hi! I am looking for a fic where there’s a part, a specific scene, where P said A still has some things to discover about herself (internalized homophobia) and that she’s giving her time (?). I think A was with a guy before they became a thing.
Y does everyone keep requesting smut???? I need some really fluffy fluff like clingy Azzi not wanting to stop touching Paige so P does her night routine for her. Please. (btw the the smut is really good tho)
everyone freaky boi
anytime
it starts with a yawn. one of those long, full-body ones that makes azzi melt deeper into the couch and nuzzle her face against paige’s shoulder. paige feels it before she hears it—the slow, sleepy weight of azzi’s body settling in, the way her hand curls tighter around paige’s hoodie drawstring like she’s afraid it’ll disappear if she lets go.
“you should get ready for bed,” paige murmurs, brushing her thumb under azzi’s chin.
azzi shakes her head, soft curls brushing paige’s collarbone. “no.”
“baby.”
“mm-mm. stay like this.”
“azzi.”
“i am getting ready for bed. i’m cuddling you like always.”
paige laughs, quiet and crooked, tipping her head down so their foreheads touch. “you’re not even changed.”
“don’t care. don’t need to, just take my clothes off.”
“you literally said your face feels gross like thirty minutes ago.”
azzi grumbles into her neck. “you said you love me even when i’m gross.”
“true,” paige says, stretching her arm across azzi’s back and running her fingers up and down lazily. “but you’ll be annoyed tomorrow if you fall asleep with mascara on.”
azzi lets out a long sigh, dramatic and pitiful. “can’t move. limbs don’t work. too comfy in love.”
“tragic.”
“so tragic.”
paige waits a beat. then she shifts slightly, only to have azzi instantly latch on tighter like a koala.
“you’re so clingy,” she teases, not even trying to hide the grin in her voice.
“you like it.”
“unfortunately.”
azzi leans back just enough to look up at her, eyes bleary but still sparkling. “do it for me?”
paige blinks. “do what for you?”
“everything. my night stuff. i’ll make up for it. but you have to do it.”
“…you want me to brush your teeth?”
azzi nods, dead serious. “and wash my face. and moisturizer. and lip balm.”
“you are such a baby.”
“your baby.”
and god help her, she is. so paige rolls her eyes and lifts azzi gently off her chest. azzi immediately slumps into her side, clinging to her waist now instead. she shuffles along as paige drags them both to the bathroom, half-dragging her like she’s an extra limb.
azzi sits on the bathroom counter, legs bare and swinging gently like a little kid, except her body leans forward into paige like she can’t stand even a breath of space. her arms are slung loosely around paige’s neck, not pulling, just resting there, content and warm and sleepy. her cheek is tucked against paige’s shoulder, the curve of her nose brushing the collar of paige’s oversized hoodie.
“okay,” paige whispers, nudging her gently upright. “tilt your chin up for me.”
azzi obeys without a word, eyes fluttering open just long enough to find paige’s face again, then closing as paige pumps a dollop of cleanser into her palm. she warms it between her fingers first—because azzi always winces at cold—and then begins to work it across her face in slow, even circles.
it’s soft. reverent, almost. like paige is painting something she wants to remember. her fingertips glide along azzi’s cheekbones, down the bridge of her nose, across her forehead, always gentle, always steady. azzi hums low in her throat and leans into the touch, her knees bumping against paige’s hips.
“feels nice,” she mumbles.
“yeah?” paige says, her voice quiet, her smile even quieter.
she rinses azzi’s face with a damp cloth, careful not to let it drip, and then grabs the towel azzi loves—the one that’s extra fluffy and smells like the lavender detergent paige sneakily switched to because she knew azzi liked it better. she dabs her dry. no rubbing. just little pats, one after another, from chin to forehead, slow and unhurried.
azzi peeks one eye open. “you’re really good at this.”
“i do it for myself all the time.”
“do it for me forever.”
paige grins. “you’re such a baby.”
“your baby,” azzi says, like it’s the truest thing she knows.
moisturizer next. paige unscrews the lid and dips in two fingers, then dots azzi’s face like she’s connecting constellations. a star on each cheek, one on her forehead, one on the tip of her nose. azzi giggles, sleepy and sweet.
“stop,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“can’t. your face is too cute.”
paige rubs it in with gentle, circular strokes, massaging it into azzi’s skin until it’s soft and glowy and smells faintly like almonds. azzi’s eyes slip shut again. she leans into every touch like a flower turning to the sun.
then comes the toothbrush.
“open up, baby,” paige teases, loading the toothbrush with just the right amount of minty paste.
“you’re literally brushing my teeth,” azzi groans, blushing a little.
“you asked me to,” paige says smugly, and azzi pouts until the bristles hit her teeth and she starts giggling.
it’s awkward and hilarious and somehow still tender—paige holding the toothbrush, azzi laughing around it, toothpaste foam threatening to spill as she mumbles nonsense. she leans forward again, resting her forehead against paige’s shoulder while paige keeps brushing like it’s no big deal.
“spit,” paige orders, laughing.
azzi does, still smiling, and wipes her mouth with the corner of paige’s sleeve.
“gross,” paige mutters, but she’s grinning.
finally: the lip balm. the stupid watermelon one azzi always forgets to use, the one with the little cartoon fruit on the lid.
paige unscrews it and holds it up. “last step.”
azzi tilts her face up, eyes closed, lips parted obediently. paige swipes the balm across her bottom lip, then the top, then leans in and kisses it in—slow, soft, stupidly tender.
“there,” she whispers. “perfect.”
azzi opens her eyes, dazed and dreamy. “i love you.”
paige brushes a thumb across her cheekbone. “i know.”
and she does. every freckle. every sleepy murmur. every breath of trust in her hands.
“spoiled,” paige whispers as she caps the balm and presses a kiss to azzi’s nose.
“yeah,” azzi breathes, eyes soft and full of something warmer than sleep. “spoiled by you.”
they don’t even make it to bed properly. they collapse into it sideways, wrapped in each other like it’s instinct. azzi hooks a leg over paige’s hips and sighs into her collarbone.
The door to Paige's apartment barely closed before Azzi found herself pressed against it, Paige's mouth hot and demanding against her neck.
Azzi sat in her car outside Paige's apartment building for ten minutes before she could bring herself to move.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as guilt and desire waged their familiar war inside her chest. She'd told Andrew she was going to Target – needed to exchange some of the kids' gifts, pick up a few things they'd forgotten. He'd kissed her cheek, told her to drive safe, asked if she could grab more coffee while she was out. The ease of his trust made her stomach twist.
But then she thought of Paige. Of the way Paige had looked at her across the Christmas dinner table, blue eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy every time Andrew touched her. Of the text that had come through an hour ago
P 💗: I need you. Now.
Azzi had made her excuses and left within fifteen minutes.
She finally forced herself out of the car, heart pounding as she rode the elevator up to the third floor. By the time she reached Paige's door, her hands were shaking. She knocked twice, then once – their signal – and the door swung open almost immediately.
Paige's eyes were stormy, her jaw tight. She grabbed Azzi's wrist and pulled her inside.
"Do you have any idea," Paige growled, her hands already working at the buttons of Azzi's blouse. "How fucking hard it was to watch you play house with him all day?"
Azzi's breath hitched as Paige's teeth grazed her pulse point. "Paige –"
"Watching you smile at him. Laugh at his jokes. Let him touch you." Paige's voice was rough with barely contained emotion, each word punctuated with another button coming undone. "Watching him kiss you in the kitchen when he thought no one was looking. Watching him put his arm around you on the couch like he has any right to you. Watching you sit there with Frankie on your lap and the twins climbing all over both of you, playing perfect little family while I had to sit across the room and pretend my heart wasn't being ripped out of my chest."
"Baby, I'm sorry –" Azzi started, but Paige cut her off.
"Do you know what the worst part was?" Paige pulled back just enough to look Azzi in the eyes, her own glistening with unshed tears of frustration. "Listening to the kids call you 'Mommy' and him 'Daddy' like you're this unit. Like you belong together. When I know, I know, that you come to me every chance you get. That you moan my name when you come. That it's my touch you crave."
Azzi's blouse fell open, and Paige's hands immediately went to her waist, fingers digging into soft skin as she pulled Azzi flush against her. "I need you to remember who you belong to," Paige murmured, her voice dropping lower, more dangerous. "Need to feel you. Need to hear you say it."
"Yours," Azzi breathed, already losing herself in the heat of Paige's touch. "I'm yours, Paige. Always yours."
Paige's hands slid up Azzi's sides, pushing the blouse off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her fingers found the clasp of Azzi's bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. When the lace fell away, Paige's breath caught.
"God, you're so beautiful," she whispered, her earlier anger melting into something softer, more reverent. Her hands cupped Azzi's breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples. "So fucking perfect."
Azzi arched into the touch, her own hands fumbling with the hem of Paige's shirt. "Off," she demanded breathlessly. "Need to see you. Need to touch you."
Paige stepped back just enough to pull her shirt over her head, revealing toned abs and strong shoulders that made Azzi's mouth water. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Azzi couldn't help the small moan that escaped her lips at the sight.
They stumbled down the hallway together, a tangle of desperate hands and hungry mouths. Paige's fingers worked at the button of Azzi's jeans, popping it open and dragging the zipper down with agonizing slowness. Azzi kicked off her shoes, then shimmied out of the denim, leaving her in just her panties – lilac lace that Paige had bought her months ago.
"You wore these for me," Paige said, her voice thick with desire as her fingers traced the delicate fabric. "Even knowing you'd be sitting next to him all day. Even knowing he might see them."
"I always wear what you buy me," Azzi confessed, her cheeks flushing. "I think about you every time I get dressed. Every time I feel the lace against my skin."
Paige groaned, capturing Azzi's mouth in a searing kiss as they finally reached the bedroom. She pulled back from their kiss, taking a step away from the wo9man she loved, smirking at the way Azzi’s eyes glazed over.
"You like what you see, baby?" Paige asked, a hint of smugness creeping into her voice despite the emotion still swimming in her eyes.
"You know I do," Azzi said, reaching out to trace the defined lines of Paige's stomach. "You're so strong. So gorgeous. I love your body."
Paige caught Azzi's hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss her palm before guiding it lower, pressing it against the front of her jeans. "Feel what you do to me," she murmured. "Feel how much I need you."
Azzi could feel the heat even through the denim, and it made her core clench with want. Her fingers worked at Paige's button and zipper, desperate to eliminate every barrier between them. Paige helped, shoving her jeans down her long legs and kicking them aside.
They came together again, skin against skin, and the contact made them both gasp. Paige walked Azzi backward toward the bed, their mouths meeting in a deep, claiming kiss. Azzi's hands roamed over Paige's back, her shoulders, memorizing every plane and curve.
When they reached the bed, Paige's eyes raked over her body with an intensity that made Azzi shiver. She just stood there, drinking in the sight of Azzi spread out before her – dark hair fanned across the pillows, chest heaving, skin flushed with arousal. Her eyes traced every curve, every dip and swell of Azzi's body.
"You're a fucking masterpiece," Paige breathed, her hands going to the button of her own jeans. "Look at you. These hips." Her eyes lingered on the curve of Azzi's waist. "These thighs. And your tits, baby. Fuck. They're perfect. You're perfect."
Azzi squirmed under the intensity of Paige's gaze, heat pooling between her legs. "Paige, please. I need you."
"I know baby. I’ll give you what you need," Paige said, standing before Azzi in just her boxer briefs. She moved to her nightstand, pulling open the drawer with deliberate slowness. When she turned back, she was holding the harness and the dildo, the special one, the one that was noticeably bigger than what Azzi was used to.
Azzi's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "That one?"
"Yeah, baby. This one." Paige held it up, letting Azzi see the size of it, the realistic texture. "You remember how full this makes you feel? How deep it goes?"
Azzi nodded, unable to form words. She watched, transfixed, as Paige stepped into the harness, pulling it up her long legs and settling it against her hips. The muscles in her thighs flexed as she adjusted the straps, tightening them with practiced efficiency. She attached the dildo with a soft click, and Azzi felt a fresh rush of wetness between her thighs at the sight of Paige standing there, powerful and commanding, the thick silicone jutting from her hips.
"This is bigger than him, isn't it?" Paige asked, her voice low and dangerous as she moved toward the bed. "Tell me, Azzi. Tell me how much bigger I am."
Azzi's mouth went dry. "So much bigger," she whispered. "You fill me up in ways he never could. You reach places he doesn't even know exist."
Paige's eyes darkened with possessive satisfaction. "That's right. Because this body?" She climbed onto the bed, settling between Azzi's thighs. "This pussy? It was made for me. Not him. Me."
"Yes," Azzi breathed, reaching up to pull Paige down into a kiss. "Only you, Paige. It's only ever been you."
"I want to mark you," Paige said, her voice rough with desire. "Want to leave bruises where only I'll see them. Where he'll never look." Her hands slid up the inside of Azzi's thighs, spreading them apart. "Here," she murmured, pressing her thumb against the sensitive skin. "And here." Her mouth followed, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
Azzi whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed. "Yes, please. Mark me. Make me yours."
Paige worked her way up Azzi's inner thighs, leaving a trail of marks that would bloom into purple bruises by morning. Each one sent a fresh wave of arousal through Azzi's body, the possessiveness of the act making her dizzy with want.
Paige reached for the small remote on the nightstand, clicking it once. The toy hummed to life, vibrating gently, and Azzi could see the moment the vibrations reached Paige too, the way her breath hitched slightly.
"And this one," Paige continued, clicking another button, "warms up, remember? Gets hot inside you. So you know I'm really inside you, really claiming you."
Azzi's hips lifted involuntarily at the thought. "Please," she whimpered. "Please, Paige. I need it. Need you."
Paige climbed onto the bed, settling between Azzi's spread thighs. The head of the toy pressed against Azzi's entrance, and they both groaned at the contact. "Not yet," Paige said, her voice strained with her own need. "First, you're going to warm my dick. Going to sit here with me inside you and remember who owns this body. Who this pussy belongs to."
"You know what I need tonight?" Paige asked, climbing onto the bed and settling between Azzi's spread thighs. She ran her hands up Azzi's legs, her touch possessive. "I need to feel you wrapped around me. Need to be inside what's mine."
"I am yours," Azzi breathed, reaching for her.
Paige caught her wrists, pinning them gently above her head. "I know you are, baby. And I'm going to make sure you remember it too." She leaned down, kissing Azzi deeply before trailing her lips down her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach. "Every time he touches you, I want you thinking about this. About me. About who really owns this body. Who this pussy belongs to."
"Paige, please," Azzi whimpered, her hips lifting again, still seeking friction.
"Please what?" Paige's fingers hooked into Azzi's panties, dragging them down her legs. "Tell me what you need. Tell me what you want me to do to my pussy."
"Need you inside me. Need to feel you."
Paige groaned at the desperation in Azzi's voice. She positioned herself, running the head of the warm, vibrating dildo through Azzi's wetness. "You're so fucking wet for me already. Does he ever get you this wet?"
"No," Azzi gasped. "Never. My pussy only gets this wet for you, Paige. Only ever you."
"That's my good girl." Paige pushed inside slowly, watching Azzi's face as she stretched around the considerable girth. "Fuck, you take me so well. So much better than you take him, don't you?"
Azzi could only moan in response, her back arching as Paige filled her completely. The warmth and vibration of the dildo sent sparks of pleasure through her entire body, and the stretch, God, the stretch was perfect, overwhelming, exactly what she needed.
"Answer me," Paige demanded, though her voice was strained with her own pleasure as the base of the dildo pressed and vibrated against her clit. "You take me better than him, don't you?"
"Yes!" Azzi cried out. "So much better. You're so much bigger, Paige. You fill me up so perfectly. He could never–"
"Never what?" Paige stilled completely, buried deep inside her.
"Never make me feel like this," Azzi finished, her eyes locked on Paige's. "Never make me feel complete."
Paige's expression softened for just a moment before the possessive hunger returned. "I'm not going to move yet," she said, settling her weight more fully against Azzi, her hips pressing forward until every inch was seated deep. "I'm going to stay right here, deep inside you, and my pussy is going to warm my dick while I tell you exactly what I want."
Azzi whimpered, her inner walls clenching involuntarily around the dildo. The constant warmth radiating from it felt like liquid heat spreading through her core, and the vibrations, low and steady, were already driving her crazy. She could feel every ridge, every inch of the thick silicone stretching her wider than she'd ever been stretched before. The fullness was almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and Paige wasn't even moving yet.
"I want to get you pregnant," Paige said bluntly, her eyes boring into Azzi's with an intensity that stole her breath. "I want to fuck you so full of my cum that you have no choice but to leave him. I want everyone to know that the baby growing inside you is mine."
"Paige," Azzi moaned, her hips trying to move, seeking friction, relief, anything, but Paige held her still with strong hands on her hips.
"No, baby. Stay still. Keep me warm and listen to me." Paige's voice was commanding, but there was a tremor in it, emotion barely contained. "I think about it all the time. I think about your belly growing round with my baby. I think about your breasts getting fuller, your body changing because of what I put inside you."
The heat of the dildo seemed to intensify, or maybe it was just Azzi's body responding to Paige's words, her internal temperature rising with desire and impossible longing. The vibrations pulsed steadily against her most sensitive spots, and she had to fight to keep still, to not rock her hips and chase the orgasm already building low in her belly.
"I imagine watching you pregnant," Paige continued, her own breathing growing ragged as the base of the dildo vibrated against her clit. "Seeing you walk around with my baby inside you. Touching your belly and feeling our child kick. I want that so fucking bad, Azzi. I want to be the one who did that to you."
"I want that too," Azzi whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. The confession hurt almost as much as the pleasure building in her core. "God, Paige, I want to give you that. I want to give you everything."
"Tell me," Paige said, shifting slightly, the movement making them both gasp as the dildo pressed deeper, the warmth and vibration intensifying. "Tell me what you'd want. If we could, if this was real, what would you want?"
Azzi's mind spun, caught between the physical sensations overwhelming her body and the emotional weight of the conversation. She was so full, stretched so perfectly around Paige's strap, the heat of it making her feel like she was melting from the inside out. "I'd want–" she gasped, her walls fluttering around the dildo. "I'd want to give you a daughter. A little girl with your eyes and my hair. Your smile with my dimples."
Paige groaned, her hips pressing forward involuntarily. "Fuck, baby. What would we name her?"
"I don't know," Azzi breathed, her hands sliding up Paige's strong arms, feeling the muscles tense with the effort of staying still. "What would you want to name her?"
"Something strong," Paige said, her voice rough. "Something beautiful. Like you." She shifted again, just slightly, and Azzi cried out at the sensation. "I think about Frankie and the boys asking about a new baby. I think about telling them they're going to have a little sister or brother. I think about them being excited, about all of us being a family."
The image was so vivid, so painfully beautiful, that Azzi felt her heart crack open. "Paige, I–" Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "I wish I could give you that. I wish this was our life."
"I know, baby. I know." Paige's forehead dropped to rest against Azzi's, their breath mingling. "But right now, in this moment, you're mine. This pussy is mine. And I'm going to fuck you like I'm trying to put a baby in you, even if we both know I can't."
Azzi clenched hard around the dildo at those words, the vibrations and heat combining with the fullness to push her dangerously close to the edge. "Please," she whimpered. "Please, Paige. I need–"
"What do you need?" Paige asked, still not moving, keeping Azzi impaled on her dick.
"Need you to move. Need you to make me come. Need you to fuck me. Need to feel you claiming my pussy."
"You mean my pussy," Paige corrected, her voice dark with possession. "This isn't your pussy anymore, baby. It's mine. My shit. And I'll decide when it gets to come."
Azzi sobbed with need, her body trembling with the effort of staying still while every nerve ending screamed for movement, for friction, for release. The warmth of the dildo had spread through her entire lower body, and the constant vibration was maddening. She'd never felt so full, so owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.
"Say it," Paige demanded. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."
"You," Azzi gasped. "It belongs to you, Paige. My pussy is yours. All of me is yours."
"And if I could get you pregnant?" Paige asked, finally – finally – starting to move in slow, shallow thrusts that had them both gasping. "If I could fill you up with my cum and watch your belly grow with my baby, would you let me?"
"Yes," Azzi cried, beyond caring about reality or impossibility or anything except the feeling of Paige inside her, claiming her, owning her. "Yes, I'd let you. I'd want you to. I'd want everyone to know this baby was yours."
"Fuck," Paige groaned, her control visibly fraying. "You're so perfect, baby. So fucking perfect. Taking my dick so well. Letting me fill up my pussy."
The possessive words, combined with the increasing pace of Paige's thrusts and the relentless heat and vibration of the dildo, pushed Azzi closer and closer to the edge. She was so full, fuller than she'd ever been, and every stroke hit spots inside her that made her see stars.
"Paige," she moaned, her nails digging into Paige's shoulders. "I'm getting close. I'm so close."
"I know, baby," Paige said, her own voice strained with pleasure. "I can feel you getting tighter around my dick. But you don't come until I say so. Understand?"
"I know we can't," Paige continued, her voice rough with emotion and desire. "I know it's not possible. But fuck, Azzi, I want it so bad. I want you to be mine in every way. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to put my babies in you. I want the whole fucking world to know you belong to me. That this pussy belongs to me."
"I do belong to you," Azzi gasped, tears pricking at her eyes from the intensity of emotion and the overwhelming sensation of being so full while unable to move. "My heart belongs to you, Paige. My body belongs to you. All of me."
"Say it again," Paige demanded, finally starting to move in slow, deep strokes that had them both gasping.
"I'm yours," Azzi moaned. "I belong to you, Paige. Only you."
Paige's control snapped. She began thrusting harder, faster, the vibrations and warmth of the dildo driving them both toward the edge. "That's right, baby. You're mine. This pussy is mine. My shit. Every orgasm you have is mine."
"Yes, yes, yes," Azzi chanted, her nails digging into Paige's shoulders as pleasure built rapidly in her core. The combination of Paige's words, the fullness, the vibrations. It was too much and not enough all at once.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this," Paige groaned, her own pleasure building from the pressure and vibration against her clit. "Taking me so well. Being such a good girl for me. You're perfect, Azzi. So perfect. And this pussy? Fuck, this is my pussy. Mine."
The praise sent Azzi spiraling. "Paige, I'm going to–"
"You think I should let my pussy come?" Paige demanded, her voice rough with possession. "You think you deserve it?"
"Please," Azzi begged. "Please, Paige. I need it."
"Come for me," Paige commanded. "Come on my dick and tell me who you belong to. Tell me whose pussy this is."
Azzi's orgasm crashed over her like a wave. "Yours! I'm yours, Paige! I belong to you! It's your pussy!"
"Fuck, yes," Paige groaned, but she didn't stop moving, didn't let Azzi come down from her high. "That's one. I want more. I want you to come so many times you forget his name."
"Paige, it's too much," Azzi whimpered, oversensitive but unable to deny how good it felt.
"You can take it," Paige assured her, adjusting the angle so the dildo hit that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. "You're doing so well, baby. So fucking good for me. I love watching you fall apart like this."
Azzi's second orgasm built faster than the first, the constant stimulation keeping her right on the edge. Paige's words of praise mixed with possessive declarations had her head spinning.
"I wish I could really breed you," Paige panted, her movements becoming more erratic as her own orgasm approached. "Wish I could fill you up with my cum and watch your belly grow with my baby. Would you like that, Azzi? Would you like to carry my child?"
"Yes!" Azzi sobbed, beyond caring how impossible it was. "Would love it so bad, Paige. Want to be yours completely. Want everyone to know."
"You're going to come again," Paige told her, reaching between them to circle Azzi's clit with her thumb. "And this time, I'm coming with you."
The pressure built and built until Azzi was trembling, desperate, right on the precipice. "Paige, please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Please, I need to come. I need it so bad. Please let me come."
"You think I should let my pussy come again?" Paige demanded, slowing her thrusts just enough to keep Azzi teetering on the edge. "Ask me properly. Beg me to let my pussy come."
"Please, Paige," Azzi whimpered, tears of desperation gathering in her eyes. "Please let your pussy come. I'm yours. It's yours. Please, I need permission. Please let me come on your dick."
The added stimulation was exactly what Azzi needed. Her second orgasm hit her even harder than the first, her entire body shaking with the force of it. "I'm yours, Paige! I belong to you!"
Paige's own orgasm followed immediately, the vibrations and pressure finally pushing her over the edge. She buried herself deep inside Azzi, grinding against her as waves of pleasure washed over her. "Mine," she groaned. "All mine."
They stayed like that for a long moment, both trembling and gasping for breath. Paige held Azzi close, feeling the aftershocks ripple through her body, pressing soft kisses to her temple as they both came down from the high.
Slowly, carefully, Paige withdrew, her hands gentle as she steadied Azzi through the sensitivity. She turned off the vibrations and unclipped the harness, setting it aside before returning to Azzi with a warm washcloth she'd prepared earlier.
"Let me take care of you," Paige said softly, cleaning Azzi with gentle strokes, her touch reverent. Azzi's eyes fluttered closed at the tenderness, at how loved Paige always made her feel in these moments.
When she was done, Paige tossed the cloth aside and gathered Azzi into her arms, pulling the blanket over them both. They lay tangled together, skin to skin, heartbeats gradually slowing to match each other's rhythm.
"I love you," Paige whispered against Azzi's mouth, her fingers tracing patterns on Azzi's hip. "I love you so fucking much it scares me sometimes."
"I love you too," Azzi replied, her voice thick with emotion. "More than anything. More than I ever thought possible."
They kissed slowly, deeply, the urgency replaced by tenderness. But as they touched and tasted each other, the heat began building again. Paige's hand slid between Azzi's thighs, finding her still wet and sensitive.
They kissed slowly, deeply, the urgency replaced by tenderness. Paige's hands roamed Azzi's body with a different kind of hunger now, not desperate, but worshipful. She traced the curve of Azzi's waist, the swell of her breast, memorizing every inch of her.
"I hate that you have to leave," Paige admitted quietly, her forehead resting against Azzi's. "Every time you walk out that door, it gets harder."
Azzi's chest tightened. "I know. God, Paige, I know. It kills me too." Her voice cracked. "Sometimes I sit in my car for twenty minutes before I can make myself drive home. I just sit there thinking about coming back up here, staying with you."
"Why don't you?" Paige asked, though they both knew the answer. "Just stay. One night. Let him wonder where you are."
"The kids," Azzi whispered. "Frankie would notice. She's already asking why I'm gone so much." Tears pricked at her eyes. "I'm a terrible mother. A terrible person."
"Hey, no." Paige cupped Azzi's face, forcing her to meet her eyes. "You're an incredible mother. Those kids are lucky to have you. And you're not terrible. You're just – you're in an impossible situation."
"That I created," Azzi said bitterly.
"That we created," Paige corrected. "Together. And yeah, it's messy and complicated and probably wrong by every conventional standard. But Azzi," She pressed a kiss to Azzi's lips. "I can't regret this. I can't regret us."
"I don't either," Azzi admitted. "That's what makes it so hard. I should regret it. I should feel worse than I do. But when I'm with you, everything just feels right."
As they talked, their hands continued to wander, the conversation and touch intertwining. Paige's fingers traced down Azzi's spine, and Azzi's hand slid along Paige's thigh. The heat between them began building again, slower this time but no less intense.
"I think about the future sometimes," Paige said, her voice low as her hand moved to cup Azzi's breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. "About what it would be like if we didn't have to hide."
"What do you imagine?" Azzi asked, her breath hitching as Paige's touch sent sparks through her.
"Waking up next to you every morning. Not just stolen hours, but whole days. Whole lives." Paige's hand slid lower, between Azzi's thighs, finding her still wet and sensitive. "Taking you out to dinner. Holding your hand in public. Coming home to you."
Azzi moaned softly, her own hand moving to Paige's center, finding her just as ready. "That sounds perfect."
"One more," Paige murmured against Azzi's lips. "I need one more, baby. Need to feel my pussy come apart for me again."
"Only if you come apart with me," Azzi breathed, her fingers circling Paige's clit with practiced precision.
They touched each other with practiced ease, knowing exactly what the other needed. Their mouths met in messy, desperate kisses as they worked each other higher and higher. But this time was different – slower, more intimate, more emotional.
"You're so wet," Azzi moaned against Paige's lips. "So perfect. I love making you feel good. Love knowing I do this to you."
"You always make me feel good," Paige gasped, her hips rocking into Azzi's touch. "You're so good to me, baby. So fucking good. The best thing that's ever happened to me."
"You make me feel alive," Azzi confessed, her voice breaking with emotion even as pleasure built inside her. "Like I'm finally myself. Like I finally know who I'm supposed to be."
"You're supposed to be mine," Paige said, her fingers moving faster, more insistent. "You're supposed to be with me. We're supposed to be together."
They praised each other breathlessly as their orgasms built, their movements becoming more urgent. Azzi could feel Paige trembling against her, could feel her own body coiling tight with impending release. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, everything else fell away. The guilt, the complications, the impossibility of it all. There was only this, only them, only love.
"Together," Paige panted. "Come with me, Azzi. I love you. God, I love you so much."
"I love you," Azzi cried out as her orgasm crashed over her. "I love you, Paige. I love you."
They came together, their bodies shaking, their voices mingling as they called out their love for each other. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, the physical pleasure intertwined with emotional release. Tears streamed down both their faces as they held each other through it, as they whispered "I love you" over and over like a prayer, like a promise, like the only truth that mattered.
When they finally stilled, they stayed wrapped around each other, neither willing to let go. Paige pressed kisses to Azzi's tear-stained cheeks, tasting salt and love and everything they couldn't say out loud in the daylight.
"Stay a little longer," Paige whispered. "Just a little longer."
"Okay," Azzi agreed, burrowing closer. "A little longer."
They lay in the darkness, fingers intertwined, hearts beating in sync. Paige traced idle patterns on Azzi's skin as they talked in hushed voices about dreams that felt both impossible and inevitable.
"When Frankie graduates high school," Azzi said quietly, "that's thirteen more years. I could, I could leave then. The kids would be old enough to understand, or at least old enough that it wouldn't destroy them."
"Thirteen years," Paige repeated, and Azzi couldn't tell if she sounded hopeful or heartbroken.
"I know it's a long time–"
"I'd wait," Paige interrupted. "I'd wait forever for you if I had to. But Azzi, I don't want you to sacrifice thirteen years of happiness for some arbitrary timeline."
"It's not arbitrary. They're my children."
"I know. And I love that you love them so fiercely. It's one of the things I love most about you." Paige pressed a kiss to Azzi's forehead. "I just – I want you to be happy. Even if it's complicated. Even if it's messy."
"I am happy," Azzi said. "Right now, in this moment, I'm happy. That has to be enough."
But they both knew it wasn't. Not really. Still, they held each other in the darkness, stealing these precious hours, building a future in whispered words and desperate touches. It wasn't enough, but it was all they had. And for now, for tonight, it would have to do.
They were tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and completely in love. Paige pulled the blankets over them, keeping Azzi tucked securely against her chest.
"I hate that you have to go back to him," Paige admitted quietly, her fingers tracing patterns on Azzi's bare shoulder.
"I know," Azzi whispered. "I hate it too. But this, us, it's worth it. You're worth it."
"One day," Paige said, pressing a kiss to the top of Azzi's head, "one day you're going to be mine for real. Not just in secret. Not just stolen moments. Really mine."
"I'm already really yours," Azzi assured her, tilting her head up to meet Paige's eyes. "In every way that matters, I'm yours. And one day, the rest of the world will know it too."
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, dreaming of a future where they didn't have to hide their love anymore.
a/n: Truthfully I have no idea what I'm doing, but I've had this idea for a while of doing a few pazzi x sabrina carpenter song inspired one shots so here we are, the first of a few hopefully unless it sucks.
Lemme know what you think.
wc: 2.7k+
warnings: fluff, sexual content, fingering
It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon with no team commitments or assignments due, which is Azzi’s favorite kind of day, but not because of the same reason as most others. For most college student-athletes, a day like this means elite levels of rotting — watching Netflix, ordering Doordash for every meal, and moving as little as possible until it’s time to peel yourself off the couch to crawl into bed.
Azzi enjoyed all of that, let’s not get it twisted. On the other hand, her long-time best friend and girlfriend always had different plans for days like today. Paige wanted to be productive. Whether it was catching up on household chores or doing a project she hadn’t had time to get to yet, she was bound to be responsible for at least part of it.
That did something to and for Azzi.
Maybe she’s just easy for her girl, but seeing her take care of the dishes in the sink or folding their shared laundry pile or even, god forbid, building a piece of furniture, all had the same effect. She felt it right between her legs every single time.
Azzi is curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book in hand. She’s been reading for a couple hours and now she’s on the verge of falling asleep when she hears the front door of her apartment open.
It’s Paige.
She hears her before she sees her.
“Hey, babe. I’ve got some ideas for dinner.” Paige calls out from the entryway.
“Oh yeah?” Azzi rubs her eyes awake, anticipating a conversation about which restaurant they’re going to order from.
“So first idea, Wing Stop.” Paige replies back as she comes into Azzi’s sight.
Azzi loses any train of thought. “Well hi there.” Azzi can’t help the big, playful smile that forms on her face.
“Like what you see?” Paige smiles back before giving her a wink. She leans back against the wall to give her girlfriend a chance to enjoy the view.
Azzi rolls her eyes and laughs at her smugness. “You’re so annoying.” But she isn’t going to deny that she does in fact like what she sees.
Paige is wearing a pair of green plaid pajama pants that’ve become a staple in her wardrobe. She’s not wearing a shirt, instead showing off her black Nike sports bra and the waistband of her boxers that are peaking just above her pants. Her hair is pulled back in a low messy ponytail.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“You already know the answer, bighead,” she shoots back, but there’s little bite to it.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear you say it.” Paige scoffs before a short laugh bursts out of her.
Azzi just shakes her head, ignoring Paige’s probe for compliments her ego doesn’t need. She gets up to stretch her body awake so she can greet Paige properly. She lets out a sigh of relief feeling her muscles and joints loosen after sitting for so long.
Paige is still pressed up against the wall when Azzi reaches her and she gives her a quick peck on the lips. Paige wraps her up in a big hug and squeezes her tight while she ministers a trail of kisses from her forehead to her temple to the final destination of her neck. Azzi’s pajama shorts barely cover her cheeks so Paige can’t help but run her hands down her back for a quick grab of her butt.
They exchange another short kiss and then Paige is pushing herself off the wall, heading toward the kitchen. She opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water and goes straight to Azzi’s bedroom without saying another word.
Azzi’s not really sure what Paige is up to so she follows closely behind. She watches Paige move throughout her room clearly looking for something specific.
“Uh – what are you doing, Paige?”
“Looking for something.”
“Clearly.” Azzi quips back with an eye roll. “I can help you if you give me a little more to work with.”
“No need. Found it.” she says in a singsongy tone.
Paige is pulling out a large IKEA box from the back of Azzi’s closet. It’s a shelf that Azzi’s been meaning to put together since the beginning of the semester. Obviously, she hasn’t gotten around to doing that yet.
“I’m gonna put this together for you, mama.” She gives Azzi a kiss on her cheek before moving back out into the living room.
Azzi is in trouble and she knows it. She can feel her center getting wet already and she involuntarily clenches down there watching Paige move back down the hall with her back and shoulder muscles flexed from carrying the box.
She’s put on some muscle. Azzi thinks to herself.
Paige sets the thin box down leaning it against the couch. She goes back into the entryway to grab the small tool bag where she keeps her drill, screwdrivers, and whatever else belongs in there. When she returns, she immediately starts working, opening the box and pulling all of the shelf pieces out.
Paige sits on one end of the couch, eyebrows scrunching in concentration as she reads the instructions to make sure she has all the parts.
Azzi doesn’t offer to help. All her friends would call her a princess, but it’s not her fault. She’s been conditioned to sit back and let her girlfriend do things like this for her. Paige wouldn’t have taken her up on it even if she had offered to help. How do they think she got to be a princess in the first place? She’s been getting this kind of treatment for years and she’s not complaining.
Instead, she’s curled herself back into the opposite corner of the couch with the blanket pulled over her legs like she’s watching her favorite show, which she is.
Paige has the drill out now. She’s standing now, hunched over meticulously putting a couple pieces of the base together. Azzi runs her eyes up and down Paige’s body, very much enjoying the view. Her abs are flexed slightly so she can see the line down the center of her stomach. Azzi thinks about how much she’d like to follow that trail with her tongue. Her eyes move to Paige’s bicep next. It’s bent from holding the shelf in place while she uses the drill to secure the pieces together. She can feel her internal body temperature rising quickly. And then, when Azzi’s eyes land on Paige’s hand on the drill, she has to hold back an audible groan by biting her lower lip.
Fuck.
She wants nothing more than Paige’s big, veiny hand on her and in her where she needs her most. Azzi has to squeeze her legs together to alleviate the ache she feels, but it does little to help. Her heart is pounding and she can feel how her pussy pulses in time with it. She tries to adjust herself again and the only thing she notices is how much slick is pooling in her pajama shorts and onto her thighs.
Of course Paige would be doing something so hot on a day when Azzi chooses not to wear any underwear.
Azzi reaches behind her neck to rub out some of the tension that’s building. She’s doing her best to ground herself — she’s far too gone though. She decides to pick her book back up to distract herself, but she is not processing anything she’s reading because she keeps looking back at Paige every five seconds.
After about twenty minutes, Paige flips the shelf upright and pushes down on each shelf to make sure it’s sturdy.
“There. All done.” She smiles at her handiwork, proud of herself for putting it together by herself in such a short amount of time. “I’m gonna go put it in your room, Az.”
Paige is on the move again before Azzi can even reply, oblivious to the kind of effect she has on her girlfriend in these scenarios.
Azzi sees the opportunity though. She stands to follow Paige, ignoring how she can feel her arousal run further down her thighs.
Azzi reaches her room just as Paige is placing the shelf in the open space for it right next to her desk. Coming up behind her, she runs her hands up and down her back, followed by wrapping her arms around her waist to pull her close.
She gives her a soft kiss on her neck from behind and whispers right in her ear, “Looks perfect, P. Thank you.” Her voice is soft and sultry. Paige knows that voice well. She leans back into Azzi’s touch, enjoying the shower of light kisses Azzi is giving her across her neck.
She responds with a “You’re welcome, princess.” And then Paige turns in Azzi’s arms to face her, pulling her in for a slow kiss. She’ll never get over how perfectly their lips seem to fit together.
The pace is easy at first, exchanging open mouthed kisses and simply enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other. Although Paige can sense Azzi’s urgency increasing, she continues to control the pace, moving her lips slowly because she likes making Azzi wait a little bit — it increases the likelihood that Azzi will beg for it and she loves that more than she’d care to admit.
But when Azzi bites Paige’s lower lip, pulling it slightly and then sucking it between her teeth for a brief moment, Paige loses any restraint she has left. The kiss intensifies, both tilting their heads to the side to make the angle better. Azzi has one arm circled around Paige’s waist. The other one is in the blonde’s hair, making her messy ponytail even messier as she pulls Paige in close like she isn’t already as possibly close as she could be.
Neither one of them is sure who initiates it, but their tongues are now pressing and moving against one another. Both breathing heavy and letting out little sighs and moans as they make out.
Paige’s hands drag down Azzi’s body until they reach their destination — Azzi’s ass. She grabs two handfuls of it, kneading and massaging the fat and muscle. Azzi whines in response and Paige lets out a quiet breathy fuck between kisses. She’ll never get tired of touching and feeling her like that, it makes her head spin in the best way possible.
Without giving much thought, Paige lifts Azzi up and feels her legs wrap around her waist like they’ve done countless times. As Paige makes her way towards Azzi’s bed, she can feel Azzi’s arousal on her stomach. She’s absolutely soaked. Paige is worked up too, but they haven’t been making out long enough for how wet she is down there, which means that she’s been like this for a while. They’re still kissing, but when they flop onto the bed, Paige hovering over her girlfriend, she gives her a knowing smirk.
“You been worked up for a bit, ma?”
Azzi can only nod in reply. She bites her lip waiting for Paige’s next move, she’s putty in her hands at this point, just ready to feel her where she needs her most.
Thankfully Paige isn’t restrained enough to make her use her words like she often does. Instead she just reaches for the waistband of Azzi’s shorts. When Azzi lifts to help her take them off, Paige pulls them the rest of the way.
She basically growls.
“Damn, baby. Not wearing anything underneath.”
Azzi’s leg spread a little wider for her to get a good view and Paige just takes it all in. She’s absolutely dripping, pussy glistening in the natural light, arousal all over her folds. She sees how the slick is well past her center, trailing a few inches down on both thighs.
“You like watching me build shit for you, huh?”
Azzi’s hip buck up remembering what got her like this in the first place. “God, yes P. You know how much I like it when you take care of me.”
“What’s that line in from that one song…? Tears run down —”
Paige is cut off by Azzi whining. “Paige, please, can we not right now.”
She just laughs in response, deciding not to make her wait any longer. “I’m gonna take care of you right now, babygirl.”
Desperately she says “Yes, please… please — fuck,” knowing just how much Paige likes it when she begs. It’s a selfish endeavor, hoping it’ll make her move faster.
It works because Azzi feels two of Paige’s long fingers run through her folds. She does it slower than she’d like, but she’s not about to complain. Paige runs it up and down her folds, gathering as much slick as she can near her entrance.
They’re still face to face, Paige hovering over her, so when she brings her hand up to lick her fingers clean, Azzi can see just how wet she really is. She lets out a breathy laugh. “You should build shit more often.”
Paige sucks her fingers clean, groaning at Azzi’s taste, and nodding at Azzi’s request with a smile on her face. She brings her fingers back to Azzi’s center and doesn’t hesitate. She pushes both fingers inside in one quick thrust.
Azzi shuts her eyes from the pleasure, crying out a fuck yes as her hips naturally jolt forward to meet Paige’s hand. Paige starts a steady rhythm, letting her fingers pump in and out, moving with ease from how wet Azzi is.
She just watches her fingers disappear and reappear for a bit, watching how the slick starts to cover her palm. There’s something about seeing Azzi so turned on by such a simple task that makes her feel wanted, desired, loved.
All these thoughts swirling in her head make her move her hand faster. Paige isn’t just using her hand muscles to push into her, she’s using her whole arm to thrust with a bit more force, but with the way Azzi is moving to meet her, it doesn’t feel like enough.
So she adjusts herself on the bed, still on top of Azzi, but she lets her body rest on top of her now so they’re fully pressed up against one another. And once she’s in the right position, she starts to use her own hips to grind into Azzi while her own hand is still between them.
This gets the desired response, as Azzi claws at Paige’s back.
“Oh, fuck. Yeah — keep doing that.” Azzi cries out between moans.
