If It Was Easy, It Wouldn’t Be Us
Word count: 8.5k
Warnings: Smoking, panic attacks, anxiety.
Chapter 4: Every single time.
Azzi didn’t remember falling asleep.
One moment she was lying on her back, exhaustion pulling her under in slow, dragging waves — the faint weight of Paige’s hoodie heavy around her shoulders, the smell of lavender and clean cotton clinging to the fabric.
And then the world shifted.
It always started the same way.
The house. Too perfect. Too clean. Too quiet.
Like a museum pretending to be a home — polished, expensive, lifeless.
Azzi stood in the hallway, small again. Eight. Ten. Some blurry age in between. That’s how nightmares worked — they didn’t care about accuracy.
Her uniform collar scratched her neck, starched and stiff just like the ones she wore to the private schools her parents bragged about more than she ever attended.
Her backpack felt too heavy.
Like it wasn’t full of books… but expectations.
Voices drifted from the living room.
Not loud. Not yelling. Worse. Soft. Controlled.
The kind of tone that tasted like disappointment.
She knew that tone better than her own name.
Her feet moved on their own even though everything in her body begged her to turn around.
Her father stood with his arms crossed, watch glinting. Her mother sat on the couch with her hands folded neatly, eyes sharp and cold — not enraged, just embarrassed. That look always cut deeper.
They didn’t see her. They never did.
“…She has everything, just like Jose did,” her father said. “Private coaches. Tutors. Every opportunity. Yet she still—”
“Fails,” her mother finished. Calm. Surgical.
Azzi’s stomach twisted.
She tried to speak — to say I’m trying, I swear I’m trying — but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. Her breath didn’t even move.
Her father sighed. Not tired. Burdened.
“She has no clue what she wants in life. By this age, Jose already knew he’d take over the company. She’ll fall behind everyone.”
His voice tightened. “And we can’t let that happen. Not in this family.”
Her mother nodded. “We’ve given her everything. Cars, clothes, anything she’s ever asked for. If she’s still unhappy, that’s her fault.”
Azzi reached out with trembling fingers.
“Mom?”
Nothing. No response.
Like she wasn’t even standing there.
Her father kept talking.
“She’s too emotional. She ruins things. Every time she cries she does it for attention. She’s a burden.”
Her mother’s voice lowered — cold, disappointed, cutting.
“Maybe she just isn’t the daughter this family needed. But somehow we’ll turn her into that. Even if it’s the last thing I do. She seems like the type to spill every family secret just for attention. We can’t risk that. She’s a side piece. Jose is the future.”
Azzi felt something inside her tear.
Quietly. Like paper.
The dream shifted.
The house blurred at the edges, the walls stretched, the floor warped. The ceiling soared upward until the living room became a dark, endless hallway.
Her parents turned toward her in perfect, unnatural unison.
Their eyes were empty.
Her father spoke first. “Stop crying. Stop being weak.”
Her hands flew to her cheeks — they were wet.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
Her mother shook her head. “Always dramatic. Always too much.”
Azzi’s breath hitched.
She tried to scream — to beg them to stop — but her voice was trapped in her chest, clawing for a way out.
They stepped toward her. The hallway narrowed. The air thickened. Lights flickered above her.
“Why can’t you be normal?”
“Why can’t you be grateful?”
“You ruin everything.”
“You’re not enough.”
The voices multiplied — her parents, her coaches, teammates, classmates — all overlapping until it sounded like an entire stadium chanting her flaws.
Azzi covered her ears but the words crawled under her skin.
The floor dropped.
She fell —helpless —weightless —the darkness swallowing her whole— until a hand grabbed her wrist.
Warm. Solid. Human.
That had never happened in this dream before.
Azzi gasped awake. Her eyes flew open.
She sat up too fast, breath crashing out of her like she was drowning. Sweat soaked the hoodie. Her pulse thrashed against her ribs.
She didn’t recognize the room at first.
The nightmare still clung to her — her mother’s voice, the hallway, the emptiness in her father’s eyes.
“It was just a dream… it was just a dream…” she whispered shakily.
Except she knew better.
Nightmares are memories wearing masks.
And Azzi had always lived like a ghost in her own life.
No hand had ever reached for her when she fell.
Not until Paige.
————————————————————————
Paige hadn’t meant to fall asleep so quickly — she’d planned to stay alert, just in case Azzi needed anything. But the day had drained her in a way she wasn’t used to.
And then there was the thing she said.
“Kinda hot on you.”
Why would she say that after a fucking accident?
She promised herself she’d apologize in the morning. Make breakfast. Fix the car. Put distance between them. Try again to not feel whatever she was feeling.
But for now, exhaustion won.
She fell asleep on the couch, curled under a thin blanket, half-listening to the quiet of the house.
She didn’t wake up to a sound. She woke up to a feeling.
A pressure in her chest — sharp, wrong, instinctive.
Like her body jolted awake before her mind understood why.
Her eyes opened in the dark.
The moment she inhaled, she knew. Something’s wrong.
Not with her. With Azzi.
Paige sat up fast, heart hammering.
The house was silent.
But underneath the silence — she heard it.
Not clearly. Not loud. But enough.
A breath. Broken. Too quick.
A soft, muffled whimper someone was trying desperately to hide.
Paige was on her feet in seconds.
She crossed the hallway quietly but urgently. The door to the room was cracked open, a thin strip of dim light spilling across the floor.
Paige pushed it open—
And froze.
Azzi sat on the bed, curled in on herself, shaking so hard the mattress trembled beneath her. Her hands covered her mouth like she was trying to keep herself quiet. Tears streamed down her face in silent, uncontrollable lines.
And she kept whispering, so broken it barely counted as sound:
“It was just a dream… it was just a dream…”
Her voice cracked halfway through the last word.
Paige’s chest split.
“Azzi?” she whispered.
No reaction.
