a sudden, hot rush of fluid erupted from her, soaking into Paige’s hand and splashing across the leather of the driver's seat. Azzi’s legs began to shake uncontrollably, her thighs quivering against Paige’s hips as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
She let out a long, broken cry that was muffled by the crook of Paige’s neck, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing hitches. The world was spinning, reduced to nothing but the pulsing heat between her legs and the feeling of Paige holding her steady through the storm of it.
Paige didn’t pull away. She leaned into the mess, her thumb continuing to circle with a slow, grounding pressure even as Azzi continued to twitch and shudder in her lap. Paige let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated deep in her chest, her heavy-lidded eyes watching Azzi’s face with a look of dazed, smug satisfaction.
"Yeah, I got you," Paige rasped, her voice sounding like gravel and silk. She pulled Azzi’s limp body closer, burying her face in Azzi’s damp hair. "I definitely got you."
Azzi was completely spent, her head lolling onto Paige’s shoulder as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving her heavy and floating in the quiet, hazy warmth of the car. The only sound left was the rain and the frantic thud of two hearts trying to find their rhythm again.
She reached into the backseat, grabbing Azzi’s shirt and shorts. Azzi was completely out, her head lolling against the headrest, her breathing deep and rhythmic after the intensity of what just happened. Paige carefully slid the shirt over Azzi’s limp arms and pulled her shorts back up, smoothing the fabric over her damp skin. She adjusted the passenger seat, reclining it so Azzi could rest comfortably, and threw a light jacket over her to hide any lingering mess.
Just as Paige was leaning back into her own seat, trying to catch her breath, the lobby door swung open. Kayla jogged through the rain, shielding her head with her hands, and yanked the back door open. She hopped in, bringing a burst of cold, wet air with her.
"Man, that was close! I thought a RA was gonna see me in the hall," Kayla panted, shaking her hair out. She buckled her seatbelt and looked up, her expression quickly shifting from relief to total confusion. "Wait... what happened to Azzi? Is she dead?"
She leaned forward, peering over the center console at the unconscious girl. Azzi was dead to the world, her mouth slightly open and a faint flush still on her cheeks.
Then Kayla’s eyes traveled to Paige, and her eyebrows shot up. Paige was sitting there, trying to look cool, but she was a mess. Her breathing was still heavy, and in the dim light of the dashboard, Kayla could see the glisten on Paige’s hand it was soaked,
the moisture reflecting the green glow of the radio. Even worse, Paige hadn't realized she had a smear of wetness across her own mouth, and the front of her dark sweatpants had a visible, damp patch where Azzi had been sitting.
"Yo, Paige..." Kayla said, her voice dropping as she put the pieces together. She looked from Paige’s wet hand to the sleeping Azzi, then back to the damp spot on the driver's seat. "Why is your hand all wet? And your mouth? Did y'all... in the ten minutes I was gone?"
Paige didn't even try to come up with a lie. She just wiped her mouth with the back of her wet hand, which only made it worse, and let out a long, raspy chuckle. She looked back at Kayla through those bloodshot, heavy eyes, a smug, lopsided grin spreading across her face.
"She was stressed about her homework," Paige rasped, her voice sounding deeper and more wrecked than ever. "I just helped her relax. Now shut up and let her sleep."
Kayla sat back, eyes wide, looking between her two friends in disbelief. "In the car? On a Friday night? Y'all are actually insane."
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