So Paige keeps going. She snaps her hips into Azzi in time with her fingers working in and out of her. She curls her fingers up to touch her as deep as she can go every time she’s fully inside. It’s a rhythm that has Azzi whining those high pitched moans letting them both know she’s getting close.
And like always, Paige can’t help herself from praising her girl.
“You’re so perfect, Az. So wet for me.”
“Sound so pretty, baby — keep letting me know how good it feels.”
“Pussy so tight.”
The pressure continues to build with every thrust, every squeak from the bedframe, every sigh of pleasure.
Despite Paige still being fully clothed, the movement is working her up as well. She starts groaning with every thrust, moving her hips in a way that catches her own clit in just the right way. Recognizing how good that feels, she keeps going regardless of how much her own wrist aches at the angle and pressure she’s putting on it.
“P, I’m close.”
“I gotchu.” Paige starts grinding the heel of her hand into Azzi’s clit while she continues to pump in and out of her.
“Fuck — yes, yes, yes…” Azzi continues to cry out as she reaches her climax. When her legs shake, closing and squeezing around Paige’s hips, her head falls back with a blissful smile across her face. Paige doesn’t remove her hand just yet, letting her fingers rest inside Azzi as her pussy continues to clench around them in pulses, knowing that she’s not ready to feel empty just yet.
“Fuck, P. That was amazing. Thank you”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Azzi reaches out for Paige to give her a kiss. It’s slow and messy, and it deepens quickly. Paige starts to move her fingers again, out of habit more than anything. Azzi reaches down to stop her though, pulling Paige’s fingers out of herself. She hates the initial emptiness, but the thought of returning the favor is too strong to stop her.
Paige learned to stay out of the way at a problematically young age.
She had to tread carefully when her parents had been “talking”—any innocent questions, or cool gymnastics tricks, or stories about her day just made eyes roll and lips purse. So whenever hushed voices held more hurt than they should’ve, whenever she’d be waved off with an impatient “We’re having a grown-up conversation, Paige. Go clean your room or something,” she knew to listen.
First, she’d make her bed—pillows fluffed, sheets tucked tightly under the mattress the way she liked them, stuffed animals propped up against the pillows. Then, once stray sheets of paper had been clipped into binders and colored pencils had been returned to their box in a bright rainbow, she’d clear every crumb and eraser shaving and fleck of dust from the surface of her desk. She’d put her toys away, then get her closet in order, and after that she’d vacuum neat lines across the carpet.
The house would be still and quiet by the time she’d finish. For the time being, there’d be no more tension. No more noise. No more mess.
So it stuck, even on hard days when she couldn’t clean the chaos away. It wasn’t like she had a real outlet to turn to. Basketball was… there, but it wasn’t part of her purpose yet, and her siblings were too young to understand, and her friends just didn’t get it. When life felt too far out of her control, when home held nothing but disorder, Paige created order herself.
And that was why, on this particular morning, Paige couldn’t just push her limits in the gym and head home like she normally did. She had to hop in the shower, scrub her skin raw, and blow her hair bone-dry before she could set foot in her car and drive away. The travel cup she’d taken her pre-workout to the gym in couldn’t get rinsed and tossed into the dishwasher. It was hand-washed, hand-dried, and returned to the empty spot in the cabinet immediately after she’d stepped in the door. Her sweaty clothes got tossed into the washer, and her gym shoes got tucked into their place on the rack. No more mess. Nothing out of place. No disorder.
Not in her home, at least. Her body was a different story.
The knot in her stomach hadn’t unwound itself yet. In fact, it tightened when she woke up and the first thing she’d searched for was Azzi’s name on her lock screen. She still wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like they’d made a habit of sending each other morning texts. But maybe she’d hoped that Azzi would have felt it too—the shift, the fracture. Or maybe Azzi was the only person who could take what she’d hurt and kiss it better.
It hadn’t even been her fault, not really. She was being kind, and civil, and Paige—selfish, greedy, insatiable Paige—wasn’t sure what that meant for her.
Her view of the future fogged up when Azzi uttered Brianna’s name last night. She’d been in her element, in that cozy, casual, almost-something space she’d only recently discovered with Azzi. They’d talked about their to-do lists for the next day. Made dinner plans. A glimpse of a life with no rules or guardrails or meddling best friends.
And then Azzi put her on hold.
For Brianna.
“Two minutes,” she’d repeated after Azzi like a reflex. But then the line clicked back again, and Azzi had said Brianna needed her, and Paige’s throat closed up, and her heart began to beat so vigorously that her lungs could barely inflate. “Just tired,” she’d lied. Truthfully, she’d felt sick. Defeated.
Because after the dishonesty, after the infidelity, after the promises shattered and the rings slid off, if Brianna could still snap her fingers and make Azzi appear, what could ever be left for Paige?
Maybe a fraction of Azzi’s attention had been enough at some point—when she was still untouchable, when she was still someone else’s wife, before Paige knew what her lips tasted like. Crumbs felt like feasts back then. But things were different now. They had potential together. And sharing with anyone what she spent years yearning for sounded horrific.
Was she desperate enough to accept that Brianna might never fully be out of the picture? Maybe. But Paige wasn’t stupid. She was obsessed, infatuated, and Azzi was… getting there. Sort of.
Her cousins were right: what she and Azzi had was unsustainable, and if this was going to work, Paige needed a more fluid give-and-take. She needed Azzi absolutely pining for her, too. And with Brianna still tethered to her, even from a distance, maybe she’d never fully be able to reciprocate what Paige felt for her.
Too much to be thinking about before breakfast, anyhow.
Paige sighed as she waved a hand over the frying pan, hovering there until the warmth rose to her palm. She drizzled some olive oil onto the pan and swirled it around so it coated the bottom in an even layer, then shifted to the right to check on her potatoes and gave them a quick toss.
She drew in a sharp breath as she reached into the fridge and pulled out two eggs, cracking them carefully on the edge of the pan. The whites dripped out slowly, thick and stringy, and Paige winced at the sight of them trickling down her fingers. She tossed the shells into the trash and headed straight for the sink.
She reached for the Dawn Powerwash—hand soap wouldn’t do it today—and spritzed a layer of blue foam across the surface of her hand, rubbing hard as it thickened into a smooth lather, until her knuckles had grown red and raw and—
You my treacherous lil’ twin
And you know that we locked in
And I love you like my kin
It’s whatever for you
NaLyssa.
“What’s she doing up before noon?” Paige muttered aloud as she peered over at her phone buzzing against the granite, flipping the faucet on to rinse the soap and salmonella from her hands.
I go up and down that road
I go anywhere you go
When you tell me life is good
I want better for you
She reached for a dish towel first, then paused and tore off a paper towel instead. She wasn’t taking any chances. Not today, at least.
Once her hands were dry, she reached for her phone and swiped right to answer the call before resting it between her ear and her shoulder.
“Who died?” she asked as she turned back around to the stove.
“Funny,” NaLyssa replied. “You at the gym?”
Paige slid a lid out of a cabinet and set it on top of the eggs, steam clouding the inside before it could rest along the rim of the pan. “I just got home. Making some breakfast.”
“Nice. What do we got on the menu today?”
“Eggs,” Paige said as she grabbed a plate. “Sweet potato hash. Avocado.”
NaLyssa snorted. “Vegetables for breakfast is… something. I’ll stick to a Celsius and some Pop-Tarts.”
Paige scoffed and picked out an avocado from the fridge. “You’re gonna die in, like, twenty years and I’m not gonna be even a little bit sad about it.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyways,” NaLyssa said with a yawn. “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I have?” Paige asked, too neutral, as she sliced down the center of the avocado and twisted it apart into two neat halves.
“Yeah,” NaLyssa replied. “I mean, I don’t know. You just kinda shut down a couple weeks ago.”
She wasn’t wrong. It hadn’t been intentional, but when the only new development in Paige’s life wasn’t really something she could share, she’d found it easier to go quiet than to pick and choose what was safe and what wasn’t. It was safer. She couldn’t afford to take chances.
“Sorry,” Paige said quietly, the pit clinking softly against the blade as she tapped it loose. “I’m fine, though. Not much happening outside of work.”
A beat of silence passed on the other end, followed by a deep, weighted inhale. The kind someone takes when they’re talking themself out of stepping on a landmine, when they know damn well they’re about to leap onto it anyway.
“Okay. How’s Anaya?”
Paige grimaced as she laid thin slices of avocado onto the plate. “I wouldn’t know,” she mumbled.
There was a pause on the other end.
“Oh, but there’s not much happening outside of work?”
Unease stretched across Paige’s chest as she stood still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. She didn’t have the energy for the conversation it looked like they were headed into—not this early in the day, at least.
“Look, bro,” NaLyssa continued, her voice dipping into something softer but more serious, “if this is about Azzi…”
There it is.
Because of course it couldn’t be as simple as, “I’ve been thinking about you. I’m worried. I miss you.” This wasn’t a check-in. It was an intervention.
“You and Nai need to drop this shit,” Paige warned as she turned to the sink to wash her knife off, her pulse rushing in her ears as the tips grew hot. “I’m over it.”
“Oh, I’d love to, P,” NaLyssa shot back, frustration cracking through her calm. “You have no idea.”
“Then what?”
NaLyssa pushed a breath out, slow and even. “You don’t know how hard I try to ride for you when Nai’s being an ass,” she replied, the bite gone from her voice now. “Like, you just don’t. But see how it looks from the outside when you push me away right after all this shit starts to go quiet?”
“Well, if she’s such an ass, why are you with her?”
Maybe that one should’ve stayed an inside thought, Paige figured right as it left her lips.
“Because she’s only an ass to people who plot on her best friend for years and pounce once said best friend gets out of an eight-year-long relationship,” NaLyssa replied simply before a short pause. “Doesn’t make it right, but I can’t say I blame her, either.”
The words landed like something sharp against Paige’s ribs. Plot. Pounce. Like she’d been lurking—opportunistic, predatory. A monster.
The worst part? She couldn’t even argue against it. There was too much truth there.
“Pretty fucked up of you to call me out of the blue just to tell me you’re on Nai’s side and not mine,” Paige muttered, though the fire in her throat had smoldered off.
“I’m calling ‘cause I’m stuck in the middle of this shit. Which, for the record, is not an easy place to be when you stop getting real with me and you dump the only evidence I have of you not having feelings for Azzi.”
Paige’s fingers curled against the counter as she transferred the eggs and sweet potatoes to her plate, the other hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a spatula.
“You stay jumping to conclusions,” she replied. “Who told you it was me that dumped her?”
“Well, you did, didn’t you?”
Paige sighed, long and dry and humorless. The silence on the other end stretched longer this time.
“We need honesty. That’s it.”
NaLyssa’s voice was steady, almost sad. Not demanding, not angry, just simple, quiet certainty. Like she was asking for something so basic it shouldn’t have had to be explained.
And that was the problem.
NaLyssa was loyal, straightforward, the kind of person who showed up for people and expected the same in return. And normally, Paige would have given it to her without a second thought.
Frustration surged again. Not at NaLyssa—never at NaLyssa, really—but at herself. At the impossible position she’d backed herself into. At the fact that honesty would drag Azzi right into the middle of it. Honesty meant every suspicion confirmed, every accusation substantiated, and an end to a future that had only just come into sight.
Paige couldn’t have that.
“You want honesty?” she said, voice lower now, more controlled. “Fine.”
She swallowed as a faint shuffle sounded on the other end, like NaLyssa straightening in anticipation.
“I’m over her. It’s done, Lyss, I swear.”
The words left Paige’s throat before she could get the chance to second-guess them. Something in her chest twisted hard, like her body had rejected each word as it landed on her ears. Knowing she’d done what she had to didn’t make it feel any less wrong.
Every instinct in her body told her to take it back—to soften it, to overexplain, to fix it. But explaining would lead to questions, and questions would lead to Azzi.
“Okay,” NaLyssa finally responded, so simple and gentle that Paige felt it might break her.
“Okay?” she echoed, disbelief woven into her tone.
“I trust you,” NaLyssa said. “If you say it’s done, it’s done.”
There was no accusation in her tone, no skepticism, no reading between the lines. Just trust. She wasn’t pushing anymore. She’d taken Paige at her word the way Paige had always counted on her to.
This isn’t about to be a habit, Paige warned herself as guilt coursed through her veins. Any more dishonesty and she was sure she’d burst. But then again, she’d made it this far.
“Okay, well,” NaLyssa said after a moment, her voice softer now, “I’ll let you eat.”
Paige rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly starving though having any appetite at all was a surprise. She swallowed hard, eyes drifting to the plate of food sitting untouched in front of her. The eggs were already starting to cool, steam thinning until it had nearly dissipated.
“Yeah.”
“Love you, P. Call me later and we’ll hop on the game.”
I kinda have dinner plans, Paige thought. But she’d give NaLyssa some time when that was done, give her something to prove she was making an effort to show up. To heal what she could and let the rest fall into place when it was supposed to.
“Love you, too,” she replied, sliding the phone out from between her ear and her shoulder. “Bye, Lyss.”
—----------
Azzi’s POV
The XC40 looked even better in person, actually. Sleek, clean lines. Just the right amount of edge. It was taller, more solid than Azzi was used to, but she liked that. It made her feel like she could breathe a little bit easier inside of it.
“And they all come with Apple CarPlay, which is great for music, GPS, texting, calling," the salesman said, flashing her a practiced smile. “A lot of drivers really love the panoramic sunroof…”
Azzi's phone buzzed faintly in her hand, and her heart jumped as she flipped it over.
Just a voice note from DiJonai. She exhaled, then glanced down, then back up again as she tried to refocus. But her eyes kept darting down to the screen, thumb squeezing against the side button out of muscle memory to check for any missed messages. Still nothing.
Morning had come too slowly. Just hours ago she’d woken up to sunlight dripping through her blinds, Anaya’s voice still ringing in her ears, a lingering soreness between her legs—that she’d ignored, for her own sanity—and her phone already in her hand before her eyes had fully opened. But of course there’d been nothing waiting for her when she’d swiped down on her lock screen hopefully, vision still blurred with sleep. No new notifications. None from Paige, at least. None that mattered after last night.
Anything would’ve been nice, really. An explanation of why Paige had hung up. A recommendation for dinner later, if that was still happening. Anything to clear Paige from the front of her mind and Anaya from the back of it, to free her from the side of this that left her aching.
It’s a two-way street, she supposed as she stared at her phone. She clicked on her messages, then on Paige’s name halfway down the list.
good morning, she typed.
She stared at the message field for a second, selected a cute smiley emoji to close out the text… and then cleared it all. It was too eager, too casual.
hey, still on for later?, she typed out instead before she could talk herself out of it. Her heart raced as she hit send, already bracing for the reply she might receive.
"Ma’am?" the salesman said suddenly as Azzi jolted back upright. "Everything okay?"
She blinked, startled out of her haze. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m good.”
He nodded politely, but didn’t look completely convinced. “If I’m moving too fast, I can slow it down. Or we can come back to all this technical mumbo-jumbo later, maybe?”
“That’s okay,” Azzi said quickly, shaking her head no. “Sorry, I’m just... waiting on a text.”
She trailed behind him as he moved to the next vehicle, barely registering what color it was or how many seats it had. Her mind was somewhere else completely—still stuck in the parking lot of that hotel, in the sound of Paige’s voice saying “Just tired,” in the silence that had stretched through the night and, now, well into the day.
It had been Brianna, right? In Azzi’s blurry memory of their conversation, Paige had sounded perfectly normal right until their call got interrupted. But it wasn’t the first time Brianna had come up, and Azzi estimated that it wouldn’t be the last, and Paige knew Brianna was still around. The lack of clarity left Azzi’s head throbbing.
She circled the car slowly, one hand trailing over the smooth surface of the door. The price tag on this model wasn’t exactly a steal, and the maintenance costs were definitely steeper than what she’d been used to. But the more she looked at it, the more she could see herself behind the wheel. Maybe the right car was all it would take to get more comfortable on the road again.
She pulled open the back door and leaned inside, eyes scanning the space. It was clean, understated, with grey leather seats and neat trim. She nodded to herself, running her hand along the stitching of a headrest.
“What other colors does the interior come in?” she asked as she glanced back over her shoulder.
The salesman, who’d been giving her space to explore, stepped forward with a smile. “Well, grey is the standard,” he answered, “but we can do black, white, beige, brick red, burgundy… there’s a beautiful chocolate brown, too.”
Azzi pressed her lips together in thought, straightening as she looked out through the windshield.
“Beige sounds good, actually,” she said after a moment.
“Nice choice,” he replied, nodding firmly. “It’s clean, but still warm. We don’t have one here at the moment, actually, but we can get it customized for you. It’ll be ready to pick up in about a week or two.”
Azzi nodded slowly as the salesman continued to list off next steps and financing options, but she found her mind drifting—back to her phone, back to the silence, back to Paige.
And then, like Paige had somehow felt it, too:
Paige Bueckers: yes ma’am, i’ll pick you up at 7
————-
Azzi let the apartment door fall shut behind her with a quiet click, and for a second she just stood there with her keys still in her hand like her body hadn’t quite decided what to do with itself.
Her eyes drifted to the clock on the microwave. It was 4:00 on the dot, three hours until Paige was supposed to pick her up. Azzi exhaled slowly. She’d waited longer for things that mattered more, but still, her chest felt tight.
She rubbed the back of her neck and stepped toward the fridge out of boredom rather than appetite, the cold light spilling across the counter as she opened the door and scanned the shelves without really looking at them. Cold-pressed juice. Leftover takeout. A questionable carton of strawberries. A half-empty bottle of the rosé Brianna liked.
Azzi hesitated for a second, then reached in and pulled it out. “Why the hell not?” she muttered under her breath.
She poured herself a glass and wandered down the short hallway toward her bedroom, sipping carefully as she walked. The late afternoon sun peeked through the blinds and painted soft stripes across the bedspread, bathing the room in a dim yellow glow. She kicked off her shoes near the door, set the glass on her nightstand, and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy flop, staring up at the ceiling for a moment like maybe the answers she’d been looking for were right in front of her.
Three hours. It was ridiculous how long that suddenly felt.
She grabbed her phone from her pocket and unlocked it, thumb moving instinctively through a few apps. She listened to DiJonai rant for three whole minutes about a one-and-done experience with a new hair stylist. Scrolled through Instagram for a bit. Back to the home screen. Nothing could hold her attention for more than a few seconds.
Azzi groaned softly and rolled onto her side, propping her head up on a pillow as she tapped the Spotify icon. For a moment she just stared at the home page before drifting down into her library, scrolling slowly through the tracks she’d imported last week. She hit shuffle and turned up the volume until a beat began to flow from her phone’s speaker. It was more DiJonai’s song than hers, but Azzi didn’t mind.
I’m so selfish
I can’t help it
I need you all to myself
Azzi couldn’t help but to laugh. She really couldn’t help herself, not after last night. Not after what she’d overheard. She had no reason to feel possessive, or greedy, or on-edge. But it had plagued her mind—the thought of Paige wanting someone else, pleasing someone else, of rejection not being enough to stop Anaya from wanting more.
It wasn’t exactly that Azzi thought she had any real competition, especially with how quickly Paige had burned that bridge behind her. The truth was that imagining herself with Paige felt… right. And imagining anyone else in her place made her sick.
Keep your focus
The way I do it
Girl, you don’t need no one else
Ain’t a race, baby, when I’m riding it slow
And my waterfall, I’ll make it overflow
Make you forget all about them hoes
Oh, you don’t need ‘em
Azzi shut her eyes, a wave of warmth rushing to her cheeks. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her last night, left her with images she couldn’t erase and feelings she couldn’t un-feel and desires she couldn’t fulfill. So much for keeping things casual.
She set the phone down on the bed and pushed herself up, crossing the room toward the dresser. The mirror caught her reflection as she approached—hair frizzed from the humidity outside, skin tanner than she’d realized.
She stopped in front of it, tilting her head slightly, and took a minute just to look at herself, like she was trying to read something there. Her fingers reached up automatically, closing around a curl near her temple. She stretched it downward gently, watched it straighten, then released it and let it bounce back into place.
Her hair didn’t get a lot of her energy. She’d braid it for games, and keep it in a bun or hanging down by her shoulders most days. But life was different now. She had someone new to look nice for. Extra effort wouldn’t hurt.
Her hands moved through the rest of her hair absentmindedly, separating curly clumps and holding up bunches of hair tightly in her fist to see how they’d look. She dug around a dresser drawer for something to part her hair with and came up with a thin makeup brush Brianna must’ve left behind, dragging the end along the back of her head horizontally to split the mass of hair into two.
Once the top had been smoothed and twisted into a bun and the bottom was fluffed out the way she liked it, Azzi pulled a few tiny strands out to frame the front of her face. She twisted them around her finger so they’d coil tightly and stepped back from the mirror to get a better look, nodding in approval as she studied her reflection.
She could see her outfit better from a distance. Her fitted t-shirt stretched tightly against her chest, and the waistband of her straight-cut jeans peeked just over the bottom of the mirror. She looked… fine. But she could do better.
Azzi opened a few more drawers, squinting like the perfect outfit had to have been hiding somewhere in plain sight. Her eyes caught on a pair of denim shorts near the back, and she pulled them out and held them against her body. They were loose, cutting off halfway down her thigh. Comfortable, but not quite flattering.
She imagined how they’d look if they were shorter, if they barely reached her thighs at all. A burst of satisfaction hit her as she tucked one of the hems back a few inches, then a few inches more, and then there were scissors in her hand and fabric scraps falling and tiny shreds of dark washed cotton covering the dresser. She changed out of her jeans and slid the shorts on, pulling a few threads loose for a more worn look until they were frayed perfectly.
Her gaze returned to the open drawers as she searched for a top. The sun had been hidden by a dense sheet of clouds when she was out earlier, but it was still warm and muggy enough to leave the air thick with humidity. She rifled through a few tank tops and selected a maroon one with thin spaghetti straps, quickly pulling her shirt over her head to try it on. It stretched tightly across her chest, the sheer fabric translucent over the gaps between the cups of her bra.
If Azzi’s memory served her right, Paige would appreciate it. She smiled as her mind flicked back to that afterparty—the dress she’d worn as a test, the way Paige’s eyes stayed glued to her from across the room as the night stretched on, the way she’d stared helplessly at Azzi’s chest even when the distance between them closed. Because Paige was pure, but she wasn’t an angel. Especially not if there was any truth to what Anaya had said last night.
Azzi walked back to the bed and sat crosslegged against the headrest, reaching for her phone and her glass as the song that was playing faded into the next.
Our secret moments in a crowded room
They got no idea about me and you
There is an indentation in the shape of you
Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo
Azzi took a long sip as the words struck a quiet, unacknowledged space in her heart. She let herself take it all in for a moment—the guilt and the inconvenience of hiding, and lying, and starting something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. For something that felt so right, it was all too isolating at this moment in time.
All of this silence and patience
Pining and anticipation
My hands are shaking from holding back from you
She thought about how she’d laid in that same spot last night as dirty images and shameful sensations and sounds she wasn’t supposed to hear spawned in her mind. She’d imagined the warmth of Paige’s body hovering against hers, showing her what it was like to be worshiped. Indulged in. Pleased. Azzi knew it was wrong to even think about, let alone to want. She still did.
But more than that, she wanted something deeper—a love with someone who saw her value, her worth, who would remind her of it every day and stay true to it in private. She wanted soft, closed-mouth kisses in the morning before they brushed their teeth. Fingers interlocked on her lap in the passenger seat. Paige’s heartbeat beneath her chest as they drift toward sleep. Corny jokes and sweet gestures to lift her spirits when life was beating her down.
And all of it already belonged to her, lying just a few long steps ahead. Paige’s heart had been hers long before she’d known it.
Say my name and everything just stops
I don’t want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
A soft chuckle rose through her throat at the irony. She had a thing for dressing up, it seemed, or maybe it was just about the attention. The earth seemed to freeze on its axis when Paige looked her way, when Paige spoke to her with such gentleness and adoration. It was an addiction Azzi hoped she’d never have to quit.
I should send this to her, she thought as she glanced down at the song title on her lock screen. But as she held the phone up to her face to unlock it, Azzi thought of a better idea.
————-
It was cooler outside now. The streetlights flickered on as the sky faded into a deeper blue, and a soft breeze left tree branches rustling in the distance. Azzi shivered as a wave of goosebumps crept up her bare arms.
It could’ve been the air. Or maybe that was just what the sight of Paige’s car parked on the curb did to her nervous system.
Azzi slowed her steps as she approached, pressure building now that the moment had actually arrived. She smoothed her tank top down as she walked across the pavement, finally daring herself to peer in through the passenger window when she was close enough. Paige was already staring.
A faint blush spread across Azzi’s cheeks before she’d even opened the door, before their eyes could even meet for the first time.
This is what you wanted, right?, she asked herself incredulously. Too late to be getting cold feet now.
Azzi pulled the door open quickly and slid into the seat, the familiar smell of Paige’s car and rich cologne wrapping around her as she shut the door.
“You look cute,” Paige said, a half-smirk, half-smile playing at her lips.
Azzi hid the blush in her cheeks by leaning across the center console and wrapping her arms around Paige in a quick hug. “What happened to hi? Hello?” she asked with a chuckle.
Paige laughed as she held Azzi tightly, leaning in close for a second before pulling back.
“My bad. Hi, Azzi. You look cute.”
Azzi grinned, eyes lifting as she took in the sight of Paige in front of her: black cargo pants, a white t-shirt with a logo too small for Azzi to read, blond hair splayed across her shoulders, a goofy smile across her lips, a ring of blue around her dilated pupils.
“Hi, Paige,” Azzi replied, copying Paige’s inflection. “So do you.”
Paige’s smile grew as she put the car in drive, glancing at Azzi for another quick second before pulling away from the curb.
“So,” she said, tapping the steering wheel with her thumb, “did you have anywhere in mind to eat?”
Azzi shifted in the passenger seat, tucking one leg slightly underneath her as she looked out the windshield. “Honestly, I skipped lunch. I’d even eat McDonald’s right now.”
Paige shook her head. “Good to know the standards are low, I guess.”
A lull settled in the car as they rolled through the next intersection, the glow of streetlights sliding across the windshield. Paige seemed to be feeling better, more lively than how they’d left things last night, but Azzi wasn’t quite sure she could relax just yet.
“Hey, um…”
Paige glanced over quickly, head tilted.
Azzi kept her eyes forward. “I wasn’t sure if you were upset last night,” she said, words spilling out faster than she’d meant them to. “Or if bringing up Brianna made it awkward or something. It kinda seemed like you left pretty abruptly, so I just, um… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Paige didn’t answer at first. Azzi turned to her left and saw the color rising in Paige’s face as she stared ahead at the road, her grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel.
“Nah, I’m not upset,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Not at you, at least. Or anyone, really. Just needed a minute.”
Azzi watched her for another second, trying to read the tension in her shoulders and the faint redness still lingering across her cheeks.
But then Paige’s words settled. Not at you.
The tight knot that had been sitting in Azzi’s chest all afternoon loosened almost immediately. Her shoulders dropped as she leaned back into the seat, letting out a quiet breath she hadn’t meant to hold.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Good.”
After a moment, Paige spoke again.
“So… how was it picking Brianna up?” she asked, casual but curious. “Everything go alright?”
Azzi made a small face.
“Uh,” she said, dragging the sound out a bit. “It was okay. A little awkward.”
Ran into your little friend, she thought to herself.
She decided against it. For now, anyway.
Paige glanced over again, eyebrows lifting. “A little?”
Azzi huffed out a short laugh and leaned her head back against the seat. “I mean, spending time with her now is just straight-up uncomfortable. Nothing to talk about anymore, I guess.”
Paige just nodded in response, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between them. Azzi looked out the window for a moment, watching the blur of storefronts and streetlights slide by before turning back toward Paige.
“So… where are we going?” she asked.
Paige shrugged, one hand still resting on the wheel.
“You cool if we just pick something up and chill in the car?” she asked. “We could drive around and find a nice little spot maybe.”
Azzi smiled, the idea immediately sounding nice in a way she hadn’t expected. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Paige nodded, eyes scanning the road ahead as if trying to jog her memory. “I can’t really remember what’s in this area,” she muttered, half to herself. “There should be a Mexican spot around here somewhere, maybe a few fast food places…”
She squinted slightly at the next block of buildings. “I think there’s a Cava somewhere too.”
Azzi perked up a little at that. “Cava sounds good,” she said quickly.
Paige looked over at her, amused by the sudden decisiveness.
“Cava it is.”
——-
Paige’s POV
Paige really had intended on taking Azzi to a more decent establishment, one where they’d eat at actual tables instead of balancing compostable bowls in their laps and hoping they didn’t drop any rice between the seats. But as she leaned back in the driver’s seat, parked along a quiet stretch of road overlooking the city, she found herself reconsidering that plan entirely.
Azzi sat in the passenger seat with her legs tucked slightly toward the center of the car, one hand holding her bowl still while she picked through it with calm focus. The glow of the dashboard lights and the distant city below them washed over her face softly, catching in the curls framing her cheeks. She looked perfectly content, like she was exactly where she wanted to be. The thought alone made something warm settle in Paige’s chest.
Her gaze lingered a second longer than it probably should have. Azzi looked too good to be sitting under the harsh lighting of some crowded restaurant, too good to be surrounded by strangers who might’ve stared a little too long or interrupted whatever quiet bubble they had going right now to ask for pictures or autographs. Here, it was just the two of them. No noise. No people hovering nearby. No cameras. No curious looks.
Azzi glanced up mid-bite, brows lifting in confusion.
“What?” she asked, mouth still half full.
Paige blinked once, then shook her head quickly and looked back down at her bowl.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to shrink her sheepish smile. “You’re adorable.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, redness blooming faintly across her cheeks. “Chill.”
Paige let out a soft chuckle and finally forced her attention down to her own food, taking a bite just to prove she was capable of focusing on anything else.
For about thirty seconds, until her eyes flicked sideways again.
She tried to be subtle about it this time. She was not.
“Paige,” Azzi giggled this time, voice low, eyes averted to the cityscape in front of them. “Stop. You’re making me nervous.”
Paige lifted her free hand in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.”
But the smile on her face didn’t fade as she finally went back to her food.
Paige took a long sip from her drink, bubbles biting lightly at the back of her throat. She leaned her head back against the seat afterward, eyes drifting out toward the city lights for a moment.
But her mind wasn’t really on the view. It kept circling back to earlier in the car—the way Azzi’s shoulders had tightened when she thought she might’ve upset her. The way she’d rushed to explain herself, like the idea of hurting Paige had genuinely rattled her.
That stuck with her.
“Not to absolutely ruin the mood…” she began carefully, toying with the curved lip of her bowl as Azzi looked over at her, “but, like, seriously. I wasn’t upset with you.”
Azzi nodded right away, like she’d been waiting to hear it again.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Paige hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words.
“It just made me a little insecure about what our future could look like,” she continued, gesturing between them with a small wag of her finger. “Potentially. Obviously. And how Brianna would fit into it.”
Azzi didn’t even hesitate. “She wouldn’t.”
Paige blinked.
“She moves out, like, next week,” Azzi added, shrugging one shoulder like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You don’t have to worry about her.”
Paige nodded slowly.
“No, I know,” she clarified. “But I mean… mentally, I guess. Emotionally.”
She stared down at her cup for a second before continuing. “She’s not just an ex-girlfriend. It’s given me a lot to think about.”
Azzi nodded, thoughtful. “I get that,” she replied, “but it’s already fading.”
Paige looked back over at her, watching as Azzi rested her forearms loosely on the bowl in her lap, eyes steady but calm.
“I’m learning how to love her less every day, to be honest,” she said. “I mean, it’s slow, but there’s progress there.”
The honesty in her voice landed gently between them.
Paige nodded after a moment. “Yeah. That’s okay.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment, like she was deciding whether she should keep going. Her mouth opened once more, a soft exhale slipping out before she tried again.
“It’s early,” she said carefully. “And I don’t really wanna get too far ahead of myself…”
Azzi tilted her head, eyes squinted slightly. “But?” she prompted.
Paige let out a small breath through her nose, eyes drifting toward the windshield before coming back to her.
“I think what I’m most worried about is, like… whether you’ll want me as much as I want you,” she admitted. “Whether you’ll be able to feel the same about me, especially since you’ve already experienced it all.”
The words hung there for a second as Paige shifted in her seat, suddenly very aware of the weight of what she’d said.
“You’ve already had the big relationship,” she continued, quieter now. “The history, the marriage, you built a life with someone. And I’m just…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Azzi let the silence sit between them for a second longer, then rested her bowl on the center console so she could turn a little more toward Paige.
“I’m gonna be completely honest with you,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said yes to you in that hotel room.”
Paige’s heart sank. She felt it immediately—a small, heavy drop in her chest that left her bracing for whatever came next.
“Maybe I just wanted some extra attention after Bri,” Azzi admitted. “Like, it was nice to feel like I still had a chance at something… good.”
Paige nodded slowly, forcing calm in her expression even as the words landed harder than she expected.
“No, that makes sense,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”
Azzi glanced back up at her then.
“But,” she added, holding Paige’s gaze this time as the hesitation in her face shifted into something steadier.
“I think I’m falling for you.”
Paige froze, breath caught somewhere in her chest like her body had forgotten what to do with it. Like the moment would shatter if she moved a single muscle. Like it would all fade away to nothing. The words hung in the car, quiet but impossibly, unmistakably real.
But then Azzi added, softer but somehow even more certain–
“Hard.”
Paige couldn’t bring herself to do much more than stare.
Azzi let out a breathy, nervous laugh, like she was trying to keep the most serious thing in the world from feeling too overwhelming.
“I literally drove myself crazy all day thinking I’d messed something up with us,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “Like, fully spiraled.”
Her eyes lifted again, steady and warm when they met Paige’s.
“It just really clicked for me last night that this is something I want,” Azzi said quietly. “That you’re what I want.”
The words hit Paige all at once—warm, overwhelming, too much to hold in one place. Something tight rose in her chest, the kind of feeling that made it hard to think clearly. The possibility of a universe where Azzi liked her back still seemed absolutely ludicrous.
She looked back down at her lap, tried to formulate a response in her head. But searching for words felt stupid. There wasn’t a single way she’d be able to convey the relief, the questions, the excitement, the pure joy coursing through her body. Her mouth opened and closed once, then twice, like she’d hoped the right reply would flow out if she willed it to.
“I made you a playlist,” Azzi blurted then.
Paige’s head snapped up.
“You did?”
Azzi nodded, suddenly shy again as she picked at the rim of her bowl with her fork.
“Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t really know what to do with myself earlier.”
Paige leaned back slightly in her seat, intrigue overtaking whatever attempt she’d been making to play it cool.
“Okay, then. Let’s hear it.”
Azzi reached for her phone, unlocking it and pulling up Spotify.
“Don’t judge me,” she warned, though the tiny smirk creeping across her face suggested she was a little proud of it, too. “You had me all up in my feelings.”
Paige leaned back in her seat, heart swelling so much she feared it would burst, folding one arm across her chest as she watched her.
“Too late.”
—-------------
Azzi’s POV
Azzi’s heart started to thump the second she actually opened the playlist again. It had felt like a good idea earlier—something to keep her distracted while she waited, something quiet and thoughtful she could give Paige without having to say it all out loud. But now, with Paige sitting right next to her, it felt a little too real.
She pulled it up anyway and tapped the share button before she could overthink it, finding Paige’s name in her contacts and hitting send quickly. She tried to act normal while Paige opened it, but her eyes kept flicking over anyway, scanning Paige’s face as she looked over the songs for the first time. Paige scrolled slowly, nodding to herself every now and then. Azzi watched every tiny reaction like it mattered way more than it should’ve.
Then Paige tapped the screen and hit play.
You know you’re really something, yeah
How’d we get here so damn fast?
Only you can tell me that
Baby, ‘cause you know I’m coming back
Azzi’s stomach dropped, hands immediately fidgeting with the frayed edge of her shorts as heat crept up the back of her neck.
“I wasn’t really expecting to be there when you listened to it,” she admitted. “This is so embarrassing.”
Paige glanced over at her, amused.
“What, are you embarrassed to like me?” she asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
Azzi let out a small laugh, shaking her head quickly. “No.”
She looked down at her hands for a second before glancing back up again, cheeks still warm.
“This is just…” she exhaled, searching for the words, “a lot.”
Because every song on that list, every single lyric meant something real. And now Paige was hearing all of it.
You’re making me forget my past
Never thought I’d feel like that again
I came to peace with my path
Now you got me off track
Paige listened quietly for a few seconds, the soft music settling into the small space of the car. Then she nodded slowly, almost to herself.
“If it helps,” she replied, glancing over at Azzi, “this is probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
Azzi’s face warmed. She ducked her head a little, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth as she stared down at her hands.
“You make me feel like that at least once a week,” she said quietly. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”
That only made Paige’s cheeks flush deeper. She shook her head slightly, like she didn’t quite know what to do with that, and turned her gaze out toward the windshield to hide the grin threatening to spread from ear to ear.
I’ve never been this scared before
Feelings I just can’t ignore
Don’t know if I should fight or fly
But I don’t mind
Tripping, falling with no safety net
The sky had slowly shifted while they’d been sitting there. The last bit of light from the day was fading behind a layer of thick gray clouds rolling over the city. Azzi couldn’t tell if it would’ve been brighter out in their absence or if it was really that late in the day. Time didn’t feel real when she was with Paige.
A soft tap hit the glass, and then another. Within seconds a light drizzle had begun, tiny drops collecting across the windshield.
Paige reached forward and flicked the wipers on. They swept back and forth in a steady rhythm, clearing wide arcs through the rain as it began to fall harder. The next song in the playlist began to play, the music dampened under the patter of raindrops falling.
I pick up what you throw and give it right back
Two-player mode, it’s on go
I like that you like it like that
And if only I could keep it for me and you only
I’ll keep tellin’ ‘em you’re just my homie
Let ‘em think that I’m still by my lonely
Azzi shifted in her seat. Her fingers started fidgeting before she even realized it—cracking her knuckles one by one, lacing her hands together only to pull them apart again, smoothing her hair even though she’d brushed every flyaway back.
She caught Paige glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, just a quick flick downward to her hands. Azzi was staring straight ahead now, shoulders a little tighter than before, like the song had suddenly made her nervous. The feeling of Paige’s eyes on her made her stomach flip.
For half a second, she wondered if Paige was thinking the same thing she was. If maybe she was about to reach over, like she had in the press conference yesterday. If maybe—
But Paige’s gaze shifted away almost immediately, returning to the windshield as the blades swept through the rain again. Like she’d caught herself. Azzi let her hands fall back into her lap.
A small thread of disappointment tugged at her chest before she could stop it, but she pushed it down just as quickly. It made sense. They’d talked about being careful, about keeping things quiet, about the rules they needed to follow so this didn’t end up spiraling into something messy. Paige was just respecting that.
Still, Azzi folded her fingers together to keep from fidgeting again, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as the song continued to play.
So I put a point on the board just to even the score back
Every time you be on what I’m on when you get into my bag
Ain’t gotta define, different type of time
In a world where you’re mine
This is yours
When she glanced over again, something about Paige’s posture had changed. Her shoulders had gone still, and her jaw looked tight. The hand resting on the steering wheel flexed once, as if to ground her.
Azzi studied her face more closely. There was something there—something careful, controlled. Like Paige was working a little too hard to keep her expression neutral.
“You okay?” Azzi asked gently.
Paige nodded once, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rain-streaked windshield ahead. For a moment, it looked like she was straining to keep her composure.
“Are you sure?” Azzi asked again.
Paige leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closing for a second like she was letting the feeling pass through her instead of fighting it. Then she nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
The rain tapped steadily against the roof of the car, the wipers moving back and forth in an even rhythm. Paige opened her eyes again, staring out at the blur of city lights ahead of them.
“I know it’s just baby steps,” she began, “but I really like where this is going.”
She paused for a second.
“And I really hope I don’t mess this up.”
The vulnerability in her voice hit Azzi harder than she expected, cracking something in her chest wide open.
“You won’t.”
She turned toward Paige fully now, her expression firm and earnest.
“You’ve been so patient with me,” she added. “So respectful. You’ve been really good at keeping this right where it needs to be. You’re not messing anything up.”
A soft smile spread across Paige’s face, warm and a little shy at the same time.
“Okay,” she said gently.
“I mean it when I say I’m falling for you,” Azzi said quietly.
The words came easier this time, steadier now that they were already out in the open.
“There’s really no one like you, Paige. Just know that I see that more and more every day.”
Paige’s smile started small, just the faintest lift at the corners of her mouth, but it grew quickly, spreading across her face in a way that made her look almost overwhelmed by it. She shook her head, looking down at her hands for a second like she needed to steady herself.
“Okay, enough. Change the subject before I do something I’m not supposed to.”
“Sorry,” Azzi chuckled, pressing the side of her head against the headrest. “What do you wanna talk about?”
Paige hummed thoughtfully under her breath.
“Mmm… I don’t know.” She tapped the steering wheel lightly while she thought, rain still falling softly against the windshield. “You went to check some cars out today, right?”
Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I found a model I like.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “Oh, yeah?”
“Well, I’m getting some customizations done, but I signed all the paperwork today,” Azzi explained. “Did a little test drive, too.”
Paige turned toward her a little more in her seat. “So it’s official then?”
“Pretty much,” Azzi said with a small shrug. “They said it should be here in a few weeks.”
Paige nodded slowly, clearly picturing it. “Nice. What kind of customizations?”
“Nothing crazy,” Azzi replied. “I just wasn’t a fan of all the gray on the inside. I went with a nice cream color instead.
“That’s fair,” Paige agreed. “Glad you went with something sensible, though. You know how embarrassing it is to get in that Pepto-Bismol-mobile whenever I ride with Lyss and Nai?”
Azzi laughed, lifting her cup from the cupholder.
“I think it’s kinda cute,” she said after a sip. “Makes me feel like a princess.”
“You are a princess,” Paige corrected.
Azzi rolled her eyes, though the smile didn’t leave her face.
“No, seriously,” Paige insisted, turning toward her. “You’ve got strangers naming their pets after you and tossing their newborn babies into your arms. That’s princess treatment.”
“First ever tomboy princess, maybe,” Azzi replied. “But I guess I’ve been leaning into a girlier vibe lately.”
Paige seemed to soften a little at that.
“I know, I’ve noticed,” she said. “I like it a lot. You seem… softer.”
Azzi’s fingers twisted together in her lap again, but this time the movement was slower, calmer. She gave a small shrug, eyes fixed on Paige’s.
“Just trying to figure my shit out. Life has been a lot.”
Paige just watched her for a moment, warm and understanding as the rain continued to fall softly around them. She nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Azzi for a second before she looked back out the window.
“You’re handling it a lot better than I probably would’ve,” she replied after a second.