Azzi didn’t even look up. Her breaths were shallow, panicked, too fast — like she couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs.
A panic attack.
Paige stepped forward immediately.
She sat on the edge of the bed, careful, slow, close but not touching. “Azzi… hey. I’m here.”
No answer. Just trembling. Just tears.
Paige reached out and placed a steady hand on the back of Azzi’s neck — grounding, warm, gentle but firm enough to anchor her.
Azzi flinched. Not away. Toward.
Paige’s voice softened. “You’re okay. You’re awake now. It’s me.”
“Can you look at me?” Paige asked gently.
Nothing in Paige’s life could’ve prepared her for this — seeing Azzi, the girl who walked like she owned the room, curled into herself like she was trying to disappear.
She’d seen Azzi annoyed. Sarcastic. Untouchable.
But this? This was someone terrified.
Azzi dragged her gaze toward her, and the moment their eyes met, Paige felt the air shift.
Because now Paige understood.
This wasn’t just a nightmare.
It was something old.
Something that still lived inside her.
Something Azzi carried alone.
Paige’s voice softened without her meaning it to.
“You’re safe,” she whispered again. “I promise.”
Azzi swallowed hard, breath shaking uncontrollably.
She wasn’t reaching for Paige, not yet.
But she wasn’t pulling away from her either.
And Paige felt something in her chest tighten — protective, fierce, terrified of the idea that anyone had ever made Azzi feel like this.
Her eyes were red, glazed with tears that still spilled down her cheeks. She looked lost. Small. Terrified.
Paige reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
Her fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
“Do you want me to stay close?” Paige asked quietly.
Azzi didn’t speak. She just nodded once — tiny, fragile, desperate. So Paige moved.
Not into the bed — but right beside it, in a chair, knees touching the mattress, one hand on Azzi’s back, rubbing slow grounding circles. The tremors slowly eased under her palm.
Azzi’s breathing deepened. Not steady. But better.
Paige stayed right there, close enough to be heat and safety but not enough to overwhelm her.
Azzi leaned the slightest bit toward her.
Barely anything.
But Paige felt it like gravity.
And in that moment Paige knew one thing with absolute clarity:
She would wake up for Azzi every time. Night after night. Nightmare after nightmare.
And she would never let her face them alone again.
Fuck the distance. Fuck the plan.
—————————————————————————
Paige woke up with a sharp ache running down her spine.
Sleeping half-sitting on a chair definitely had consequences.
But the pain wasn’t what hit her first. The sight in front of her did.
Azzi was still asleep, curled slightly to the side, mouth slightly open, curls scattered messily across the pillow. She looked… peaceful. Completely different from the trembling, terrified version of her Paige had held through the nightmare.
Paige’s chest tightened.
She stood up quietly and headed toward the kitchen. She needed to apologize. For last night. For flirting at the worst possible moment. She knew better than that.
Azzi had been barely holding herself together, and Paige had gone and called her hot?
Seriously? She deserved to smack herself.
She grabbed a pan and stared at it like it was a complex piece of machinery. She wasn’t a great cook — somewhere between “burns water” and “can maybe make toast” — but she was determined to at least try. Azzi deserved breakfast. And Paige… needed the distraction.
Somewhere between cracking an egg wrong and nearly setting a napkin on fire, a couple of funny looking pancakes, Paige decided she wasn’t going to school today. It was Friday. She needed the day off. And Azzi — after everything — definitely shouldn’t be alone.
She sighed, wiped her hands on a towel, and pulled out her phone.
She had disappeared in the middle of the night and was about to skip school.
Yeah. Her dad needed explanations.
He answered by the second ring.
“Hey, kid. Why you calling me? Aren’t you upstairs?”
Paige winced. “Hi, Dad. Yeah… about that. I’m actually at the garage.”
“Huh? You literally slept here last night. And I know for a fact you wouldn’t stop by the garage before school. What’s going on?”
Paige rubbed her temple. “So you know how I stay here sometimes when KK works nights? Just to keep an eye on Mr. Smith?”
“Yeah? Is everything alright with him?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” She exhaled softly. “But this girl has been stopping by the garage the last few nights. And yesterday she called — she got into a crash. She didn’t have anyone else to call, dad. So I snuck out and went to get her.”
There was a pause on the other end.
Paige continued quickly. “Her car’s totaled, so I thought… instead of taking her home, I’d bring her here. Let her rest. Work on the car.” She swallowed. “So I was wondering if it’s okay for me to skip school today? Fix her car? Keep an eye on her and Mr. Smith?”
Another quiet moment.
Then—
“Paige,” her father groaned, “you’re going to kill me one of these days.”
She smiled despite herself.
“Okay,” he sighed. “You can stay home from school. But bring her here if you need anything. I don’t want Mr. Smith getting overwhelmed. Who is this girl, anyway?”
Paige hesitated.
“Azzi…Fudd.”
“As in those Fudds?”
“…Yeah.”
“Is she hurt?”
“She has some bruises and cuts on her face and arms, but nothing major.”
“Alright. When you’re done at the garage, bring her here. Mom can check her over — make sure there’s nothing serious. Then you can take her home. I’m sure her family is worried.”
Paige was about to answer when she heard soft footsteps approaching from the hallway.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you later.”
“Paige?”
She froze. “Yeah?”
“Please be careful.” His voice softened in that way that always cracked her a little. “You have the biggest and most beautiful heart. Not everyone can take that responsibility and treat it right. We love you so much, kid.”
Paige swallowed hard.
“I love you more. And I promise I’m doing my best.”
“No doubt in my mind,” he said gently. “Not for a second.”
—————————————————————————
Azzi woke up alone.
Normally, that was nothing new — she always woke up alone. But something about this morning felt… different. Maybe it was the warmth still lingering in the sheets, or the faint smell of Paige’s perfume on the pillowcase. She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.
Should she wait for Paige to say goodbye before going to school?