Azzi scoffed. “Well in that case, I’d hate to see how much you’d be drinking.”
Paige laughed softly at that, shaking her head. “Okay, fair, but I mean it. You’re doing a really good job of just taking everything day by day.”
Azzi nodded after a moment, her shoulders relaxing a little.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “How was your day? You said you were gonna work out, right?”
“Yeah,” Paige said with a nod. “Just went to the gym and chilled at home for a bit.”
She paused for half a second before her lips parted again.
“Had a… fun little phone call with Lyss,” she continued, something like guilt coming over her features. “She said she feels like I’ve been distant.”
Azzi’s eyebrows lifted. “Have you?”
It took another second for Paige to reply. She reached up and tucked a clump of hair behind her ear, gaze catching on something in the distance.
“I mean, I guess. She’s trying really hard to stay neutral or whatever, and get me in the clear with Nai, so I felt kinda bad.”
Azzi nodded slowly, but the words left a tightness in her chest. Because she was the reason why Paige had been distant.
NaLyssa was sweet. It made sense that she’d try to look out for Paige, try to understand things that probably looked confusing from the outside. And Paige just had to lie to her. Because of this. Because of them.
Azzi knew how it sounded—wanting something so serious so soon after the divorce. On paper it probably looked reckless, careless. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t erase the feelings that were already there.
And watching the way Paige looked at her now—soft, careful, hopeful in a way she almost seemed afraid of—only made it clearer. Whatever this was becoming, Azzi wanted it. The longing far overshadowed the guilt.
A low rumble rolled across the sky, distant at first, but then a flash of lightning lit up the clouds above the city. A sharper crack of thunder followed.
Paige glanced up through the windshield as light flickered across the dark sky again, rippling through the clouds.
“Maybe we should get you home,” she said gently. “Before it starts to pour.”
Azzi’s heart dropped. She hadn’t realized how comfortable she’d gotten sitting there until the thought of leaving sank in.
“Yeah,” she said after a second, nodding slowly. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Outside, the evening had deepened into full darkness now. Paige checked her mirrors, the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal clashing with the beat of the song playing as she eased them back onto the road.
Azzi watched her as she drove. Not obviously—she tried to keep her gaze forward at first—but it kept drifting back to Paige’s hands resting steady on the wheel, to the line of her jaw, faintly highlighted every time lightning struck somewhere behind the clouds, to the way Paige pulled her lip between her teeth when she was focused.
Her chest warmed just looking at Paige. She thought about how beautiful she found her—how it wasn’t just the obvious things, like the sharp cheekbones, or the easy confidence Paige carried, but the smaller things, too. The softness in her voice when she reassured her. The patience she’d shown every step of the way. The quiet way she protected what she cared about, even when it made things harder for herself. There was something so pure about her heart.
The realization settled deeper in her chest the longer Azzi sat there watching her. She wanted her.
And not casually. Not halfway. She wanted Paige to herself.
Paige glanced over after a moment.
“You okay?”
Azzi turned slightly, catching the concern in her voice. She nodded easily.
“Yeah,” she said.
To her own ears, it sounded convincing enough. Paige studied her for a second longer before nodding back and returning her attention to the road. But her head turned again a few moments later.
Azzi didn’t move this time, just kept looking out the window at the droplets racing each other as they trickled down the glass. Still, she could feel Paige’s eyes lingering on her.
“What are you thinking about?” Paige asked.
Azzi’s eyes flicked toward her just as Paige slowed the car to a stop at a red light. A small smile started to creep across her face before she could stop it.
“Nothing,” she said at first. “Just, uh…”
Paige turned toward her slightly, eyebrows raised.
“Just what?”
Azzi bit back a laugh, the smile spreading anyway.
“Just this girl I got a little crush on,” she said lightly. “No biggie.”
“No biggie?” Paige repeated with an offended laugh, shaking her head dramatically. “Damn, I see how it is. You think you’re the catch, huh?”
“I didn’t say that,” Azzi laughed. “We’re both the catch.”
Paige snorted softly at that.
“Too fucking powerful,” she said, leaning back into her seat. “I don’t think the world is ready for us.”
Azzi shook her head in agreement. “I don’t even think we’re ready for us.”
Paige chuckled at that, the sound light and warm in the small space of the car.
“True,” she agreed. “We’ll get there, though.”
She glanced over at Azzi, her voice softening a little.
“Soon,” she added. “Or whenever you’re ready.”
“Soon,” Azzi echoed. “I won’t keep you waiting much longer.”
Paige shook her head gently. “Don’t worry about me. You just… figure your own shit out right now. I can handle myself.”
Azzi didn’t respond right away. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the road as the next song began to fade in through the speakers.
It’s been a nice life, money and the bright lights
Ain’t as bad as people describe
I’ve been a nice guy, people I’ve done right by
Flipped on me, but, girl, it’s alright
Azzi listened for a second, watching as Paige’s eyes opened a little wider. It was hard to tell whether she was focusing on the road or the song. Maybe both.
“Drake in here, too,” Paige noted before the song could continue. “You know me well, girl.”
Azzi breathed out a soft laugh. “It just sounded… fitting.”
Paige nodded as she eased onto the brakes behind a stretch of traffic, sighing softly as she relaxed into her seat and turned the music up a bit.
Not surprised by nothing, I just take it in stride
On the bright side, everyone on my side
They still got they love and they pride
“You know, this was… easily one of the best days of my life,” she said after a moment.
Azzi rolled her eyes hard, but she could feel a blush rising to her cheeks anyway. “Not gonna lie, Paige. That’s kinda sad.”
“No, I’m serious,” Paige laughed.
Her eyes softened as she stared at Azzi, her view illuminated by bright taillights. “I just feel really lucky. I had a really good time with you.”
Azzi’s heart ached at Paige’s gratitude for something so simple, at how much it meant to her. Something about finding contentment in quality time that didn’t involve dropping some cash or getting physical left Azzi feeling safer than she’d ever remembered.
“Me, too.”
A few cars dispersed, opening up the road again. Paige picked up speed and pulled in closer to the traffic light.
Since we’re creepin’ on the down low
And I know you’re on her mind
We gotta get right down to business, baby
‘Cause we don’t got a lot of time
There it was again—that prick of jealousy, of a possessiveness that almost felt primal. It didn’t bother her any less almost a full day later that Anaya still wanted what was supposed to be hers.
It sounded nonsensical, really, the notion that those blue eyes could look at another woman with such longing. That the same flame could exist in another connection. That Paige could make anyone else feel like the only person worth noticing. Thinking about it made her pulse race, made her face hot with rage. The rush in her ears was almost loud enough to block out the song entirely.
Azzi’s shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath, then froze there for a second before she let the air trickle out of her nose. It didn’t change the speed of her heartbeat, but at least she felt the tiniest bit more regulated than before.
So if you’re ready let’s go
Let’s go for what you know
Put your money where your mouth is
Let’s rock ‘n’ roll
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
It suddenly felt warmer in the car than it had before, even with the air conditioning pushing a cool flurry through the vents. She messed with her tank top a bit, loosening the cotton clinging to every inch of her stomach. It didn’t help. There was nothing wrong with the temperature. The warmth was coming from within her.
And looking at Paige only made it burn hotter. Azzi’s eyes caught on her head bobbing softly to the rhythm of the song, her eyes steady on the road ahead, her lips resting in the slightest pout.
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
She remembered that night in Phoenix—perched along the side of her unmade bed in the dress she’d worn for Paige. She’d listened. Learned. Confessed. Surrendered.
And Paige had risked it all. She’d taken Azzi’s lips in hers, kissed her like they already belonged to each other, like neither of them could challenge in the name of bad timing what fate had already written.
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
Azzi’s breaths were shakier now, ragged and uneven as she fought for stability in a blurred view of warm lights reflecting on wet asphalt. Her right hand pressed hard against the sleek carbon fiber on the door, fiddling with the seatbelt with her left as though it was restricting her breathing. She knew it wasn’t. Paige was.
Every road seemed to end there—with Paige, who’d waited for her. Who’d showed her the persistence and devotion she would’ve been stupid to decline. Who Azzi wanted nothing more than to nurture in return. To please. To love.
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
And suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Pull over.”
Paige narrowed her eyes, peering over to the passenger side for a quick second. “Huh?’
“Paige, pull over,” Azzi repeated. She fumbled with her seatbelt again, reaching down to unfasten it, sighing deeply as her lungs expanded freely.
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
“What happened?” Paige’s voice held more concern this time as she snuck a few more glances to her right, as she caught the sound of Azzi’s irregular breathing. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, just stop the car,” Azzi pleaded.
Paige craned her neck as she scanned her mirrors and began to glide into the next lane over, brows knit tightly. “Okay, hold on. I’m trying.”
She pulled into a loading zone on the side of a park a few seconds later, next to a row of trees with branches long enough to cover the car in a soft canopy, and finally turned to the passenger seat with worry flaring through her eyes.
“You okay?” she asked again, more frantically this time. “You’re breathing heavy as fuck, Azzi. You’re scaring me.”
The seatbelt flung back to the retractor as Azzi turned on her waist, metal slamming against plastic with a sharp scrape, and latched a hand around the back of Paige’s neck.
The more I get
The more I want
I’m greedy for your lovin’
“I’m okay,” Azzi reassured her, nodding as her chest continued to rise and fall out of her control.
Paige’s mouth opened like she wanted to say something. Like she wanted to pull back, put the car back in drive, deposit Azzi right back where she’d found her and widen the gap between them as much as she could manage to. Azzi watched as it all flew through her eyes.
But that wasn’t what Paige wanted—not truly. It was what she felt like she should do.
So Azzi pulled her down until their eyes were level, tilted her head enough for their noses to fit right next to each other, and let all of her restraint melt away onto Paige’s lips.
She didn’t get a reaction at first. Paige held her position there, frozen where Azzi had caught her, paralyzed by the hurriedness of it all.
But Azzi? She’d never felt more free.
She took Paige’s top lip between hers gently, closing around it with a slowness that didn’t seem to match how abruptly she’d needed this. It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t frantic. It was careful, and curious. Like she was remembering the shape of Paige’s mouth one quiet second at a time.
Azzi held the moment together on her own for a bit, lips barely moving. She may as well have been kissing a statue, but she didn’t care. She had a feeling that Paige wouldn't fight this.
And just as she predicted, something snapped a moment later. A hand slid over to Azzi’s waist, fingers curving around her ribs—tentative, at first, like Paige wasn’t sure if it was real yet. Like she’d crush Azzi if she held on too quickly.
Azzi leaned in closer, kissing deeper as Paige’s grip began to tighten. It made her melt—the way Paige drew her in, long fingers clenched against her ribs.
Paige pulled away after a second, just enough to look at her.
“Oh, Azzi,” she breathed out softly.
The sound of her name against her own lips made something flutter in Azzi’s chest. She shivered as Paige’s hand slid a little higher along her back, fingers splaying comfortably there now. The hesitation from earlier had faded, now replaced with something calmer, steadier.
When their lips met again, Paige didn’t hold back. She kissed with the most gentle confidence, slow and unhurried. Azzi felt herself relax into it, tension washing away with each soft brush of Paige’s lips against hers.
Their kisses stayed light, almost exploratory—lingering for a second, then pulling away to catch a quick breath, then finding each other again. Neither of them seemed eager to rush it.
Paige’s thumb began to trace small circles against Azzi’s back, the motion both absentminded and grounding. Azzi leaned into her more, letting her hand tangle in Paige’s hair so she could pull her in deeper.
The car had gone quiet around them. The music, the rain, all of it had shrunk down to the soft rhythm of shallow breaths and the press of lips meeting again and again, each kiss slower than the last. Like they both knew neither of them wanted the moment to end.
A strand of curly hair found its way between them, and Paige chuckled softly as she pulled away to push it to the side. She didn’t let her lips drift back to Azzi’s this time.
“So what, it’s just fuck the rules?” she murmured, eyebrows lifted curiously as she tilted Azzi’s chin upward.
“No,” Azzi said with a small shake of her head as she went in for one last peck. “Not all of them. Just this one.”
Paige’s expression turned more serious, anticipation blooming in her face as she took Azzi’s hands in hers and let their fingers interlock. “Well, in that case, let me take you home.”
Azzi blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that where we’re going?”
“No, to my place,” Paige replied as she lifted their joint fingers to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s knuckles.
It wasn’t dramatic, or showy, just warm. Casual. Azzi’s stomach flipped at how... regular it felt, ike it was something they were already used to.
“Paige,” she said, a bit more sternly than she’d intended to.
She held Paige’s gaze for a moment, searching for something—a hint of teasing, some indication that she was pushing just to push. But Paige just looked hopeful. A little smug, maybe, but mostly hopeful.
Azzi felt the weight of it settle in her chest as her brain began to list off all the reasons it would be too much. Too fast. Too soon.
They’d only just crossed this line tonight. Kissing was one thing. It had felt… inevitable. Like gravity, like something that had been building so quietly for so long that it finally gave out.
But going home with Paige?
Her brain immediately filled in images she wasn’t ready to deal with—Paige’s couch, Paige’s kitchen, Paige’s bedroom door somewhere down a hallway that Azzi couldn’t picture yet. It made her stomach twist with a nervous heat she didn’t think she should trust yet.
“We’ll keep it PG,” Paige promised, looking down at Azzi like she meant it.
Summary: It feels like everything is conspiring against her; every external force is pushing her into the state of mind that makes her do crazy shit.
Authors Note: Life is so busy, for everyone. Thank you for following with this fic, for all your encouraging messages and for loving these characters as I do. And, of course, thank you to the people who give me so much of their time in editing, specifically @buffalo1221 and @nellstark, and endless love for Family FC for always hyping me up and encouraging me.
Hot Lap Notes:
Safety Car: Safety Car vs. Virtual Safety Car: Sometimes during a race, a safety car is called. This often happens if there is a crash and they need to clean up the debris/crashed car but don’t want to red flag the race and make everyone come into the garages to wait. A safety car means there is an actual car that comes onto the track, in front of the lead driver. All the cars must then keep at a reasonable speed and can’t overtake or do anything dangerous. A virtual safety car (VSC) is when there isn’t an actual car that comes onto the track, but the drivers are informed they are under VSC rules and that means they need to keep to a specific speed.
Chapter 10: Interlagos, Part 1
Hartford, Connecticut
2012
Bumming around Barnes & Noble is a nice way to spend a Saturday.
Kathy had to run errands in Hartford, and she likes to browse as much as the next middle aged white lady; she bought Paige a Frappuccino from the cafe and went to look at the gardening section, leaving Paige free to wander the isles and cover skim.
Hanging out in a bookstore to pass the time feels like a world apart from any Saturday afternoon that she ever spent at home.
Back in Hopkins, if it wasn’t a racing weekend — or if they didn’t have money for the kart gas — her Saturdays were almost always spent with Mrs. Cuthbert, the old lady who lives in the unit below theirs. She didn’t mind having Paige around the place while her dad worked first shift at the warehouse, happy to have someone to pass the time with. She’d make Paige pancakes and they would watch the Golden Girls.
Walking around Barnes & Noble still feels so different to her life back in Hopkins, even though it’s been almost two years since she’s been living with Geno and Kathy.
After browsing the youth literature section, Paige walks through the magazine racks. She’s paged through them before — Barnes & Noble is included in the usual rotation when Kathy runs errands in Hartford — but buying something that will be out of date within a few weeks isn’t how Paige wants to spend her money. What little pocket change she has.
She settles in one of the plush armchairs that’s been deposited in the psychology section of the store, because it probably gets the least amount of foot traffic.There’s a stack of car magazines in her lap and the Double Chocolate Mint Frappuccino with whip cream and mocha sauce sweats droplets onto her thigh as she idly sips at it.
It’s been almost forty-five minutes since she and Kathy arrived, which means there’s probably ten more minutes until Kathy comes to find her. Paige is almost finished with the last magazine she picked at random; AutoTalk Racing Magazine.
There are a few interviews that are interesting, and Paige reads them slowly so she can remember the most important parts to soak up. There’s one with the Sauber F1 Team Principal, and another with one of the coaches who’s fairly well known on the karting circuit.
She almost bypasses a Q&A write-up and listing of advice from ‘the next generation of motorsport minds’ because what do they know, but as she’s glancing through, her attention gets pulled toward one of the unique names that’s bolded in a yellow circular graphic, the double ‘z’ catching her eye. Azzi. Azzi Fudd.
Q: Your high school engineering team recently won the national Shell Marathon competition for designing a racing vehicle. What’s the most important thing you’ve learned through the process?
A: Downforce is faith. It only works when you commit before it feels safe
Azzi Fudd, 16, incoming First Year at Imperial College London
The name sticks out in Paige’s brain; this is the girl Geno’s talked about. The one who asked him for help with the competition. The one with the big brain.
“Paige? Let’s go honey, we should get going if we want to eat dinner at a reasonable time.”
She looks up to see Kathy approaching, and nods. “I’ll put these back,” she says, already moving to stand.
Kathy doesn’t need to be spending her money on Paige, but she always does. It feels nice, to have someone who wants her to smile, but awkward, because Paige always feels a little bit like a charity case.
“Just this one,” she says, putting the magazine on top of the basket, over a knitting pattern book and a gardening magazine. “Thank you.”
“Maybe we should get a cookie for the road,” Kathy says, smiling. She digs into her wallet and hands Paige a ten dollar bill. “Get two of the big ones and I’ll meet you up front.”
Paige nods and takes the remaining stack of magazines and the money to head back to the cafe. She’ll tell Geno what she saw; he’ll be interested that Azzi Fudd is going to London.
After all, he says he wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up running an F1 team someday.
—--
October 3 - 5, Brazilian Grand Prix: São Paulo: The Autódromo José Carlos Pace (Interlagos)
“Looking great, looking great. Okay, Paige, let’s do eyes on the camera for a few shots.”
She turns her head and makes eye contact with the camera lens, her lips settling into something that isn’t a smile but doesn’t feel too severe. On her left, Nika looks out at the street as she was directed to do, her gaze assessing as always.
The sound of the camera shutter is one more sound to the soundtrack of the morning, the vibrant bustle of São Paulo on a Tuesday; music from the crew to keep the mood high, a semi-busy street, and what feels like a hundred people scurrying around.
“These are great,” the photographer says. “Absolute flames.”
“Flames,” Nika murmurs, too quietly for anyone else to hear. She’s been outfitted in a sporty little crop top and a pair of jeans that Paige is envious of. Nika has the face of a high fashion model so she always looks photoshoot ready, but the hair, makeup, and styling teams have really transformed her into the kind of vision that any label in the world would covet.
“Chill,” Paige soothes her, letting the photographer capture a few more shots before she looks away and smirks in Nika’s direction.
They’re seated in Beco de Batman at a little table brought in specifically for them. The popular street art area serves as a colorful and cultural backdrop for these photos; Paige can’t wait to see them.
It’s a photoshoot designed to show off the young might of Team Lamborghini. Paige and Nika are in one location; Soni and Georgia are in another, and the four of them are supposed to converge at some tourist attraction in the center of the city in a little bit for a few shots of them just casually looking like they could grace a magazine cover.
The photos will hit the internet by the end of the week, coinciding with a long form article that Soni and Paige both sat for. The Future of Lamborghini, or some shit like that.
The whole thing has been planned for a while, but the timing couldn’t be better; Lamborghini has a 105 point lead over McLaren in the Constructors’ Championship and it’s creating a lot of buzz. Paige and Soni aren’t winning every race, but they’re consistently delivering good points and it’s really making a difference in the standings. Everyone — the analysts, the commentators, the fans — are frothing about how two rookies are giving the veterans on the grid the run around.
It’s too early and everyone’s too superstitious to throw around the term uncatchable or runaway winners but numbers don’t lie; Lamborghini is narrowing in on the title.
“Okay let’s do some fun ones,” the photographer chirps. “Can you do a little cheers with your drinks?”
Truly ridiculous.
Paige lifts her glass of Guaraná Antarctica and Nika does the same with her cafézinho; they clink together and dissolve into laughter, because there’s definitely some part of them that can’t believe this is their life. That they get to do this together is the sweetest part.
Ten more minutes of photos and the photographer announces that she’s gotten what she needs. Everyone begins to pack up and the poor handler assigned to shuttle Nika and Paige from place to place steps in to guide them to the car.
“You’ll go through the styling teams again at the next location,” she says, opening the door to the SUV so they can climb inside.
São Paulo is an incredible city, vibrant and alive. Scope the size that confounds the mind. Paige has been three times before but each time she discovers a new side to the metropolis. A different personality to the concrete jungle that speaks to whomever Paige has been at that moment.
Not always for the best.
“So we’re going to one of those observation boxes?” Paige thinks that’s what she remembers being told. “Forty floors up or something.”
“Who comes up with these ideas?” Nika asks. “At least the clothes are good. Do I get to keep this?”
“No.”
“What? What a racket. Life is a disappointment.” Nika frowns down at the crop, pulling on the bodice like she’s going to physically restrain someone from taking it off her person. But then she glances out the window and her face lights up.
“Can we stop?” She calls up to the driver.
Paige is sure that the driver is going to say no to whatever it is Nika’s requesting, but to her surprise, the assistant who’s in charge of them tells the driver to pull off. A few minutes later they pull into a parking lot, and Paige follows Nika out of the SUV.
“Oh fuck,” she murmurs. “Here it is.”
Above all else, racing in Brazil means paying homage to the most iconic F1 driver to ever exist.
Ayrton Senna.
“It really is a sick mural,” Nika comments, looking up.
Across the very busy street is the famous mural. It’s over a hundred feet tall, a beautiful and colorful representation of Senna in his helmet, the visor up.
The first time Paige saw it, she was drunk on an F2 win. It had rained before her race, during her race, and after. She’d stood nearby, drenched head to toe with rainwater, the feel of a random girl’s lips on her neck.
The random girl and their night together is gone from her memory but for a blur of neon lights and slick skin and the taste of Cachaça, but she remembers the mural. Remembers looking up at it, at his eyes.
It’s strange to feel things about someone who’s long dead, but there’s something about the legacy of Ayrton Senna that’s always spoken to Paige. She drives like him and it isn’t even purposeful. It’s the way the rain speaks to her, the way the car can dance. It’s a lot, sometimes, to feel the car so deeply.
She’d stood that night, brimming with confidence and victory and wondered if she could really do it — if she could actually be one of the greats. Everything in the world would say no, that greatness is for a lucky few. But Paige has always been greedy. It’s a constant; she’s always wanted more than she’s been allotted and all signs point to that never changing. With her family, with racing, with Azzi.
But Ayrton Senna died on the track and Paige supposes that might be a fitting way to go for someone who lives and breathes for it. That it’s the trade off, a bargain made with fate. Signed and sealed with her blood before she ever gave her verbal agreement. She still doesn’t know who the other signatory is; God or the devil. Time will tell.
“Imagine being so beloved by two hundred million people,” Nika continues, her gaze reverent as she studies the art. It’s the softest her face has looked in ages.
“Imagine having that talent,” Paige muses.
There’s a famous Senna quote that always stuck with Paige; if you no longer go for a gap which exists, you are no longer a racing driver.
She thinks about those words as she walks to the edge of the parking lot, almost drawn to the mural. The calling doesn’t pull her into the traffic but it’s close. She’s been chasing the gap her whole life, trying to slip her way in. It’s inevitable that it opens up, after all.
A few feet behind her, Nika pulls out her phone to snap a few photos.
The click of the camera shutter surprises Paige; she turns around to see the photographer from their shoot, who was following in another car. Hers must have pulled off as well. She takes another photo as Paige makes unintentional eye contact with the lens.
“We should get going,” the photographer says after a moment of shooting, when Paige has turned back to the mural. “Lots more to do today still.”
Paige nods but she lingers at the edge of the concrete lot, her eyes still on the only man she’s maybe ever loved.
It’s hard to love a ghost. And yet.
—--
1:22: …out of a meeting with Diana — more administrative bullshit, honestly — , they’re interviewing her about the new Ayrton Senna documentary. Thirty years on and people are still talking about his driving. Imagine meaning that much to a sport. I always thought his…
—--
Dinner is being held at an extremely fancy steakhouse. There’s live music being strummed somewhere nearby, in combination with the low beat of some kind of base. Waiters float around, barely visible unless someone needs something at which point they materialize.
Diana wanted to treat everyone. That was the official narrative spread around, an order disguised as an invitation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soni is saying, waving her red wine airily. “Think you must be imagining things.”
It’s a good atmosphere at the restaurant; people are feeling fairly upbeat about the weekend. Not too confident, just…capable. And Paige knows her role in this space, she’s aware of what’s expected from her. So she’s charming and easy going; she jokes around with the heads of the different teams and the other leadership level folks present and puts actual effort into being the most genial version of herself.
“Bro you looked like you were gonna pass out,” Paige shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were afraid of heights.”
“Because I’m not afraid.”
“Sonia,” she chastises, “it’s wrong to lie.”
A fancy dinner at an exclusive steakhouse isn’t necessary to encourage team cohesion and positivity, but Paige knows it’s about more than the food or the atmosphere. Diana wants people present, she wants to lay eyes and stare them down. Lamborghini has never had a season that’s been this dominant. They’ve led a few times, but they’ve never brought home the Constructors’ Championship.
At this point, the only team that could catch them is McLaren, and they’d almost have to win out. The talking heads on the sports channels and the analysts on the internet are all yapping about what the magic number will be, what race it’ll happen, if Lamborghini can keep it up. Paige doesn’t pay any attention to that; she gets in the car and does what she can, and sometimes she also does what she’s told, and altogether she fucking hopes it adds up to success.
She’s engaged in a conversation with the heads of the tyre crew, returning from a trip to the bar for a sparkling water, when she finally catches sight of Azzi. Big group get-togethers like this aren’t Azzi’s favorite; Paige remembers with clarity the way she used to hype Azzi up before she left to go meet Sue or Nneka or the others at Mercedes.
It’s easy to excuse herself, to make her way across the restaurant and to the balcony where Azzi stands at the railing, looking over the view. She’s wearing her usual nice black dress, the one that Paige picked out for her. It’s exactly right for this kind of event; nice enough to look dressy but still acceptable for a professional setting. Seeing Azzi draped in something Paige picked out will never get old but it still hits her like a punch to the gut.
“Hey,” Paige says, walking to join her.
Azzi turns. She has a glass of wine in her hand and she’s been drinking it; Paige can see the imprint of her lips on the rim. Red and full.
“I heard you spent the day posing for the camera,” she says.
“It loves me,” Paige preens, unashamed to be so beautiful. “I’m blessed.”
“And humble.” Azzi sounds like she’s not charmed but Paige knows differently.
Well, she certainly believes differently.
Things are different now. Paige thought they would be, but being near Azzi again confirms it. Zandvoort changed the lay of the land, the ground under her feet. So did Monza and her win there. Because they did that together.
But Austin - Austin - they can't go back after Austin. After she took care of Azzi and put her to bed and sat next to her while she finally succumbed to the needs of her body. Reading poetry to Azzi as a comfort.
Paige doesn't know what it means, where they go from here. But she knows that things are different. In a good way.
“This is a fun little event.” She leans her elbows on the balcony railing, taking in the view. São Paulo is similar to Mexico City in feel. Alive and electric and huge. And Azzi always loved big cities.
“Diana’s feeling the pressure of leading. She’s obsessed with cohesion.”
“Bet that’s fun,” Paige comments.
Azzi smiles to herself, a tiny little smirk. “She won’t say it. She’s too cool to admit that she actually feels the pressure.”
She turns to open to Paige just a little more. The lights from inside flicker against her skin, little golden flames that dance across her face. There’s a change about her. It’s not that she seems…lighter. In fact, it almost feels like the opposite.
But in a good way.
“She doesn’t want to put too much pressure on you,” Azzi adds; she’s amused. “Thinks it’ll ruin your vibe.”
The way she annunciates vibe is going to live in Paige’s fantasies.
“Let me guess,” Paige hypothesizes. “You told her it’s just not possible. Not with an ego as big as mine.”
The smug grin that graces Azzi’s face is so self satisfactory that Paige’s mouth waters a little bit. Azzi’s always pretended to not care about being right, but Paige knows she relishes in it, that she delights in always being right. How she manages to keep it a secret from most folks is a mystery; Paige has always been able to see right through her artifice.
But Azzi just shrugs. “I told her you could handle it.”
“I can,” Paige confirms. “You feeling better?”
Obviously Azzi is feeling better. She looks like a different human being than she did in Austin, when she was a snotty and sick mess and resembled patient zero in a post-apocalypse horror movie. They’ve exchanged voice notes since then; first just one a day and then two. Yesterday they traded five back and forth.
“I am. Thank you,” she adds, and it’s the first time she’s said it.
“You’re welcome.”
Azzi may be physically better but Paige can’t stop thinking about the hotel room in Austin. About the lack of poetry and the dress and the way that Azzi fell asleep next to her. It seems like every intimate encounter only adds to the list of questions.
“You stop anywhere on your way down?”
Azzi’s commitment to work is unmatched but her dedication to seeing the world has deeper roots than her love of numbers.
“No. I stayed two extra days in Austin, just sleeping. But then Diana wanted me back at the factory.”
It’s insane what these teams do; the US to Italy to Brazil in the span of two weeks. The trans-Atlantic flight probably negated all the good that Azzi did her body by sleeping two days away in Austin, but at this point in the season it’s really just about getting to the end. How can Paige nitpick at her when she’s done worse herself.
“You doing okay, after Austin?” Azzi asks, glancing over. She takes another sip of her wine and Paige tries not to focus on the way her lips kiss the rim of her glass.
“I hate what happened at COTA,” she admits, exhaling a deep sigh. “Racing like that didn’t feel good.”
Paige doesn’t need to explain that to Azzi, of all people. But Azzi asked, after all.
“It won’t happen again,” Azzi promises her.
Paige shakes her head. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
“And I don’t need you to fight mine.”
There’s strength in Azzi’s words, the kind that comes from getting deep into it and emerging victorious. Things must have gone down, back in Sant’Agata; Paige wants to know the ins and outs of it all, the messy and gossipy details. But that’s never been Azzi’s thing.
“So it’s a battle we fight together,” she offers, and it’s worth it to see the way Azzi softens into a smile.
“It’s going to be a good week,” Azzi murmurs a moment later. She glances down at her wine and then over at Paige, like lingering eye contact is too much for her to sustain. “It’s a good track for you. For the car.”
Interlagos is a demanding track; it doesn’t prioritize one type of driver over another, or even one type of car over another. With twists and turns, elevation changes and a need for efficient aero, it’s a track that accepts only the best of the best. To truly master Interlagos is something beautiful to watch.
The design of the Lamborghini car also helps them here, because Paige isn’t a driver who needs to rely only on straight line speed to get an advantage. At Mercedes, it was part of Azzi’s job to help mold the car, to give her feedback on the design process so that the engineers could align it as best as they could to suit Sabrina’s driving style. But now, at Lamborghini, it’s starting from scratch again, and Paige’s strengths combined with Soni’s strengths mean they have a little more breathing room.
There will be expectations for Paige this weekend; she was good at Interlagos in F2. Better than Sabrina was when she was in F2. But it also means that there will be pressure. She pushes the thought out of her head.
“It’ll be different in the F1 car,” she says instead, always happy to pad her ego but never comfortable enough to take the direct compliment from Azzi. Not until she’s earned it.
“You’ll manage.”
There’s a buzz inside; Paige turns her head to see people starting to take their seats. Diana must be gearing up to start her on-location pep talk.
“We should head in,” she says, reluctantly.
Azzi hums in agreement, but neither of them make a big move to leave their quiet little bubble. It’s nice here, just the two of them, the silence no longer filled with anger or resentment like it was at the beginning of the season.
But they can’t stay cocooned away from the team, because chairs are scraping and people are moving and it’ll be obvious that they’re missing soon enough. Paige turns to leave but before she goes she steps in just a hair, just close enough for the scent of citrus and motor oil to invade her nostrils.
“You look beautiful,” she whispers, her chin just brushing the side of Azzi’s head.
—--
“Dig, Paige, you got this.”
Paige breathes through the exertion, through the discomfort. She’s on one hand and the opposite foot, planking with her other hand on a roller disk. Sweat drips down her nose as she extends the arm on the roller disk to redistribute her core balance and stretch her arm beyond 90 degrees.
Beside her, DiJonai counts as Paige adds reps. She’s taken some video already, since Paige’s management team asked for a little more content. Given her success so far in the standings, people are clamoring for more; she doesn’t want it to be a distraction so she put DiJonai in charge.
“Alright, three more.”
She groans into it, then collapses, exhausted, onto her stomach.
“Dead,” she manages, flopping onto her back to starfish.
It’s a fancy gym. Some place in downtown São Paulo nearly as high as that observational tower they went to. DiJonai is punishing Paige for the steak, ruining the buzz of a good evening with sweat and exertion. It’s too extreme to say Paige loves it, but she can appreciate what a workout does for her mind and her body.
It’s just her spirit that constantly needs mending.
“Five minute rest and then let’s do some combos.”
Paige nods, catching the water bottle that DiJonai tosses at her. She takes three long swigs, relishing in the sensation of the ice water in her body. She worked hard to keep herself in shape during F3 and F2, to make sure that she was ready for what the car demanded of her, but the F1 car is a different beast; it takes more than Paige sometimes thinks she’s capable of giving. And she was able to keep up when the season started, but now she knows how much it will take. DiJonai keeps her ready. In more ways than just one.
“Alright,” Paige says, heaving herself up and stretching. “Let’s do this.”
They go to the balcony, because the fresh air feels good on her overheated skin. The view of São Paulo doesn’t hurt either.
“Good,” DiJonai says as Paige follows the instructed throwing combination. “Lean in a little more with your shoulder.”
They go five full minutes, and Paige’s arms are almost shaking when the timer dings. She walks a little circle to wind down, focusing on her breathing.
“How you feeling?” DiJonai asks. “With everything?”
She didn’t tell DiJonai anything about what happened in Austin. Didn’t tell anyone, really, though all the engineers know that Paige and Azzi left the track together after the race and Nika gave her a few meaningful glances when they met up in São Paulo.
“I’m feeling good,” Paige admits. It’s the truth. Even though Austin was a clusterfuck on track, Paige is feeling more positive than she’s felt in a long time. She’s not back to how she was last season, when she was narrowing in on her third consecutive F3 victory — she’s not even close to that — but she’s climbing the mountain. One step at a time.
“What’s the word on the car for this week?”
“Briefings say we’re competitive. Understeer shouldn’t be too bad, and Interlagos is a good track. So long as it doesn’t rain, plan looks good.”
Almost immediately, there’s a crack of thunder. She and DiJonai both look up to see that the sky has turned from gray and overcast to dark and stormy.
“Cool,” Paige mutters. “Welcome to Brazil.”
—--
“It’s an extratropical cyclone,” Nika says when Paige arrives at the track.
The entire mood around the garage has transformed; gone is the goodwill that last night promised. Lamborghini — and every other team on the grid — has been following satellite images and weather forecasts for weeks. Everyone expected Interlagos to be a dry race given the weather patterns. The current deluge doesn’t seem to be engendering a lot of positivity.
Also, in extremely annoying fashion, Paige’s hair is wet and raindrops cling to her eyelashes, because an umbrella did literally nothing to keep her dry. She shakes out her hair like a wet dog and throws the damp strands into a messy ponytail. Beside her, Nika looks on with disgust.
“You’re getting water everywhere. You’re like an actual dog.”
“I hate being here before the car is assembled,” Paige complains, eyeing the massive crates that contain the chassis, engine, and gearboxes.
Mechanics are hurrying around, checking parts against lists and communicating with one another in rapid Italian. She forgets, sometimes, that the bulk of the mechanics and a good portion of the engineers are Italian. Everyone speaks English at the track around her, but most of the project teams communicate in Italian. Lamborghini has deep ties to their country or origin.
“Are you going to be a baby all weekend?” Nika’s clearly not in the mood for Paige’s moody bullshit, and honestly it feels like the entire garage is in the same mindset.
“Is extratropical cyclone a stand in for ‘we fucked up on the weather report’?” She asks, just to be annoying.
“The storm formed at sea. It’s unexpected. You want the rundown?”
“Not really,” Paige admits. “Rain is rain, right?”
Nika shrugs. “Nobody can say how long it’ll last. Might be this bad through Sunday. Might resolve and go dry again.”
“How much do weather analysts make? Like, could I make a good living and not risk my life on four wheels and a seat going fast? Because it feels like the fuck up rate would work in my favor.”
One of the mechanics approaches Nika and says something in Italian; he hands her a clipboard and she scribbles her name. She probably doesn’t even know what it is; Paige hopes she just watched Nika sign her life away to a timeshare.
“Would you consider an existence where you don’t risk your life on four wheels and a seat to go fast a good life?”
“Fair,” Paige acknowledges. “Has Azzi exploded on the boys in the factory yet?”
Nika snorts. “Yes, but it was disappointing because she did it in Italian. But I got the gist.”
Damn. Missed opportunity. Paige would pay actual money to see Azzi chastising the weather analysts in Sant’Agata in Italian. She bets it would be hot; Azzi speaking another language is always hot.
As if Nika can read Paige’s thoughts, she rolls her eyes. “Mind out of the gutter. You’re worse than the tyre team.”
Whatever. Paige isn’t going to apologize for appreciating beauty in its most elevated form. She looks around, surreptitiously trying to see if Azzi’s anywhere near. Annoyingly, she’s not in the garage and Paige idly calculates the odds of running into CD or Azurá if she goes looking. It’s not a great outlook for her, all things considered.
“I’m gonna check in with the tyre guys,” she tells Nika, who only rolls her eyes.
“Sure you are.”
Paige gives her the side eye as she walks away.
—--
When she does, eventually, run into Azzi, it’s because everyone at the track has been called together for a briefing. Diana’s pulled all team members who are onsite into the garage to give a reframed version of the pep talk she delivered at dinner to the leadership team; this time, she’s added an ease and lightness to her delivery that Paige can tell is a front from the way her eyes continue to crinkle.
“Look at that,” she says with a wry smile. “It’s Brazil. It rains.”
That pulls a laugh from the crowd. Maybe there will be a master performance at Interlagos this weekend. Maybe Paige is about to see the maestro at work.
"So," Diana continues, a hint of amusement still lacing her tone. "We thought we were going to have a dry race. Now it looks like that's not the case. That’s alright. We'll adjust. F1 races in the rain. We're ready for this; it's why we do all the preparation that we do. We take nothing for granted."
Pretty words, and there’s feeling behind them. The tyre crew and the assorted engineers in the garage are all nodding in agreement. They want to win too.
Paige scans the room for Azzi and finds her across the crowd, standing next to a tall woman with goddess braids. They aren’t talking, though they’re standing closely; close enough that Paige cocks her head in interest. She doesn’t recognize her, and she prides herself on knowing everyone who works through the garage on race weekends.
“Who is that,” she whispers to Nika, pressing their elbows together and gesturing with her head. “With Azzi?”
Nika looks over. “Sarah… Strong, I think. She’s one of Diana’s minions. She’s usually at the factory.”
That makes sense. But it’s still odd, the way Azzi’s fine with this woman inside her personal space.
Of course, Azzi’s not paying any attention; not to Paige, or this Sarah Strong woman, or to Diana’s speech. Instead, she’s leaning against one of the tool cabinets and staring out the garage door at the rain, playing with a Rubik’s Cube. Her fingers twist and turn the six sided square with precision, even though she doesn’t look down to see what she’s doing. Paige can see the full square starting to establish, the sides beginning to form in full squares of color. Azzi’s going much slower than what she’s capable of. Paige once timed her doing it wine drunk and she got it in twenty-one seconds. Her fingers kept turning into butter and it pushed her time up.
The two of them laughing themselves silly probably didn’t help.
“We have everything we need to be successful,” Diana is concluding her speech. At least, Paige hopes it’s the end. “We have a good car. We have incredible drivers. We have a dedicated and capable team. We race as one.”
People clap, Paige included. She watches as the team starts to disperse; engineers begin to turn their attention back to data readouts and the tyre crew heads to their own huddle. Across the garage, Soni and Kiki are involved in deep conversation with Georgia and Caroline.
“Hey,” she says to Azzi. The cube is long solved and Azzi’s just twisting it aimlessly now, her attention still on the rain.
But Paige’s presence and words pull Azzi out of her daydreaming.
“Hey.”
She’s wearing an old pair of shorts. Not so thin to be indecent but enough to make Paige’s eyes linger. God, she’s so inappropriate about her senior race strategist.
“You fiddling,” she says, glancing at the cube. Azzi only fiddles when she’s particularly focused.
“Just needed something to keep my fingers busy,” Azzi says, and abruptly freezes. “I mean, that’s not, I—”
“Please,” Paige grins, “tell me more.”
“You’re the worst,” Azzi informs her, but her cheeks are red. Paige loves it. “Such a child.”
Paige shrugs, unrepentant. “You’re the one who thought about it being sexual. Can’t blame me for my mind wandering to—”
“A wet race,” Azzi interrupts, and then looks like she wants to run her face into a wall. Paige is delighted. “Oh my god, Paige. I — you — ugh.”
She groans and storms off, leaving Paige standing there absolutely shocked with glee.
“I love Brazil,” she whispers to herself, a different kind of understanding dawning. This is going to be a good week. A very good week.
—--
Rain in São Paulo is different from rain in Monaco, or anywhere else Paige has been in Europe. It’s warmer in Brazil, and more humid. Even in a loose T-shirt and shorts, she feels sweaty and gross from the inside out; it’s an uncomfortable combination.
The outlook doesn’t improve when she walks into the office waiting room and stops short.
“You again,” she mutters, immediately unenthused about life. Charlotte Atlier, in the flesh; Paige is reminded of seeing her in Mexico City and immediately scowls.
Unlike Paige, Charlie doesn’t look like she’s in any discomfort or having difficulty. Her hair is braided back into a low bun and it looks especially ginger with the dark green blouse and form fitting skirt.
“Good to see you too, Bueckers.”
“Why are you here,” Paige sighs. “In this room, not in South America,” she adds, because she can just see that stupid smirk starting to pull across Charlie’s face.
“I’m here on official business.”
“Have you been practicing saying that in the mirror?”
It’s nice to be such a bitch to Charlie. When she and Azzi were dating, Paige had to pretend to be cordial. Even then, when she and Azzi were only at the beginning of their friendship, Paige hadn’t wanted to cause Azzi distress. Now there’s no reason she has to play nice.
“I promise you, it kills me to say this,” Charlie sighs, “but you’re wanted on TV tomorrow. Brazil’s morning show. It's called Hoje em Dia.”
It’s just like Charlie to omit all the juicy information.
“What’s with the eleventh hour request? I’m not scheduled for external media this weekend.”
Paige isn’t trying to be actively difficult; it’s a relief to have a week away from any media duties other than the usual post-session/race press lines. But being on a morning show means she’ll have to get up at fuck o’clock in the morning on a Thursday and let herself get dolled up and – without question, the worst part — spend time with Charlie.
“Red Bull has declined all additional social media and public opportunities until further notice. After what happened in Austin with Nastya—”
“Nothing happened in Austin with Nastya,” Paige interrupts, because if that’s a narrative that’s spreading then she’s going to absolutely lose her shit. Especially since Nastya wasn’t scheduled to cover the Interlagos race for the communications team. She’ll be back to the paddock in Vegas, but she’s not in São Paulo.
Charlie raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Protective, huh. Moved on from Azzi so fast, then?”
Christ, this woman is like an antibiotic resistant virus. No amount of herd immunity can get rid of her.
“Sophie’s just on her usual bullshit,” Paige snaps, ignoring the dig about her friendship with Nastya. “So stop making that about something that it isn’t.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually have all the power in F1. Red Bull is sticking by Sophie and they’ve pulled Caitlin from media duty. So I have a spot to fill.”
What a fucking power move. Paige wants to throw something. It’s bad enough that all of them have to deal with Sophie and her fuckass antics on track; she’s a dangerous driver and sooner or later someone is going to get hurt by her recklessness. But to add to the unbearable frustration of that, she inexplicably commands power at Red Bull. Nika thinks it’s because Sophie does such a good job of courting the sponsors; they see her as the anti-woke shero that the more conservative F1 money has always clamored for. Whatever the reason, it’s galling that Red Bull is actually standing on business because of Sophie’s nonsense.
“I’m not the championship leader anymore,” Paige reminds Charlie. It stings, a little, because Austin was a shit show in every sense of the word, but being a driver means having a short memory. She can’t be concerned about what happened on the last track; Paige needs to focus on what’s ahead of her. Besides, her priority is Team Lamborghini and what she can do to ensure success for the team.
All to say, she doesn’t relish the idea of getting on national television after she led the Drivers’ Championship for exactly one week and having to answer questions about how great it is to be a Formula 1 driver.
“For reasons that truly confound me, people still want to hear from you.”
Paige rolls her eyes, unamused and annoyed. “What about Sabrina? Shouldn’t it go to her first?”
“Sabrina’s popular,” Charlie says. But there’s reluctance in her tone, a serious note of loathing that tells Paige what she’s really thinking.
Because the second part of her sentence goes unsaid, and Paige would bet there’s no universe where Charlie would admit it out loud.
But not as popular as you.
Someday, far in the future — when she and Azzi have grandchildren and a stupidly successful 401K — she’ll ask Azzi about Charlie. About what could have possibly drawn her to this woman.
Far, far in the future.
Maybe when they have great-grandchildren and they’re moving to Mars to establish a colony there.
“You gonna do it or am I going to have to go through more official channels?” Charlie snaps, annoyed at being made to wait.
The urge to make her crawl for it is strong; it fizzes in Paige’s fingertips, lays on her vocal cords like carbonation. For reasons that have nothing to do with Azzi or her affections, Paige finally has Charlie in the position of having to ask for something. The power trip ought to feel good.
“Send the details to my performance coach,” she says instead, agreeing to the TV segment. She’s done her due diligence and tried to get out of the entire thing but the last thing she needs is Charlie running to Diana to complain about Paige being difficult to work with. Everyone knows Diana is wound up, word on the paddock is that she and Sue are still feuding. So now’s not the time to push.
Charlie nods, and leaves Paige with a disparaging glance. She doesn’t even say thank you.
“You’re welcome,” Paige calls after her, rolling her eyes.
It would probably be good if they could find a way to work together in peace; Paige wants a long career in Formula 1, after all, and Charlie is high enough on the Public Relations team that she’s a fixture at many of the North and South American races. There’s a world where not having Azzi between them would fix the bad blood.
But not this world. Not this universe, where Paige still wants Azzi with a burning that lights her bones on fire. Not when she can still remember the cracked ceiling of her apartment in Brackley and the way she used to stare at it in the dark while knowing that a few blocks away Azzi slept next to Charlie.
Not when all that technically tethers Azzi and Paige right now are the contracts they each have with this Formula 1 racing team. And it seems that all that keeps them apart are the contracts they have with this Formula 1 team.
There’s too much to overcome. If Paige has to pick her battles, she’ll always choose to be suited up against Charlie.
—--
2:11: …like I can’t concentrate with all this nonsense happening. I never paid attention in earth sciences because it honestly just seemed fairly useless, given everything else that was going on…
—--
Toward the end of the day, she goes looking for Nika and finds KK and Jana first. Because God clearly has a sense of humor. The two of them — and Kelis — are settled in the conference room arguing about lap differentials. There are six different binders spread open in front of them; Kelis is seated on top of the table, patiently highlighting numbers as she calls them out and Jana inputs them into some kind of spreadsheet.
“Yo,” Paige greets, reaching across the table to dap KK up. “This fucking rain, man.”
“The worst,” Jana agrees. She twists her hair into a high bun, her face shiny from the humidity.
Paige surveys the mess on the table and makes a face. “What are you guys doing?”
“Azzi asked us to run the deltas from wet races and account for the power train differentials,” Jana informs her grumpily.
Paige isn’t surprised at the attitude; it sounds tedious as fuck. “Factory team couldn’t do it?”
KK shrugs. “It’s good to do it on-site. Helps to get familiar with the data. Plus, nobody wanted to wait for the factory team.”
“It’s a punishment,” Kelis announces, ignoring the look of betrayal from KK. “Jana pissed off the weather team.”
That sounds like the more plausible explanation. Paige turns an amused glance to Jana, obviously wanting the scoop.
“What did you do?”
“Bro,” Jana immediately launches. “It was a complete misunderstanding.’
“You told them they’re glorified witch doctors with the competency of a first year Neville Longbottom.”
Jana looks unrepentant. “Actually, I stand by it.”
Kelis sighs and gives Paige the rest of the dirt. “The satellite tech told Azzi she was gonna revoke our database privileges.”
Oof. Paige almost wants to laugh.
“Azzi can’t have taken that well.”
“She ripped them a new one,” Kelis confirms. “But we still have to pay for making her life harder.” She sends a glare at Jana and KK, who don't look at all concerned.
“She’s in with Diana,” KK tells Paige. “If you’re looking for her.”
“I’m not,” Paige lies.
She’s always looking for Azzi. Even when she’s not.
—--
Nika comes to her suite on that night, already dressed in lounge pants and a tank. She has a plethora of sheet masks with her and she shoves Paige into the armchair and plasters a wet napkin onto her face that’s supposedly imbued with the healing properties of a pomegranate.
“This is gross,” Paige complains.
“It’s good for your skin,” Nika reminds her. “Especially you since you’re sitting in a hot box for two hours.”
Paige is lounging in her boxers and a sports bra, the fluffy hotel robe tied loosely about her waist. She’s got her hair thrown on top of her head in a housewife bun, the kind of look she’d never be caught dead in outside her hotel room.
“I’ve got skin like a newborn baby,” she argues.
“More like you are a baby.”
They argue about how to pass the time. It’s a very fancy hotel so every channel known to woman is available. Paige almost makes Nika watch lesbian porn just to fuck with her, but they eventually agree to just play Fortnite instead.
“You want to go on a trip after the end of the season? Oh, fuck they’re on me,” Nika says as the last remaining team in their battle royale creeps up on them. “We could do another house stay? Or go on a road trip, if you aren’t sick of being in a car. You wanna drive down the Portuguese coast? You’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Nah. I just wanna sleep for a hundred years after the end of the season. Oh fuck me they’ve got ice gauntlets. Get in the car!”
This close to a win, they’re both louder, their focus on the TV absolute as they grip their controllers tightly. On screen, Paige drives them up the mountain and they find a better vantage point.
“You gonna go see your pops?”
“Maybe.
“Bringing him to Monaco? Oh get them! Nice one. Take that you pre-pubescant shit.”
Paige shrugs. “Honestly, bro, I hate Monaco.”
She can almost hear Nika’s eyes roll around her head.
“Only you could hate living in the most fabulous and exclusive country in the world.”
“Whatever, it’s stuffy. I can’t breathe there.”
On the screen a Juice WRLD peeks out from the bunker below and disappears. Paige waits for him to do it again then goes for the headshot.
“Fuck yes,” she cries as she eliminates him, pumping her arm in the air when the #1 Victory Royale branding pops up. She and Nika high five, and it’s perfect timing because room service arrives with their fries and shakes. Paige feels a little guilt, but honestly not much; she’s not getting into the car until Friday so it’s not the end of the world to be enjoying some of life’s few victories.
“I think I wanna move,” she says, blurting out the thoughts that have been bouncing around in her head for a while.
Nika looks over in surprise, a fry halfway to her mouth. “For real?”
Paige drinks a few sips of her milkshake and nods. It tastes like happiness and putting teenage boys in their place.
“Yeah. What if I moved to the factory? Into the apartment?”
Nika has a two bedroom flat in Modena and Paige stays with her whenever she needs to be at the factory in Sant’Agata. Nika won’t let her pay for the entire place but Paige bullied her into accepting fifty-fifty. The monthly is pocket change compared to what she pays in Monaco, even with the steep discount that Phee’s fiancé tosses her.
“There’s nothing to do in Modena,” Nika warns. “It’s boring as shit after dark.”
“Yeah, because Brackley was so different,” Paige counters. “And I’m not going clubbing every night in Monaco or trying to hang out on yachts every afternoon so it’s not that much different.”
She likes the yachts but it gets old after a while. Especially without her closest there. Soni won’t be around in the offseason because of her boyfriend, and the other drivers are paired up or have their own things going on. Paige can only third wheel so many times.
“Just feels like a colossal waste of money,” she adds, dunking one of her fries in ketchup. She’s made an extreme exception about letting Nika eat in the bed, because the couch is uncomfortable as shit and the two of them aren’t going to sit at the massive dining table. “And, like. For why?”
For a long moment, Nika’s quiet. She swirls one of her fries through the milkshake because she’s disgusting like that, and munches on it quietly.
“I can get my own place,” Paige continues. “Like, I’m sure you like your space now—”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Nika scoffs. “It’s just different than Brackley, that’s all. I work a lot fucking more now that I’m on the F1 team. I don’t want you moving to the middle of nowhere and thinking it’ll be one way and it not turning out to be what you thought.”
Nika hesitates, like she’s going to say more, and they probably both know what’s likely to come out of her mouth. But she must decide that this isn’t the moment.
“I miss having you around all the time,” she says instead. “You’re my favorite rash.”
She’s bold because she knows Paige won’t shove her and risk getting food all over the bed. And she’s right.
“Love you too, twin.”
—--
The morning show is terrible. Paige is used to waking up before she’d prefer, but going on morning shows is another kind of early. She sits in hair and makeup with her eyes closed, trying to pretend that she’s asleep to trick her mind. DiJonai came with, and hangs around nearby scrolling on her phone.
“Good, you’re here already,” Charlie says, entering the little ready room.
Paige opens an eye and glares at her. “It’s too early in the morning for your bullshit.”
Being that she’s sponsored by the devil, Charlie looks perfect. Her dark navy dress hits right above her knee, the usual style of “business botox” that she embodies so very beautifully. Never trust a ginger, Paige always says. Has said since she encountered Charlie.
“I could say the absolute same, Bueckers. Did you review the talking points that got sent over?”
“Sure did. I can talk all I want about the egregious social inequity in São Paulo, severe traffic issues, and the impact of extreme urbanization on the air pollution. Right?”
Goading Charlie has always been a fun pastime, and a lot has changed in the years since she fucked off to America, but that certainly hasn’t. There’s a lot of pride that Paige takes in the fact that she’s probably one of the few people on earth who can push Charlie’s buttons so beautifully.
“Mention how excited everyone was about the three-year contract renewal,” Charlie says through gritted teeth.
“Got it,” she responds, and gives a little salute.
But Charlie clearly has no belief in Paige’s ability to actually know what she’s doing.
“Do not answer anything about rumors that F1 is bringing another race to South America.”
The makeup artist finishes up, and Paige gives a grateful smile with a murmured obrigado for being made to look presentable for national television. Behind her, DiJonai has put her phone away and is laser focused on the tension that simmers between Paige and Charlie; she’s ready to jump in for whatever Paige needs.
“Charlie,” Paige sighs. “Go jump in the Atlantic.”
It’s going to be a long fucking morning.
—--
By the time Paige arrives at the track following her stint on Brazilian morning television, she’s started to feel the buzzing in her bones. It’s a race weekend, it’s a race weekend, it’s a race weekend. Being around the garage and not in the car is making her skin itch.
And it seems like she’s not the only one.
“I hate these NWP models,” Azzi complains, in a louder tone than Paige thinks she’s probably aware of.
She has her walkie attached to her belt loop like she often does, the weight of it causing her pants to fight the laws of gravity.
“I know. And the team at the factory is aware of your displeasure,” Kelis tells her. To her credit, she keeps her voice absolutely even; Paige is impressed.
“What’s going on?” Paige asks. She gets the delight of Azzi’s full ire directed at her.
“The storm was expected to head inward and decline in strength,” Kelis informs her.
“And it’s not doing that?” Paige guesses.
“No,” Azzi interjects, clipped. “It’s not.”
“It’s shifted to head back to sea. But there’s a warm front coming in from the east,” Kelis adds. “Which means it’s probably just going to hover for a bit right off the coast and drive more rain across the area.”
“Chill, Azzi,” Paige says, because she can’t help but needle her. “I’m good in the rain. We’ll be fine.”
Azzi looks like she’s going to launch across the small space between them and knock Paige’s head off with one glancing blow. In response, Paige can only beam at her.
“Maybe you should…go,” Kelis suggests, no doubt well aware that Azzi’s only recourse is to take her frustration out on her team instead of with Paige.
“I’m due for media, anyway.”
But she lingers for a moment, enjoying the prolonged eye contact. Because there’s something pricking at Paige and she knows Azzi knows; they’re really going to be fucked this weekend. Silverstone was one day of inclement weather and if this rain keeps up.
Well.
“I’ll see you later,” she tosses at Azzi, because that’s who Paige is. Then she ducks away and heads to do her press interview.
—--
It’s the worst possible driver combination that Paige could have imagined. She sits between Sabrina and Caitlin, cold from the air conditioning on her already wet hair, shirt, and jeans.
“Paige, do you feel like Interlagos means more now that you’ve led the championship and are within striking distance of the lead again?”
It’s so awkward, God it’s so horribly awkward.
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter about my personal points. Last week was disappointing because of what I didn’t bring home for the team. I’m only focused on that.”
She wishes she had gum, but CD made her spit it out before she walked into the press room.
Beside her, Sabrina’s sitting pretty. She’s not the kind of person who has nervous energy — she’s too serial killer focused for that — but her unnatural stillness is really disconcerting. On Paige’s other side, Caitlin keeps twitching and readjusting; it’s driving Paige fucking crazy.
“Sabrina, there’s been a lot of chatter this week about Paige’s success driving in the rain. Any of that a concern for you?”
Jesus. Paige does everything in her power to keep her facial expression from changing.
“I’ve had success at Interlagos in the past,” Sabrina answers, totally monotone. “I know this track in an F1 car. Success in F2 and F3 doesn’t always translate here.”
For fuck’s sake. Paige internally sighs, more annoyed than insulted. If Sab could just keep her goddamn mouth shut they wouldn’t have to go through this bullshit.
“Paige, any response?”
“No.”
CD would be proud of her.
Afterward, the three of them trudge out together, each of them careful not to touch or bump or get into each other’s space. Surprisingly, it’s Caitlin who breaks first.
“Was that really necessary,” she mutters, throwing Sabrina an annoyed glance. They’re holed up in the green room, waiting for security to announce their covered golf carts are ready so they can be transferred back to the main part of the paddock without getting caught in the deluge.
“They asked a question,” Sabrina says as she shrugs. “I answered it.”
“You answered it and opened us up to another round of bullshit questions,” Caitlin bites out. She looks like an owl with her eyes so wide.
“You got anything to add?” Sabrina spits at Paige.
“Seems like you got enough to say for both of us,” Paige answers, her words syrupy slow. She doesn’t have any reason to get into it with Sabrina but she’s also not someone who ever walks away from the disrespect.
Sabrina doesn’t reply, doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t escalate. Her assessing eye roves over Paige, like she’s trying to figure something out. Whatever she takes from the interaction, Paige doesn’t know.
Why did Azzi visit you over summer break? Do you know why she left Mercedes?
She wonders if Sabrina would tell her, if she were to ask. But Paige can’t be that soft with another driver who isn’t Soni; she’s not going to make herself an easier target than she already is. Formula 1 is about more than just what you can do on a track, and Sab and Azzi seem to have some kind of perplexing bond. She’s not going to wade into waters she can’t see into just to ask questions she doesn’t know the answer to.
"Be a robot if you like," Sab says, moving her gaze away from Paige and back to Caitlin. "That's not how I drive."
Caitlin clenches her jaw and brushes past Sabrina, who clearly doesn't have any trouble picking fights today. And Paige really isn't trying to make it worse so she follows Caitlin out at a measured pace. Not running away, but choosing not to stay.
The three of them sit silently on the golf cart as they’re driven away from the Interlagos HQ building and back to the garage. The poor minion assigned to shuttle them around must be able to feel the tension, but none of them make any effort to diffuse the atmosphere.
It’s raining too hard for any kind of conversation, anyway.
—--
The afternoon strategy meeting goes well.
“Our goal this weekend is to be early, not reactive,” Azzi says.
She and Caroline typically alternate on running the Thursday briefing, depending on Dorka’s schedule. But Dorka is holed up on a conference call and Paige doesn’t have a lot of interest in what she has to say anyway, after the cluster fuck in Austin.
There are really only two people that Paige trusts with her life; Azzi and Nika. She doesn’t know what she’ll do on the day that they disagree.
“Interlagos drains unevenly. Sector 2 will stay wet longer than Sector 1.”
“If it stops raining,” Paige says, interrupting.
Azzi looks at her, annoyed at the interjection. “Yes, Paige. If it stops raining.”
God, Azzi looks good. Her hair is even curlier because of the rain and humidity; it keeps getting wet and then drying and it means her curls are out of control. The ringlets look like they would wind around Paige’s fingers beautifully, like she could tug and pull them with gusto because they’d just bounce right back into place. She imagines what it might be like to be able to win at Interlagos and get a congratulatory kiss from Azzi. That type of thing was never going to be a possibility for her, not with the original plan of them working for other teams and it’s not possible now with them both at Lamborghini, but it means Paige can freely fantasize about it.
“People suffer here because they hesitate and we’re not doing that. We’re making gains this weekend by being in front. By going bold and going strong.”
And now Azzi’s talking dirty, which makes it all the worse.
“We’ll be relying on driver feedback, so Paige and Soni, we want to hear from you this weekend. Everything and anything.”
She wants Paige to yap at her through the headset? Paige is happy to accommodate.
“We also have a smaller pit lap delta because of the short on/off. Twenty second loss. That works in our favor too.”
The meeting continues; general outline of the race weekend and their goals for the strategy sessions, recon on what other teams will be likely to focus on, additional technical information about the track.
Paige listens and takes notes; she’s been studying her pre-race assignments and she knows Interlagos as a track. Because it looks simple, but the Autódromo José Carlos Pace is brutal. The combination of layout, elevation, and how little margin there is for error would make it difficult enough. Add in inclement weather and low visibility and it changes everything.
But she’s ready.
She’s fucking ready.
—--
Paige gets summoned to Diana’s makeshift office at HQ before the day is over, and the reasoning doesn’t make her happy.
“You’re joking.”
Diana stares at her, eyebrows raised. The Lamborghini Team Principal doesn’t have time to waste on bullshit like this and they both know it. Standing next to the desk, CD sighs.
“What if this wasn’t a big deal and you just said yes and got it over with quickly?”
Paige turns a glare toward CD. “No.”
In front of her, Diana rubs the bridge of her nose. Her eyebrows are pinched together in frustration and Paige can feel the ice beneath her feet getting thinner with each passing moment. Diana’s been under so much stress, she’s wound so very tight. And things with Sue Bird haven’t settled; gossip on the paddock is they’re still on the outs.
“They’ve asked, Paige, and I’m inclined to say yes. This is their third request in a month. You were a big draw on that morning show today.”
Paige hasn’t had to worry about the Netflix docuseries Drive to Survive all season. With Soni the only driver taking part from Lamborghini, it isn’t even something that’s been on Paige’s radar.
“We agreed at the beginning of the year,” Paige reminds Diana. “One driver from Lamborghini was enough, and Soni’s been subjected to this nonsense for months now. I don’t understand why there’s so much desire to change it up mid-season.”
“Because nobody thought you’d be in any kind of position to win at the beginning of the season,” CD says, stating the obvious. She looks a little too happy about Paige’s misery.
It makes everything inside Paige recoil. She doesn’t mind the brand deals and the photoshoots because that feels like a different beast; it’s just her image, it’s just her touting a few lines in commercials, or random shit like that. But this — this is different. This is quiet and close up and people who are in the know asking probing questions. It’s needling when she’s vulnerable and creative editing. It’s giving someone else the ability to control the narrative.
And if there’s anything Paige hates, it’s giving up the power to control her own narrative. Especially given the events of the last year.
“The point of having only Soni take part was to raise her profile.”
“Soni was always going to take part, and so were you,” Diana reminds Paige. “Now things are different; you’re a serious contender for the championship this year and Lamborghini is leading in the Constructors’ and I want to maximize on that.”
“We don’t control the editing,” she says, trying one last time to talk Diana out of it.
“So don’t say anything stupid,” Diana says with a wave of her hand. “They’re expecting you for an interview before you leave the track for the day.”
It’s a dismissal, and it takes all of Paige’s self restraint not to stomp her way out of the office suite. Unsurprisingly, she’s only one in a line of people who want Diana’s time; the woman with the braids from earlier — Sarah Strong, her brain supplies — is sitting on the bench in the waiting area.
They nod at each other, but Paige is too worked up to really put any thought into the interaction; she storms away and Paige fumes all the way back to the garage. She finds DiJonai and unloads as she paces back and forth in her ready room, her hair a frizzy mess and her frustration bubbling over.
But DiJonai only surveys Paige with skepticism. “So you’re upset over having to give an interview? I really don’t see the problem.”
“I have to sit for a recording at the beginning and end of every race weekend,” she corrects, because she’s a professional driver and her time being wasted is important. “Dissecting what went wrong or how I fucked up and all that bullshit. And they’re always digging for a story to make drama. I don’t want any part of it.”
Paige had been a mess at the beginning of the season; she’d been angry with Azzi and furious with herself and generally pissed at the world. It had taken everything in her to play nice at work and she hadn’t even been that successful, given how bad things had been with Azzi. Taking part in Drive to Survive and opening herself to that kind of insight and scrutiny hadn’t been a good idea. She’s lucky that Diana either realized that or just didn’t care enough to disagree.
“All you have to do is talk about how excited you are and how difficult the track is,” DiJonai reminds her. “That’s literally it.”
It’s hard to explain. Paige doesn’t even really have the words, only a deep feeling of reluctance. Maybe part of her had wanted to avoid the docuseries on the off chance Azzi changed her mind about them, about working with Lamborghini, about any and all things. The last thing she needed — or needs, really — is for the camera crew to pick up on any of her feelings. On any dynamics.
But Paige sighs and tells herself that things are different now. That this is where she’s meant to be, and she’s capable. They want her because she led the championship, because she’s still a contender. And she doesn’t have to give them a sound bite that they can use against her interests; all she needs to do is stay on message.
So she walks back to the HQ building and shakes hands with the recording crew, introducing herself and swallowing the frustration in lieu of learning what’ll be expected of her. They put a little make up on her, but she insists on a more natural look. The last thing she fucking needs is to look like a child beauty pageant contestant.
The wardrobe is easy, at least; a crisp Lamborghini polo and the team hat.
They get her into the chair, under the lights and across from the camera. It all feels strange, because this is different from the other ways she does publicity or press. Everything else feels like a persona, even the interviews. This is longer, more serious, more probing.
The cameras start rolling, even as the assistant is finalizing attaching the lavalier microphone to Paige’s collar and testing the sound quality.
“Just introduce yourself and say what team you drive for,” the coordinator says. “Do you know the team name?”
Paige scoffs with bravado; she knows it’ll come across as charming. This is who they want.
“‘Course I know the team name. Did Soni, the first time?”
“She needed a little help.”
This is all going to air. Netflix loves a good moment. So Paige readjusts herself a little, then looks at the camera with a big, self satisfactory grin.
Her moneymaker, her agent always says.
“I’m Paige Bueckers. I drive for Scuderia Lamborghini Corse Velocità Formula One Team.”
—--
She ducks in to say goodnight to Nika before she leaves the track for the day. It’s still raining, still humid; everything feels like it’s taking extra effort.
“Get outta my seat,” she grumbles, frowning as Nika wiggles her bony ass and makes herself even more comfortable in the cockpit. A few feet away, Georgia is knelt near the front wheels with a digital reader that’s hooked up through a long cord to somewhere underneath the car.
“It’s not your seat,” Nika murmurs, though she’s distracted with making notes.
“Um, beg to disagree. That’s my number on the nose.”
“PB5,” Nika mutters. “So humble.”
“It’s cute how you drivers are possessive over a hunk of metal,” Georgia comments, and Paige flips her off immediately.
She gives them the rundown of Drive to Survive, complaining about it being a waste of time and regurgitating all the silly questions they made her answer in a confessional style recording. Nika tells her they haven’t had any update on the weather front and Georgia unhelpfully adds that Azzi is ready to put her fist through a wall. None of it is surprising; Azzi gets annoyed with any problem that can’t be answered by mathematics.
“I’ll pop in before I head out.”
“Because that will improve her mood for sure,” Georgia laughs.
“Whatchu talking about,” Paige laughs. “My presence is always a delight.”
But she goes to find Azzi anyway, because Azzi taking out frustration on her team isn’t Paige’s problem. And when she does find Azzi, it’s to the absolutely glorious version of her yelling in Italian.
“Francisco, questo è assolutamente inaccettabile. Non puoi continuare a cambiarmi le previsioni ogni ora. Non posso prendere decisioni basate sull'incompetenza.”
Azzi’s standing next to the table in the conference room, furiously swiping through something on her tablet as she expresses her frustration on the conference speakerphone. When she looks up and sees Paige, her expression darkens even further.
Paige takes it as an invitation.
“Hey,” she whispers, stepping closer.
“Quanto tempo impiegherà il vostro team per effettuare un'altra valutazione?” Azzi’s tone drops into something even more deadly as she speaks to whoever’s on the other end, maintaining eye contact with Paige. “Parla con loro proprio ora e chiedi. Voglio una risposta vera. Aspetterò.”
She pushes mute on the conference phone. “What.”
Paige grins. “Can’t I say hi?”
Azzi lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you think you’re about this weekend, but you need to knock it the fuck off.”
Paige leans a hip against the conference table, the most angelic expression she can possibly make plastered across her face.
“Don’t know what you mean,” she says, her eyes wide.
"I know what you're doing," Azzi accuses. "You're trying to rile me up."
"Genuinely don't know what you're talking about," she lies. If Azzi were actually angry they both know Paige would knock it off. "You ready for this weekend?"
That only serves to make Azzi's jawline tighter.
"Am I ready for this weekend? Fuck right off, Paige, and wipe that stupid goddamn smirk off your face. A rain race is nothing to smile about."
Paige shrugs. This is a dynamic that feels so familiar it might as well be a year ago, messing about during a race.
"I mean, I'm good in the rain."
"I will absolutely not deal with bullshit this weekend," Azzi warns her. "We have a strategy; we are going to execute on that strategy."
"Course we are," Paige agrees, as genially as she can. "You maxed out on steak or you wanna grab a bite?"
She doesn't bat her eyes, but it's a near thing.
Azzi's eyes are dark: lightning flickers in them, ready to fry Paige.
"Get out," she orders, and Paige stands up.
"I'm goin," she says as she backs away. "I'll see you tomorrow."
—--
The bravado of who she has to be falls away as she sits in the car on the way back to the hotel.
Her forehead tips against the window, the glass cool against her skin. It's always her preference to drive herself around, but it was an unequivocal no from the team lawyers; the insurance on her or Soni would be insane and the admin folks were super clear that they weren't having it. Paige isn't concerned about being kidnapped; too many times she’s been told she would be too much trouble for anyone to keep for long.
But now that she’s alone, she’s having trouble wading through how she feels, as the adrenaline of being around other people wears off. It’s strange to have everything feel so up and down; the ups being Azzi’s presence and how Paige is feeling about the track and the downs being all the bullshit that surrounds everything in F1. She refuses to consider that Azzi is anything but a net positive in her life.
There are people waiting at the gate as the car pulls into the hotel area. Fans or paparazzi; the windows are too tinted for anyone to know it’s her and she’s glad for the anonymity. She doesn’t feel up to being Paige Bueckers tonight.
The hotel suite is absurd; it has a dining room. A dining room with an enormous table. What could Paige possibly want in a giant suite that has a dining table that can seat twelve? She’s not running a Last Supper situation.
But she will avail herself of the giant fruit basket that’s been left in the middle.
There’s a voice memo from Azzi on her phone. Paige looks at it and her heart is already racing, her vena cava quivering deep inside her chest. She doesn’t know how to do this anymore, how to keep the balance where it’s comfortable and not dangerous.
It feels like everything is conspiring against her; every external force is pushing her into the state of mind that makes her do crazy shit. Charlie. Sabrina. The rain. It’s like every little bit adds pressure, sits on her shoulders and settles her spine into formation. It whispers in her ear, a soft little this is who she’s meant to be. Like the snake in the Garden of Eden; Paige knows her scripture. She’s living out her own Book of Genesis.
Paige sits at her dining room table and picks a fruit at random. It’s green and oblong. She’s never seen it and doesn’t know what it is.
But she has an app for this. There’s an app for everything. Except for what she really, really needs.
—--
20 seconds: I know you think you’re cute, you really do, but don’t you dare try something crazy this weekend, Paige. I mean it.
—--
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Paige,” Azzi warns, glaring her way. She’s clearly annoyed with the restless energy Paige is putting into the room.
Whatever. She can’t help it. She’s buzzing and everyone knows it; Paige can’t even find it in herself to be apologetic.
But she does stop tapping her pen against the table.
The clock on the wall ticks down to the start of FP1; twenty-eight minutes. But there’s no way. Not with the rain as heavy as it is.
“So just to repeat back,” Caroline is saying, hunched over the conference phone, “you estimate that it could be anywhere between thirty minutes and two hours of rain at this intensity?”
At her side, Azzi looks like she’s ready to toss herself out of the garage and swim her way around the track.
“That is correct,” the heavily accented voice on the other end of the conference phone says.
“I can’t live like this,” Caroline sighs, pressing mute on the conference phone and turning her head to Azzi. “What do you want to do? Dorka’s on a call with the Aero team.”
Azzi runs her hands through her hair, and Paige is surprised that actual clumps don’t come with them when she brings her hands down and presses them together.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s break into Rain 1 protocol. I want every single thing triple checked. Quadruple checked, even. On my team, Jana and KK will run point. Get assignments and report up to them. Caroline?”
Azzi stands up as Caroline gives her own set of instructions. Paige doesn't have to pay attention anymore because Caroline isn't her senior race strategist. Instead, she swivels her chair in Azzi’s direction.
“Go find something useful to do,” Azzy says to Paige before picking up her pace and striding out of the room.
“Useful,” Paige mutters. “Like I’m not useful around here for what I do in the car.”
She hears an undignified snort and turns to see Kelis, who blushes at being caught. Paige raises an eyebrow and Kelis scurries off.
“No appreciation for your talent,” Soni coos.
“Long suffering me,” Paige agrees.
—--
Paige is zero percent surprised when race officials announce that the start to FP1 will be delayed by at least one hour. The rain is pounding the track; there’s very little visibility and nobody wants a bunch of crashes in a practice session.
“The two of you couldn’t find anything else to do?” Jana asks as she passes by them in the hallway. “Where did you even find a fútbol?”
Soni traps the ball with her left foot and sends it arching back to Paige. It lands neatly at her feet. Suspicious. Her boyfriend must be teaching her.
“It’s Brazil,” Paige shrugs, providing no additional explanation.
“If Azzi and Caroline hear that you two are out here playing games instead of reading delta reports—”
“Bro, there’s nothing useful in the delta reports.”
Soni snorts. “I mean, she’s right,” she appeals to Jana, who looks scandalized by Paige’s sacrilegious statement. “Not with this rain.”
Jana leaves them be, though Paige assumes it’s because she doesn’t want to get caught too near the crime of goofing around when there’s actual work to be done. She and the rest of the engineering team are scrambling, because everyone wants answers and nobody’s going to get them until the cars actually get onto the track and data comes back on how they behave in the rain. With the elevation changes it’s going to be brutal.
They kill twenty minutes passing the soccer ball back and forth, chatting idly about paddock gossip, until word reaches them that the engineers are ready to meet.
Everyone is set up in the garage; the heart of the engineering team is gathered around one of the big monitors, watching the reassessed deltas coming in. Paige situates herself in the back, leaning against a tool cabinet.
“Your thirst is unknown to human kind,” Soni laughs at Paige, eyeing the unzipped racing overalls that hang down and the way she’s shed the fireproof turtleneck and tied it around her waist. It leaves Paige in only her sports bra.
“It’s humid as shit,” she waves Soni off. “And you’re one to talk,” she adds, eying the loose tank top that Soni’s donned that shows off more than it covers.
“Nope. Thirsty.”
Paige rolls her eyes, and pulls out her phone to check her messages. At the front of the group, Azzi’s yapping about the weather.
“...so we should expect the rain to stick around. We’ve also been warned that lightning is expected and if that’s spotted, we’re looking at thirty minute window delays. This might be a bumpy day.”
Azzi goes on for another ten minutes, giving more of an overview of the day and the weather expectations, and answers a few questions from various team members.
“Any other questions?”
Azzi’s eyes drift over the crowd. Because Paige is in the back — and because she’s super invested in everything Azzi does — she’s probably the only person who notices the way Azzi glances at her three times over the course of ten seconds. Like she can’t help herself.
Like Monza all over again.
“I guess your thirst pays off,” Soni muses, clearly catching it as well.
“Shut the fuck up,” Paige hisses, turning red. But she can’t help the way her lips turn up at the ends.
—--
She jumps out of the car when FP1 ends and water drips from her overalls onto the cement of the garage floor. KK swoops in to pat at her with a towel, vigorously drying Paige off.
“Hold on,” she says, and undoes the clips so she can take the helmet off, finally emerging into relief. “Jeez Louise, ease up!”
KK only twists the towel and snaps it at her.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You fucking know what it’s for,” KK glares at her.
And, well, maybe Paige does.
She’s not going to get changed completely because it’s too much hassle, but Paige undoes the top of her racing overalls and lets them hang, then peels off the fireproof turtleneck again as well. Across the garage, Nika eyes her and rolls her eyes.
“It’s so freaking humid,” Paige says, her tone just a hair short of whiny.
And it is humid; the heat and the rain is a disgusting combination.
“She wants to see you,” KK informs Paige.
“Wonderful,” Paige says with a smile. “I love being yelled at. Also, see if we can add something to the back of my gloves so I can swipe at the visor; even at speed it was hard to see with rain on it.”
She loves the helmet that she’s wearing this weekend. F1 drivers like to customize the skins on the helmet; it’s the only way they can show personality through fashion on the track. Everything else is sponsor branded and subject to regulations, but for some reason the helmets haven’t been brought under scrutiny yet. Like a few of the other drivers on the grid, Paige has a special helmet this weekend; it’s yellow with blue, an homage to the Brazilian flag and there’s a watercolor depiction of Ayrton Senna on the back.
It’s good luck, she tells herself.
Paige hands KK the helmet and her in-ears and scrapes her hair into a ponytail. It’s always better to have her hair tied back when she goes into battle.
Azzi’s in the conference room and she’s got murder in her eyes; the genuine kind, the kind that really, really means that Paige’s life is in jeopardy. Her eyes flick over Paige for a nanosecond and then she’s right back to glaring.
It was a good choice, to shed the fireproof turtleneck and show off her ab muscles. Paige is acing all her decisions today.
“What were you thinking,” Azzi says, very much a statement and not a question. “We had a plan. We went over the plan. You said you were clear on the plan.”
Paige leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She doesn’t clench her abs on purpose, it’s just what happens.
“I sent you out on full wets to make the most of the thirty minutes,” Azzi reminds her, though it sounds more like an accusation than a retelling of what happened. “Three laps to warm-up and get a baseline. You wanted ride height and I gave it to you. Fine. Another three to get better data and then two laps to push at the target delta, and in-lap break temps.”
Azzi’s really gathering momentum now. Behind her, Paige can see Blanca and Morgan exchange a look. Jana pops a jelly bean in her mouth like it’s popcorn at a movie theater.
“You can’t just decide to experiment, Paige.” Azzi starts to pace, just little back and forth movements that hardly count as steps. “I know you think the deltas aren’t the most important indicator but we’ve got to get those. You went so far off the line through Curva do Sol you were into standing water. You should have lifted. You know the tyres were overheating. Genuinely, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Paige arches an eyebrow. “I was thinking it’s definitely going to rain all weekend and I wanted to know how the wets actually behave.”
“You stayed north of seventy percent throttle,” Azzi hisses, like Paige has committed a cardinal sin.
“I don’t like lifting if I don’t need to. The rear hooked up mid-corner instead of snapping.”
“You got greedy,” Azzi accuses, pointing her finger at Paige. She looks so angry it’s almost cute. Like an old school cartoon. But, of course, still gorgeous.
Paige pauses, wondering if thinking such thoughts about Azzi is anti-feminist. Is she being patronizing?
“I wouldn’t say greedy,” she says, after a moment, once she’s pulled her thoughts back to the argument at hand. “Just wanted to know the lay of the land. Test the water, really.”
She smiles, pleased with the wordplay.
Naturally, that’s what really pushes Azzi over the edge. Her fingers twitch, like maybe she’s going to slap Paige, or try to strangle her. Such violence between them. It really is their own little love language, a true hallmark of their friendship.
“Figuring out the lay of the land—”
“Testing the water—”
“Fine, testing the fucking water! You got greedy and added more throttle and couldn’t control the massive snap oversteer and you spun out.”
It really looks like Azzi’s going to break her rule of no violence in the garage and try to beat the everloving shit out of Paige.
God, Paige hasn’t had this much fun in ages.
“There was no damage to the car.”
“Luckily. You could have crashed.”
“Extreme assessment,” Paige disagrees. “But I didn’t. She’s fully intact.”
“You have a flat spot on your back right and you burned a set of full wet tyres. I swear to god, I can’t with you drivers sometimes, always thinking you know better about everything. We planned for a long-run comparison and now we have nothing to compare it to.”
Paige isn’t worried because they’ll be able to get what they need in FP2, and it’ll definitely still be raining.
“I need to stretch with DiJonai,” she says, pushing off the doorframe. “My shoulder’s feeling a little tight.”
“I swear to god, Paige—”
“Take a look at the data,” Paige suggests. “And come find me.”
She can see the astonishment on Kaleigh’s face, the genuine amusement on Jana’s. Even Gandy looks skeptical. But this is a far cry from the fights Paige and Azzi had at the beginning of the season. Those were…mean, and messy. Full of digs and genuine anger that originated far from the track. Azzi’s team can see how different things feel now. Paige assumes they’re relieved by the new dynamic.
With a nod, she walks away.
—--
It takes forty-five minutes for Azzi to find Paige.
It’s forty minutes more than Azzi likely needed to find the gem in the data readouts, plus another ten for her to make the team re-calculate and cross check the numbers. And then it would have taken her another fifteen minutes to stew about the entire situation, and she’d have needed time to debrief the rest of the data readouts with her team.
All to say, Azzi walks into the hospitality suite right about when Paige expects her to.
“You can’t just go all Maverick,” Azzi says, dripping water all over the table.
Per usual, she looks like she didn’t even bother with an umbrella when she dashed across the paddock. The suspicion is confirmed when Paige sees Kelis enter the hospitality suite, holding the umbrella and Azzi’s rain jacket, like she ran after her.
“Feels like maybe it paid off,” Paige suggests.
“Just because you got lucky doesn’t excuse you from doing stupid shit,” Azzi snaps.
It’s not that Paige has low self preservation instincts. It’s that she clearly doesn’t have any value for her life. That must be why she can’t help but grin.
“Was the down arc in the data beautiful? It just nosedived, right?”
She sees the way Azzi’s nose wrinkles, the minute little twitch that says how annoyed she is that Paige found some use from spinning out and getting back onto the track.
Because the tyres are overheating, even in the heavy rain; Interlagos is known for having an incredibly abrasive asphalt and it cooks the rubber quickly.
But when Paige spun out and moved off-line, her rear slip got better. When she wasn’t on the racing line — which is always going to be the driest part of the track — she had more grip because of the deeper water. It cooled the tyre surface.
“You didn’t say anything on the radio.”
“Because I can keep my fucking mouth shut.”
Azzi’s eyebrows raise. “Beg to differ.”
She and Azzi stare at each other for a moment.
It’s already miserably hot in São Paulo. If anyone had asked Paige, she’d have said she didn’t know how it could possibly get any hotter.
But she’d have been wrong. She’d have been very, very wrong.
—--
There are no big blowups during FP2.
It’s not exactly smooth sailing since it’s fucking pouring down rain, but Paige manages to make do and get all the necessary laps in. They test a little bit on the earlier theory that the deeper water just off the racing line cools the tyres, but they do it quietly; she complains on the radio about losing her grip and sliding around. Subterfuge is a common enough practice in Formula 1 and Paige will take any advantage she can get.
The debrief sessions also go without incident, though Paige does feel like she’s in a crockpot and the dial is being slowly turned from low to high.
Eventually, all bad things come to an end and make way for more bad things. She and Soni groan when it comes time to leave for the driver briefing; going back through the rain is as unwelcome a prospect as sitting in a room with the grumpiest and most aggressive bunch of racecar drivers known to womankind. But even as they grumble, they gather their things and start to leave.
“Paige,” Azzi calls, her voice soft among the din of the engineering chatter. She waits for Paige to pause and turn back before continuing. “Mercedes will push for an automatic VSC if visibility gets bad on the run to Turn 4.”
Paige holds her gaze for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”
—--
40 seconds: …be careful this weekend. I know you think you’ve got it all handled but Interlagos has a way about her.
—--
On their way to the briefing meeting, Paige and Soni make a plan.
“Visibility and grip first?”
“Yeah,” Soni agrees. And then safety car versus virtual safety car. Caroline wants an answer on formation lap too.”