Wait — was she even supposed to stay after Paige left?
Should she leave now so it wouldn’t be awkward?
Paige had already done too much for her. She shouldn’t push it. She should just go. That was the responsible thing. The safe thing.
Even if something in her chest — something warm and terrifying — begged her to stay.
She tried slipping back into her clothes from the night before, but seeing them on the floor made the whole night feel real again. Too real. She grabbed the clothes Paige had given her instead. She’d take them home, have them washed, maybe spray them lightly with her perfume, and bring them back tonight.
Yeah. That sounded reasonable. Not too clingy. Not too cold.
She walked towards the kitchen, ready to quietly slip out — when she heard Paige’s voice.
“I love you more. And I promise I’m doing my best.”
Azzi froze.
Her chest ached sharply.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said those words to either of her parents.
When Paige finally turned and saw her, she lit up. “Hey, Az. How’d you sleep?”
“Morning,” Azzi murmured. “After… everything? Good, I guess. Your bed is really comfortable. Thank you for letting me stay. I know you have school so I’ll just—” She gestured to the door. “I’ll bring your clothes back tonight.”
She started walking away.
“What? Wait.” Paige stepped forward. “Bro, I’m literally making you breakfast. You had a rough night. Eat something. Please.”
Azzi blinked. “But you have to be at school in like fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not going,” Paige said simply. “I’m not leaving you alone after what happened. And we have to fix your car, dude, or you’re gonna end up walking everywhere.” Her smile was light, teasing. “I made pancakes. They’re ugly as hell, but technically edible.”
Azzi felt the corner of her mouth lift — uncontrollably, impossibly soft. “You cook?”
“Absolutely not,” Paige deadpanned. “But I tried.”
A laugh almost slipped out. Real. Unforced.
“Fine,” Azzi said quietly. “I’ll eat your ugly pancakes.”
—————————————————————————
Azzi sat at the small table while Paige slid a plate in front of her.
The pancakes were, in fact, tragic — uneven, lumpy, and burnt around the edges.
Azzi raised a brow. “Paige.”
“I know,” Paige said immediately, hands up like she was being arrested. “Listen, you survived a car crash. These won’t kill you.”
Azzi cut into one and took a bite. She chewed slowly, then looked up. “They’re actually good.”
Paige blinked in disbelief. “No way.”
Azzi nodded. “Like… good-good.”
Paige sat down across from her, propping her chin on her hand. “Huh. Guess I’m a chef now.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth wouldn’t leave.
They ate in silence — the comfortable kind, warm in the chest, unfamiliar but welcome.
Then Paige spoke. “You want to talk about it?”
Azzi froze.
Paige softened immediately. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. Just… know I’m willing to listen if you do.”
She exhaled, eyes gentle. “I meant what I said last night.”
Azzi swallowed. “What part?”
“That you have people who care.”
Azzi stared down at her plate. “Well… it doesn’t feel like it.”
Her eyes blurred for a second, lashes fluttering. “People don’t usually… show up for me.”
Paige leaned forward, voice barely a breath. “I’m not ‘people,’ Az.”
Something cracked open in Azzi. A truth she never said out loud slipped out like it had been waiting.
“It felt real,” she whispered. “Like I was back there. In that exact situation.”
“Back where?” Paige asked softly.
Azzi’s throat tightened. “With them.”
The way she said it made Paige’s chest twist.
Azzi lifted her gaze — raw, red, honest in a way Paige had never seen.
“It’s like… no matter what I do, I’m never enough or I’m too much. I have everything — anything I want, I get. But it doesn’t fill me. It makes me feel hollow. And watching them adore my brother because he’s better at hiding the same pain—” she swallowed, voice cracking, “—it leaves scars I don’t even know the shape of yet. I’m never enough. Not for them. Not for anybody.”
Paige’s expression softened — slow, devastating.
“Azzi,” she murmured, leaning in, “you are enough. More than enough.”
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Something fragile, electric, dangerous hung between them.
Azzi didn’t pull away.
Paige didn’t either.
Azzi leaned in first — just a centimeter — enough for Paige to feel her breath on her lips.
“Tell me to stop,” Azzi whispered, barely sound. “If I shouldn’t.”
Paige’s breath shook.
Her nostrils flared. Her control wavered.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said— but she didn’t close the distance.
Their lips hovered, sharing the same air, close enough to ache.
Azzi’s heart pounded.
Paige swallowed, voice thick. “This is a bad idea right now.”
“Because of the crash?” Azzi whispered.
“Because you’re hurt,” Paige said. “And because I’m two seconds away from forgetting that.”
She inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry about last night. Flirting when you were that emotional… it wasn’t fair of me.”
Azzi’s chest rose. “I didn’t mind.”
Paige pulled away with a smile just an inch — enough to stay in control, not nearly enough to stop wanting her.
“Well get back to that”
The almost-kiss settled between them like a bruise you didn’t dare touch.
They finished eating quietly, washed the dishes side by side, and when the silence finally softened, Paige spoke.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she said, wiping her hands. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, so I’m giving you options. You tell me if it’s too much.”
Azzi nodded, though her brain was still replaying the ghost of Paige’s lips.
“Option A,” Paige said. “I take you home now, work on your car during the day, and you come back tonight.”
Azzi already hated it.
“Option B. We stay here all day, I teach you everything you don’t know about your car, we fix it, have dinner with Mr. Smith and KK when she gets back, and I take you home.”
She hated that one too.
Mostly because both options ended with her going home.
Her phone had no missed calls, no messages, nothing.
Twelve hours gone, and no one noticed.
“Is there an Option C?” Azzi asked quietly.
Paige’s lips lifted in a warm, crooked smile. “I’m glad you asked. That one’s my favorite.”
Azzi’s heart fluttered stupidly.