“Turn 4 as well,” Paige mutters. “This is going to be a fucking shit show.”
She’s not wrong. The atmosphere inside the drivers’ briefing room is tense with simmering frustration and animosity. Lamborghini has a good fucking lead in the Constructors’ Championship and it means everyone else is feeling the pressure. Paige wants to remind them all that she and Soni have the most pressure, because everything is a competition and what’s the point of being alive if you aren’t trying to win?
“Is there going to be a mandated switch point?”
Paige has to work hard not to physically let her eyes roll out of her head at Aliyah Boston’s question.
Behind her, Kah isn’t as polite.
“Rook, it’s gonna rain all weekend,” she calls. A few of the other drivers — specifically AT — chuckle in agreement. “Ain’t nobody getting onto inters.”
“Not a rookie,” Aliyah reminds Kah, loudly. She’s really in a mood now, and Paige sighs at the way the meeting has gone off the rails so very quickly.
“To be fair,” Cam says to Aliyah, not trying to keep her voice down, “she calls everyone younger than her a rookie.”
Paige wants to bash her head against a wall.
“We don’t have a mandated switch point,” Cathy says from her position at the front of the room. She’s standing behind a podium like she always does, but this far into the season it feels particularly ridiculous. It’s only the twenty of them plus Cathy’s two assistants in this room; there’s no need for a media posture when nobody from the media is present.
“So it’s just like, a ‘hope and pray’ situation?” KMac’s feeling spicy. Paige can feel her disdain from five seats away.
“Race Control is monitoring the situation very closely,” Cathy assures them. “If we see the track carrying more standing water than would be safe for intermediate tyres, it is possible that full wet tyres will be ordered. Or the opposite. We’re monitoring.”
Everyone grumbles about that, because a situation necessitating wet tyres is more likely than not a situation where a red flag should definitely be called.
“Every weather report available in this hemisphere is projecting heavy rain and high winds,” Phee says. She’s got a McLaren binder with her, like the good girl that she is. “What’s the max point Race Control will allow before calling for a red flag?”
“I’m not prepared to share a number with you; if conditions are unsafe, we will red flag.”
They’ll let it go long, though, because even though hosting a race in São Paulo at the beginning of the rainy season makes no fucking sense, Formula 1 needs to get the most out of the weekend. There’s a lot of money on the line, and it always comes down to money.
“Fine,” Sabrina calls from the middle of the room. “What about visibility at Turn 4. If we can’t see then it should be an automatic VSC.”
Damn. Paige should have been faster.
“Even if visibility is low, we might still have grip,” she says, interjecting herself. It’s probably the most combative thing she’s ever said to Sabrina, and the look Sabrina sends Paige makes it clear that she fucking knows it.
“Grip doesn’t make a difference if we can’t see anything,” Sabrina rebuts, and everyone is taking notice now.
Something that Paige hasn’t focused on this season is that Sabrina’s the reigning world champion. Two time reigning world champion, actually. She knows a thing or two about driving, and Paige has been so laser focused on everything happening off track that it’s been a while since she’s really thought about what it means to be a contender against Sabrina when they’re in the cars. Not since Silverstone.
And the truth is, you don’t get to be a driver at this level without knowing where your talent is strongest and where you fall short.
Without knowing the same about the other drivers. So she pushes.
“I mean, are we going racing or are we going for a drive behind a VSC or safety car?”
It sounds brash even to her own ears, but sometimes persona means more than people give it credit for. Certainly more than Azzi ever gives it credit for.
She’s setting herself up and she knows it, but Paige has been aching for a chance to put her elbows out and clash with Sab. She can only do it on the track, or about the track, which isn’t what she really wants but she’ll take what she can get. Seems like Interlagos is going to be the place that happens.
“You haven’t even driven this track in an F1 race yet,” Sabrina scoffs.
“What’s the answer?” Paige asks Cathy, who’s draped herself over the podium and looks tired of being the referee between two toddlers. The expression on her face is one of extreme exhaustion; Paige almost feels bad for her.
“No absolutes,” Cathy answers. “If it’s unsafe we’ll red flag, as I said.”
Well, Cathy can get fucked.
The meeting continues like that. Track limits, the formation lap, restart conditions; it goes on and on and on. The drivers who are more confident in the rain ask for explicit parameters so they can push, and the drivers who aren’t as comfortable ask for earlier intervention. Sabrina doesn’t say anything else and neither does Paige, but it feels like they’re both extraordinarily aware of each other.
By the time they hit the seventy-five minute mark, Veronica and Jackie have outright argued and Phee has straight up started painting her nails.
“Alright that’s all we can do for tonight. If you have additional requests you can run them through team channels to the stewards,” Cathy says, ignoring the groans that permeate the room.
“What’s the point of doing it if you aren’t doing it right,” Kah mutters.
Paige doesn’t care about any of it; people are whining and moaning about the rain but she just wants to race. A wet track has never been an issue for her and she’s not about to believe that Brazil of all places is where that will change.
Azzi would call her delusional. Nika would agree.
Paige wants to walk away from the driver briefing room so quickly it would probably verge on sprinting, but she forces herself to relax and appear chill. Of course, Soni’s taking her sweet fucking time yapping with Kate, and it means that by the time they make their way out they’re practically shoulder to shoulder with the Mercedes drivers.
“After you, rookie,” Sab says with a smile. Her face is so angular it’s hard to tell if it’s a sneer or just how her muscles work. Unless she’s got a giant grin on her face she always looks angry.
“Really,” she mutters, and though Paige truly doesn’t mean for Sabrina to overhear, it’s obviously her shitty luck that the Ionescu family has fucking bat hearing.
“What’s your problem,” Sabrina says, calling the question between them as they walk down the hall.
Two steps ahead of them, Soni slows her gait even as her head is turned to something else. Ride or die. In more ways than one.
“What’s my problem?” Paige asks, turning to post up just a little. She’s escalating with no good reason, really. Based on the look Soni tosses back at her, that’s clearly apparent. “I don’t got a problem, bro. Can’t speak the same for you.”
Sabrina opens her mouth to respond but right as she does, Sophie Cunningham walks by.
“Oooh, trouble in paradise,” she coos in her stupid, annoying sing-song voice.
“Shut the fuck up, Sophie.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sophie.”
Paige and Sab say it in unison, barely sparing Sophie a glare.
Of course, it makes Soni snort and she has to smother it with a little cough because neither Paige nor Sab so much as crack a smile; even ganging up on Sophie isn’t enough to diffuse the pressure in the air.
“You’re in over your fucking head,” Sabrina says. The worst part is she doesn’t even say it with any bite. She says it like she knows it’s true. Like she’s just telling Paige a fact that Paige ought to already know.
And that’s the part that really fucking digs at Paige, like a suckerpunch low in the stomach. No way to block properly and really goddamn painful because it’s such a surprise move.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you,” Paige spits, suddenly glad to let out the frustration she’s been keeping inside her chest. It’s taken voice and shape, morphing so rapidly its growth feels almost alarming.
“God. The things you don’t know are eating at you. You want to know it all so badly, don’t you?” The words sound strange coming from Sab’s mouth in such a unique tone; a dichotomy between mockery and concern.
If the driver briefing went off the rails, this is something in the vicinity of an epic crash. Messy, bloody, high casualty count. Soni starts to edge closer but Paige keeps her at bay with a quick flick of her eyes.
Paige tries not to take the feint, but it’s hard — this is her life. This is her fucking life.
“It’s not good to keep your feelings all bottled up,” Sab continues to goad. Her eyes narrow on Paige’s face before she gives an amused huff.
But Paige is done keeping her mouth shut.
“Fuck you, Sab. I don’t—”
“I’ll tell you.”
The words don’t echo or drop like an anvil. They’re just words. Just three words.
A contraction.
An irregular verb.
A second-person personal pronoun.
Three easy words, meaningless on their own and strung together with massive implication. Like holding a firework. Or a bomb.
“Sab.”
Paige can’t breathe.
“I’ll tell you,” Sabrina says again. “But you have to ask.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN ━━ If It Was Easy It, Wouldn’t Be Us.
☆》 ━ word count: 2k
☆》 ━ warnings: none :)
☆》 ━ links: masterlist
☆》 ━ author's notes: we’re officially done. thank you so much to everyone who read this silly little fic. i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. love you guys 🩷
By the time the kettle finished singing, the porch was already loud with life.
Azzi sat in her favorite chair, the old one that had molded itself to her over decades, hands folded around nothing yet, waiting. The afternoon light slanted gold across the wooden boards, dust floating lazily like it had nowhere better to be. Somewhere behind the house, someone laughed—high and unrestrained—and the sound multiplied.
Then came the sound she recognized anywhere.
Footsteps. Small. Fast. Too many.
They came barreling onto the porch in a blur of laughter and knees and mismatched socks.
“Mimi!”
“Mimi!”
“Tell us again—please—tell us the story!”
They dropped at her feet like gravity had claimed them all at once. Azzi smiled as she looked them over, the way she always did, heart tugging in a dozen directions.
There was Liam, all long limbs and Paige’s eyes—clear and steady and already too observant for his age. He looked at the world like he was measuring it, just like Paige used to, like he wanted to understand before he spoke.
Next to him was Olivia, curls bouncing wildly around her face, dark and unruly, freckles dusted across her nose like someone had painted them on for fun. Her eyes were big and soft and expressive—the kind Paige used to call dangerous because they made you want to give her anything she asked for.
Tucked between them, half-leaning into Azzi’s knee without even thinking about it, was River, quieter, watching everything with the same gentle intensity Azzi had carried her whole life.
Behind them were more— Nova, with Paige’s mouth and her quick wit. James, patient and thoughtful, listening more than he spoke. And little June, barely able to stay still, with Azzi’s dimple and Paige’s way of holding on tight.
They weren’t copies of anyone. They were mosaics. Pieces of the people who raised them. Echoes of the women who had loved their parents first.
Living proof that love, when it’s chosen and protected, doesn’t disappear—it multiplies.
“Mimi,” Olivia said, scooting closer, curls bouncing as she tucked her legs beneath her. “Tell us again.”
Azzi smiled, already knowing which story they meant.
“The whole one,” Liam added, serious as ever. “Not the short version.”
River nodded quietly, fingers twisted in his sweater.
Azzi laughed under her breath, a sound worn soft by years of use. “You know,” she said, pretending to consider it, “every time I tell it, your Nana says I exaggerate.”
“She does not,” Nova said from behind them. “She just doesn’t like when you say she was mean.”
“I wasn’t mean!!!,” Paige called from inside the house, her voice carrying easily through the open door.
Azzi shook her head fondly. “See?”
The kids giggled and shuffled closer, a small semicircle forming at her feet.
“Alright,” Azzi said, settling back in her chair. “But you all have to sit still.“
They stilled. Mostly.
“Okay,” she said, holding up a finger. “But you have to understand something first.”
They all leaned in.
“Your mimi was… kind of mean.”
A collective gasp.
Azzi smiled, unapologetic. “I was. I didn’t like your grandma at all when we met.”
One of the kids blinked. “At all?”
“Not even a little,” Azzi confirmed. “And she didn’t like me either. She questioned everything I said. She challenged me. She had this way of looking at me like she could see right through me, and I hated that.”
She glanced toward the open door behind her, where the sound of cups clinking floated out faintly, then looked back at the kids.
“She didn’t fit into my life easily,” Azzi continued. “She challenged me. She didn’t let me disappear when things got hard. And most annoying of all—she stayed.”
A few kids smiled. One nodded, like that part made sense.
“I tried to pretend I didn’t care,” Azzi said. “That it was temporary. That I didn’t need her. But every time I needed someone — really needed someone — she was there. Quiet. Steady. Not asking for anything in return.”
Her voice softened.
“She loved me for who I was underneath everything else. Not my family. Not my defenses. Just me.”
Azzi took a slow breath.
“And somewhere along the way, without even noticing when it happened, I fell in love with her.”
A small pause, like the whole room was taking a deep breath.
“I fell in love with her because she never tried to be the loudest thing in my life,” Azzi continued. “She didn’t demand to be chosen. She didn’t rush me. She just… stayed consistent.”
The kids listened, rapt.
“She believed in me when I was still arguing with myself. She saw strength in me when all I could see were the ways I’d learned to survive.”
Azzi smiled softly.
“She loved me in a way that didn’t try to fix me or reshape me. She met me where I was, and trusted that I’d grow on my own. And when I did, she was right there—steady, patient, unmovable. I fell in love with her because she made me feel safe enough to be real. And once you feel that… you don’t let it go.”
The door behind her opened then, soft and familiar.
Paige stepped out onto the porch with two mugs of tea, pausing when she realized what she’d walked into.
She set the mug into Azzi’s hand, leaned down, and kissed her forehead—right where she always did and sat beside her, arm slipping easily around Azzi’s shoulders.
“And that,” Azzi finished softly, “is how the best thing in my life started.”
She looked at Liam, James, and River, all elbows and curiosity, and smiled. “It’s how we got your mama.”
Then her gaze shifted to Olivia, Nova, and June, gentler now, full of quiet pride. “And your dada.”
The kids beamed, some scooting closer without even realizing it.
Azzi laughed under her breath. “And now,” she added, voice warm and a little awed, “we get all of you. Every loud, sticky, perfect piece of you.”
“It was worth every single moment,” Paige said without hesitation.
The children watched them closely.
Azzi let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “We didn’t make it easy on each other,” she admitted. “But that was kind of the point.”
Paige reached out, gathering every single one of them into her arms, because they had fought so hard for this — for the family Azzi used to dream of having, for the family Paige had worked so hard to build for her — and right there, wrapped in laughter and warmth, it all felt worth it. “If it had been easy,” her voice softened, full of knowing. “It wouldn’t have been us.”
And for those kids, they would forever be the living proof that some loves don’t arrive easily, but they stay forever.
☆》 ━ author's notes: hii, i still don’t love it, but i do think it’s better than how it was before. we’re almost at the end — one more chapter and we’re done. thank you all for the incredible love you’ve given my writing 🤍
Paige had one rule about the wedding. Azzi had to go all out.
Not because Azzi wanted a big wedding. Not because Azzi didn’t know her worth.
But because Azzi genuinely didn’t care.
If they could’ve signed papers in a quiet office and gone home married, Azzi would’ve been just as happy. The dress, the flowers, the room full of people — all of it felt secondary to the simple fact that she was marrying Paige. That was the point. Everything else was just decoration.
Paige refused to let that be the end of it.
They were lying in bed when it came up, legs tangled, the late afternoon light spilling in through the window. Azzi was half on her phone, half tracing lazy shapes into Paige’s arm.
“We don’t have to do anything big,” Azzi said easily. “I mean it. I just want to finally marry you.”
Paige turned her head. Studied her.
Azzi noticed immediately. “What?”
Paige smiled, soft but unmistakably determined. “I want one rule.”
Azzi laughed. “You’re already making rules?”
“I only need one.” Paige shifted closer, propping herself up on her elbow. “You have to go all out.”
Azzi frowned, not upset — just confused. “Wait, what — why?”
“Because you don’t want to,” Paige said simply.
Azzi blinked. “Huh? You know that doesn’t make any—”
“You’d marry me in sweatpants,” Paige interrupted fondly. “You’d eat takeout after and call it perfect.”
Azzi grinned. “I meaaan… It would be.”
“I know,” Paige said, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s cheek. “And that’s exactly why I’m not letting you get away with it.”
Azzi went quiet, searching Paige’s face. “I don’t need all that stuff, you know that.”
Paige’s expression softened, something warm and certain settling in her eyes. “I do. I know you don’t need it,” she said. “I want you to have it nevertheless.”
Azzi swallowed.
“I want you to have a day where everything is a little extra,” Paige continued. “Where your dress makes you feel unreal and the room is full of people who know how lucky I am. Where you don’t have to minimize anything just because you’d be happy with less.”
Azzi shook her head slightly, a smile tugging at her mouth. “You spoil me way too much. You’re impossible.”
Paige leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. “I’m in love with you.”
“That’s not a fair argument.”
“I don’t fight fair.”
Once that rule was set — once Paige made it clear she wasn’t going small — everything else started falling into place, whether Azzi was ready for it or not.
—————————————————————————
They were lying on the floor when they started looking for venues.
Not because the floor was comfortable, but because neither of them had bothered to move after laughing too hard at something stupid on Azzi’s phone. Paige was flat on her back, one arm pillowed under her head. Azzi lay on her side, propped up on an elbow, scrolling.
“Okay,” Azzi said, casual. “Hear me out.”
Paige hummed. A dangerous sound. “I’m listening.”
Azzi turned the phone so Paige could see. The venue was small. Intimate. White walls, soft lighting, the kind of place that looked like it could host a tiny wedding or a really tasteful dinner party.
Paige squinted.
“This is nice,” Azzi said quickly. “It’s cozy. Low-key. We could fit, like… maybe twenty people?”
“Twenty people,” Paige repeated.
“Yeah,” Azzi said. “The important ones.”
Paige stared at the screen for another second. Then she laughed.
Like, actually laughed.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
Azzi blinked. “What? Why not?”
Paige rolled onto her side, facing her fully now. “That’s not a wedding venue. That’s barely a room. It’s like I’m whispering that I love you, Az.”
Azzi smiled, clearly amused. “You do love it when I whisper I love you in your ear when we’re—”
“Don’t try to distract me, missy,” Paige said, smiling. “I love you,” she continued. “And I want to love you loudly.”
Azzi shook her head, still smiling. “I don’t need all that, P. Seriously.”
“I know, Az.” Paige said immediately, like she’d been waiting for that. She reached up, tugged gently at Azzi’s sleeve until she leaned closer. “You’d sign papers in a parking lot and call it romantic.”
Azzi laughed. “It’s the commitment that matters.”
Paige’s expression softened. “Exactly. Which is why we’re not doing it in a room the size of a hallway.”
Azzi glanced back at the phone. “It’s not that small.”
“Az,” Paige said patiently, “I want you walking into a space that takes your breath away.”
Azzi paused. Looked at her.
Paige continued, quieter now. “I want there to be room for everything. For the way you laugh. For the way you cry when you’re overwhelmed. For the way you look at me like I hung the moon. For the big ass dress I know you’re going to choose.”
Azzi swallowed. “That sounds like a lot of money.”
Paige smiled, slow and certain. “Don’t even worry about it. You’re worth every penny.”
Azzi tried to roll her eyes, but it didn’t land. “You’re really not letting me get away with this courthouse fantasy, are you?”
Paige leaned in, pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s jaw. “Nope.”
Azzi sighed dramatically, letting her forehead fall against Paige’s shoulder. “But like—.”
“Nuh uh — I warned you. One rule, ” Paige murmured. “Going all out.”
Azzi smiled, warm and helpless. “Fine,” she said. “Show me what you had in mind.”
Paige’s grin was immediate. She grabbed her own phone, already scrolling, already invested.
“Now this,” she said, turning the screen. “This is a venue.”
Azzi looked.
The venue looked more like a house than a hall. A large one, clearly meant to hold people, but still warm — tall windows, wide doors, rooms that felt livable instead of staged. The listing showed quiet interior spaces meant for getting ready, long mirrors, soft light, places where you could breathe before everything started.
But the yard was what kept pulling Paige back.
Photo after photo showed the same stretch of open green — wide, uninterrupted, bordered by trees that made it feel private without closing it in. No decorations, no setup, just space. Enough room for long tables, for people moving, for laughter carrying without echoing. It didn’t feel like a venue telling you what kind of wedding to have. It felt like somewhere you could build one.
“We could do it outside,” she said, like she’d been sitting with the idea for a while.
Azzi studied the screen. “In the yard?”
“Yeah,” Paige said. “Long tables. All of them out there. No rushing people inside, no flipping the room.”
Azzi smiled, already picturing it. “Going big.”
Paige nodded with the biggest smile. “Really big.”
“And inside?” Azzi asked. “To get ready?”
Paige tapped the screen. “Yeah, it has plenty of rooms. You get your space to get ready. I get mine. And please don’t tell me you want to spend the night before apart, because I might have to put my foot down.”
Azzi laughed. “Put your foot down?”
“Yes,” Paige said seriously. “I draw the line at unnecessary suffering.”
Azzi tilted her head, amused. “It’s tradition.”
Paige scoffed. “It’s a horrible tradition.”
“You’re just scared you won’t sleep without me.”
Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Correct.”
Azzi smiled, soft and fond. “Okay,” she said. “We can stay together.”
Paige relaxed instantly. “Good. Crisis averted.”
“We could make it feel like us,” Azzi said, thoughtful, her eyes returning to the photos. “Flowers. Maybe lights.”
Paige smiled. “Of course. Over the tables. Maybe through the trees.”
Azzi glanced at her. “That’s… a lot, P.”
“I know,” Paige said easily. “But if we’re doing it, we’re doing it.”
Azzi’s smile softened. “You really want to go all out.”
Paige’s smile gentled. She reached out, lacing their fingers together.
“Yesh,” she said. “Because I plan on marrying you like I mean it.”
It wasn’t just a venue anymore. It was the first time the day stopped feeling hypothetical and started feeling real.
—————————————————————————
The dress search started the way most things with Azzi did — with enthusiasm and a lot of overthinking.
She made a list first. Paige’s mom, obviously. Her aunt. And then, almost as an afterthought, she added Mia from school, who had once offhandedly mentioned she loved weddings and immediately offered to come with the kind of excitement that made Azzi laugh.
It felt… just right. Warm. Full.
Azzi showed Paige the list later that night, curled together on the couch, phone balanced between them.
“Your mom,” Azzi said, scrolling. “Your aunt. And Mia.”
Paige smiled. “That tracks.”
Azzi hesitated for half a second before adding, “Can I tell you something?”
“Always, babygirl.”
“I don’t know why,” Azzi said quietly, “but I feel like it’s going to be weird not having my mom there.”
Paige stilled.
Azzi noticed and rushed on, voice softer now, less certain. “When I was little — even when things weren’t good — I still imagined she’d be there. Like… some version of her. And I think a part of me still expects it.”
Paige didn’t interrupt. She reached for Azzi’s hand instead, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles.
“Have you thought about calling her?” Paige asked gently.
Azzi shook her head almost immediately. “No. I don’t want to open that door and then regret it.”
Paige nodded. “Okay.”
“I don’t want it to be complicated,” Azzi admitted. “I know it’s just the little girl in me, the one who still fantasizes about having a mom who actually loves her. Someone who would do anything for her. Someone you could go to and talk about love, heartbreak, everything in between.”
She swallowed.
“But I know better now. I know I can’t expect that from her.”
Paige squeezed her hand. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I hate that you even have to navigate that.”
Azzi exhaled. Then, quieter, “But I also don’t want to feel alone.”
Paige looked at her, eyes warm. “You won’t be, pretty girl.”
Azzi hesitated again, then said, “Would you come with me?”
Paige’s breath caught — just for a second. She smiled, but it was softer now. More careful.
“I can’t,” she said gently.
Azzi blinked. “Why not?”
Paige brushed her thumb along Azzi’s knuckles. “Because I don’t want you choosing a dress while thinking about me.”
Azzi frowned slightly. “I always think about you.”
“I know,” Paige said. “And that’s exactly why.”
She leaned in, forehead resting against Azzi’s. “I want you to walk into that room and just feel. Not wonder if I’ll like it. Not read my face. Not worry about anything except what feels right to you.”
Azzi swallowed. “I want you there.”
“I’ll be there,” Paige said softly. “Just not in the room.”
Azzi’s voice was quiet. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”
“You can’t,” Paige said immediately. “There is literally no version of you walking toward me in a wedding dress that’s wrong. You’ll look beautiful in whatever you choose.”
Azzi studied her face, then sighed, a smile pulling at her mouth. “You’re so irritating.”
Paige laughed softly. “I’ve been told.”
Azzi laughed softly, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Paige exhaled, relief and love all tangled together. “Thank you.”
Azzi leaned into her, resting her head against Paige’s shoulder. “But I’m texting you the second it’s over,” she said.
Paige kissed the top of her head. “Deal.”
Azzi’s shoulders relaxed at that.
Paige smiled, relief and love all wrapped together. Azzi leaned into her again, this time tucking her face into Paige’s neck.
“But,” Azzi added quietly, “if I hate everything, I’m blaming you.”
Paige laughed, arms tightening around her. “Fair.”
Azzi smiled against her skin. “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”
Paige kissed her hair. “I can’t believe I get to watch you become my wife.”
And just like that, the dress became less about who was there — and more about where it would lead.
—————————————-———————————
The bridal salon smelled like clean fabric and something faintly floral, the kind of place that felt softer the moment you stepped inside.
Azzi hadn’t expected to be nervous. She wasn’t usually. But the second she crossed the threshold, reality settled in — this was happening. This was real. She was choosing the dress she would marry Paige in.
Paige’s mom was already tearing up by the time they were shown to the fitting area.
“Oh honey,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “After everything you girls have been through, I can’t believe this is really happening.”
Azzi smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “I know.”
Paige’s aunt squeezed her shoulder. “We’re honored to be here.”
Mia hovered nearby, trying not to look too excited and failing completely. “Okay, but I just want to say,” she blurted, “this is already iconic.”
Azzi grinned. “I haven’t even tried anything on yet.”
“Preemptively iconic.”
The consultant smiled knowingly and disappeared, returning moments later with an armful of dresses.
The first one was pretty. Soft. Safe. Azzi stepped out of the fitting room and turned slowly.
Paige’s mom smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Azzi nodded. She did. But it didn’t feel like anything.
The second dress was sleeker, a little more daring. The third had a dramatic back that made Mia gasp out loud.
Azzi laughed, spinning once, letting the fabric move around her. “Okay, this one’s fun.”
Paige’s aunt tilted her head. “But is it you?”
Azzi paused. Looked at herself again.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It feels like I’m borrowing someone else’s moment.”
The consultant watched her carefully. “I have one more,” she said. “Just to try.”
The dress was different. Not loud — but intentional. Clean lines, soft structure, the kind of elegance that didn’t ask permission.
Azzi hesitated before stepping into it.
When she came out, the room went quiet.
The dress was structured and intentional, strapless with a clean neckline that showed off her shoulders without trying too hard. It hugged her torso perfectly, cinching at the waist like it knew exactly where to hold her, creating that sharp, unmistakable hourglass shape. The fabric smoothed over her hips before flaring out, generous and fluid, designed to move with her instead of against her.
It was the kind of dress that celebrated her body rather than softened it — strong shoulders balanced by a snatched waist, curves framed instead of hidden. From the waist down, it fell in a way that gave her hips presence and confidence, the silhouette doing nothing but highlighting what was already there. Powerful, elegant, and undeniably her.
Paige’s mom covered her mouth.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Azzi caught her reflection and felt it — not nerves, not doubt. Just certainty.
She smiled. Not big. Not performative. Just real.
“This is the one,” she said softly, almost to herself.
Mia’s eyes were glossy. “You look beautiful, Azzi.”
Azzi laughed, heart full. “I feel beautiful.”
Paige’s aunt wiped at her eyes. “Paige is going to lose her mind.”
Azzi shook her head, smiling to herself. “Good.”
She turned once more, watching the way the dress moved, the way it felt like it had been waiting for her.
Not to make a statement. Just to walk toward the person she loved.
Azzi reached for her phone, thumb hovering over Paige’s name. She hesitated for half a second.
Then she hit facetime.
Paige picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”
Azzi smiled instantly. “I found it.”
There was a pause. Just long enough to feel.
“You found IT?” Paige said, breathless now. “Already?”
Azzi laughed softly. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m shocked,” Paige admitted. “You’re the most indecisive person I know, Az,” she said, smirking. “I was fully prepared for at least three visits, a minor meltdown, and you changing your mind twice.”
Azzi leaned back against the mirror, the fabric of the dress warm against her skin. “Okay, rude. But it’s… yeah. It’s the one.”
Paige exhaled. “God,” she said quietly. “Okay. I’m happy. I’m so happy.”
Another beat.
“And I regret everything,” Paige added.
Azzi laughed, bright and fond. “I told you, you had your chance.”
“I know,” Paige said immediately. “I should’ve gone. I could’ve sat in the corner. I wouldn’t have looked, wouldn’t have said a word.”
“Liar.”
Paige huffed. “I would’ve absolutely looked.”
Azzi smiled at her reflection. “You made your choice.”
“I know,” Paige said, softer now. “I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to not see you. Can I get something? Anything?”
Azzi tilted her head. “Like what?”
“A clue,” Paige pleaded. “A vibe. A single adjective. I’m not asking for much.”
Azzi considered it. “No.”
“Az.”
“You said you wanted to see it for the first time when I was walking toward you.”
“I did,” Paige said. “I still do. I just didn’t know that the waiting would be this hard.”
Azzi smiled, teasing. “That’s part of it.”
Paige sighed dramatically. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.”
“Just tell me one thing,” Paige tried again. “Is it… simple? Is it dramatic? Is it—”
Azzi cut her off gently. “It’s… It’s me.”
Paige went quiet.
“Oh,” she said.
Azzi’s voice softened. “Yeah.”
Paige swallowed. “Okay,” she said, steadier now. “Then that’s perfect.”
Azzi smiled, eyes shining. “I thought so too.”
Paige cleared her throat. “You’re really not going to give me anything else?”
Azzi laughed, the sound light and full. “Nope. You have to wait.”
Paige chuckled, resigned and fond. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
The waiting, she realized, was its own kind of promise.
—————————————-———————————
Paige’s suit appointment was supposed to be quick.
That was the lie she told herself as she stood in front of the mirror, jacket half-buttoned, sleeves still a little too long. The tailor hovered nearby, waiting. Paige wasn’t looking at her reflection.
She was looking at her phone.
Azzi’s name lit up the screen before she even tapped it.
“Okay,” Paige said the second the call connected. “Hypothetically.”
Azzi hummed. “Dangerous start.”
“Hypothetically,” Paige repeated, “I’m standing in a suit that might be the suit. And I was wondering if you want to see it.”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.”
Paige blinked. “That was fast.”
“I learn from your mistakes,” Azzi said calmly.
Paige laughed, warm and a little helpless. “Wow. Rude.”
“You decided to wait and you ask every night something different about the dress,” Azzi continued, smug now. “I’m not making the same choice.”
Paige turned toward the mirror, phone lifted. “Okay. No regrets.”
“Never.”
The camera flipped. Azzi inhaled sharply.
Paige watched her reflection this time — the way the suit fit just right, the way her shoulders squared without her trying, the way she suddenly looked… like someone about to get married.
“Oh,” Azzi said softly.
Paige swallowed. “Good oh or bad oh?”
Azzi smiled, slow and unmistakable. “Very good oh.”
Paige’s chest loosened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Azzi said. “That’s my wife.”
Paige laughed, cheeks warming. “You’re not supposed to call me that yet.”
“My wife, my wife, my wife, my wife,” Azzi said lightly.
Paige laughed and tilted the phone slightly, giving Azzi a better angle. “Any notes?”
Azzi pretended to think. “No. I want you exactly like that. Waiting for me. You look gorgeous.”
Azzi nodded, “Yeah, P. I’m a little jealous even, you might be the prettiest girl at the wedding.”
Paige exhaled, touched. “I can’t be. You should see the girl I’m about to marry. Never seen anything more beautiful.”
Azzi grinned. “I have.”
Paige laughed, the sound echoing in the fitting room. She turned back to the mirror, standing a little taller this time.
“Okay,” she said. “This is the one.”
Azzi smiled to herself on the other end of the line.
—————————————-———————————
The cake tasting derailed almost immediately. They sat side by side at a small round table, plates already crowded with tiny slices, forks stacked like they’d underestimated the situation. The consultant talked through flavors, but Azzi was too busy watching Paige’s face as she took the first bite.
Azzi watched her. “You look like you’re about to give a Yelp review.”
“This is important,” Paige said. “This cake represents us.”
Azzi snorted. “That cake does not represent us.”
Paige ignored her and pointed with her fork. “Okay. This one’s good. Solid. Reliable.”
Azzi tried it. “It tastes like someone’s aunt made it.”
“Exactly,” Paige said. “Comfort. Nostalgia.”
“We are not serving nostalgia cake at our wedding.”
“Speak for yourself.”
They moved on.
Paige took one bite of the next slice and immediately made a face.
“Oh no.”
Azzi leaned closer. “Bad?”
Paige swallowed bravely. “That tastes like someone panicked halfway through and just hoped for the best.”
Azzi laughed so hard she had to put her fork down.
The consultant politely pretended not to hear.
Paige took a bite of another slice and gasped. Actually gasped.
“Oh my god.”
Azzi froze. “What.”
“This is it.”
“You say that every time you eat chocolate bro.”
“I’m serious,” Paige said. “I would marry you right now over this cake.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve said all day.”
They tried one more. Azzi took a bite, paused, then went back for a second without speaking.
“This one,” Azzi said after a bite, surprised. “I like this one.”
Paige tried it. Paused.
Her smile softened. “Yeap,” she said quietly. “This feels right.”
Azzi tilted her head. “Because it’s fancy?”
Paige shook her head. “Not at all. Because it’s us. Sweet, but not trying too hard.”
Azzi smiled, nudging her knee. “You just described our relationship using cake.”
Paige grinned. “I contain multitudes.”
They glanced at each other, silent agreement settling in without discussion.
Paige reached for Azzi’s hand under the table, thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I can’t believe we’re choosing a cake for our wedding,” Azzi said softly.
Paige squeezed her hand. “I can’t believe I get to eat cake with you forever.”
—————————————-———————————
The morning sun spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, falling across the kitchen where Paige leaned against the counter, coffee in hand. Azzi sat at the table, elbows propped up, chin resting on her hands, eyes tracing Paige’s every movement like she could memorize it all before the wedding.
“One month,” Azzi murmured, voice quiet but heavy with wonder.
Paige froze mid-sip, heart catching. “Yeah,” she said softly, setting the mug down.
Azzi pushed herself up from the chair and walked around to stand in front of Paige, tilting her face up. “Do you even realize what that means?”
Paige’s throat tightened. “That we’re…?”
“That in exactly one month, I officially and legally get to call you my wife,” Azzi finished for her, lips barely parting, eyes shimmering.
Paige reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face, thumb tracing along her jawline. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted. “About seeing you walk toward me… about standing there knowing I get to be yours forever.”
Azzi’s hand rose to Paige’s chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I can’t stop thinking about it either,” she whispered. “About how every day I’ve ever known you led me here. About how lucky I am.”
Paige leaned down, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s, closing her eyes to savor the closeness. “Lucky doesn’t even cover it,” she murmured. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this… you… this life.”
Azzi smiled softly, eyes glistening. “We earned it together.”
Their lips met then, slow and reverent, like tasting forever for the first time. No urgency, just the warmth of two people who had waited, loved, and fought their way here. Hands tangled, hearts racing, the rest of the world fading into nothing but soft sunlight and each other.
Paige pulled back just enough to rest her nose against Azzi’s, voice barely above a whisper. “One month, and then… forever.”
Azzi smiled, brushing a kiss across Paige’s collarbone. “Forever starts with you.”
They stayed pressed together in the quiet morning, fingers laced, breathing in the life they’d built, savoring every second before the wedding bells rang and the world caught up to the love they’d already claimed.
The weeks passed faster after that — filled with lists, late nights, laughter, and the quiet weight of knowing exactly where it was all leading.
—————————————-———————————
The house of the venue was quieter than it had been all day. Not silent — just settled. The kind of quiet that comes after laughter has burned itself out and everyone has finally accepted that tomorrow is coming whether they sleep or not. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked shut. A light clicked off. Then nothing.
Paige kicked her shoes off by the bed and flopped backward onto it with a long exhale. “Okay. I’ve decided. I absolutely cannot do this without you.”
Azzi laughed from where she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. “You say that about literally everything.”
Paige turned her head toward the doorway. “No, I mean it. People keep acting like it’s some rule that we can’t see each other, and I’m like—” She sat up, gesturing vaguely. “Why would I willingly not be with the one person who makes me calm?”
Azzi rinsed and leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “You did say you didn’t want to spend the night apart.”
“I said I couldn’t,” Paige corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Azzi smiled, soft and fond. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Selective. I just give important moments the attention they deserve,” Paige said with a grin. “This is important.”
Azzi crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside her, folding her legs under herself. “You’re not worried about bad luck?”
Paige snorted. “The only bad luck would be me sleeping alone tonight.”
Azzi’s chest warmed. “Fair.”
They lay back side by side, the lamp on the nightstand casting a low, golden glow over the room. Paige stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening to Azzi’s breathing even out next to her.
“This is weird,” Paige said eventually.
Azzi tilted her head. “Good weird or bad weird?”
“Good,” Paige said quickly. “Just… I’ve spent so long imagining tomorrow that now that it’s actually here, my brain doesn’t know what to do with itself.”
Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”
Paige glanced at the closet. “Is it in there?”
Azzi smiled. “You don’t get to see it.”
“I know,” Paige said, holding up her hands. “I’m being respectful. Emotionally suffering, but respectful.”
Azzi laughed, leaning her head against Paige’s shoulder.
They stayed quiet for a moment, Paige watching Azzi like she was trying to memorize every freckle and line of her face.
“You okay?” Azzi asked.
Paige was quiet for a beat. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I just needed tonight with you. I wanted to see you. Like… you. Before everything.”
Azzi’s chest warmed at that. “You’ll see me tomorrow, baby.”
“I know,” Paige said. “But tomorrow we’ll be surrounded. Pulled in different directions. I wanted this version of you for a minute.”
“Any last-minute regrets?” Azzi teased, trying for casual and failing just a little.
Paige’s gaze dropped — slow, unapologetic — before lifting back to Azzi’s face. “Just one.”
Azzi raised a brow. “Be serious.”
“I regret agreeing to sleep,” Paige said calmly. “Because now I’m lying next to my future wife and I’m supposed to behave.”
Azzi’s breath hitched. “You’re so irritating, don’t play with that. You can’t say this like that.”
Paige smirked, leaning closer. “What? I didn’t even touch you.”
Azzi laughed, flustered, shoving her shoulder lightly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
Paige’s voice dropped, warm and smug. “Absolutely.”
Azzi swallowed, cheeks warm, eyes bright. “No regrets,” she murmured. “But you’re sleeping on thin ice.”
Paige smiled, satisfied. “Worth it.”
Paige reached out, fingers brushing Azzi’s pinky like she was testing the moment. “I just can’t believe I get to wake up next to you and then marry you a few hours later.”
Azzi smiled. “Sounds efficient.”
Paige laughed, then softened. She reached up, brushing Azzi’s hair back gently. “I didn’t want to wake up without you.”
Azzi’s throat tightened. “Me neither.”
They didn’t kiss. Not like that. Instead, Paige pulled Azzi closer, arms wrapping around her like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was. Azzi tucked her head under Paige’s chin, fitting there easily.
They fell asleep like that — tangled, calm, grounded — not worried about tradition or timing or superstition.
—————————————-———————————
The morning arrived softly. No alarms. No rush. Just pale light slipping through the curtains.
Azzi woke to quiet. Not the kind that felt empty — the kind that felt intentional.
For a moment, she thought Paige was still asleep beside her. Her arm reached out automatically, fingers brushing cold sheets instead. The other side of the bed was neatly made, like Paige had slipped out carefully, deliberately, without waking her.
Azzi blinked, disoriented. Then she saw it.
On Paige’s side of the bed sat a small tray: coffee steaming softly, a simple breakfast laid out with care. Beside it, a bouquet of flowers — nothing overdone, just fresh and thoughtful, the kind Paige always said felt like her. Tucked into the ribbon was a folded note.
Azzi’s chest tightened before she even touched it. She sat up slowly, pulling the note free.
Good morning, my love.
I didn’t want the first thing you felt today to be nerves or noise. I wanted it to be quiet. Warm. Yours.
Eat something. Drink your coffee. Breathe.
Today you don’t have to be brave. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to carry anything alone.
Just walk toward me. I’ll be right there.
I’ll see you soon — dressed, ready, and very much in love.
P.S. I just want you to know I already cried once and nothing has even happened.
— Your very excited future wife.
Azzi laughed softly through the sudden sting in her eyes.
She pressed the note to her chest for a second before setting it carefully on the nightstand. The flowers smelled faintly sweet. The coffee was exactly how she liked it — Paige never forgot that.
Azzi swung her legs over the side of the bed, grounding herself in the moment.
This was happening.
She took a sip of coffee, warmth settling in her chest, and let herself smile — wide and unguarded — because even before the dress, before the aisle, before forever officially began…
Paige had already found her. And she always would.
—————————————-———————————
Azzi got ready in silence. Not because the room was empty — it wasn’t — but because everything inside her had gone still. The kind of stillness that comes when something important finally settles into place.
She sat in front of the mirror while hands moved around her, careful and gentle, like everyone understood this wasn’t just another morning.
The room was filled with soft movement: the hush of fabric, the clink of jewelry being set down, the low murmur of voices that felt careful, reverent. Light spilled in through the windows, catching on the edges of the mirror, the dress waiting nearby like it already knew its purpose.
She sat while someone worked on her hair, hands folded neatly in her lap, breathing steady.
She thought, briefly, of the little girl she used to be — the one who imagined love from a distance, who learned early how to be self-sufficient, how to keep her heart folded small. She wondered if that girl would recognize this version of herself.
She hoped she would.
Her phone rested on the table beside her. Paige’s note sat folded next to it, edges already soft from how many times Azzi had opened it. She picked it up again, fingers trembling just slightly.
Just walk toward me.
Then folded it carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket she’d sewn into the dress herself. A secret. Just hers.
When it was time, she stood.
The dress slid into place smoothly, settling against her body like it belonged there — like it had been made not just for her shape, but for the life she was stepping into. It hugged her waist, flared softly at her hips, moved with her instead of against her.
She finally looked at herself. And for the first time, she didn’t search for flaws. She saw someone brave.
Someone who had loved and stayed and risked being seen. Someone who had learned that needing another person didn’t mean losing herself — it meant finding somewhere safe to land. Someone who had fought with teeth and nails to be who she wanted to be.
Her eyes filled, quietly.
Paige’s mom covered her mouth. Mia turned away, already crying.
Azzi laughed softly through it. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, let’s not cry. We’re going to ruin our makeup.”
They handed her the bouquet. The weight of it grounded her, real and solid in her hands.
She closed her eyes once more.
Not to calm down. To remember this feeling — the ache, the certainty, the overwhelming rightness of it all.
When the moment finally came. She wasn’t afraid.
She was about to walk toward the person who had chosen her without hesitation.
Toward the love she never thought she was allowed to want.
Toward her home.
And that thought alone was enough to carry her forward.
—————————————-———————————
Paige kept it simple. That was always her way.
She’d woken up early, slipped out of bed carefully, and built herself something to do — coffee, flowers, breakfast — because if she’d stayed, if she’d let herself linger, she wouldn’t have made it through the morning without crying into Azzi’s hair.
Paige picked up her phone, opened the photo she’d saved weeks ago without telling anyone — Azzi laughing, head tipped back, unaware she was being watched. Paige smiled, throat tightening.
She stood in front of the mirror and pulled her hair back into a slick bun with practiced ease, smoothing it until it felt sharp and clean and exactly right. No loose strands. No second guessing. Just deliberate, steady movements — something she could control.
Someone always hovering nearby — not crowding her, just present. Drew sitting on the edge of the bed. Her dad leaning against the doorframe. Paige didn’t look back, but she felt it. The quiet company mattered.
She reached for her mascara, brushed it on lightly, just enough to darken her lashes. When she paused, she caught her own reflection and smiled faintly.
For a second, she wasn’t in the room where she’d marry her girl. She was back in their home, in their bathroom weeks ago, perched on the counter while Azzi stood between her knees, already too focused on something Paige had insisted was unnecessary.
“Bro,” Paige had said, blinking up at her. “I just do mascara. That’s my thing. It’s literally all I’ve ever known.”
Azzi had snorted, shaking her head. “You’re the one who said you wanted to go all out.”
“Not cosmetically,” Paige replied.
Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, warm and fond. “I’m not changing your face. I’m enhancing what’s already unfair.”
Paige scoffed. “Unfair to who?”
Azzi didn’t hesitate. “To everyone else.”
She’d unscrewed the concealer then, dabbing a small amount onto her fingertip. Paige remembered the way Azzi’s touch had been gentle, reverent even, like she was handling something precious instead of her very stubborn fiancée.
“Look at me,” Azzi had murmured.
Paige had gone quiet instantly.
Azzi had blended carefully beneath her eyes, thumbs warm against her skin. “You don’t need any of this,” she’d said softly, more to herself than to Paige. “You wake up beautiful. You breathe and it’s annoying how good you look.”
Paige had laughed, a little flustered despite herself. “You’re biased.”
Azzi had smiled — slow, sure. “Yeah. And I’m right. Just don’t overdo it.”
Paige huffed now, fingers tightening around the concealer.
She dabbed a little under her eyes, just like Azzi had shown her. Tapped. Blended. Careful. Intentional.
“This is already more than I ever do,” she muttered.
Someone laughed quietly behind her.
The suit waited on the hanger, pristine and heavy with meaning. Paige let her hands linger on the fabric before pulling on the shirt, buttoning it slowly, carefully — not because she didn’t know how, but because every second suddenly felt precious.
She adjusted the cuffs. Straightened the collar. Slid into the jacket and rolled her shoulders once, grounding herself in the weight of it.
Then she stopped. Because the thought hit her all at once.
She was about to see Azzi. In her dress. Walking toward her. Choosing her — in front of everyone.
Paige swallowed hard.
Her chest felt too full, like if she breathed wrong she’d cry — and that would be it for the concealer she’d just put all that effort into getting right. She pressed her thumb against the inside of her wrist, steadying herself.
“You good?” Drew asked gently.
Paige nodded, though her eyes were bright. “Yeah,” she said. “I just… yeah.”
She took one last look in the mirror. Not to check her appearance.
To memorize the woman staring back — the one standing on the edge of forever.
Paige exhaled slowly.
“I’m about to marry the love of my life,” she said quietly, like saying it out loud might make it real.
Her dad squeezed her shoulder. Paige smiled.
And when it was time to go, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward — steady, intentional, already in love.
—————————————-———————————
Paige followed without a second thought. She’d been told they needed her opinion on flowers — something about arrangements, colors, heights. Paige nodded like she understood any of it, hands in her pockets, calm in a way that surprised even herself. She wasn’t nervous. Not really. She felt steady. Certain.
They stopped in one of the rooms off the main hall — tall ceilings, open doors, light spilling in through wide windows. It wasn’t the garden yet. Just a quiet space, empty except for the hum of anticipation.
“Okay,” Paige said, glancing around. “Where are these mystery flowers I’m supposed to approve?”
Azzi hovered near the door, fingers twisting together. “Before that,” she said quickly, “can you do me a favor?”
“…Az?” Paige said, confused. “What are you doing here?”
Azzi’s voice came from behind her. “Can you, um… look at the wall for a second?”
Paige froze. “What.”
“Just— look at the wall. Please.”
Paige laughed, half-turning. “Az—”
“Paige.”
Something in her voice made Paige stop instantly.
“Okay,” Paige said, turning fully now, palms braced against the wall like she’d been arrested. “This feels illegal.”
Azzi laughed, breathless. “Just a tiny crime.”
She stepped closer. Paige felt her presence immediately, familiar and grounding.
“I just— I know you,” Azzi said, breathless. “And you’re gonna cry like a baby and then I’m gonna cry and then we’re gonna ruin our faces before the ceremony, so this as controlled as I could do it.”
Paige stared at the wall. “This is the least controlled thing you’ve ever done.”
Azzi ignored that. “I couldn’t wait,” she admitted softly. “I tried. I swear I tried.”
Paige swallowed. Her heart jumped painfully.
“Azzi,” she said quietly, “what are you doing?”
Paige could feel her now — warmth at her back, the faint brush of fabric, the presence she knew better than her own pulse.
They stood back to back.
“Just— one first look. One tiny look. It doesn’t count.”
Paige closed her eyes. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Maybe,” Azzi said, smiling. Paige could hear it. “Okay. On three.”
Paige’s breath hitched. “You planned this?”
“Shh,” Azzi murmured. “One.”
Paige’s fingers curled into the fabric of her pants.
“Two.”
Her chest tightened, already full, already teetering.
“And three.”
They turned.
Paige forgot every flower, every arrangement, every single thing she’d been pretending to care about.
Azzi stood there — strapless dress hugging her exactly right, shoulders strong, waist pulled in, hips flaring like the dress had been designed with only her in mind. She looked unreal. Steady. Soft and devastating all at once.
“Holy crap,” she said, barely a sound.
Azzi smiled — that familiar, grounding smile that had carried her through every important moment of her life. “Hi.”
Paige laughed, a broken, disbelieving sound. Her hands flew up to her face before she could stop herself. “You’re kidding.”
Azzi stepped closer. “I’m not.”
Paige shook her head, eyes already glassy. “You’re… Az. You’re—”
Azzi kissed her once — quick, soft, secret. “Yeah, we are.”
Paige looked at her then — really looked. “I’m so glad I didn’t see it before.”
Azzi smiled, eyes shining. “Me too.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my life.”
Azzi leaned in, resting her forehead against Paige’s. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I’m walking toward you in about twenty minutes.”
Paige closed her eyes, steadying herself. “That feels so unfair.”
Azzi grinned. “You’ll survive.”
Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, thumb brushing along Azzi’s jaw. “You chose perfectly.”
Azzi’s voice softened. “So did you.”
They stood there for a moment longer, holding each other, letting the reality settle — not the spectacle, not the ceremony.
Just this.
And when they finally pulled apart, hands lingering, smiles unsteady, the day rushed back in around them.
But the most important part had already happened.
They had found each other.
—————————————-———————————
The venue looked like something pulled out of a dream and gently made real.
The house sat back from the drive, warm and quiet, its wide windows glowing softly as if it had been waiting for them. Beyond it, the garden opened up — expansive and alive, overflowing with flowers in a way that felt intentional but never stiff. Blooms spilled along the paths and climbed around archways, colors layered thoughtfully, like the whole place had been dressed with care rather than excess.
String lights were woven everywhere — draped between trees, wrapped loosely around branches, cascading overhead until the air itself seemed to glow. As the light faded, they turned the garden into something intimate and endless all at once, each bulb a small promise of celebration. Long tables stretched across the lawn, dressed simply, leaving room for laughter and movement, for people to gather and stay. It felt open, full of possibility — a space that could hold joy without needing to contain it.
Nothing screamed for attention, yet everything felt extraordinary. The venue didn’t demand a wedding; it welcomed one. And standing there, surrounded by flowers and light and quiet anticipation, it was impossible not to feel it — this was a place meant for love, for vows spoken under open sky, for a beginning that felt both grand and deeply personal.
The music began softly. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just enough to fill the space and give Azzi something to breathe to.
She stood at the edge of it all, bouquet steady in her hands, the world narrowed down to the stretch of aisle in front of her. The murmurs quieted, like the room itself understood what was about to happen.
“Ready?” someone whispered beside her.
Azzi nodded. And then she stepped forward.
The first thing she noticed wasn’t the crowd. Or the light. Or the way heads turned.
It was Paige.
Paige stood at the end of the aisle, hands clasped in front of her, posture perfect and completely undone. Her composure lasted exactly half a second.
Then her breath caught.
Azzi saw it — the way Paige’s shoulders fell, like she’d been holding something in all day and finally let it go. The way her eyes filled, immediate and unashamed. The small, disbelieving smile that broke across her face like this was better than she’d ever dared to imagine.
Azzi smiled back. Not the polite smile meant for photos. Not the careful one.
The real one. The one Paige knew better than anyone.
With each step, the world softened. Applause faded. Faces blurred. Even the music seemed to quiet, like it was giving them space.
Halfway down the aisle, Paige laughed softly — a breathless sound that made Azzi’s chest warm. She wiped at her eyes quickly, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe this was happening. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
Azzi kept walking.
She felt steady. Grounded. Every step sure.
This was where she was meant to be.
Paige watched her like the aisle didn’t exist at all, like Azzi was already right in front of her. Like this was the moment she’d been holding in her chest for years.
When Azzi finally reached her, Paige didn’t wait for instruction.
She reached out.
Their hands met — warm, familiar, home.
Paige laughed under her breath. “You know you’re ruining my composure, right?”
Azzi smiled sweetly. “I’ve been doing that for years.”
Paige laughed again, soft and emotional. “I just—” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
Azzi squeezed her hand.
They turned together then, facing the officiant, facing the future.
But for a brief, perfect second, it was just them — hands linked, breath shared, love steady and undeniable.
The aisle had done its job. It had brought her exactly where she belonged.
The officiant smiled at them both, waiting until the last whisper of movement faded, until every eye was forward and every heart was ready.
“Good afternoon,” she began gently. “We are gathered here today to witness something extraordinary.”
Paige squeezed Azzi’s hands, just once — a quiet I love you.
Azzi squeezed back.
The officiant continued, voice warm and steady. “Not just a wedding, but a promise. A commitment chosen freely, deliberately, and with love.”
Azzi felt the words wash over her, but her focus never left Paige. The way Paige’s eyes never wandered. The way her thumb brushed small, grounding circles against Azzi’s skin.
“This is not the beginning of your story,” the officiant said. “It is a moment in the middle — a pause where we get to celebrate how far you’ve come, and how intentionally you are choosing what comes next.”
Paige swallowed, nodding slightly like the words were landing exactly where they needed to.
Azzi’s chest felt full. Steady. Sure.
The officiant smiled. “Paige and Azzi have chosen to write their own vows.”
A soft murmur moved through the guests.
Paige inhaled slowly, then released it. She shifted her grip, letting go of one of Azzi’s hands only long enough to reach into her pocket.
Azzi watched her with complete trust.
Paige unfolded the paper, hands just barely shaking. She looked up first, eyes shining. “Okay,” she said softly. “I got this.”
A small laugh rippled through the crowd.
And then Paige began.
“Hi,” she said, laughing softly through it. “I had this whole plan to get through this without crying.”
Azzi smiled at her, warm and steady.
Paige exhaled. “So much for plans.”
“When I first met you,” she began softly, “I didn’t recognize it as love. Because love, at least the way I understood it back then, was supposed to feel easy. Familiar. Safe in a way that didn’t ask much of me.”
A quiet smile tugged at her lips.
“And you were none of those things.”
A quiet, knowing giggle moved through the crowd.
“You challenged me. You questioned me. You showed up in my life and made it impossible for me to stay exactly who I was. You didn’t let me hide behind comfort or certainty. You asked me to be honest — with you, and with myself.”
Paige’s thumb brushed slowly over Azzi’s hand.
“You didn’t arrive gently. You didn’t demand anything from me. But you stayed. And in staying, you asked me to do the same. To listen. To grow. To choose.”
Her voice softened, emotion creeping in.
“With you, I learned that love doesn’t always announce itself. It doesn’t always come in fireworks or grand moments. Sometimes it builds itself quietly — stubbornly — through trust, through patience, through choosing each other even when you don’t want to.”
Her eyes shone, but she didn’t look away.
“And somehow, the hard parts didn’t scare me off. They didn’t make me run. They became the reason I stayed. Because you’re worth every one of them. And the way you make me feel is worth every one of them.”
Paige took a breath, grounding herself.
“I promise to keep choosing you. On the days when it feels effortless, and on the days when it doesn’t. I promise to listen when you’re quiet, to stand with you when things feel heavy, and to celebrate you when the joy feels too big to hold.”
She smiled through tears.
“I promise to protect your heart without trying to control it. To love you not for who I think you should be, but for who you are — fully, honestly, and always.”
Azzi’s eyes shone, tears slipping free.
“I promise to build a life with you that feels safe. A home where you can be you. A love that never makes you feel like you have to earn it.”
Paige’s voice dropped, just for Azzi.
“You are my best friend, my calm, my courage, my greatest challenge and the most beautiful reward of my life.”
She took a shaky breath.
“And I promise that for the rest of my life, I will keep choosing you — not because it’s easy, but because it’s you. And loving you has been the truest thing I’ve ever known.”
Paige pressed her forehead briefly to Azzi’s.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I always will.”
The silence afterward was thick with emotion — the kind that felt sacred.
Azzi was already sobbing.
Half the guests were too.
Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head as she wiped at her cheeks.
“How am I supposed to follow that?” she said, voice thick. “You’re so annoying, dude.”
The crowd laughed gently. Paige smiled through her tears.
Azzi took a breath, grounding herself.
“I didn’t plan this,” she admitted. “Obviously I planned the wedding,” she laughed. “But not us. Not falling in love with you.”
“When we met, I thought you were intense,” she said softly, a small smile breaking through. “Stubborn. Completely exhausting.”
Paige laughed under her breath, and Azzi smiled a little wider.
“And I was wrong,” she continued. “You weren’t difficult. You were brave. You cared deeply. You refused to let things stay shallow, even when that would have been easier.”
Her voice softened.
“And I know I wasn’t easy either. I was guarded. I kept my distance. I pretended I didn’t care as much as I did, because caring felt like giving something up — like losing control.”
Azzi swallowed.
“You made it impossible for me to stay distant. You stayed. Even when I pulled back. Even when I made it hard. Even when I acted like I didn’t need you.”
Her grip tightened, steady and sure.
“You asked questions I didn’t want to answer. You challenged the parts of me that felt comfortable but lonely. You saw me clearly — and you didn’t leave.”
Emotion crept into her voice, but she didn’t look away.
“I didn’t fall for you all at once. I fought it. I argued with it. I told myself what we had was temporary, or complicated, or too hard to hold onto.”
She smiled through the tears.
“But you kept showing up. In the quiet moments. In the hard conversations. In all the spaces where love actually lives.”
Azzi exhaled slowly.
“With you, love wasn’t fireworks. It was choice. It was trust. It was learning how to stay when every instinct in me said to run.”
Her voice dropped, just for Paige.
“You taught me that vulnerability isn’t weakness. That needing someone doesn’t make you smaller — it makes you honest.”
She squeezed Paige’s hands, grounding them both.
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
“You made room for me. All of me. Even the parts that didn’t know how to ask to be loved.”
Azzi’s eyes shone.
“I promise to keep choosing you. On the days when it’s easy, and on the days when it feels like work. I promise to meet you with patience instead of walls. With honesty instead of distance.”
Her voice wavered, but she kept going.
“I promise to build a life with you that is full and real and loud with laughter. A home where we can both be strong and soft, serious and ridiculous.”
Azzi’s voice softened, just for Paige.
“You are my favorite place to land. My safest risk. My best decision. You are my home. Not because you make everything easy—but because you make everything worth staying for.”
She squeezed Paige’s hands.
“I love you. And I choose you. Today, and every day after.”
Silence fell — full and heavy and reverent.
Paige was crying openly now.
So was Azzi.
And everyone there knew they had just witnessed something deeply, unmistakably real.
True love.
The officiant let the silence linger.
Not because it was awkward, but because it deserved to be honored.
When she finally spoke, her voice was warm, steady. “Thank you both for those beautiful vows.”
She turned slightly, addressing them and only them. “Paige and Azzi have chosen to seal these promises with rings.”
Paige reached into her pocket, hands still shaking just a little. She took the ring, cool and simple, and held it carefully between her fingers.
Azzi offered her hand without hesitation.
Paige slid the ring on slowly, like she wanted to remember the weight of the moment. “With this ring,” she said quietly, “I choose you. Every day.”
Azzi’s breath caught. Then it was her turn.
Azzi took the second ring, smiling through tears. She held Paige’s hand firmly, grounding them both. “With this ring,” she said, voice steady and certain, “I promise to stay.”
Paige laughed softly, crying harder.
The officiant smiled at the sight of them. “By the power vested in me,” she said, “and by the promises you have made to one another, I now pronounce you married.”
A beat.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Paige didn’t hesitate. She cupped Azzi’s face, careful and reverent, like this was something sacred. The kiss was slow at first — a release, a breath — and then deeper, full of laughter and tears and the kind of joy that can’t be contained.
They pulled back just enough to laugh into each other’s smiles.
“We’re married,” Paige whispered, disbelieving.
Azzi smiled, glowing. “We are.”
Hand in hand, they turned to face everyone — family, friends, witnesses to the thing they had built slowly and deliberately.
As they walked back down the aisle together, the music swelling behind them, Paige leaned in close.
“I can’t believe I get to do life with you,” she said.
Azzi squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t be happier.”
They didn’t rush. They didn’t let go.
They walked forward like this was exactly where they were always meant to be — together, chosen, home.
—————————————-———————————
They barely made it inside the room before Paige shut the door and immediately slid down it.
“Okay,” she said, staring at the ceiling. “I’m gonna pass out or cry again. Not sure which.”
Azzi dropped into the nearest chair, laughing so hard she had to bend forward. “You held it together for exactly twelve seconds after the kiss.”
“I did great,” Paige argued. “Heroic even.”
Azzi kicked her shoe off dramatically. “My face hurts from smiling.”
Paige looked at her, eyes widening. “Wait. You’re married.”
Azzi gasped. “Oh my god, you are too.”
They stared at each other for a beat before Paige snorted and covered her face with both hands.
“This is real,” Paige said muffled. “We legally did this.”
Azzi leaned back, grinning. “You put a ring on it.”
Paige peeked through her fingers. “I promised to stay.”
“You said it in front of witnesses,” Azzi reminded her. “You’re trapped.”
Paige laughed, pushing herself up and crossing the room. She pulled Azzi into the couch. “You looked at me and I forgot how words work.”
Azzi shrugged. “That’s my brand.”
Paige rested her forehead on Azzi’s chest. “I blacked out during half the ceremony.”
“Same,” Azzi said. “I think someone said something poetic about commitment. No idea.”
Paige groaned. “Did I cry too much?”
Azzi smiled sweetly. “Oh, aggressively.”
Paige laughed. “Great. Athletic crying.”
They went quiet for half a second.
Then Paige looked up. “You’re my wife.”
Azzi laughed again. “You just realized?”
“I keep remembering and it keeps hitting me,” Paige said. “Like—boom. Wife.”
Azzi leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You’re doing amazing.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Paige yelled, “WE NEED A MINUTE.”
Azzi burst out laughing. “They’re going to think we’re having sex or something.”
Paige leaned her head on Azzi’s chest again, listening to the steady beat of her heart.
“Hey,” Paige’s voice softened. “I really meant everything I said.”
Azzi took her hand. “I know.”
Azzi laughed, draping an arm around her shoulders. “I love this. Just us. Married. Weirdly responsible adults now.” Azzi kissed the top of her head, smiling softly. “Honestly? I don’t think it’s going to get any better than this.”
Paige tilted her head up to look at her. “Are you serious? Because… I think it could. I think life with you is going to get better every single day.”
Azzi kissed her temple. “Married looks good on us.”
And there, on that couch, in their little post-wedding bubble, the rest of the world faded away. They were married. They were home. And everything felt exactly right.
☆》 ━ author's notes: had time during the recovery from my heart procedure to write a little and can’t explain how good it felt and how much i’ve missed it 😭. hope you guys enjoy! live reactions are always appreciated. love youu 🤍 not edited at all as per your request 🫣
Azzi used to imagine being twenty-one all the time when she was little. She’d been imagining this age for as long as she could remember. As a kid, twenty-one had sounded huge. Grown. Certain. She used to picture herself with everything figured out, even if she didn’t know what everything was supposed to be.
None of those versions of the future looked like this.
And yet, lying there in the quiet of her birthday morning, Azzi knew she wouldn’t trade her life for any of them.
Back then, the picture was always blurry—grown-up in a vague, abstract way. She’d imagined independence, maybe happiness, maybe a job she loved. But none of those childhood daydreams ever came close to how her life actually looked now.
And somehow, it was better.
She was twenty-one and almost done with school. Three years instead of four. Not because it had been easy—because she had made it happen. Extra classes every semester, summer courses when everyone else went home, nights spent studying while the rest of the world seemed to slow down. She overloaded her schedule on purpose, pushing herself harder than anyone expected, including herself.
Now the degree was basically finished. Completed early. Earned.
Azzi still caught herself smiling about it at random moments, like it wasn’t real yet.
Her life felt full in ways she hadn’t known to ask for as a kid. She was engaged—engaged—to Paige, and even thinking the word made her chest warm. Wedding planning tabs were permanently open on her laptop, half-finished mood boards and notes scattered across her desk.
Azzi wasn’t rushing toward the next thing. She could stand still, look around, and think: This is my life. And I love it.
This wasn’t the life she’d imagined at ten or twelve or even eighteen. But it was better. Happier. Real.
Azzi stared up at the ceiling and let herself sit with the thought for a moment longer.
Twenty-one didn’t feel like the beginning or the end.
It felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Azzi was still staring at the ceiling when she heard it—soft footsteps, familiar enough that she didn’t even need to look.
“Happy birthday baby,” Paige whispered, voice warm and a little sleepy.
Azzi smiled instantly.
She turned her head just in time to see Paige leaning over her, hair messy, wearing one of Azzi’s shirts like she always did. There was something about the way she said it—quiet, like the words were just for her—that made Azzi’s chest tighten in the best way.
“Twenty-one,” Paige added, brushing her thumb gently across Azzi’s cheek. “Easily the prettiest twenty-one-year-old I’ve ever seen.”
Azzi laughed softly. “I feel exactly the same.”
Paige smiled back, that knowing one that said she didn’t believe her for a second. “You don’t look it. I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even more gorgeous than yesterday.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You say that every day.”
“Because it keeps being true,” Paige replied easily.
She leaned down and kissed her—slow, unhurried, like there was nowhere else they needed to be. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against Azzi’s.
“Almost done with school. Engaged. Birthday girl. I can officially buy you a drink,” Paige murmured. “Pretty impressive résumé.”
Azzi closed her eyes, smiling, breathing her in.
This, she thought. This was the part she never could’ve imagined when she was little. Not the degree, not the age—but waking up like this, with someone who loved her so easily it felt effortless.
“If you keep listing things,” Azzi said, smiling, “I’m going to start crying before I even get out of bed.”
Paige grinned. “Good. That means I’m doing my job right.”
She kissed her again, softer this time.
“Stay there. Birthday rule. I’m making coffee.”
Azzi listened to the familiar sounds—cups clinking, the machine whirring to life—and let herself sink back into the pillows. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, warm and slow, and for once she didn’t feel the usual pull of deadlines and to-do lists. Today could wait.
Paige came back with two mugs, handing Azzi hers like it was something precious.
Azzi took a sip of her coffee when she noticed Paige looked way too pleased with herself.
“What?” Azzi asked, already suspicious.
Paige tried—and failed—to look casual. “Nothing.”
“That smile’s never good.”
Paige laughed. “I just think you should maybe… get dressed. Like, cute but comfortable.”
Azzi narrowed her eyes. “You planned something?”
Paige held up her hands. “I planned a day. A whole day. For you. No school stress, no wedding spreadsheets, no ‘I should be studying right now.’ Just us.”
Azzi blinked. “You did not.”
“I absolutely did,” Paige said proudly. She leaned closer, voice softer now. “You’ve been pushing yourself so hard. Carrying everything like it’s light when I know it’s not. Today, you don’t have to do any of that.”
Azzi felt her chest tighten. “You didn’t have to—”
“Come on, Az. You should know better by now, I wanted to,” Paige interrupted gently. “It’s your twenty-first. I get to spoil you so much.”
Azzi set her mug down and reached for her, fingers curling into the fabric of Paige’s shirt. “You’re dangerous.”
Paige grinned. “You’re engaged to me. You knew that already.”
Azzi kissed her, slow and grateful. “Okay. Let’s do it. Surprise me.”
Paige smiled like she’d just won something. “Okay, step one starts in approximately ten minutes.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And what is step one?”
Paige kissed her again, a little bit deeper. “Making you cum so hard you say yes to marrying me all over again.”
From the nightstand, Paige retrieved a sleek, matte black box. It was unmarked. Azzi’s breath hitched, curiosity and a thrill of anticipation curling in her stomach. She sat up, the sheet pooling around her hips.
“Open it.”
Azzi’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the lid. Nestled in black satin was a harness, elegant in its simplicity, and a silicone strap-on, a realistic, pleasingly girthy length in a deep, dusky purple. Her mouth went dry. She’d hinted, of course. Dropped not-so-subtle comments. But seeing it here, in their bedroom, on her birthday morning…
“Paige…” she breathed.
“Do you like it?” Paige’s voice was a husky whisper. She took the harness from the box, the straps whispering against themselves. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. For us.”
“I love it,” Azzi said, her voice thick. Her core clenched, emptiness already a sweet, aching pulse between her legs. “I want it. Now.”
That was all the encouragement Paige needed. With efficient, sure movements, she slipped out of her boxers and stepped into the harness, adjusting the straps over her hips, buckling them snug. She picked up the purple silicone, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke before clicking it into place. It stood out against her toned abdomen, a bold, beautiful promise.
Azzi watched, transfixed, heat flooding her cheeks and pooling lower, much lower. She was already wet, a slick, wanting heat she knew Paige would feel.
Paige knelt on the bed, crawling over Azzi with a predator’s grace. She kissed her again, harder this time, her tongue sweeping in as her body settled between Azzi’s thighs. The cool, smooth silicone pressed against Azzi’s stomach, a shocking contrast to the heat of their skin.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Paige growled, nipping at Azzi’s lower lip. Her hands pushed under Azzi, gripping her ass, lifting her hips. “And this pretty, untouched pussy is all mine today.”
Azzi moaned, her head falling back. “Yours. Always yours.”
Paige kissed down her neck, her collarbone, taking a moment to swirl her tongue around a peaked nipple, making Azzi cry out. She continued her path south, over the quivering plane of Azzi’s stomach, but didn’t stop where Azzi desperately wanted her to. Instead, she positioned herself, her body caging Azzi’s, the head of the strap nudging insistently at Azzi’s soaked entrance.
Azzi’s legs fell open wider, an invitation, a plea. Her whole world narrowed to that point of pressure, the promise of fullness.
Paige looked down, her eyes dark with lust and possession. She held Azzi’s gaze as she pushed forward, just an inch, a slow, burning invasion that made them both gasp.
“Oh, god, Paige… more.”
“Look at me,” Paige commanded, her voice trembling with the effort of control. She pushed in another excruciating, perfect inch. The stretch was incredible, a deep, filling pressure Azzi had only fantasized about. Her inner muscles fluttered, trying to adjust, to cling.
Paige’s hips rolled, a shallow, testing thrust. Azzi saw stars. A broken sob escaped her.
“That’s it,” Paige breathed, her own breath coming in short pants. She leaned down, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear. “I’m so happy I’m the first one to stretch this pretty pussy. To feel how tight you are around me. All mine.”
The thought, filthy and perfect, unleashed something in Paige. She withdrew almost completely, then slammed back in, burying herself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful stroke.
Azzi screamed. The sensation was overwhelming—the deep, filling stretch, the friction, the perfect angle as Paige’s hips met hers. It was everything. It was too much. Her nails dug into Paige’s shoulders.
Paige set a relentless, deep rhythm. Each thrust was a claim, each retreat a torment. The slap of skin on skin, their mingled gasps, the creak of the bedsprings filled the sunlit room.
“You feel that?” Paige grunted, her pace unforgiving. “You feel how deep I am? Taking every fucking inch?”
“Yes! Yes!” Azzi chanted, her vision blurring. The coil in her belly tightened with terrifying speed. The strap hit a spot inside her that made her see white. “Right there! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
“Come for me,” Paige demanded, her thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more precise, grinding against that perfect spot with every slam of her hips. “Come on my strap, birthday girl. Show me how much you love your present.”
It was too much. The command, the sensation, the look in Paige’s eyes. Azzi shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, a violent, soul-deep convulsion that locked her muscles and tore a raw, endless scream from her throat. Her walls clamped and fluttered around the silicone, milking it as waves of pure, electric pleasure crashed over her.
Paige fucked her through it, prolonging the spasms until Azzi was a sobbing, boneless mess beneath her.
But she didn’t stop.
As Azzi’s cries softened to whimpers, Paige shifted, pulling out and flipping Azzi onto her stomach with a strength that left her dizzy. She pulled Azzi’s hips up, arching her back.
“Not done,” Paige panted, her hand coming down in a sharp, stinging smack on Azzi’s ass. Azzi jolted, a fresh surge of wetness coating her inner thighs. The strap nudged at her entrance again, slick with her own arousal.
“You can take more. I know you can.”
And she pushed back in, this angle even deeper, more invasive. Azzi choked on a moan, her oversensitive nerves screaming in a mixture of pain and blinding pleasure. Paige set a brutal, pounding pace, her fingers digging into Azzi’s hips.
The second orgasm was dragged from her, a slower, deeper burn that built and built until it erupted, leaving her trembling and weak. Paige didn’t pause, didn’t relent. She brought Azzi to the edge again and again with her hands, her mouth, and then with the relentless, wonderful strap, each climax rolling into the next until Azzi lost count, until her body was no longer her own, until she was just a vessel for pure sensation.
She was shaking, truly shaking, her muscles quivering with exhaustion and aftershocks, when Paige finally stilled deep inside her, both of them drenched in sweat. Paige collapsed beside her, carefully withdrawing, and gathered Azzi into her arms.
Azzi couldn’t speak. She could only tremble, nuzzling into Paige’s neck, her entire body humming.
Paige kissed her forehead, her own breathing gradually slowing. She traced a finger down Azzi’s spine, making her shiver. “Happy birthday, baby.”
Azzi found her voice, a hoarse whisper. “That was…”
Paige’s grin was pure, smug satisfaction. “The first of many.” Her hand drifted lower, cupping Azzi’s still-throbbing clit. “You think you’re tapped out?” Her voice dropped to that dangerous, husky register. “I think you’ve got one more in you. A little birthday bonus.”
Azzi’s eyes flew open, a fresh jolt of desperate arousal shooting through her spent body. “Paige, I can’t, I’m—”
“You can,” Paige interrupted, her fingers finding a slick, swollen fold. “And you will. I want to feel you come one more time. Just for me.”
Azzi could only nod, a lazy, sated movement against Paige’s shoulder. But a new current was stirring in the haze of her satisfaction. The memory of being utterly controlled, of being fucked into a shaking mess… it was glorious. But the sight of Paige, powerful and in command, the harness a part of her… it sparked a different kind of heat. A need to touch. To steer.
She shifted, rolling onto her side to face Paige. Her fingers traced the line of the harness strap cutting across Paige’s hipbone, over the firm muscle of her abdomen. The purple silicone was still gleaming, a testament to their activities.
“My turn,” Azzi whispered, her voice scratchy but firm.
Paige’s eyebrows lifted, a slow, intrigued smile spreading. “Your turn to do what, birthday girl?”
“To drive.” Azzi pushed herself up, her body protesting but her determination iron-clad. She swung a leg over Paige’s hips, settling into a straddle. The strap pressed against her inner thigh, a cool, foreign presence. “I want to ride you.”
A dark, hungry gleam lit Paige’s eyes. She relaxed back into the pillows, hands coming to rest on Azzi’s thighs. “Oh yeah? Think you can handle that?”
“I know I can.” Azzi’s confidence was a new, thrilling sensation. She braced her hands on Paige’s chest, feeling the strong, steady heartbeat beneath her palms. She lifted her hips, positioning herself. The head of the strap nudged at her entrance, already slick and swollen from use. She sank down slowly, a sharp, full gasp tearing from her throat as she took the first inch.
“Fuck, look at you,” Paige breathed, her hands gripping Azzi’s thighs tighter.
Azzi lowered herself further, the stretch still exquisite, the fullness sublime. She took her time, sinking down until she was fully seated, Paige’s hips flush against her ass. She paused, adjusting, feeling every ridge and vein of the silicone inside her. It was different. She was in control of the depth, the angle.
She began to move, a slow, experimental rock of her hips. Pleasure sparked, deep and immediate.
“Wait,” Paige murmured, her voice a rough catalyst. She gave Azzi’s thigh a light slap. “Turn around. I want to watch it disappear into you from behind.”
A shiver of pure lust shot through Azzi. She climbed off, her body feeling empty and cold for a second, before turning, presenting her back to Paige. She lowered herself again, this time in reverse, guiding the strap inside with one hand. The angle was different, deeper from the start. She let out a shaky moan as she sank down fully.
“Yes,” Paige hissed, her hands immediately finding Azzi’s hips. “Now show me how you fuck yourself on my cock.”
The word, so crude and perfect, sent a jolt through Azzi. She planted her hands on Paige’s knees for leverage and began to move. Up, then down, a steady, rising rhythm. She could control the pace, the depth, the grind. She found a sweet spot almost immediately, a deep, internal nudge that made her gasp. She chased it, rocking back, changing the angle of her descent.
“That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her thumbs digging into the dimples of Azzi’s lower back. “You found your spot, didn’t you? Hitting that G-spot all by yourself. Good girl.”
The praise burned through her. Azzi’s movements became more deliberate, more desperate. She rode Paige with rising intensity, the wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filling the room. Her own moans were loud, unfiltered. She was doing this. She was making herself feel this incredible.
Paige’s hand came down on her ass—a sharp, stinging crack that echoed.
Azzi cried out, her rhythm faltering for a second before she ground down harder, the spike of pain melting instantly into a flood of heat.
“Again,” she panted, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes glazed with need.
Paige’s grin was feral. Her hand landed again, on the other cheek. Then again, a rapid-fire volley of spanks that turned Azzi’s skin hot and sensitive. Each impact jolted through her, tightening her core, making her clench around the strap inside her. She was losing herself in the dual sensation—the deep, perfect fullness and the sharp, sweet sting on her ass.
“You like that, don’t you?” Paige growled, her own breathing becoming ragged. She delivered another spank, then rubbed the heated skin. “You like getting your pretty ass spanked while you fuck yourself on me. You’re so greedy. Taking what you want.”
“I am,” Azzi gasped, her movements becoming sloppier, more frantic. “I’m taking it. It’s mine. You’re mine.” The assertion, so unlike her earlier submission, felt powerful.
“Damn right I am,” Paige agreed, her voice thick. Her hands gripped Azzi’s hips, not to guide, but to feel. “Now come for me. Make yourself come on my strap. Let me feel you milk it.”
The command was the final trigger. Azzi’s control snapped. She slammed down, grinding in a tight, desperate circle as the orgasm detonated. It was less a wave and more a localized explosion, centered on that deep, perfect spot she’d been abusing. Her walls convulsed, a fierce, rhythmic pulsing around the silicone. She threw her head back, a raw, broken scream tearing from her throat as she shook.
Paige held her hips, keeping her impaled as she rode out the violent contractions. “Fuck, yes,” Paige grunted, mesmerized. “Look at you. All that control, just to lose it completely. So fucking beautiful.”
As the tremors began to subside, Azzi slumped forward, catching herself on her hands.
She pressed a kiss between Azzi’s shoulder blades. “Happy fucking birthday,” she breathed, her own voice wrecked.
Azzi couldn’t speak. She could only feel the heavy, satisfying ache, the tremors in her legs, and the warm, possessive hands on her skin.
“Birthday sex is the best,” Azzi said after a beat.
Paige grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, birthday girl,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “The day is just getting started. Let’s hit the shower.”
Azzi groaned, sprawled across the bed. “My legs… literally don’t work,” she whined, voice half-laughing, half-exhausted.
Paige laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “Let’s go.”
With a little effort—and a lot of leaning on Paige—they made their way to the shower, laughter and soft touches following them all the way.
—————————————————————————
Breakfast turned out to be a small place Azzi loved but never went to anymore—the kind of café that smelled like coffee and warm bread, with chipped mugs and sunlight pouring through the windows.
“You remembered this place,” Azzi said, half-awed.
Paige smiled over her menu. “Of course I did. You said once it felt like a hug.”
Azzi shook her head, smiling into her coffee. Paige ordered for both of them without even asking, and when the food arrived, it was perfect. Easy conversation. Laughing too loud. Paige stealing bites off Azzi’s plate and pretending not to.
Afterward, Paige drove, lacing their fingers together as the city slowly faded into open road. Music played softly, the kind they both knew by heart. Windows down. Wind tangling their hair. No rush. No schedule Azzi needed to worry about.
The bookstore was tucked away like a secret.
Azzi’s eyes lit up the second they walked in. Rows and rows of books, the smell of paper and dust and possibility.
“I’ll find you later,” Paige said, already backing away. “Go be you.”
Azzi wandered, fingers trailing over spines, pulling books she didn’t need but wanted anyway. Paige found her sitting on the floor at one point, surrounded by a small stack.
“You good?” Paige asked.
Azzi looked up at her and smiled. “Yeah. Really good.”
The beach came last.
They didn’t do much there—just kicked off their shoes, walked along the shore, sat close enough that their shoulders touched. The sun was beginning to dip, the sky soft and endless.
Azzi rested her head against Paige’s shoulder, watching the waves roll in and out like they always had.
This was it, she realized.
Not the big milestones or the plans or the almost-finished degree. Not the ring, or the wedding, or being twenty-one.
This.
Being known. Being chosen. Being loved so thoroughly it felt quiet and steady instead of overwhelming.
Azzi closed her eyes, breathing Paige in.
Paige pressed a kiss to the top of her head, like she somehow knew.
“Happy birthday, baby,” she murmured.
They stayed there until the breeze turned cooler and the sun dipped lower, the beach emptying out around them without either of them really noticing.
“I’m not,” Paige said. “But it’s nothing big. I just… come with me.”
They walked back toward the car, slow and unhurried. Paige opened the trunk, rummaging for a second longer than necessary.
Azzi leaned against the door, watching her. “You’re being weird.”
Paige laughed under her breath. “I know.”
She pulled out a small carrier and set it down gently. Inside, a husky puppy blinked up at them—gray and white fur still too fluffy for its own good, ears not quite sure what they wanted to do yet. The puppy shifted, tail thumping once against the side.
Azzi froze.
“Paige,” she breathed.
Paige crouched next to the carrier. “Before you freak out—I’ve thought this through. A lot. Timing, space, responsibility. All of it. We talked about it, remember? Someday. And… I think this is a good someday.”
The puppy let out a soft, curious sound and pressed its nose against the mesh.
Azzi knelt without realizing she’d moved, fingers hovering before reaching in. The puppy leaned into her touch immediately, warm and solid and real.
“Oh,” Azzi whispered, laughing softly. “Oh my god.”
Paige watched her, eyes gentle. “I wanted you to have something that stays. Something that grows with us.”
Azzi nodded, unable to speak. The puppy shifted between them, tail wagging lazily, and Azzi laughed through her tears.
She kissed Paige—slow, deep, full of everything the day had been saying without words.
When they pulled apart, Azzi rested her head against Paige’s shoulder, puppy nestled between their hearts, the ocean humming in the distance.
Paige. This tiny life. The quiet certainty of being chosen again and again was everything she had ever wanted.
The puppy wriggled, yipping softly, and Azzi laughed, tears threatening to spill again. “She’s… she’s perfect.”
“She already picked you,” Paige said, brushing a hand over Azzi’s shoulder. “I think she needs a name, though.”
Azzi hugged the puppy tighter, thinking, stroking her soft fur. “Hmm… what about… Willow?”
Paige tilted her head, eyes shining. “Willow?”
“Yes,” Azzi said, smiling through the tears forming in her eyes. “She’s small, but strong. Gentle, but a little wild. Just like… someone else I know.”
Paige’s chest ached. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s. “Then Willow it is. She’s ours.”
Paige wrapped an arm around both of them, pulling them close. “You two are going to be troublemakers together, I can tell.”
Willow yipped again, tiny paws pawing at Azzi’s chest, and in that golden light on the beach, with the waves behind them, Paige felt something like perfect settle over her heart.
“This is our life,” Paige whispered. “All of it.”
Azzi leaned against her, puppy nestled between them, voice soft. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
The sand was warm under Azzi’s feet, the sun low and soft in the late afternoon sky. She crouched down, cradling the tiny bundle in her arms.
“You ready, little one?” she whispered. Willow wiggled, tail thumping against Azzi’s arm.
Paige walked beside them, camera phone ready. “She’s going to hate the sand,” Paige teased.
Azzi laughed. “Or she’s going to love it. Come on, let’s find out.”
With a gentle coo, Azzi set Willow down on the sand. The puppy froze for half a second, ears back, then—after a sniff—bolted straight into the shallow surf, yipping in surprise and delight.
“Oh my God!” Azzi cried, laughing so hard she had to bend down, hands on her knees. “Look at her!”
Paige doubled over beside her. “She’s adorable! She’s insane, but… oh my God, she’s cute!”
Willow shook herself off, spraying sand in every direction, then darted back to Azzi, slipping and sliding in the sand. Azzi scooped her up again, laughing, hair blowing across her face. “You’re so ridiculous!”
Paige reached to pet Willow, who immediately wriggled free and dashed toward the waves again. Azzi chased after her, barefoot, stumbling, and falling onto the wet sand laughing, puppy on her chest.
Paige stood back for a second, taking it all in—the sun, the sand, Azzi’s hair plastered to her forehead, Willow’s tiny paws digging at her chest, and the way Azzi’s eyes shone. “They’re mine. And they’re perfect.” Paige whispered softly.
—————————————————————————
The apartment felt different when they came back to it, like the day had followed them home.
Paige kicked off her shoes by the door while Azzi set Willow down carefully, watching as she padded across the living room on unsteady legs, nose to the floor like she was already memorizing the place.
“She’s really here,” Azzi murmured, half to herself.
Paige smiled, slipping her arms around Azzi from behind. “She is.”