“Option C,” Paige said. “We work on your car, and when KK gets here around five, she has the night off… then I can take you home with me. My mom’s a nurse — she can check your cuts and make sure there’s nothing we’re missing. Then we come back, smoke a little, and after that…”
She shrugged gently. “Up to you. We can sleep here. Or at my place. Or I can take you home. Whatever you want.”
Azzi blinked.
“You want me to go home with you?”
Paige suddenly needed something to do with her hands — anything.
“Well… yeah,” she said, cheeks warm. “I want you to feel safe. And my dad suggested we go so my mom can make sure everything’s okay. They won’t say a word about the crash. I promise.”
Azzi should have been terrified.
She wasn’t even sure what she felt for Paige — not fully, not in words.
And she was going to her house?
But she wasn’t scared. Not even a little.
Something deep in her chest — quiet, steady — knew that with Paige beside her, nothing bad could touch her.
And maybe that was the terrifying part.
“Okay,” she breathed.
Paige’s smile bloomed slow, bright, impossible to look away from.
“Okay?”
“You heard me, dude.”
—————————————————————————
The garage was warm, dusty, smelling like oil and sun-heated metal. Paige had already tied her hair up into a messy bun, grease fingerprinted across her forearm like paint strokes. She looked… annoyingly beautiful like that.
Azzi tried not to notice. She failed.
“Okay,” Paige said, tossing her a pair of gloves. “Rule number one: don’t freak out if something sparks. It probably won’t explode.”
Azzi froze mid–glove. “Probably?”
Paige smirked. “I’m kidding.”
Azzi narrowed her eyes. “You’re not.”
Paige shrugged with a grin and crouched by the hood. “Come here.”
Azzi moved beside her, careful not to brush against Paige’s shoulder. Paige felt close — too close — her presence warm and strangely calming.
“See this?” Paige pointed to a piece of twisted metal. Azzi nodded. She had no clue what she was looking at. “This is where the impact hit hardest. We’re gonna realign the frame, check the wiring, and then rebuild the support.”
“You say that like I didn’t just learn cars aren’t powered by hamsters.”
Paige laughed — loud, sudden, honest. Azzi’s stomach flipped.
“You’re cute,” Paige said before she realized it, then froze. “I mean— your confusion is cute. Like, in a— I-didn’t—” Fuck. In less than twenty-four hours she’d called Azzi hot and cute. She seriously needed to get her shit together.
Azzi didn’t make it easy on her. She leaned in slightly. “Wow. Another compliment. You think I’m cute?”
Paige’s ears turned red. “We’re fixing a car. Focus.”
Azzi smiled smugly. God, she loved flustering her.
Paige guided her hands gently, showing her how to loosen a bolt, how to hold a wrench properly, how to lean her weight into a stubborn screw. Every time their fingers brushed, Paige’s breath caught just slightly — Azzi didn’t miss it.
Twenty minutes. That’s how long she’d been distracted by the sharp line of Paige’s jaw. God, she was hot. Why had she paused? Why had she asked? She could’ve already kissed Paige Bueckers and maybe felt something she’d been afraid to want.
“You’re staring again,” Paige murmured without looking up.
Azzi blinked. “You can’t prove that.”
Paige finally looked at her — slow, deliberate, like she knew exactly what she was doing.
“No,” Paige said softly. “But I can feel it.”
Azzi’s pulse tripped over itself. She looked away.
They kept working — shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing, Paige laughing at Azzi’s constant commentary, Azzi secretly memorizing every angle of Paige’s smile.
And for the first time in a long time…
Azzi felt something like steady ground.
—————————————————————————
Three and a half hours later, Azzi was sweaty, dirty, and officially over it.
“Okay,” she groaned, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, “I’m new at this, but I genuinely don’t understand how you spend eight hours at a time under a car. I’m done.”
Paige laughed, folding a rag over her shoulder. “You can go inside and take a shower if you want. Later we can go look for lunch or order something.”
Azzi just nodded.
Maybe this accident really had been a blessing in disguise.
Maybe it happened so she’d finally notice where she actually wanted to be.
Because if some one had told her a week ago that she’d willingly spend an entire day with Paige Bueckers — sweaty, messy, happy — she would’ve assumed they were mentally unwell.
She headed to Paige’s room, only to remember she didn’t have any clothes. She sighed and called out:
“Paige? Can you come here for a second? I need help.”
It was ridiculous how fast Paige showed up.
“You good?” Paige asked, slightly out of breath from how quickly she’d come.
“Yeah, I just… I don’t have clothes. And I didn’t want to go digging through your closet without asking.”
Paige froze for a moment — staring at her like she’d forgotten how to be a functioning human.
She’d seen the wrong version of Azzi before: the mask, the attitude, the walls.
But this Azzi — her Azzi — was thoughtful, funny, considerate… Beautiful.
“Hello? World calling to Paige?”
Paige shook her head quickly.
“Sorry,” Paige muttered, rubbing her neck. “I don’t have much you’d like here, but if you want, we can stop by your place. You can make a bag and tell your mom you’re spending the next couple of days with me so we can take care of those cuts.”
It was the weakest excuse in history and they both knew it.
Azzi could easily take care of the cuts herself.
But Paige wanted to be the one doing it every night before bed. And mental note to herself: Tell Dad Azzi is spending the next couple of days with them so “we can take care of those cuts.” God, she couldn’t even lie properly.
Azzi didn’t call her out. She didn’t want to.
Because honestly? There wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be more.
So she nodded.
Paige handed her a pair of sweats. “Take a shower. I’ll go after you. Then we eat, swing by your place, make your bag… and then we go home.”
Home.
The word echoed in Azzi’s mind through the entire shower, soft and warm and dangerous.
We go home.
—————————————————————————
Paige drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against her thigh in a rhythm Azzi couldn’t read. They ended up at a tiny diner tucked between a laundromat and a flower shop—one of those places Azzi never would’ve stepped into on her own. But Paige lit up the second she saw it.