They stood there for a moment, just watching. The puppy curled up near the couch, already tired from existing.
Azzi leaned back into Paige, exhaling. “It feels surreal,” she said quietly. “In two months I’m going to graduate. And in seven months… we’re getting married.”
Paige tightened her hold, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder. “When you say it like that, it sounds fake.”
Azzi laughed softly. “Right? Like I’m talking about someone else’s life.”
Paige turned her gently, hands warm at her waist. “But it’s ours.”
Azzi looked up at her, eyes shining. “I used to think I’d be terrified at this point. Being almost done. Being this… settled.”
“And?” Paige asked.
“And I’m not,” Azzi said. “I feel calm. Like everything finally makes sense.”
Paige brushed a strand of hair back from Azzi’s face. “I feel that too,” she admitted. “Sometimes I wake up and it hits me all over again—you, the future we’re building—and I can’t believe I get to have it.”
Azzi swallowed. “I’m really doing this. Graduating early. Marrying the love of my life.”
Paige smiled softly. “You’ve always been brave like that.”
Azzi leaned in, kissing her slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t need to lead anywhere else. When they pulled back, Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s.
“Seven months,” Azzi murmured.
Paige smiled. “Two months.”
Willow let out a tiny sound from the couch, shifting in her sleep.
Azzi laughed too, heart full to the point it almost ached. She looked around the apartment—at Paige, at the puppy, at the life waiting just ahead of them.
Surreal, yes.
But more than that—it felt perfect.
—————————————————————————
Paige hadn’t expected the day to feel different.
She unlocked the front door herself that morning, like she always did, flipping on the lights and taking a second longer than usual to look around. The space still made her proud—clean, busy, alive. Something she’d built with her own hands and a lot of late nights.
She was halfway through her first coffee when her phone buzzed.
Paige didn’t open the email right away.
She finished what she was doing first—checked inventory, answered a couple of texts from staff, signed off on an order. Normal things. Routine things. The kind that made the day feel grounded.
When she finally sat down and read it, she felt it land slowly.
The space was available. The terms were reasonable. The kind of opportunity you didn’t chase—but recognized. The numbers made sense. The timing, for once, didn’t feel wrong.
A third location.
Paige leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the window without really seeing anything. Her mind started moving on its own, uninvited.
Commute times. Long hours in traffic. Missing big moments.
And then—without warning—other thoughts slipped in.
A quiet street nearby. A place with enough room to breathe. Something permanent. She hadn’t meant to go there. It wasn’t a plan, not really. Just a fleeting question that slipped in like it belonged: Are there good schools around the area?
She frowned slightly, surprised by herself. She shook her head with a small laugh. “Okay,” she murmured. “That’s new.”
Future kids. A phrase that still felt unreal when she said it in her head, but not impossible. Not scary. Just… distant and warm, like a light left on in another room.
She thought of Azzi—how patient she was, how gentle, how she talked to Willow like she understood everything. Paige could picture it so easily it startled her. Small backpacks. Morning routines. A life that stretched further than just the two of them.
Her phone buzzed again—this time a picture Azzi had sent. The puppy asleep on her chest, captioned: she won’t move 😭
Paige smiled, her chest tightening in that familiar way.
Maybe that was why the thought didn’t feel strange. Her life wasn’t just about work anymore. Or ambition. Or proving she could build something on her own.
It was about building something that lasted.
She pulled up her calendar, mentally mapping staff, logistics, possibilities. It didn’t scare her the way it used to. That’s what surprised her the most, how calm she felt.
This was what stability looked like—not stillness, but confidence. Knowing she could grow without losing herself. Knowing she could build something bigger and still come home to love.
Then she stared at the email once more and let herself say it, just under her breath:
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
A third location. A fiancée graduating in two months. A wedding in seven. A life that felt full and intentional.
Paige closed her laptop, heart steady.
She loved her life.
And for the first time, she loved how big it was getting.
—————————————————————————
Paige had learned that happiness didn’t always announce itself.
Sometimes it showed up in small, ordinary moments—like standing barefoot in their apartment, watching Azzi crouch on the floor, whispering to the husky puppy like they were sharing secrets.
Paige leaned against the doorway, arms crossed loosely, and felt it settle in her chest.
This is my life.
Not the one she used to imagine when she was younger—louder, flashier, more impressive on paper. But this one, built slowly, deliberately, with love at the center of it.
Azzi looked up at her, smiling, eyes bright in that way that still caught Paige off guard. Two months from graduating. Seven months from becoming her wife. Twenty-one and already carrying herself like someone who knew where she was going.
Paige loved that about her.
She loved how hard Azzi worked, how gently she loved, how she could make the future feel less intimidating just by believing in it. She loved the way their apartment felt full now—of laughter, of plans, of a puppy learning the shape of their home.
Paige used to think happiness would feel louder.
Instead, it felt steady. Safe. Like waking up every day and choosing the same person without hesitation.
She walked over and sat beside Azzi, letting their shoulders touch. Willow stirred between them, tail thumping once before settling again.
Paige smiled to herself.
She loved her life. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real—and because it was theirs.
Paige shifted beside her. “Hey,” she said. “I wanted to run something by you.”
Azzi turned toward her immediately. “Okay.”
Paige took a breath. “We might have an opportunity to open a third location.”
Azzi’s face lit up without hesitation. “Paige—that’s huge.”
“It is,” Paige said, smiling a little. “And I haven’t said yes yet. I just… I wanted to tell you before I made any decisions.”
Azzi squeezed her hand. “Thank you for that.”
Paige nodded, thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. Paige leaned back slightly, eyes on the ceiling for a moment. “The space is good. Better than I expected. The numbers work, the timing makes sense, and I’d have support instead of doing everything alone like I did the first time.”
She paused. “That’s what scares me a little.”
Azzi smiled softly. “Because it’s real?”
“Because it’s stable,” Paige admitted. “I’m used to building things out of chaos. This feels… intentional.”
Azzi squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
Paige laughed quietly. “I know. It’s just different. I’d be committing to something bigger—more people, more responsibility. It means thinking long-term instead of just surviving the next year.”
She turned to look at Azzi then. “And I don’t want to make a decision like that without thinking about us.”
Azzi’s expression softened. “Us?”
Paige nodded. “Your graduation. The wedding. Where we want to be. I don’t want work to pull me so far away that I miss this part of our life. The best part of my life.”
Azzi shifted closer, resting her head against Paige’s shoulder. “Paige, you’ve never let work come before us.”
Paige nodded. “I know. And I don’t want to start now.” She hesitated, then admitted, “I was looking at the area today. Just getting a feel for it. And that’s when my brain kind of… wandered.”
Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Wandered where?”
Paige hesitated, then laughed softly at herself. “I caught myself thinking about neighborhoods. And then, somehow, about schools nearby.”
Azzi stayed quiet, listening.
“I want to be there,” Paige continued. “For our future kids. I don’t want to miss things because I was chasing the next big one. And then I was looking at houses near the location—just out of curiosity—and then looking at the best school districts, and I don’t know…”
Azzi’s breath caught, not in fear, but recognition.
“What if,” Azzi said slowly, choosing her words, “we did that?”
Paige looked at her. “Did what?”
“What if we moved there,” Azzi continued. “Not right now. But after I graduate. After the wedding planning calms down. It could be… a fresh start.”
Azzi nodded. “I think it would be perfect. I could look for a job there. We could get a place that’s ours. A house. Something we build from scratch.”
She smiled a little, almost shy. “Not running from anything. Just choosing something new. Together.”
Paige stared at her for a moment, overwhelmed in the quietest way.
“That’s exactly what I want,” she said softly.
Azzi laughed under her breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, leaning in. “A life that’s intentional. A home. You.”
Azzi reached for her, pulling her into a slow, sure kiss—one that felt like agreement more than promise. When they pulled back, Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s and everything just felt right.
—————————————————————————
The day felt unreal from the moment Azzi woke up.
Not rushed, not chaotic—just heavy in a way that made her chest ache. Like her body knew this was something she was going to remember forever.
The cap lay on the bed beside her, the gown draped over the chair. Three years. Extra classes. Late nights. Summers she’d stayed behind while everyone else left. She ran her fingers over the fabric once, just to make sure it was real.
Paige watched her from the doorway, already dressed, eyes soft.
“You ready, graduate?” she asked.
Azzi laughed, breath shaky. “I think so.”
Paige crossed the room and took Azzi’s hands. “You did this,” she said quietly. “Every part of it.”
Azzi nodded, blinking fast. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m closing a door and opening another at the same time.”
The ceremony passed in a blur of names and applause and sunlight glinting off rows of caps. Azzi barely remembered walking across the stage—only the sound of her name, the weight of the diploma in her hands, the way her heart pounded as if it might burst.
But she remembered Paige. Standing the moment Azzi’s name was called. Clapping too loud. Crying without trying to hide it.
When it was over, when the crowd spilled out into laughter and photos and relief, Paige found her immediately.
Azzi barely had time to smile before Paige pulled her into a hug so tight it stole the breath from her lungs.
“You did it babygirl,” Paige whispered into her hair. “You’re really did it.”
Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. “I am so proud of you.”
Azzi looked around—the campus, the people, everything she was leaving behind—and then back at Paige.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said softly.
Paige shook her head. “You could have. But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”
She kissed her then, right there, applause and noise fading into the background.
Years of work. A degree earned early. A future waiting.
As Paige laced their fingers together and led her forward, Azzi felt it settle fully into her chest.
She wasn’t just graduating.
She was stepping into the life they’d been dreaming about—together.
—————————————————————————
Azzi thought they were just going home.
She was still riding the high—diploma tucked carefully under her arm, cap dangling from her fingers, Paige’s hand steady in hers as they walked to the car.
“You’re being suspiciously calm,” Azzi said, buckling in.
Paige smiled, eyes forward. “I’m just enjoying my fiancée being a college graduate.”
Azzi laughed. “You’re lying.”
Paige reached over and squeezed her knee. “Maybe a little.”
They didn’t drive toward the apartment. Azzi noticed a few turns in, brows knitting together.
“Paige.”
“Trust me,” Paige said gently.
When they pulled up to the restaurant, Azzi froze.
It was one of her favorites—the kind of place she only went to on special occasions. Warm lights glowing through the windows. And inside, she could already see movement. Too much movement.
Paige cut the engine and turned to her. “Okay. Before you freak out—”
The door opened.
“Surprise!”
Azzi’s breath caught.
Her friends were there. Paige’s family. Familiar faces she hadn’t expected to see all together in one place. Someone had a phone already out, someone else was clapping, and suddenly Azzi’s eyes were burning.
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
Paige stepped closer, arm wrapping around her waist. “You graduated early. You worked your ass off. You deserve this.”
Azzi turned to her, overwhelmed. “You did all this?”
Paige nodded. “I wanted today to feel as big as what you accomplished.”
Inside, the night unfolded slowly—hugs, congratulations, glasses clinking. Someone insisted on a toast, and Azzi barely made it through without crying again.
When it was Paige’s turn, she stood, clearing her throat.
“I’m not great at speeches,” she said, earning a few soft laughs. “But tonight feels too important not to try.”
She looked at Azzi then—really looked at her—and her voice softened.
“When I met Azzi, she was already someone who carried so much determination. But what I didn’t know yet was how deeply she believes in showing up—for her dreams, for the people she loves, for the future she wants to build.”
Paige swallowed.
“Three years. Extra classes. Sacrifices most people never saw. She didn’t rush because she had to—she rushed because she trusted herself enough to know she could.”
Her eyes shined. “I watched her doubt herself. I watched her push through exhaustion. And I watched her grow into someone even stronger than she already was.”
Paige smiled, voice trembling just slightly now.
“Azzi, you inspire me every single day. You make me want to be better. Braver. More intentional with my life.”
She lifted her glass a little higher.
“I am so proud of you—not just for graduating early, but for the woman you are. And I am endlessly grateful that I get to love you, celebrate you, and build a life with you.”
Paige’s gaze held Azzi’s.
“To Azzi—my fiancée, my best friend, and the person I am so lucky to call my future.”
She raised her glass.
“To you.”
Azzi wiped at her cheeks, laughing through tears as everyone applauded.
Later, when the night had quieted and plates were empty, Paige found Azzi outside, catching her breath under the soft glow of string lights.
“You okay?” Paige asked.
Azzi nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t even know how to say thank you.”
Paige smiled, brushing her thumb across Azzi’s cheek. “You don’t have to. Just let me celebrate you.”
Azzi leaned in, resting her forehead against Paige’s.
“I feel so loved,” she whispered.
Paige kissed her, slow and certain. “Good. That’s everything you deserve and more.”
—————————————————————————
They’d been at it for a while.
Azzi was on her stomach now, feet kicking lazily behind her, phone in hand. Paige lay beside her, scrolling on her own screen, the puppy wedged comfortably between them.
“Okay,” Paige said, glancing over. “That’s the twenty-fourth house.”
Azzi frowned at the screen. “It just… doesn’t feel right.”
Paige laughed softly. “You said that about the last six.”
“Because they were wrong,” Azzi replied seriously. “This one has weird windows.”
“They’re normal windows.”
“They’re suspicious windows.”
Paige snorted. “You’re impossible.”
Azzi rolled onto her back, dramatic sigh included. “I just want it to feel like ours. Is that too much to ask?”
Paige leaned over, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder. “No. But at this rate, we’re going to personally tour every house in the city.”
Azzi smiled. “Quality control.”
They kept scrolling.
“No.”
“No.”
“Why is the kitchen shaped like that?”
Paige laughed again. “That one is actually kind of cute.”
Azzi shot her a look. “You would live anywhere with a decent coffee machine.”
“That’s not true,” Paige said. “I also need good lighting.”
Willow shifted between them, pawing at Azzi’s sleeve.
“Even Willow agrees with me,” Azzi said. “She hates all of them.”
Paige smiled, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “We don’t have to decide now.”
Azzi relaxed a little at that, fingers absentmindedly scratching behind the puppy’s ear. “I know. I just want one that makes me stop scrolling.”
Paige nodded. “We’ll find it. Eventually.”
Azzi glanced at her, smiling. “Even if it takes another twenty-four houses?”
Paige laughed. “Even if it does.”
They went back to scrolling, closer now, teasing fading into something softer—no rush, no pressure.
Just the quiet comfort of knowing they were looking for the same thing.
Azzi paused mid-scroll, eyes narrowing. “Okay, this one is absolutely not it.”
Paige leaned over immediately. “What? No, wait. I love it.”
Azzi turned to her slowly. “You’re lying.”
Paige grabbed her phone and squinted at the listing like she was studying fine art. “Are you kidding? Look at that carpet.”
“It’s orange.”
“It’s vintage,” Paige corrected. “Very bold.”
Azzi sat up on one elbow. “The kitchen has carpet.”
Azzi stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
Paige grinned, unrepentant. “I think it has character.”
“It has problems.”
Paige scrolled dramatically. “Babe. Three bedrooms. One and a half baths. Zero sense of shame.”
Azzi buried her face in a pillow. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”
Paige leaned over, kissing the back of her head. “You love me.”
Azzi peeked up, smiling. “That’s what the streets say.”
Willow chose that moment to bark softly at the phone screen.
Paige laughed. “See? Even she’s excited.”
Azzi shook her head, still laughing. “Okay, fine. We’re not buying the house with the haunted hallway sink.”
“Your loss,” Paige said, pretending to sigh.
They went back to scrolling, closer now, smiles lingering, the future feeling a little lighter for it.
They weren’t even looking that hard anymore.
Azzi was half-listening, thumb moving lazily up the screen while Paige talked about something work-related she’d only sort of been paying attention to. Willow snored softly between them.
Then Azzi stopped scrolling.
“Paige.”
Paige glanced over. “What?”
Azzi turned the phone toward her without saying anything.
It wasn’t flashy. No dramatic angles, no overdone staging. Just a comfortable size house with a light-colored exterior, a front porch wide enough for two chairs, and windows that looked beautiful.
Paige studied it for a second longer than the others.
“Oh,” she said softly.
They scrolled through the photos together. The kitchen was simple but warm. The living room had good light. A big backyard.
“I can see us here,” Azzi said quietly.
Paige nodded. “Me too.”
The silence that followed wasn’t hesitation. It was recognition.
And maybe—or maybe not—the following days, Azzi found herself targeting jobs around that area a little more seriously.
—————————————————————————
The visit came a few days later.
Azzi’s stomach fluttered the whole drive, nerves she hadn’t expected. Paige reached over at a red light and squeezed her hand.
“It’s just a house,” Paige said gently.
“I know,” Azzi replied. “But it feels like more.”
When they pulled up, Azzi smiled immediately. The house looked even better in person—soft, lived-in, like it had been waiting for the right people.
Inside, they moved slowly, unspoken agreement keeping them close.
Paige lingered in the kitchen, eyes thoughtful. “I’d make breakfast here,” she said. “Early mornings.”
Azzi wandered into the living room, sunlight spilling across the floor. “This feels like a place where we’d sit on the floor and talk for hours.”
The backyard sealed it.
Azzi stepped outside, breathing in. “It’s beautiful.”
“It really is,” Paige said, coming up behind her.
They stood there together, quiet, hearts racing in sync.
They didn’t say yes yet.
But as they walked back to the car, fingers intertwined, both of them knew.
—————————————————————————
Back at the apartment, Paige rested her hands on the kitchen counter, eyes forward. “I want to say something,” she said softly.
Azzi turned toward her. “Okay.”
Paige exhaled. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re being rushed into something just because I want it. The house. The move. Any of it.”
Azzi studied her face. “Paige—”
“I know we’re excited,” Paige continued, glancing at her now. “And I know this feels right. But you’ve worked so hard to get here. Your graduation. Your career. I don’t want my plans to become pressure on you.”
Azzi reached for her hand, thumb brushing over Paige’s knuckles. “You’re not rushing me.”
Paige searched her expression. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Azzi said, steady. “This doesn’t feel like I’m being pulled. It feels like I’m choosing.”
Paige’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I just needed to hear that.”
Azzi smiled softly. “You wanting things doesn’t scare me. It actually makes me feel safe. Like you’re thinking about a future that includes me.”
Paige laughed quietly, relieved. “It always includes you.”
Azzi leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Then we’re okay.”
Paige turned toward her fully, resting her forehead against Azzi’s. “Okay.”
They stood there for a moment longer, hands intertwined, the house still visible in their minds.
Nothing was being rushed.
They were just walking forward—together.
“So,” Paige said lightly, but with that steady, caring look in her eyes that always made Azzi’s chest tighten, “what do you think the next step is? I think our best option would be you getting a job first. If it’s near the house, then that’s perfect. But I don’t want you driving an hour every day. I’ll drive three if I have to, but I want it close to you.”
Azzi’s stomach flipped. She had always known Paige put her first, but hearing it out loud like this made her heart ache in the best way. She leaned forward, biting her lip, torn between feeling cherished and wanting to argue a little.
“I… I know you’d do that for me,” Azzi said softly, voice full of affection, “and I love you for it. I just… maybe we can find a middle ground? I don’t want you stressing or driving more than you should.”
Azzi thought about the house again. “Maybe we talk to the realtor. Ask questions. Get a better sense of timing.”
“No offers yet,” Paige said. “Just information.”
“Just clarity,” Azzi agreed.
Paige reached over, squeezing her hand. “We can see how it fits with everything else. My work. Your job search. The wedding.”
Azzi smiled. “And if it still feels right after that?”
Paige’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Then we take the next step.”
Azzi leaned in, resting her head against Paige’s shoulder. “I like that. Slow, but honest.”
Paige kissed the top of her head. “That’s how we do everything.”
Willow started running in circles, like she understood what was going on.
Paige nodded, already reaching for her phone. “Realtor first.”
They didn’t need certainty yet.
Just direction.
And they had that—together.
————————————————————————
Okay, maybe God really did love Azzi after all or he was trying to make up for everything that had happened. Because somehow, in the middle of all the waiting and planning and what ifs, she found the job of her dreams. The kind she used to picture late at night when everything still felt far away.
The best part? It was only fifteen minutes from the house they’d fallen in love with.
And as if that wasn’t enough, the third location Paige had been talking about was barely twenty minutes away from the same place.
It felt unreal. Like the universe had quietly aligned when they weren’t looking.
Azzi sat there for a moment, letting it sink in, heart full and steady, thinking that maybe this was what it felt like when things were finally meant to work.
Azzi didn’t tell Paige right away. She reread the email at least three times, just to make sure the words didn’t change. We’re excited to offer you the position. Her hands were shaking a little by the time she locked her phone.
Paige was in the kitchen, back turned, making coffee like it was any other morning. Like Azzi’s whole world hadn’t just shifted.
“P?” Azzi said, trying to sound normal.
“Yeah, baby?” Paige replied, glancing over her shoulder.
Azzi walked closer, phone held out between them. “Can you read this for me?”
Paige frowned slightly, confused, but took the phone. Her eyes scanned the screen once. Then again.
“Wait,” Paige said. “Wait—”
She looked up, eyes wide. “Is this…?”
Azzi nodded, unable to stop smiling. “It’s the job. I got it.”
Paige dropped the phone onto the counter and pulled Azzi into her arms so fast it knocked the breath out of her.
“Oh my God,” Paige laughed, voice breaking. “You did it.”
Azzi buried her face into Paige’s shoulder, laughing too. “I really did.”
Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. “This is your dream job.”
“And it’s fifteen minutes from the house,” Azzi added softly.
Paige froze for half a second, then laughed again—this time shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it.
“No way.”
“And yours?” Azzi continued. “Twenty minutes.”
Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s, eyes closed. “Are you serious right now?”
Azzi nodded. “I swear.”
Paige exhaled, something like relief and wonder mixing together. “It feels like everything just… clicked.”
Azzi smiled, heart full. “Like we’re not chasing anymore.”
Paige kissed her—slow, grounding, grateful. “I’m so proud of you.”
Azzi whispered back, “I can’t believe this is our life.”
Paige smiled against her lips. “It’s just beginning.”
—————————————————————————
They didn’t do it impulsively. They talked numbers at the kitchen table, paperwork spread out between coffee mugs and Willow’s chew toy. Paige double-checked everything. Azzi asked the same questions twice, just to be sure.
And still—every time their eyes met, there was that quiet certainty.
Paige rested her elbows on the table, fingers laced. “We don’t have to do this today.”
Azzi smiled softly. “I know.”
A beat.
“I want to,” Azzi said.
Paige studied her face, searching for hesitation and finding none. “You sure?”
Azzi nodded. “This feels like us choosing our life. Not rushing it. Choosing it.”
Paige exhaled, something loosening in her chest. “Okay.”
She reached for the laptop, hesitated just a second longer, then looked at Azzi. “Last chance to back out.”
Azzi laughed, nervous but excited. “If you don’t hit send, I might.”
Paige smiled, eyes warm. “Okay.”
They leaned in, shoulders touching, and Paige clicked submit.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the confirmation email came through.
Azzi stared at the screen. “We just put an offer on a house.”
Paige laughed, almost disbelieving. “We just put an offer on our house.”
Azzi covered her mouth, eyes bright. “Oh my God.”
Paige pulled her into a hug, tight and grounding. “Whatever happens next,” she murmured into Azzi’s hair, “we did this together.”
Azzi held on, heart racing. “That’s all I wanted.”
Paige kissed her temple. “Now we wait.”
And somehow, waiting didn’t feel so scary anymore.
—————————————————————————
Waiting turned out to be harder than either of them expected.
Azzi checked her phone too often. Paige pretended not to.
Day one came with optimism.
Any news? Azzi texted, even though it had been less than twenty-four hours.
Nothing yet, Paige replied.
By day two, optimism had turned into analysis.
“What if someone offered more?” Azzi asked, pacing the living room.
Paige looked up from her laptop. “Then we remind ourselves it wasn’t meant to be.”
Azzi stopped pacing. “You’re very calm.”
Paige smiled. “I’m trying bro.”
That night, Azzi woke up at 3 a.m. convinced she’d missed an email. She hadn’t. Paige rolled over, half asleep, and pulled her closer anyway.
“Whatever happens,” Paige murmured, “we’re okay.”
Day three came with overthinking.
Azzi reread the listing like it might reveal something new. Paige started imagining someone else’s furniture in their living room and immediately hated it.
“They better not repaint,” Paige muttered.
Azzi laughed. “We don’t even know if it’s ours.”
“It’s emotionally ours.”
On day four, Willow sensed the energy and refused to settle. Azzi sat on the floor with her, scrolling mindlessly while Paige paced for once.
“You know,” Paige said, stopping suddenly, “no matter what, I still get to wake up next to you. That’s what matters.”
Azzi looked up, heart softening. “That helps.”
Paige smiled. “Good. Because it’s true.”
By day five, they stopped checking as often.
Not because they cared less—but because something felt settled. Like they’d already chosen each other, house or no house. It didn’t matter.
Azzi leaned into Paige on the couch that night, fingers intertwined.
“Do you think we’ll get it?” Azzi asked quietly.
Paige kissed her knuckles. “I think we’ll be okay either way.”
Azzi nodded, breathing easier.
Still—when Paige’s phone buzzed the next morning, they both froze.
“Are you going to answer it?” Azzi whispered, already holding her breath.
Paige swallowed. “I think I have to.”
She picked it up, thumb hovering for half a second before pressing accept.
“Hi, this is Paige.”
Azzi stood frozen across the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, watching every shift in Paige’s face like it might give something away.
“Yes,” Paige said. “Mm-hmm.”
A pause.
Azzi’s heart hammered.
Paige’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Then her mouth fell open.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Azzi’s hands flew to her mouth.
Paige turned away, pacing slowly now. “Thank you. Yes—thank you so much.”
Another pause.
“Okay. We’ll talk soon.”
She hung up.
For one terrifying second, Paige didn’t say anything.
Azzi couldn’t take it. “Paige.”
Paige turned around, eyes bright, a smile breaking through like sunlight.
“We got it.”
Azzi gasped. “No.”
“We got it, Az,” Paige said, voice shaking now.
Azzi let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and crossed the room in two steps, throwing her arms around Paige.
“Oh my God,” Azzi cried. “Oh my God, we got it.”
Paige held her tightly, pressing her face into Azzi’s hair. “It’s ours.”
Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her. “Our house.”
“Our home,” Paige corrected softly.
They laughed and cried at the same time, clinging to each other in the middle of the kitchen. Willow barked wildly, spinning in confused excitement around their feet.
Paige laughed through tears. “I think she knows.”
Azzi wiped her eyes, smiling so wide it hurt. “This is really happening.”
Paige kissed her, slow and sure. “We’re really doing this.”
The future didn’t feel far away anymore.
It felt like it was standing right there with them.
—————————————————————————
Paige had learned the difference between fear and excitement the hard way.
Standing inside the empty space that would soon become their third location, she felt both—but neither scared her anymore.
The place smelled like fresh paint and possibility. Sunlight spilled through the front windows, outlining where the counter would go, where people would sit, where something she’d built from nothing would grow again.
She pulled her phone out, snapping a picture, already knowing who she wanted to send it to.
I can see it already, she texted Azzi.
Paige walked the space slowly, measuring without measuring. She’d done this before—imagined life where there was nothing yet. The process was familiar now, but this time it felt different.
This time, she wasn’t doing it alone.
Her thoughts kept drifting—uninvited but welcome—to the house. To Azzi’s job. To mornings that wouldn’t feel rushed and nights that wouldn’t feel temporary.
For the first time, success didn’t feel like something that pulled her away from her life.
It felt like something that made room for it.
Paige leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting herself smile.
She thought about how she’d never let ambition come between them—how she’d promised herself it never would.
This location mattered. It would take work, long days, decisions she’d have to carry on her own shoulders.
But now, she knew where she was coming home to. And that changed everything.
Paige typed one more message before locking up.
We’re building something really good. I can feel it.
She slipped her phone into her pocket, keys jingling in her hand, heart steady.
The future wasn’t abstract anymore.
It had an address.
—————————————————————————
Moving day was loud. Boxes everywhere. Half-labeled, badly taped, stacked in ways that made Azzi nervous and Paige laugh. Willow darted from room to room like she was personally responsible for inspecting every corner.
Azzi stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, taking it all in. “So this is it.”
Paige dropped a box at her feet. “This is it.”
They didn’t have much yet. A couch. A mattress on the floor. Too many mugs. Not enough furniture to make it feel finished.
But it already felt theirs.
Paige struggled with a box clearly labeled KITCHEN that was definitely too heavy.
“What did you put in here?” she groaned.
Azzi smiled innocently. “Rocks.”
Paige raised an eyebrow. “That’s not funny.”
Azzi laughed, stepping in to help. “Okay, fine. It’s mostly plates.”
They worked side by side, sweaty and tired, stealing kisses in doorways and bumping into each other in the hall.
At one point, Paige sat down on the floor, back against the wall, exhausted. Azzi joined her without a word, leaning into her shoulder.
“We really did this,” Azzi said quietly.
Paige nodded.
Willow climbed into Azzi’s lap, tail wagging wildly.
Azzi smiled down at her. “You like it here?”
Paige laughed. “She already owns the place.”
As the sun dipped lower, they ordered takeout and ate straight from the containers, sitting on the floor of the living room.
They didn’t unpack everything that day.
But when they went to bed that night, mattress still on the floor, puppy curled between them, the house felt full.
Not of things. Of life.
—————————————————————————
They were surrounded by half-unpacked boxes when it hit her.
Azzi was sitting on the floor, carefully placing books onto a shelf, humming softly to herself. Willow was asleep nearby, worn out from the day.
Paige stood a few feet away, holding a framed photo, frozen.
The last time she’d been here—in this situation — standing in an empty space, deciding where things would go—her chest had been tight with a different kind of ache. Every choice had come with the same thought looping in her head.
Is Azzi coming back? Should I wait? Should I leave room?
She hadn’t decorated for joy back then. She’d decorated for hope.
Now she looked at Azzi, hair messy, knees dusted with cardboard, completely present. No waiting. No wondering. She was here.
Paige’s throat tightened.
“Hey,” Azzi said softly, noticing. “What’s wrong?”
Paige shook her head, trying to smile. “Nothing. I just—”
She set the frame down and sat beside Azzi, knees drawn in.
“The last time I did this,” Paige admitted, voice low, “I was only thinking about whether you were coming back.”
Azzi’s hands stilled.
“I didn’t know if I should unpack fully,” Paige continued. “I kept leaving space. Just in case.”
Azzi reached for her, fingers gentle. “Paige…”
Paige laughed quietly, eyes glassy. “And now you’re here. We’re doing this together. I don’t have to imagine you anymore.”
Azzi leaned in, resting her forehead against Paige’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Azzi wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. “This is our dream,” she whispered. “We made it.”
Paige closed her eyes, sinking into Azzi’s embrace like it was the safest place she knew. Azzi’s arms were warm around her, steady, grounding, and for a second Paige let herself breathe—really breathe.
“Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But more than anything, Az… I love the house, don’t get me wrong, but you’re my dream.” She shifted just enough to press her forehead against Azzi’s, thumb brushing slow, absent circles against her back. “I don’t want any version of this life if you’re not in it.”
Azzi’s breath caught. Her chest tightened, heart thudding so loudly she was sure Paige could feel it. She pulled Paige closer, like she was afraid of letting even an inch of space exist between them.
Paige wiped at her eyes, embarrassed more than anything. “Sorry,” she murmured.
Azzi shook her head immediately. “Don’t.”
She cupped Paige’s face gently, thumbs warm against her cheeks. “You don’t ever have to apologize for loving me like that because I love you as much if not more.”
Paige let out a small, breathy laugh. “That’s literally impossible.”
Azzi smiled, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “I love you so much P.”
“I love you more.”
“And I’m here,” Azzi whispered. “For all of it.”
Paige nodded, eyes closing. “I know.”
Azzi kissed her then—slow, careful, like she was asking instead of taking. Paige melted into it, tension easing from her shoulders, from her chest, from places she hadn’t realized she’d been holding tight.
When they pulled back, Azzi rested her nose against Paige’s. “We’re safe here.”
Paige smiled, soft and real. “With you? Always.”
They laughed quietly when Willow stirred, tail thumping once against the floor before settling again.
Paige kissed Azzi’s temple, then her cheek. “Thank you for coming back.”
Azzi’s voice was just as soft. “Thank you for waiting.”
They leaned back together against the wall, hands intertwined, hearts steady.
☆》 ━ author's notes: Hope you guys enjoy! I’m hoping I can post the next one tomorrow. Reactions would be really appreciated—I need the motivation. Love you guys 🤍
“Mine.”
Paige’s hand shot out, but Azzi’s was faster. Her slender fingers snatched the last, perfect slice of pepperoni pizza from the center of the box.
“Absolutely not,” Azzi said, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. She held the slice aloft, taunting. “You had three already. I’ve been patiently waiting for this.”
“I’m bigger, I need more fuel,” Paige countered, leaning across the kitchen island, her broad shoulders tensing. “And you promised you’d share.”
“I promised nothing. You inferred.” Azzi took a slow, deliberate bite, a low hum of pleasure vibrating in her throat. Her eyes locked on Paige’s. “God, that’s soo good. The grease… the cheese… mmm.”
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Azzi had come back—two weeks of sleeping in the same bed, bodies close but never quite colliding the way they both wanted. Two weeks of early classes and even earlier alarms, of Paige leaving before sunrise and coming home when the apartment was already quiet. Two weeks of family visits that stretched longer than planned, of dinners that ended with hugs and next times. And in all that time, not a single touch that lasted longer than a makeout session.
The tension wasn’t just thick; it was a living, breathing thing in the room with them—settling into the corners, hovering in the space between their hands when they reached for the same mug, humming under their skin every time one of them shifted in bed. It fed on the lingering looks, on the way Paige’s thumb would pause at Azzi’s wrist like she was thinking better of it, on the sigh Azzi swallowed whenever Paige brushed past her in the hallway.
The first time they has tried, Paige had Azzi pinned before she fully realized how it happened.
One second they were laughing in the hallway, shoes half-kicked off, the air still cold from outside. The next, Paige’s hand was flat against the door beside Azzi’s head, her body close enough that Azzi could feel her warmth through layers of clothes.
Paige’s smile wasn’t playful anymore. It was focused. Intent.
“You keep looking at me like that,” Paige murmured, lowering her voice, “and then acting surprised when I do something about it.”
Azzi swallowed. “Paige—”
Too late. Paige leaned in, kissing her slow at first, then deeper, like she’d been holding it in all day. Azzi’s back hit the bedroom door softly, the sound dull but grounding, Paige’s knee nudging between hers just enough to make her breath hitch.
Paige’s hands slid to Azzi’s shirt, fingers already tugging at the hem. “I want you,” she said, forehead resting against Azzi’s. “Right now. That’s it.”
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
Both of them froze.
Another knock. Louder.
Paige groaned, tipping her head back. “What the fuck,” she muttered, clearly offended by the universe itself. She pressed her forehead back to Azzi’s shoulder, voice muffled. “Ignore it. Please. They’ll go away.”
“Paige,” Azzi whispered, already pulling back a little, heart racing for an entirely different reason now.
“Uh huh” Paige said, stubborn, hands still at Azzi’s waist. “I was in the middle of something very important.”
Another knock. Then a voice.
“Girls? It’s us!”
Azzi’s eyes widened. “That sounded like—”
“My mom,” Paige said flatly.
Azzi pushed gently but firmly, trying not to laugh, but Paige wouldn’t move. “We have to go. Now.”
The knocking turned into unmistakable doorbell ringing.
Paige shot Azzi a look—half apology, half disbelief. “I swear,” she said, grabbing Azzi’s hand as they scrambled to fix themselves, “my family has the worst timing on the planet.”
Azzi pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh as she gently nudged Paige back. “You need to open the door,” she said.
Paige dragged a hand down her face, sighed dramatically, and stepped away. “This is cruel,” she muttered. “Actually evil.”
Azzi smiled at her—soft, fond, still a little breathless. “We’ll survive,” she said.
Paige glanced back at her, eyes lingering just a second too long. “We’re continuing this later,” she promised.
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Paige smirked, already reaching for the door. “Oh, absolutely.”
Later never really came. It turned into a quiet pattern instead—Azzi falling asleep at the table with her notebook open, pen still in her hand, cheek pressed to a half-finished problem. Paige would stand there for a moment after getting home late, keys still in her hand, watching her breathe, debating whether to wake her or carry her to bed.
Other times, Azzi would be awake, curled up under a blanket on the couch, waiting. Paige would kiss her forehead, whisper I’m sorry, and Azzi would nod like she understood, even when her eyes said she’d been hoping for more.
But now Paige watched Azzi’s tongue dart out to catch a stray string of cheese. A familiar, desperate heat coiled low in her gut. This was more than pizza.
“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” Paige’s voice was lower, rougher than she intended.
Azzi’s smirk widened. She placed the half-eaten slice on a napkin, wiping her fingers with exaggerated slowness. “Am I? Or are you just… parched?”
The word hung between them, charged and unmistakable.
The drought. The fucking year-long drought, followed by this new, agonizing two-week purgatory. It had been because of different circumstances, sure. The breakup. The slow, careful way they’d found their way back to each other. They’d talked for hours—about what hurt, about what scared them, about what they wanted to protect this time around. They’d cried. They’d promised forever with voices that shook but didn’t waver.
And still. It had been two weeks, and Paige still hadn’t fucked her fiancée.
Azzi took another step closer, rounding the island fully now, close enough that Paige could feel the shift in the air. It crackled—sharp, undeniable. She was still in the clothes she’d worn to class: a white crop top that clung to her curves like it knew exactly what it was doing, a denim skirt that showed just enough thigh to make Paige’s jaw tighten. Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.
Paige swallowed. She was still in her usual—worn-out white tee, soft gray sweatpants, hair pulled back like she hadn’t planned on anything happening tonight.
Like she hadn’t spent the whole drive home thinking about Azzi’s hands, her mouth, the way she said Paige’s name when she was tired and honest.
“You’ve been watching me. For two weeks. From the doorway when I make coffee in the morning. From the couch when I’m doing homework. I feel it.”
Paige’s breath hitched. “Yeah? You like that?”
“I do. You know I love your attention. It makes me all wet and needy.”
Paige froze.
In one fluid motion, Azzi reached out—not for Paige’s face, but for her hand, gripping it and guiding it toward her skirt. The move was sudden, confident, and it stole the air from Paige’s lungs.
“You feel that?” Azzi murmured. “That’s all you.”
Paige lost all self control at the feeling of how wet Azzi was.
Their mouths crashed together. It wasn’t a gentle reunion kiss. It was a year of hunger unleashed.
Azzi’s lips were demanding, her tongue sweeping in to claim Paige’s mouth with a ferocity that made Paige’s knees weak. Paige groaned into the kiss, her hands coming up to cradle Azzi’s face, her thumbs stroking the sharp lines of her jaw.
The pizza was forgotten. The world shrank to the slick heat of their mouths, the frantic clutch of hands. Azzi pushed forward, her hips pressing Paige back against the hard edge of the counter. The cool marble bit through Paige’s thin shirt, a sharp contrast to the inferno spreading through her veins.
Azzi broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged puffs against Paige’s swollen lips.
Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “I’m done waiting,” she breathed. “Right here. Right now.”
Paige didn’t need to be told twice. Her hands slid down Azzi’s back, over the swell of her hips, gripping the hem of that infuriatingly sexy skirt. She hiked it up, bunching the fabric around Azzi’s waist, exposing the delicate lace of her panties. A dark patch of moisture already stained the center.
“Fuck, Azzi,” Paige rasped, dipping her head to bite gently at the pulse point hammering in Azzi’s throat.
“I’m so wet,” Azzi gasped, arching into her. “I’ve been wet for you since… since I came back. Since forever.”
Her own hands were busy, yanking Paige’s tee up and over her head, then fumbling with the waistband of her sweatpants. She shoved them down, just enough, her hand slipping inside Paige’s boxers. The contact was electric. Paige bucked into her hand with a strangled cry.
“I miss your pussy so much, how wet it gets when I kiss your neck. Did you used to come thinking about me?” Azzi whispered, her strokes firm and knowing.
“Always,” Paige choked out. “Jesus, Az. I want you so bad. I still remember how good your pussy tastes, how you used to let me spend hours eating you out. How you like it when I make you beg for it.”
Azzi stopped. She withdrew her hand, ignoring Paige’s groan of protest. Instead, she turned, placing her palms flat on the counter. “Then don’t make me wait any longer.”
The invitation was clear. Paige’s heart hammered against her ribs. She pushed Azzi’s panties down her thighs, letting them fall to the floor.
The sight of her, bare and glistening, bent over their kitchen counter, was almost enough to undo her.
Paige positioned herself behind, her hands spreading Azzi open. She didn’t tease. She leaned down and licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance all the way up to her clit.
Azzi’s cry was loud, echoing off the stainless-steel appliances. Her back arched, pushing herself more firmly against Paige’s mouth. “Paige… please. I’ve missed you so bad, don’t stop.”
Paige dove in. This was her altar, her homecoming. She feasted on her, licking and sucking with a desperate, focused intensity. She curled her tongue, fucked her with it, then sealed her lips around Azzi’s swollen clit, sucking rhythmically. The sweet taste, the familiar musk, the way Azzi’s thighs trembled against her ears—it was a symphony she’d been starved of.
“Talk to me, pretty girl. You know I love hearing how good I make you feel,” Paige demanded, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips slick and shining.
“So fucking good, P. No one could ever make me feel this good. This pussy is all fucking yours—it’s always been, and it always will be. I fucking love you so much,” Azzi sobbed, grinding back against her. “Don’t stop, please. Don’t you fucking dare stop. I’m so close…!”
Paige slid two fingers inside her, curling them up, finding that perfect spot with unerring accuracy. Azzi’s inner muscles clenched around her instantly, a hot, velvet vise.
Paige fucked her with her fingers, her mouth returning to its frantic work on her clit.
“Come for me,” Paige growled, the vibration against Azzi’s sensitive flesh drawing another shattered cry. “Come all over my face. Show me what I’ve been missing.”
It was the command that shattered her. Azzi’s entire body went rigid, a scream tearing from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her.
Paige rode it out, drinking every pulse and spasm, her fingers working her through the relentless waves until Azzi was limp, shuddering, her forehead pressed against the cool marble.
Before Azzi could even catch her breath, she was turning, pushing Paige. “Up. On the counter. Now,” she panted, her eyes wild.
Paige didn’t hesitate. She hoisted herself up, the cold granite shocking against her bare ass. Azzi stepped between her spread knees, her gaze dropping to where Paige was glistening and leaking for her.
“That’s the pretty pink pussy I’ve dreamed about,” Azzi murmured, her voice husky. She leaned in, her breath ghosting over the sensitive bud before she took Paige’s clit fully into her mouth.