“They have the best grilled cheese on earth,” Paige said as they slid into a booth. “Like… life-changing.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “That’s a big promise.”
“You’ll see.”
Paige slid into the booth across from her, drumming her fingers lightly on the table — a nervous habit Azzi was starting to recognize.
The waitress came, Paige ordered for both of them without thinking, and somehow that didn’t annoy Azzi—it made her feel… cared for. Which was stupid. Dangerous. But warm.
When the waitress left, Paige leaned back, stretching her legs under the table. One of them brushed against Azzi’s by accident. Azzi pretended not to notice. Paige definitely noticed.
The silence settled for a minute, easy in a strange way. Then Azzi cleared her throat.
“So…” she started, watching Paige carefully, “can I ask you something? About your family.”
Paige blinked, surprised but not closed off. “Yeah. Ask anything.”
“Earlier, you were talking to your dad, right?” she said carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say ‘I love you’ before eight in the morning.”
Paige blinked, half laughing. “Seriously?”
Azzi shrugged. “Not… in my house.”
Paige nodded slowly, the joking look fading.
“My dad’s the quiet one,” she said finally. “He’s the type who fixes everything before you even realize it’s broken. He works a lot, but when he’s home, he’s… steady. You know? He’s the person I go to when my brain is doing the most.”
Azzi nodded, imagining him — calm, grounding.
“And your mom?”
A slow smile grew on Paige’s face, the kind that softened her whole expression.
“My mom’s loud,” she said fondly. “Like, she will absolutely talk your ear off about literally anything. But she’s also the one who notices stuff before anyone else. If you’re hurt, sad, stressed — she sees it immediately. Even when you’re trying to hide it.”
Azzi swallowed. “So she cares.”
“Yeah. A lot.”
Azzi looked down at her hands.
Paige’s eyes flicked to her instantly — worried, gentle, not pitying, just present.
Azzi cleared her throat. “What about your brother?”
“Oh, Drew?” Paige said, snorting. “He’s annoying as hell.”
Azzi laughed, and Paige smiled wider, encouraged.
“He’s seven. Thinks he’s hilarious. He’s not. But he’s cool.”
Azzi rested her chin in her hand. “So you’re close.”
“Yeah.” Paige shrugged. “My family’s… chaotic, but good-chaotic. Loud dinners. Constant fights over the TV. Everyone screaming over nothing. But it’s—” She hesitated. “It’s home.”
Azzi didn’t speak for a moment.
She wasn’t jealous. It wasn’t that.
It was more like… her chest hurt in a way she didn’t know how to name.
Azzi hesitated for a beat. “Do you guys… fight? Or is it all perfect and sweet and… morning I love you’s?”
Paige’s smile faltered, not in a sad way—just honest. “We fight. Sometimes a lot. I’m stubborn. But no matter what, we talk it out. We don’t… leave things hanging.”
Azzi’s chest tightened. “Must be nice.”
Paige tilted her head. “Your family doesn’t talk things out?”
Azzi snorted. “My family doesn’t talk. They perform.” Her eyes traced the condensation on her glass. “We don’t take care of each other. We just… exist in the same house and pretend it’s normal.”
Paige’s voice softened. “Is that why you didn’t want to go back last night?”
Azzi swallowed. “Part of it.”
Paige leaned forward, forearms on the table, eyes steady on her. “You know… you don’t have to pretend with me.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. “Paige, you barely know me.”
Paige’s gaze didn’t budge. “Yeah, and? Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Azzi’s heartbeat stuttered—annoying, unpredictable, completely out of her control.
“You… you didn’t have to skip class for me today.”
“I know,” Paige said simply.
Azzi looked away, cheeks heating. “Eat your grilled cheese, Bueckers.”
Paige laughed—a soft, genuine sound Azzi felt directly in her ribs.
For a moment, in that tiny diner booth, with ugly pancakes still in her memory and Paige’s knee brushing hers under the table…
Azzi didn’t feel alone.
Maybe she had been right earlier.
Maybe the accident was a blessing in disguise — because somehow, by crashing her car, she had landed right into the middle of something that felt dangerously close to… warmth.
Maybe even home.
—————————————————————————
The drive took less than twenty minutes, but to Azzi it felt like an hour — her pulse climbing with every street they passed. Paige kept one hand on the wheel, glancing at Azzi every few seconds like she was afraid she’d break.
“You okay?” Paige asked softly.
Azzi nodded, even though her stomach felt like a fist.
“Yeah. Just… thinking.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
Paige just nodded once, not pushing. Somehow that made it worse, in the best way.
When they turned into Azzi’s neighborhood, Paige’s eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “These houses have houses.”
Azzi let out a humorless breath. “Welcome to the part of town where no one actually lives in their home.”
Paige didn’t have a chance to respond — they had reached the long gated driveway of the Fudd estate.
Paige’s jaw literally dropped.
“Azzi. This isn’t a house. This is… the White House’s hotter cousin.”
Azzi didn’t smile. Not really.
Just a small twitch of her lip.
———————————————————————————
The house was too quiet.
Azzi led the way through the oversized entry doors. They opened with a low mechanical hum — too smooth, too cold.
Marble floors. White walls. Tall ceilings that made sound echo like the place was abandoned.
The house greeted them the same way it always did:
Perfect. Silent. Sterile. Quiet.
Not peaceful quiet — dead quiet. The kind that made Paige’s skin crawl a little as the door clicked shut behind them.
They walked deeper into the house. Paige noticed immediately:
No photos. No shoes near the door. No jackets. No noise. Nothing personal.
“Your family isn’t home?” Paige asked carefully.
Azzi hesitated for the first time since they arrived.
Then she said flatly:
“My dad hasn’t been home for the last three months.”
Paige’s head snapped toward her. “What?”
Azzi kept walking, expression unreadable.
“He’s… ‘traveling for work.’ That’s what he says, anyway. My mom pretends to believe him.”
Paige swallowed. “And what about—?”
“My mom is probably drunk in their room,” Azzi said with a short, humorless breath. “She likes bourbon. A lot.”
Paige had no idea what to say. But Azzi wasn’t done.
“And my brother?” she continued, voice sharp and cold. “He’s probably fucking someone in one of the guest rooms. Or his car. Or the pool house. Pick a place.”
Paige stopped walking altogether, staring at her like she was seeing her for the first time.
“Azzi…”
“It’s whatever,” Azzi said, waving a hand like she was swatting away a fly. “Everyone does their own thing. They don’t really… notice when I’m gone.”
Paige stepped closer, slowly, like she was approaching a wounded animal she didn’t want to scare.
“Last night,” Paige said quietly, “you got into a crash. You didn’t go home. You didn’t text. You didn’t answer your phone. And no one checked?”
Azzi opened her bedroom door instead of answering.
Paige stopped in the doorway.
It was gorgeous — massive bed, designer decorations, immaculate layout — but something felt wrong. Like it belonged in a catalog, not to a person.
Paige took one slow glance around.
“Where’s… your stuff?”
“This is my stuff.”
Paige frowned. “No, like… pictures. Posters. Mess. Clothes on the floor. Anything that… looks lived in.”
“This is… really pretty,” she admitted. “But it looks like a hotel.”
“It’s supposed to,” Azzi said. She didn’t even look up.
“Az,” she said softly, “you’re telling me all this like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. But it’s not. And it’s okay to say that it hurts.”
Azzi zipped her bag hard — like she was trying to shut the conversation inside it.
“My family is complicated, Paige.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean ‘absent,’” Paige said, voice cracking with something she hadn’t meant to show. “It doesn’t mean drunk or gone or— or whatever the hell your brother is doing. That’s not ‘complicated.’ That’s—”
She stopped herself.
Azzi looked up slowly, guarded.
“That’s what?” she whispered.
Paige took a breath.
“You don’t deserve that.”
Azzi’s throat tightened.
Her eyes glistened — not enough to cry, just enough to betray something she’d never said out loud.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, voice barely holding together. “They don’t care.”
Paige shook her head slowly. “I care.”
Azzi’s eyes flicked up to hers so fast it almost hurt to watch.
Paige swallowed. “I care more than I should.”
Azzi’s breath caught — sharp and quiet.
She stepped closer, not touching Azzi, but close enough that Azzi could feel the warmth of her.
“Az,” Paige said softly. “You live in a house that’s bigger than my whole block… and it looks like nobody lives here. Not even you.”
Azzi blinked hard and looked away.
“It’s just a house.”
“It’s lonely,” Paige corrected, voice low. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Azzi’s throat tightened. She didn’t answer.
Instead, she lifted the duffel strap over her shoulder and turned toward the door.
Paige followed, but before they stepped out of the room, she gently caught Azzi’s wrist — barely, lightly, like she was giving her room to pull away.
Azzi didn’t.
Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have to go back here alone tonight. Or tomorrow. Or whenever. I got you, okay?”
Azzi didn’t trust herself to speak.
So she just nodded.
And Paige let go of her wrist slowly, like she didn’t want to. She grabbed the duffel from Azzi before she could protest.
Azzi blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“Az.” Paige’s voice was firm, warm, unshakeable. “I’ve got it.”
And for the first time in a long time…
…Azzi let someone else carry something for her.
Not the bag. Her weight. Her fear. Her loneliness.
All of it.
She followed Paige out of the room, through the silent halls, and back to the driveway.
They got in the car.
Azzi stared at the house one last time before Paige pulled away.
————————————————————————-
Paige’s home wasn’t big. Or fancy. Or silent.
It was warm. A little messy. A basketball on the porch. Shoes kicked off by the door. Music playing faintly inside. Someone laughing in the back room.
Azzi froze on the porch.
She didn’t know why.
Paige turned around, key in hand. “You coming?”
Azzi swallowed. “Yeah. Just… taking it in.”
Paige smiled and held the door open for her.
Warm light spilled out onto the porch.
Azzi stepped in.
It felt like stepping into another world.
A world where people actually lived. Existed. Loved each other.
Inside, the smell of something cooking greeted them immediately.
“Mom?” Paige called.
A woman in scrubs turned the corner, eyes bright and warm. “You’re home early, baby—” Her eyes landed on Azzi. “Oh!” Her face lit up. “You must be Azzi.”
Azzi blinked. “…Hi.”
Paige scratched the back of her neck. “She crashed her car last night so that why she looks like this” She said with a laugh.
Azzi waited for judgment. Concern. Questions she didn’t want to answer.
Instead, Paige’s mom smiled. Soft, warm, grounding.
“Hi sweetheart. You must’ve had one hell of a night.”
Azzi blinked.
Sweetheart? No interrogation? No tension? Just… kindness?
“Let me grab my kit,” she continued. “I’ll check your cuts, make sure everything’s healing properly. Sit wherever you like.”
Her mom took one look at the cuts on Azzi’s face and instantly switched into nurse mode.
“Jesus, babygirl,” she murmured, stepping closer. “You’ve had a rough night.”
She gently cupped Azzi’s jaw with gloved hands.
“Any dizziness? Nausea? Blurry vision?”
Azzi shook her head, caught off guard by how gentle she was. “No, um — I’m okay. Just bruised.”
Paige’s mom’s expression melted, warm and relieved. “Good. Let me clean the cuts and check your arms, okay? You’re in good hands, I promise.”
Azzi’s chest tightened painfully.
No one had talked to her like that in… she didn’t even know how long. Maybe ever.
Paige’s dad appeared too, tall and soft-spoken, giving Azzi the same gentle smile.
Dinner was loud and easy, the kind of messiness Azzi had never been allowed to have in her house. People talked over each other, joked, passed plates, teased Paige lovingly.
At one point, Paige’s mom placed a warm hand on Azzi’s arm.
“You’re safe here, okay?”
Something inside her nearly cracked.
Safe. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone told her that.
Azzi nodded, biting back something fragile in her throat.
For the first time in a long time… she felt like she was somewhere she belonged.
Somewhere warm. Somewhere human. Somewhere safe.
And she didn’t know what scared her more—
How good it felt.
Or how much she didn’t want to leave.
———————————————————————————
By the time they got back from Paige’s house — cuts checked, dinner eaten, parents charmed without even trying — the sky had already turned deep blue. KK was gone with Mr. Smith probably out to dinner, the place was quiet.
Paige unlocked the side door, letting Azzi walk in first.
It smelled like motor oil, old leather, and something that was undeniably Paige.
Azzi breathed it in. Too long. Too deep.
Paige noticed.
“Miss the place already?” she teased.
Azzi shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s… calming.”
Paige laughed softly. “Weird place to find peace.”
Azzi looked at her. “You’re here.”
Paige froze. Just for half a second.
Then she swallowed, turned away, and pulled out the small stash she kept hidden behind an old toolbox.
“This okay?” she asked softly.
Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”
They sat on the hood of Azzi’s half-fixed car, legs dangling, the city humming faintly outside. Azzi watched every movement, her eyes tracing Paige’s fingers, her jaw, the little line her brows made when she concentrated.
Paige caught her staring.
“What?” Paige asked, smiling a little.
Azzi blinked. “Nothing.”
Paige lit the joint, inhaled, then handed it to Azzi.
Azzi took it between her fingers and inhaled, the smoke burning — familiar and grounding. She held it out to Paige.
Paige leaned in instead of taking it.
Her mouth brushed Azzi’s fingers. Barely.
Azzi’s breath hitched.
Azzi took a hit, exhaled toward the ceiling.
“You know,” Paige said, voice lower from the haze, “I don’t bring people home.”
Azzi looked at her. “Ever?”
Paige shook her head. “You’re the first.”
The joint paused halfway to Azzi’s lips. “Why me?”
Paige turned, eyes soft, glassy under the dim garage light.
“Because you don’t pretend with me and if I’m going to show my family something I want it to be genuine.”
Azzi didn’t look away.
Paige smiled — a small, private thing.
They passed the joint back and forth, knees brushing, silence warm and thick.
Azzi leaned back on her palms, head tilted. “Today didn’t feel real.”
Paige hummed. “What part?”
“All of it. You… showing up. Staying. Letting me meet your family. Teaching me about the car.” Azzi laughed softly. “People don’t do that for me.”
Paige looked at her, eyes dark and honest. “I will.”
Azzi’s breath caught. “Why?”
Paige didn’t blink. “Because I care.”
Azzi’s heart clenched painfully.
When the joint burned down to the filter, Paige put it out, wiping her fingers on her jeans. She tried to stand.
Azzi put a hand on her knee. “Stay.”
Paige froze again — like Azzi had pressed pause on her entire nervous system.
“Az…” Paige said, voice too soft, too careful. “You’re high.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah but—”
Azzi leaned in closer. “I know what I’m doing.”
Paige was breathing too fast for someone sitting still.
Azzi moved closer, knees brushing.
Closer, thighs pressed. Closer, foreheads nearly touching.
Paige’s hand lifted — slowly, like she was fighting herself — and rested on Azzi’s jaw. Her thumb brushed a fading bruise on Azzi’s cheek.
Azzi shut her eyes at the touch.
“Does it hurt?” Paige whispered.
“Only when you stop touching me.”
Paige’s breath stuttered.
That was it. The breaking point.
She leaned in — painfully slow — giving Azzi plenty of time to pull away.
Azzi didn’t.
She tilted her chin up instead.
Their noses brushed.
Their lips hovered.
Paige whispered, “Tell me to stop.”
Azzi whispered, “Why would I do that?”
And before the air could settle between them —
Paige kissed her.
Soft at first. Testing. Asking.
Azzi kissed back like she had been holding her breath for days.
Paige exhaled into her mouth, relief and want mixing into something dangerously sweet. Her hand slid to the back of Azzi’s neck, pulling her in, finally letting herself feel everything she had been trying to shove down.
Azzi’s fingers curled into Paige’s hoodie, tugging her closer until their bodies touched.
The kiss deepened — still gentle, still slow — but with undertones of something neither of them had words for yet.
Azzi pulled back only when she absolutely needed air.
Paige chased her lips for a second before catching herself.
They stared at each other.
Breathing hard. Eyes wide.
“This can’t be real.” Azzi said.
Paige chuckled. “It’s real tonight. It’ll be real tomorrow. And the day after that.”
Her voice dropped. “I’m not going anywhere, Az.”
The words hit deeper than anything else today.
Azzi let her head fall onto Paige’s shoulder.
Paige closed her eyes.
And for a long time — neither of them moved.
They just sat there, foreheads touching, sharing the same tiny space like it was the safest place they’d ever been.
And for Azzi?
Maybe it was.
———————————————————————————
“Where do you want to sleep tonight?” Paige asked quietly, standing up slowly, like she didn’t want to break whatever fragile calm they’d found. “We can stay here… or we can go back to my place.”
Azzi looked down at her hands. “I already bother your family too much to steal their daughter for another night,” she murmured. “You should hang out with them for awhile. I can take a walk, clear my head.”
Paige stepped a little closer, her voice low and steady. “You don’t bother them. Or me. They already love you.” She paused, searching Azzi’s face. “But if you need some air, we can do that. Together or… not. Whatever you need.”
Azzi finally met her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.
———————————————————————————-
Azzi needed that walk. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and her head felt packed with static. She needed space—just a few quiet minutes to breathe and get her shit together.
But Paige had looked at her with that gentle, stubborn concern and told her it wasn’t safe for her to be walking around alone. She’d offered a compromise instead: “Go out back. Sit by the fire for a bit. I’ll wait for you inside.”
And Azzi couldn’t argue with that. Not when Paige said it like she actually cared.
So that’s what she did.
Okay. I got into a car accident. Absolutely destroyed my car. Called the one person I keep telling myself not to want, not to get attached to. She held me through my nightmares like it was her purpose to make me feel safe. Took me into her home. And now we’ve kissed. Fuck.
Did it have to be a big deal? Her parents weren’t even around; they barely knew about half of her life. But if people at school saw them together—saw them—the rumor would reach them, and that never ended well.
She knew she should talk to Paige. Be honest. Explain that things were complicated in ways that weren’t entirely under her control. But the last thing she ever wanted was to make Paige feel like an option.
Because to Azzi, Paige wasn’t an option at all—she was the only choice she wanted.
———————————————————————————
Meanwhile inside, Paige stood by the window, watching Azzi through the glass. The way her eyebrows pulled together when she was thinking too hard, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her knees tucked to her chest—she looked so small. So anxious. Paige felt her heart twist. She was already reaching for the door when—
“Leave her alone for a few minutes,” her mom said gently. “She’s had a rough couple of days. She’ll come back to you when she’s ready.”
Paige swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. I just… she looks anxious, and I don’t like that.”
“Paige, can you come sit for a moment?”
She sat beside her mom, suddenly feeling twelve again.
“Baby, what’s going on? You don’t bring girls here. KK at most. You care about her so much...”
Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I like her. Like… a lot a lot. But she’s a Fudd, mom. And don’t get me wrong, she’s nothing like them. She’s fun and thoughtful and sweet and so incredibly kind—but I can’t just ignore that detail. I tried convincing myself to put distance between us, that it’d be better for both of us. But I can’t do it. Something always pulls me back to her.”
Her mom took her hand. “Love doesn’t care about names, or money, or status. It just happens. It exists. And I think you should tell her, P. She needs at least one thing in her life that feels safe—something she doesn’t have to earn.”
Paige’s voice dropped. “But what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I’m just… a way for her to escape her house, her problems?”
“Paige,” her mom said softly, “Azzi Fudd has enough money in that trust fund to run away if she wanted to. She isn’t here because she needs you to save her life. She’s here because she wants you. And I see the way she looks at you. Just tell her, P. The best thing you can offer her is honesty and being there.”
Paige exhaled, shaky but convinced. “Yeah. Okay.”
They were interrupted by Azzi’s voice from the doorway.
“Oh—sorry. I didn’t know you guys were talking. I can go back outside if you want to continue.”
“No, babygirl, we’re done,” Paige’s mom said, standing. “It’s probably time for all of us to go to bed.”
She wrapped Paige in a hug and kissed her forehead, then crossed the room to Azzi, pulling her into a warm, grounding embrace.
“Tomorrow is a new day,” she murmured. “And you get to choose what to do with it. Take that chance.”
Azzi froze in her arms, overwhelmed.
“Goodnight, girls. Azzi, the guest room is yours if you want it. Or you can stay with Paige.”
“Thank you. Seriously,” Azzi said, barely above a whisper.
“Anytime,” Paige’s mom said, brushing a thumb over her cheek.
———————————————————————————
They padded quietly to Paige’s room.
“Hop up,” Paige said softly, patting the space on the counter. “We gotta take care of those cuts.”
And then she gave Azzi that smile—the one that made her knees feel like they weren’t built for standing.
Azzi obeyed, watching as Paige stepped between her legs, her hands warm against Azzi’s knee.
“Okay,” Paige murmured, slipping into caretaker mode. “Same as last night: clean, cream, patches, and then bed. You can take my bed if you want—I’ll sleep in the chair. I don’t want to leave you alone. Not after your nightmare.”
She began cleaning the cuts with gentle, practiced hands.
“Paige, come on,” Azzi protested softly. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
“It’s fine, seriously.” Paige’s voice stayed calm, steady. “I just want you comfortable. Or, if you want the room to yourself, I can take the guest bedroom. My bed’s more comfortable anyway.” She started applying the cream.
Azzi shook her head. “No. I want to be with you.”
Paige froze—just for a moment. “Okay.”
She finished applying the patches in silence. When she stepped away, Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
Paige hesitated, then stepped back between her legs—closer this time. Her hands found Azzi’s thighs, thumbs rubbing instinctively. Paige had learned something about herself these last few days: she was a touchy person when she cared, when she wanted someone to feel safe. She just didn’t know if this was okay.
“This okay?” she asked quietly.
Azzi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck and pulled her in until their foreheads met.
“More than you know,” she whispered.
Azzi leaned in—just enough that their lips brushed. Softer than the first kiss, but deeper, heavier, like something that felt suspiciously like home.
Paige pulled away first. She had to. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and Azzi deserved more than a moment made of impulse and adrenaline.
Paige tapped Azzi’s thigh. “Okay. Let’s go to bed.”
Azzi just nodded and followed her.
In bed, they lay side by side, shoulders touching, breaths synced like they’d been doing this forever.
“Thank you,” Azzi whispered. “For everything. For giving me—at least for today—a taste of what it feels like to be safe. Loved. Cared for.”
“It doesn’t have to be just a day,” Paige murmured, turning her head toward her. “I’ve got you, Az. Always.”
Tomorrow would be a new day. A day Azzi could choose what to do with.
And now, with Paige beside her, breathing the same quiet air, Azzi didn’t know how—but she knew who.
She was going to choose her. Choose this.
Every. Single. Time.
———————————————————————————
A/N: Hii! I’m loving how this is turning out. Most of you said you prefer longer chapters a couple times a week, so that’s exactly what we’re doing! I hope you enjoyed this chapter — feel free to talk to me in the comments or send anons, your reactions are always welcome. Love you guys! 🤍
-Fer 💗
Sooo good 😍😍