Paige’s head slammed back against the cabinet behind her. Azzi’s mouth was a miracle—hot, wet, and impossibly skilled. She pulled back to swirl her tongue around her folds, her eyes locked on Paige’s the entire time.
“You like that?” Azzi whispered, her hand starting to tease Paige’s entrance. “You like watching me fuck you after making me come?”
“Fuck, yes,” Paige gasped, her hips giving an involuntary jerk.
Azzi increased her pace. Obscene, wet sounds filled the kitchen. Paige tangled her hands in Azzi’s hair, not guiding, just holding on as pleasure built, white-hot and coiling tight in her core.
“I’m gonna…” she warned.
Azzi pulled off with a wet pop. “Not yet.” Her eyes burned with a new idea. She climbed onto the counter, facing Paige, her legs straddling Paige’s hips. “I want to feel you,” she breathed, shifting forward until their bodies aligned. Paige helped guide her, their wet folds sliding together, clits rubbing in a desperate, slippery friction.
Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, their foreheads touching as they began to move.
It was an intimate, grinding dance, a push and pull of heat and pressure.
“This is ours,” Azzi chanted, her voice a broken hymn against Paige’s lips as they moved together. “Nobody will ever fuck me like this. Nobody feels like this. I’m all yours. And you’re all mine.”
The friction was exquisite, maddening. Paige could feel Azzi’s heat, her wetness mixing with her own. She reached for Azzi’s ass, giving it a hard slap. Azzi moaned in response.
“You feel that, pretty girl?” Paige panted against her neck, her breath hot. “That’s how much I missed you.”
She slid a hand between their bodies, her fingers finding Azzi’s clit, already swollen and throbbing. She pressed two fingers against it, adding direct, pinpoint pressure to the broad, grinding friction. Then she put them inside. Azzi did the same.
“You’re going to make me come while you ride my fingers and you’re going to squeeze me so tight with that perfect pussy, that I’m going to lose my goddamn mind all over you, okay?” Paige said.
“Okay. Come with me,” Azzi begged, her movements growing frantic, erratic, while riding Paige’s fingers. “Paige, please, come with me…”
The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated at Paige’s core, radiating out in scalding waves. A guttural roar tore from her throat as she shook, her body convulsing against Azzi’s.
Azzi followed a second later, her cry muffled against Paige’s shoulder, her body clenching around Paige’s fingers as her own climax seized her.
They slumped together on the hard countertop, a tangled, sweaty, breathless mess. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the hum of the refrigerator.
Azzi lifted her head, a slow, sated smile spreading across her face. She traced the line of Paige’s jaw. “So,” she whispered, her voice raw. “The drought’s over.”
Paige laughed. “Thank God. Let’s go take a shower and clean this mess.”
—————————————————————————
They lay tangled together beneath the sheets, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the town outside and the steady rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing back up. Paige was on her side, one arm draped over Azzi’s waist, thumb tracing lazy, absent-minded circles against warm skin like she was grounding herself there.
Azzi shifted closer, tucking her face into the space beneath Paige’s chin. “Hi,” she murmured, voice rough but light, like she was smiling even with her eyes closed.
Paige huffed out a soft laugh and pressed a kiss into Azzi’s hair. “Hi,” she echoed, quieter. Gentler.
For a while, they didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. Paige’s fingers kept moving—slow, reverent—like she was memorizing her all over again.
Azzi was still smiling to herself when she said it, tracing the edge of Paige’s ring finger with her thumb. “We really getting married, huh?” she asked, half-laughing, like the thought kept surprising her in the best way.
Paige chuckled softly. “Yeah,” she said. “We really are.”
Azzi shook her head, giggling now, eyes bright. “That’s… kind of insane.”
“Hey,” Paige teased gently. “You said yes.”
“I know,” Azzi said quickly, looking up at her. “I mean— I know we’re young. And everything’s been messy and complicated and—” She smiled, softer now. “But it just feels right.”
Paige’s expression melted, all warmth and certainty. She pulled Azzi closer, nose brushing hers. “That’s why I asked,” she said quietly. “It didn’t feel scary. It felt obvious.”
Azzi laughed again, hiding her face in Paige’s neck. “I’m going to be your wife.”
Paige laughed with her, she kissed Azzi’s temple, then her cheek. “My wife,” she repeated, like she was trying the word on for size. “I love how that sounds.”
Azzi grinned, shifting closer, their legs tangling again—comfortable, familiar. “Me too,” she said. “I can’t wait to do boring stuff with you forever.”
Paige snorted. “Forever is a long time.”
“Good,” Azzi said, kissing her softly. “I’ve waited long enough.”
They lay there smiling at nothing, wrapped up in sheets and each other, the future suddenly feeling less like a question and more like a promise they were already living.
—————————————-———————————
Six months later, everything felt easy in a way neither of them took for granted.
Mornings were shared breakfast and stolen kisses in the kitchen, coffee brewed while Azzi moved around the kitchen half-awake, wearing one of Paige’s old shirts, and Paige would eventually wander in, hair a mess, stealing sips from Azzi’s mug like it was tradition.
They left together more often than not—Azzi complaining about early classes, Paige pretending she wasn’t also tired—kissing quickly by the door, always the same words: Text me when you get there. I love you.
Classes and work still got busy, families still dropped by unannounced, life still happened—but it no longer felt like something they were bracing against. It felt like something they were moving through together.
Evenings were predictable in the best way. Paige coming home to Azzi sprawled on the couch with textbooks open but attention drifting.
Dinner cooked together, music playing, arguments about whose turn it was to do dishes that always ended with laughter and no real resolution.
Their apartment looked lived-in now. Shoes by the door. Notes on the fridge. Azzi’s textbooks stacked next to Paige’s tool bag like they belonged side by side—because they did.
Some nights were loud with laughter, others quiet with shared silence, And every night, without fail, they fell asleep tangled together—Paige’s arm always finding Azzi in bed like muscle memory.
Comfortable, sure, content in the quiet knowledge that this was their life now. Not perfect because it was exciting. Perfect because it was theirs.
Paige had never felt more sure of anything in her life.
It hit her in the most ordinary moments—watching Azzi hum softly while brushing her teeth, seeing her curled up on the couch with a blanket and a highlighter tucked behind her ear, feeling her reach for Paige’s hand in her sleep like it was instinct. There was no doubt. No hesitation. Just this steady, grounding certainty that settled deep in her chest.
Sometimes, on her way home from work, Paige would slow down in front of jewelry store windows without fully realizing it. Her eyes would drift to the rings—simple ones, delicate ones, the kind that caught the light just right. She’d imagine one on Azzi’s hand, imagine the way Azzi would look at it like it was something unreal, something too much.
Paige smiled to herself every time.
She wanted to spoil her. Not in a flashy way—just in the way that said I see you, I choose you, I want to give you everything I can. She wanted to give Azzi things that lasted. Things that meant forever.
Later, back at the apartment, Azzi would curl into her side, completely unaware of the thoughts running through Paige’s head. Paige would kiss her temple, fingers lacing with hers, already planning. Already knowing.
—————————————-———————————
One afternoon, almost without planning it, Paige stopped.
She’d walked past this specific jewelry shop a dozen times before—always slowing, always glancing in, always telling herself another day. This time, she didn’t keep walking. She stood there for a second longer than usual, hands in her pockets, heart thudding like she was about to do something reckless instead of something right.
The bell chimed softly as she stepped inside.
It smelled clean and warm, all polished glass and quiet. Paige felt a little out of place in her hoodie and sneakers, but the woman behind the counter smiled like she belonged there anyway.
Paige wandered slowly, eyes moving from case to case. Rings caught the light under the glass, subtle and elegant, some simple bands, others with small stones that sparkled without screaming for attention.
Her chest tightened, but in a good way. This wasn’t nerves. It was excitement. It was certainty.
She leaned over the glass, studying each ring like it was a decision that deserved respect—because it did. Some were too much, too flashy, the kind of thing Azzi would joke about and never actually wear. Others were pretty but didn’t feel like her. Paige kept circling back to the same few, eyes narrowing slightly every time, like her heart already knew before her brain caught up.
She imagined Azzi’s hands—always moving, expressive, soft but strong. Imagined the way she twisted her rings when she was nervous, the way she absentmindedly played with Paige’s fingers during conversations.
Whatever Paige chose had to live on her hand. It had to feel like something Azzi would forget she was wearing until someone pointed it out and she smiled that soft, surprised smile like she still couldn’t believe it was hers.
Paige exhaled slowly.
She wanted a diamond—not because it was expected, not because it was tradition, but because it felt symbolic. Something strong. Something that lasted. Something that could take pressure and come out the other side still brilliant. That felt… right.
Her eyes landed on it again.
It wasn’t huge. Not ostentatious. A single diamond, oval-cut, set low so it sat close to the band instead of towering above it. The band itself was delicate but solid, with tiny stones embedded along the sides—not enough to overpower the center, just enough to catch the light when Azzi moved her hand.
This one felt intentional. Thoughtful. Like someone had designed it knowing it would be worn every day, through everything—through classes and long nights and quiet mornings. Through life.
She imagined sliding it onto Azzi’s finger. Imagined Azzi laughing first, then getting quiet. Imagined the way her eyes would fill as she looked down at it, thumb brushing over the diamond like she needed to ground herself.
“She doesn’t like anything too flashy,” Paige said quietly, almost apologetic, as if Azzi were standing right there.
The jeweler smiled gently. “That ring isn’t flashy,” she said. “It’s personal.”
Paige nodded. Exactly.
By the time the ring was placed into the box, Paige felt steady. Certain. Happy in a way that settled deep in her bones.
As she stepped back outside, the small box tucked safely into her pocket, Paige smiled to herself.
She couldn’t wait to give it to Azzi. She couldn’t wait to see her wear it. She couldn’t wait to spoil the woman she was already so sure about—for the rest of her life.
—————————————————————————
A couple of days later, dinner with her family was already loud and familiar when Paige finally spoke up. Plates were half-cleared, someone was telling a story Paige had heard a dozen times, laughter bouncing easily around the table. It felt safe. Right.
Azzi wasn’t there. She’d texted earlier, something about a late class running long, a quick I’ll see you at home, followed by a heart. Paige had smiled at her phone, tucked it away, and tried to act normal—like she didn’t have a small velvet box burning a hole in her pocket.
She took a breath.
“Okay,” Paige said, cutting in gently. “I—uh. I have something I want to show you guys.”
That got their attention immediately.
Her mom’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “That tone is never good,” she teased.
Paige laughed, nerves sneaking in now, and reached into her pocket. Her fingers brushed the velvet box and she paused for just a second—thinking of Azzi rushing to class that morning, hair still damp, stealing a kiss at the door like she always did.
Then she opened it. The diamond caught the overhead light, throwing soft flashes across the table. For a moment, no one said anything.
“Oh,” her mom whispered, standing slightly from her chair to get a closer look. “Paige… that’s gorgeous.”
Paige felt her shoulders relax a little. “I didn’t want anything too big,” she said, voice steady but warm. “She doesn’t like flashy stuff. I wanted something she could actually wear every day. Something that felt… like her.”
Her dad leaned in, studying the setting carefully. “That’s a beautiful stone,” he said, nodding. “Solid. Thoughtful.”
Paige smiled at that. “That’s kind of the point.”
They passed the box around slowly, carefully, like it was something fragile—not because it was delicate, but because it mattered. Paige watched their faces as they looked at it, the soft smiles, the quiet understanding settling in.
“You’re really sure,” her mom said gently, meeting Paige’s eyes. It wasn’t a question.
Paige didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Drew grinned. “She’s going to lose her mind.”
Paige laughed, already picturing it. “I hope so.”
When the ring made its way back to her, Paige closed the box softly, holding it in her palm. Her phone buzzed a second later—Azzi, of course.
Class finally over. On my way home. I love you 💗
Paige smiled to herself, heart full, excitement blooming all over again.
“I can’t wait to give it to her,” she said, voice full, unmistakably happy.
———————————-—————————————
Paige paced her living room with her phone pressed to her ear, thumb tapping nervously against the case while it rang. Azzi was in the shower—perfect timing. Of course.
“Hello?” KK answered, background noise humming softly behind her.
“Hey,” Paige said, breathy already. “Do you have a minute?”
KK hummed. “That depends. You sound like you’re about to confess something.”
Paige laughed under her breath. “Yeah… okay. I am.”
There was a pause, then KK’s voice softened. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to propose to Azzi,” Paige said, words tumbling out faster now that she’d started. “Like—soon. And I want to do it in the garage.”
Silence. Then—
“Oh,” KK said, smiling so wide Paige could hear it. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything,” Paige replied. “I know it’s not exactly… romantic. It’s a car shop. But it’s ours. It’s where we used to come home to each other. It just—feels right.”
KK exhaled slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I get that.”
Paige relaxed a little. “I need help though. I don’t want it to feel cold or industrial. I want it warm. Soft. Romantic. Like… like she walks in and forgets where she is for a second.”
KK was already there mentally. “Alright. We clean the place top to bottom. Cars out. Tools gone. I’ll get someone to sweep and mop the floor so it actually shines.”
Paige smiled, sinking onto the couch. “I was thinking lights. Like warm string lights. Not bright.”
“Done,” KK said immediately. “We’ll hang them along the beams, maybe down the walls. Candles too—nothing risky, but enough to glow.”
“And dinner,” Paige added. “Something simple. Her favorite. I don’t want it to feel like a performance.”
KK chuckled. “You’re such a sap. I love it. I can set up a small table. Real plates. Cloth napkins. The whole thing.”
Paige hesitated, then added softly, “Maybe music? Not from a speaker. Something… real.”
There was a beat. “I know a guy,” KK said. “Acoustic guitar. He’ll stay in the background. Romantic, not awkward.”
Paige closed her eyes, the image forming perfectly now. Azzi walking in, confused. The garage transformed. Paige asking the question she already knew the answer to.
“Thank you,” Paige said quietly. “This means everything.”
KK’s voice softened. “She’s lucky, you know. And you’re doing this exactly right.”
Paige smiled to herself as the shower turned off down the hall. “I just want it to feel like home,” she said.
“It will,” KK replied. “I promise.”
When Paige hung up, her heart was racing—but not from nerves.
From excitement. From knowing that soon, in the most ordinary place made extraordinary, she was going to ask the love of her life to marry her.
———————————-—————————————
Paige brought it up casually—too casually, probably.
They were in the kitchen, Azzi perched on the counter scrolling through her phone while Paige leaned against the island, pretending to be invested in deciding what to make for dinner. She cleared her throat once, then again.
“So,” Paige said, eyes still fixed on the fridge like it might answer for her, “we might need to go visit KK this weekend.”
Azzi looked up immediately. “We?” she repeated, eyebrow lifting, a small smile already forming. “As in both of us?”
Paige nodded, finally glancing at her. “Yeah. She’s been asking. Says she misses you.”
“That’s suspicious,” Azzi said lightly, hopping down from the counter. “She never misses me this politely.”
Paige laughed, a little too quick. “Okay, rude. But also—she made it sound important. Like a sit-down, spend-the-day kind of thing.”
Azzi studied her for a second longer now, head tilting. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not,” Paige said immediately. Then, softer, “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s nothing bad. I promise.”
Azzi stepped closer, hands slipping around Paige’s waist easily. “You know when you say that, it makes me think it’s either very bad or very exciting.”
Paige smiled down at her, thumb brushing over Azzi’s hip. “Just… clear your weekend, okay?”
Azzi laughed, leaning in to kiss her. “Alright,” she said. “For you. But if KK starts interrogating me about our future again, I’m blaming you.”
Paige kissed her back, heart thudding, smile staying firmly in place. “Deal.”
———————————-—————————————
Paige didn’t say much on the drive.
Azzi noticed, of course. She always did. Paige’s hand stayed steady on the wheel, but her jaw was tight, her thumb tapping lightly against the steering wheel like she was counting something only she could hear.
“You’re being quiet,” Azzi said lightly, glancing over at her. “Every time you get like this, something’s up.”
Paige smiled, a little crooked. “Can’t I just want to spend time with my fiancée?”
Azzi laughed. “You can. But you’re also definitely hiding something.”
Paige reached over, lacing their fingers together. “Just trust me.”
That softened Azzi immediately. “Okay,” she said, squeezing back. “I trust you.”
When they pulled in, Azzi noticed immediately that something was off.
The door rolled up slower than usual. The lights inside were dimmer. Warmer.
“Paige…” Azzi said softly, already smiling. “Why does it look like that?”
Paige parked and turned off the engine, her heart finally starting to race. “Just—come with me.”
They stepped inside together.
Azzi froze.
The garage had been transformed. String lights glowed softly along the beams, casting warm shadows over clean concrete. Candles flickered on a small table set for two, music from a guitar floating gently through the space. It still smelled like the garage—familiar, grounding—but softened, wrapped in intention.
Azzi let out a quiet laugh, hand drifting to Paige’s arm. “What is this?”
Paige turned to her, eyes bright, steady, full. “It’s… us. Just done a little differently.”
Azzi looked around again, then back at Paige, emotion already building. “You did all this?”
Paige nodded. “Yeah. For you.”
Azzi laughed through a breathy sob, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re insane.”
“Probably,” Paige said, smiling.
Azzi leaned forward, resting her forehead against Paige’s chest, breathing her in. “I love you,” she whispered.
Paige kissed the top of her head, fingers tightening gently around hers. “I love you more.”
Paige took a breath, slow and steady, like she needed it just to stay standing. She held Azzi’s hands—warm, familiar, grounding—and for a second she just looked at her. Really looked at her. Like she was memorizing her all over again.
“Okay,” she said softly, already smiling through the nerves. “I’m probably going to cry. Just—warning you.”
Azzi laughed, breathless, eyes shining. “Me too.”
Paige nodded, swallowing. “I used to think love was supposed to feel loud. Big gestures. Fireworks. Like if it didn’t knock you off your feet, it didn’t count.” She shook her head gently. “But loving you taught me something different.”
She squeezed Azzi’s hands. “You feel like home. You feel like coming back after a long day. Like early mornings and late nights and everything in between actually makes sense because you’re there.”
Azzi’s smile wavered. Paige felt it in her grip.
“I know we’re young,” Paige continued, voice steady but full. “And I know our story hasn’t been perfect. We broke. We hurt. We had to find our way back to each other. But somehow—through all of that—choosing you never stopped feeling right.”
Her eyes filled now, but she didn’t look away.
“I don’t want a life that’s impressive from the outside,” she said. “I want the one where I get to wake up next to you. Where I get to watch you make coffee half-asleep. Where I get to listen to you talk about things you love and pretend I understand just to see your face light up.”
Azzi laughed softly through tears.
“I want to love you in ordinary places,” Paige said, glancing around them, voice breaking just a little. “In garages. In kitchens. In parking lots and quiet nights and messy mornings. I want to choose you when things are easy—and especially when they’re not.”
She reached into her pocket, hands finally trembling as she opened the box. The diamond caught the warm light, steady and brilliant.
“Azzi,” Paige whispered, voice thick with emotion, “you are my favorite person. My safest place. My best friend. I don’t want to imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it—because every future I want starts with you.”
She dropped to one knee, never letting go of Azzi’s gaze.
“So if you’ll let me,” Paige said, tears finally spilling, smiling through them, “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. In all the quiet ways. In all the big ones too.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Will you marry me?”
Azzi didn’t answer right away. She stared at Paige like she was trying to take her in all at once—on one knee, eyes shining, hands shaking just a little, heart laid completely bare. Then Azzi laughed, a soft, broken sound that turned into a quiet sob before she could stop it.
“P…” she whispered, shaking her head, overwhelmed.
She dropped down with her, knees hitting the concrete without caring, hands cupping Paige’s face like she needed to feel her, to make sure this was real. Her thumbs brushed away Paige’s tears even as her own fell freely.
“I used to be scared of forever,” Azzi said, voice trembling. “Not because I didn’t believe in it—but because I didn’t think I deserved something that steady. Something that safe.”
She pressed her forehead to Paige’s. “And then there was you. You never left. Even when we broke, even when it hurt, you chose me anyway. You chose my wellbeing before yours.”
Azzi laughed through tears, breath hitching. “You chose me in my worst and I want to share my best with you. Forever.”
She pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red but glowing, smile wide and certain. “I don’t want a loud love,” Azzi said. “I want this. I want you coming home to me. I want boring days and bad weeks and laughing about nothing. I want to be your wife.”
Her hands tightened around Paige’s, grounding them both.
“So yes,” Azzi said, voice breaking with joy. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’d marry you a thousand times. I choose you—every version of you—for the rest of my life.”
Paige let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob as she slipped the ring onto Azzi’s finger, hands finally steady now. Azzi pulled her into her arms immediately, holding her tight, like she’d never let go.
They cried there together—on the garage floor, wrapped in light and love and the quiet certainty that they had found something rare.
☆》 ━ author's notes: I’m so excited to share this one with you guys. I hope you enjoy it, and if you can, please react!! Love ya 💗
Azzi stood on the front steps of her parents’ house longer than she meant to, phone heavy in her hand, keys digging into her palm. The night air felt unfamiliar, like she didn’t belong anywhere in it. Leaving felt necessary. Staying felt wrong. But now that she was outside, moving forward felt terrifying.
She didn’t know where to go.
Azzi swallowed hard. She knew she didn’t have the right to expect anything. But Paige had said something once, quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was obvious.
Come home, she’d told her. If you decide it’s not what you want, you come home.
Azzi had nodded then, not trusting her voice. She’d pretended she didn’t hear the weight in the word home.
Now, standing there with nowhere else that felt even remotely right, she let out a shaky breath.
Because she did know where home was. She’d always known. It wasn’t the place she was leaving behind. It was a door she hoped was still willing to open.
She opened the ride app with shaking fingers. The address bar blinked at her, waiting. Azzi swallowed and typed the address.
The confirmation popped up almost instantly. Driver in route.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Relief washed through her so fast it almost made her dizzy. Like her body had known before her brain caught up.
She slipped the phone into her pocket, fingers lingering on the smooth case as if holding onto it might steady her. Her eyes traveled over the house one last time—the towering columns, the manicured lawns, the glinting windows catching the late afternoon sun. Beautiful. Expensive. Empty. Every surface screamed perfection, every corner whispered expectation, every room seemed to echo the life she was supposed to want.
This was the world she had been pushed into, the one her parents had tried to mold her into. And for a long time, she had tried to breathe in the air of privilege and predictability, tried to convince herself that it could make her happy.
But standing there now, she felt the hollow truth beneath it all. The walls were beautiful, but they didn’t hold laughter, they didn’t hold love, they didn’t hold her. She could almost hear the echoes of herself in those empty halls—the version of her that had bent, that had swallowed dreams just to keep everyone else comfortable.
Her chest tightened, a pang of grief and defiance twisting together. She was supposed to want this life, and yet, every instinct in her screamed no. This wasn’t her home.
She exhaled, slow and deliberate, as if letting the air carry away the last threads of the life she’d been trying to inhabit.
One last look at the house, one last memory of what wasn’t hers, and then she turned. Every step away felt like reclaiming herself, like staking claim on a life she could actually live, not one she had been forced into.
—————————————-———————————
The car headlights appeared at the end of the street. Azzi stepped off the curb without looking back.
It smelled faintly like citrus cleaner and old fabric. The town slid past the window in blurred streaks of yellow and gray, too fast for how heavy Azzi felt.
Her hands were folded in her lap, knuckles white. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it. If she looked, she might talk herself out of this. Might convince herself she was being reckless, dramatic, selfish.
She watched the streetlights pass and failed, miserably, at not thinking about Paige. About that night. How nothing had gone the way she wanted.
Go. See it. I don’t want you waking up one day wondering.
Azzi pressed her forehead to the cool glass. Her breath hitched. She’d held it together for months—smiling, nodding, doing what was expected. But the second she let herself remember that night, something cracked.
Tears came quietly at first. One, then another, sliding down her cheeks without permission. She wiped at them angrily, like that would fix anything.
She’d tried. God, she’d tried.
She’d worn the clothes, learned the rules, dated Elias because he was easy and safe and made her parents happy. She’d gone to parties and dinners and laughed at jokes she didn’t find funny. And every night, she’d gone to bed feeling like she was disappearing. Like she’d left the best part of herself behind.
The car slowed, and her heart started racing. Streets she recognized. Turns she knew by heart.
She wasn’t ready. What if Paige had moved on? What if she’d finally let go the way Azzi never could? What if showing up like this—unannounced, messy, still in love—was unfair?
The driver pulled over. “This it?”
Azzi nodded, voice gone. She paid, stepped out, and stood on the sidewalk, breathing shakily. The night air felt too sharp, too real. She dragged her sleeve across her face, trying to pull herself together.
The building looked the same. Brick, warm light in the windows. It looked lived-in. Loved.
Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t check it.
Each step toward the door felt like walking into something irreversible. When she reached the apartment number, she stopped. Her hand hovered, shaking.
If it doesn’t feel right, come home.
Azzi squeezed her eyes shut. Fresh tears spilled over. It had never felt right.
She knocked—softly at first, then again, harder—before she could lose her nerve.
And waited, crying quietly in the hallway, for the door to either open or break her heart all over again.
—————————————-———————————
Paige stood at the stove, wooden spoon moving in slow, absent circles through the pan. The apartment smelled like garlic and onions, warm and familiar, the kind of smell that was supposed to mean home. Tonight it just felt heavy. Not in the sharp, aching way that had left her breathless months ago—but in a quieter, gentler way. The kind that settled in her chest and stayed there, steady and tender.
Paige mind drifted as she stirred, remembering the way Azzi used to perch on the counter, legs swinging, stealing bites before they were ready. The way she laughed—full and careless—like she belonged everywhere all at once. Paige had loved that about her.
She stared at the wall above the sink, blinking a little too hard, like if she focused enough the tightness in her chest would loosen. The pasta water was boiling over. She didn’t notice until it hissed against the burner.
“Shit,” she muttered, turning the heat down.
She wiped her hands on a dish towel and leaned her hip against the counter. Cooking had become a routine lately—something to fill the quiet, to keep her moving so she wouldn’t have to think about how empty the apartment felt.
The stove clicked off. The room went still. And in that stillness, the truth settled in like it always did when she stopped distracting herself.
Azzi wasn’t coming back. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Paige didn’t have anyone else to blame. She’d been the one to step back—not because she loved her less, but because she loved her enough to want her happy, even if that happiness didn’t include her. She believed that then. She believed it now, even as it hollowed her out. She had to believe it. Otherwise, the decision would break her.
The thought landed harder tonight, settling deep in her bones. Paige swallowed and reached for the salt, sprinkling it into the pan even though she’d already done that once. She kept doing things twice these days. Like her brain was always somewhere else.
Maybe this was it. Maybe people didn’t always circle back the way she’d believed they would. Maybe loving someone didn’t guarantee they’d choose you again.
She stirred too aggressively, sauce splashing the edge of the stove. Her jaw tightened. She could do this. She was good at discipline, at pushing through discomfort. That’s what she told herself, anyway.
Paige reached for the basil and the knife at the same time, then stopped.
She huffed out a quiet laugh.
Azzi had once stared at a pile of basil like it had personally offended her. “Why does it look like spinach’s cousin,” she’d said, squinting.
Paige had shrugged. “I think you just cut it?”
Azzi shook her head immediately. “No. That feels wrong.”
“Based on what.”
“Based on vibes—” Azzi paused, then corrected herself. “Actually no, I have zero evidence. I just don’t trust it.”
She’d grabbed a leaf and torn it in half with dramatic flair. “There. Problem solved.”
Paige laughed now, setting the knife down, tearing the leaves unevenly. They’d ruined plenty of meals back then—burnt pasta, sauce that tasted like nothing, smoke alarms screaming—but they’d laughed through all of it. Like the point had never been the food.
Perfect. She was now crying over herbs. That felt about right.
Then— A knock.
Paige froze.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it cut through the apartment like a crack of lightning. Three knocks. Steady. Real. Not the kind you imagined when you were hoping too hard.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t hope. Don’t do this again.
The knock came a second time, firmer now.
Paige turned off the stove with a shaky hand. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath along with her. She walked toward the door slowly, each step heavy, her mind racing through a hundred possibilities that all ended the same way— please let it be Azzi.
She reached for the handle. And paused.
She pressed her forehead against the door and exhaled. If this was the moment she finally had to let go—accept that Azzi wasn’t coming back, that she couldn’t keep living like every knock might mean something more—she didn’t want to be dramatic about it. She wanted to be brave. Because that’s what Azzi would’ve wanted.
Then she opened it.
For a second, her brain refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. Like the world had stuttered, skipped a frame. The hallway light spilled forward, catching on familiar curls, the slope of a jacket she knew by heart.
Azzi stood there.
Not smiling. Not steady. Eyes glassy, lashes clumped like she’d been crying for a while and hadn’t bothered hiding it. Her hands were shoved into her sleeves, shoulders pulled in like she was bracing for impact.
Paige’s breath left her all at once.
“Hi” Azzi started, then stopped. Her voice broke immediately, like it had been holding together by nothing but will. “I— you said… you said if it didn’t feel right…”
Paige didn’t let her finish.
She crossed the space in two steps and pulled Azzi into her, hard, like she was afraid she’d disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough. Azzi broke with the contact, a sob tearing out of her as she collapsed into Paige, fists gripping the fabric of her hoodie so tight it hurt. Paige held her anyway. Tighter. Like if she didn’t, the universe might decide to take her back.
Azzi laughed once, wet and broken. “You always do,” she said into Paige’s shoulder. “I tried P, really tried.”
Paige closed her eyes, the relief so sharp it hurt. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
They stood there like that, the door still open, the apartment breathing around them. Basil and garlic hung in the air, warm and real. Home.
Paige was feeling borderline manic, in the best possible way. The feeling of Azzi’s heartbeat racing under her palms, still breathing her in like she might vanish if Paige let go. Eyes red and shining as she tried to pull herself back together.
“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispered, voice small. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like this.”
Paige shook her head immediately. “Don’t,” she said, firm despite the tears burning her own eyes. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Did something happen? Are you okay?”
Azzi shook her head again. “I’m okay. Everything just… stayed wrong.”
Their foreheads touched. Azzi let out a shaky sob.
“I thought you’d moved on,” Azzi admitted. “I thought maybe I was too late.”
Paige shook her head, tears slipping free now. “I never did,” she whispered. “I just… learned how to survive missing you.”
Azzi’s hands curled into Paige’s hoodie. “I don’t want to survive anymore.”
Paige’s voice dropped to almost nothing. “Then don’t.”
After a moment, Paige pressed a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “Come inside,” she whispered. “Please.”
Azzi nodded against her, still shaking. And when Paige stepped back just enough to let her pass, it felt like crossing a line neither of them would ever step back over again.
Azzi stopped just past the doorway, taking it in slowly. The apartment was clean, but it wasn’t finished. Too open. Too careful. A couch that looked temporary. A bed that felt like it had been chosen quickly, without much thought. The walls were mostly bare, like Paige hadn’t wanted to commit to anything permanent.
It wasn’t empty. It was waiting.
Azzi’s chest tightened. “You didn’t… really finish it,” she said softly, glancing around.
Paige shrugged, suddenly shy. “I figured I’d… do it later.”
Azzi hummed. “Later with me?” she said, not really a question.
Paige’s ears turned pink. “Maybe.”
Azzi smiled, then turned toward the kitchen as the familiar smell reached her. “You cooking?”
Paige groaned. “Don’t get excited. It’s still very much a work in progress.”
Azzi peeked into the pan, stole a taste without asking, and nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. This is salvageable.”
Paige raised an eyebrow. “That’s the highest praise you’ve ever given my cooking.”
They stood there for a second too long, both of them hovering like they’d never met before.
Azzi glanced at Paige, then at the stove, then back at Paige. “I missed you so much. I just — I don’t know how to do this.”
Paige blinked. “I missed you more.”
She lifted one hand, then hesitated, letting it fall back to her side. Her voice came out barely above a breath.
“Let me just — Can I… can I kiss you?”
The question hung between them, fragile as glass.
Azzi blinked, like she hadn’t expected it. Like she hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear it. A shaky laugh escaped her, half-sob, half-relief.
“You’re asking now?” she whispered.
Paige nodded. “It’s been a year,” she said quietly. “I just—I want to make sure it’s what you want.”
Azzi didn’t answer with words. She nodded once, small and certain, then reached up and cupped Paige’s jaw with trembling fingers. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Please.”
Paige leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. Their foreheads brushed first, noses grazing, breaths mingling.
Then their lips met. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was careful, like Paige was relearning the shape of her mouth, like she was memorizing the feeling all over again. The kiss tasted like tears and relief and everything they hadn’t said.
Azzi sighed into it, the sound breaking her open. She kissed Paige back, deeper now, like she’d been waiting a year to finish the thought.
Paige pulled back first, forehead resting against Azzi’s, both of them breathing hard. She saw it then, something about Azzi’s expression in this moment — the feeling inside of her just snapped open.
“Marry me.”
The words were out before she could soften them, before she could make them reasonable or calm. They came out shaky and earnest and terrifyingly honest.
Azzi froze. “What?”
Paige laughed once, breathless and wrecked, eyes wet. “I know,” she said quickly. “I know this isn’t— I don’t have a ring, and this is probably insane, and we’re both crying in the middle of the kitchen—” Her voice broke. “But I almost lost you. And I don’t want a future where I have to imagine you somewhere else ever again.”
Azzi’s mouth trembled. “Paige—”
“I don’t care about timing,” Paige whispered. “Or money or what anyone thinks I just know that when you knocked that door, everything in me finally stopped hurting. So yeah—marry me. Choose me. Let me choose you back, every day for the rest of my life. I want the boring days and the hard ones and the stupid little arguments about basil. I want all of it—with you. Stay. Let this be home—for both of us.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and unbearable.
Then Azzi let out a broken laugh that turned into a sob as she nodded, pressing her forehead against Paige’s again. “Of course this is how we would get engaged,” she whispered. “Can’t do anything the right way huh?”
Azzi’s hands came up, gentle and sure, cradling Paige’s face like she was something fragile and precious all at once. Then she kissed her.
It was soft at first—almost hesitant—like Azzi was asking permission without using words. Their foreheads brushed, noses touching, breaths mingling, and then Azzi kissed her properly, deeper now, like she was pouring everything she couldn’t say into it.
Paige let out a quiet, broken sound against her lips and kissed her back, hands sliding to Azzi’s waist, grounding herself there. The world narrowed to warmth and closeness and the undeniable truth of this is it.
When Azzi finally pulled back, smiling through tears.
“That’s a yes,” she whispered.
And Paige laughed, breathless, wrecked, shaking with relief, with love, with everything they’d survived just to get back here.
Azzi laughed quietly and nudged her shoulder. “You know this place is missing, like, ninety percent of the personality it had, right?”
Paige scoffed. “Excuse you. I have a plant.”
“One plant,” Azzi said, dramatic. “You don’t even have a table bro. Are you eating standing up?”
“It’s minimalist,” Paige shot back.
“If that’s what you say,” Azzi said, clearing her throat as she turned back toward the stove. “But we have to finish this. I’m starving.”
They slipped into an almost-familiar rhythm. Almost. Azzi stirred the pasta, tasted the sauce, adjusted the heat like she’d never left. Paige hovered nearby, reaching for things a second too late, stopping herself mid-motion like she wasn’t sure where she was allowed to stand.
Azzi noticed.
Paige wasn’t moving freely. Every step looked measured, careful—like she was overthinking where to put her hands, where to look, how close was too close. Like she was afraid of breaking something fragile. Or maybe everything.
Azzi watched her from the corner of her eye as she stirred the pasta with way more focus than necessary. Her shoulders were tense, jaw set, eyes darting up every now and then like she was checking if Azzi was still really there.
“P,” Azzi said gently.
Paige flinched. “Yeah?”
Azzi smiled a little. “We literally just kissed. You asked me to marry you. And now you want to be all nonchalant on me?”
Paige let out a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I just—” She gestured vaguely with the spoon. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
Azzi giggled, shaking her head. “I’m nervous too. But you’re breathing like you’re defusing a bomb.”
Paige blinked. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are,” Azzi said, mimicking her exaggerated inhale. “Like—don’t cut the red wire, don’t cut the red wire.”
Paige laughed, relief flooding through her as she leaned against the counter. “Oh my god, no, because that’s so real. I was literally standing here like—do I stir the pasta, or is that too intimate?”
Azzi lost it. “You’re insane.” She stepped closer, still grinning. “Come here.”
She bumped her shoulder into Paige’s gently, on purpose this time. Paige bumped back.
“There,” Azzi said. “Normal.”
Paige laughed again, softer now. “Yeah. Normal.”
They moved around each other more easily after that— their hands brushing without either of them panicking.
When Paige stole a taste, Azzi swatted her away half-heartedly.
Azzi groaned. “You cannot start saying that already.”
Paige’s smile softened. “I absolutely can.”
Azzi looked at her then, really looked at her, and laughed under her breath. “God. I missed you.”
Paige reached over and pecked her lips lightly. “Me too. You have no idea how much.”
—————————————————————————
After dinner, they ended up curled together on the couch—Azzi half on top of Paige, legs tangled, the kind of closeness that felt natural again too quickly to question.
“I know you missed me and all that,” Azzi said, laughing, shifting a little, “but holy cow, P. You didn’t have to buy the most uncomfortable couch you could possibly find.”
Paige snorted. “Well, why would I buy an expensive one when I wanted you to choose whichever you wanted?” She shrugged, suddenly quieter. “I was kind of hoping… we’d finish it together. If you ever wanted to.”
Azzi tightened her hold around her. “I do,” she said simply.
Paige smiled, relief blooming slow and warm in her chest.
The apartment wasn’t complete yet. Not even close. But it finally felt like it was allowed to be.
Paige reached up, tilted Azzi’s chin, and kissed her deeply—pouring every lonely day, every night spent missing her, into it. Azzi pulled away first, smiling when Paige chased her lips without thinking.
“Wait,” Azzi laughed softly. “We just spent a whole year apart. We have way too much to talk about to get distracted right now.”
Paige giggled and immediately started kissing Azzi’s neck. “See, I disagree. I’ve missed that pretty mouth of yours way too much to stay away from it another second.”
Azzi tried—really tried—to keep her composure. “Seriously, P. I want to hear how you’ve been.”
“Okay. Okay,” Paige said, finally sitting back. “Honestly? I don’t feel like much has happened.”
Azzi gave her a look.
“Well,” Paige added casually, like she wasn’t about to drop something life-altering, “we opened a new location of the shop here in Briarwood.”
Azzi blinked. “YOU DID WHAT!?”
Paige laughed at her expression, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. I know. Sounds fake when I say it out loud.”
“That’s huge, P,” Azzi said, eyes wide. “How did that even happen?”
Paige exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “After everything, Mr. Smith didn’t let me disappear into myself—which was annoying at first, honestly. He made me come in every day. Said grief didn’t mean I got to abandon what we’d built.”
She smiled faintly at the memory. “At first I just helped. Paperwork. Orders. Little things. But after a couple months, he started stepping back. Letting me handle clients, negotiations, money. And I realized… I was actually good at it.”
Azzi watched her closely.
“I love it,” Paige admitted softly. “Not just the engines—the whole thing. The responsibility. The trust. Feeling like something depended on me and wasn’t going to disappear if I messed up.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s. “About four months later, an opportunity came up here. Smaller space, good location. I almost didn’t take it. It felt too soon. Too big.” She swallowed. “But then Mr. Smith got sick.”
The room went quiet.
“It just… shifted something,” Paige said, eyes shining now. “I kept thinking about how he used to talk about taking chances while you still could. About building something that lasted. So I said yes. KK runs the shop back home now— but I handle finances for both. Rent, payroll, materials. All of it.”
Her voice softened, eyes growing glassy. “After he passed, it just felt right. Like I owed it to him to try my best. To make him proud.”
She let out a breath that sounded like relief and fear tangled together. “Some days it scares the hell out of me. Other days it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Azzi squeezed her hand gently.
“I tried to commute,” Paige added with a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Four hours to get here, four hours to get back. Every day. I didn’t want to be here without you. Didn’t want this place to feel real if you weren’t in it.”
Azzi shook her head softly. “Paige…”
“I lasted two weeks,” Paige said, smiling through tears. “Turns out grief, exhaustion, and highways don’t mix. But even then… I kept thinking, if she ever comes back, I want there to be something here. Something solid.”
She looked at Azzi then, fully, vulnerably. “I didn’t build this to replace you. I built it in case you found your way home.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Azzi said, voice low, almost trembling. “I just… I didn’t want to come back and do it halfway again.”
Paige’s chest tightened. She reached out, tilting Azzi’s chin up gently so their eyes met. “You don’t owe me an apology,” she whispered. “You took the time you needed. That’s all that matters.”
Azzi’s breath stuttered. “How much rent do you pay?” she asked, already doing mental math. “How are we splitting—”
“It’s ours, Az.”
Azzi froze. “Huh?”
“It’s ours,” Paige said gently. “Yours. Mine. I bought it.”
Azzi stared at her. “You’re lying.”
“Nope. I wanted you to have a place that was yours. Fully yours. It’s under your name and everything. Don’t even ask how I did that.”
Azzi’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re unbelievable.”
Paige grinned. “I try.”
Azzi smacked her arm.
“Ow! Bro, I buy you a whole ass apartment and that’s how you thank me?”
They both laughed, the familiar banter slipping back into place like it had never left.
“But tell me,” Paige said with a smirk, “Ms. I Kiss Boys Now… how has your year been?” She said it teasingly—but a small, sharp pang hit her chest at the memory of Azzi sharing a kiss with someone else.
Azzi froze. “How do you know?”
Paige hesitated. “I saw you once. At the park. You were having a picnic.” Her voice softened despite herself. “You looked happy, Az.”
Azzi laughed sarcastically. “You know me too well to think that was me being happy.”
A pause stretched between them.
Azzi’s fingers started playing with Paige’s sleeve. “We kissed,” she said quietly. “Maybe three times.”
Paige’s chest tightened anyway. “And?” she asked, softer than she meant to.
Azzi shook her head. “And I remember thinking… this is it?” She laughed under her breath. “It wasn’t awful. It just wasn’t anything. I kept waiting for it to feel like it did with you.”
Paige looked down, throat thick.
“He wasn’t bad,” Azzi went on. “If I hadn’t loved you first, I might’ve thought that was what love was supposed to feel like,” she swallowed. “But I had you. I know what it feels like to be loved by you. And nothing comes close to that.”
Paige almost melted into her right then.
Azzi exhaled, long and shaky. “The whole year just felt… loud. And empty at the same time.”
She leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. “My parents were thrilled,” she said flatly. “Like I’d finally come to my senses. Like everything they’d ever wanted for me was just… waiting there.”
Paige’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“There were parties,” Azzi continued. “Dinners where everyone talked over each other and pretended they knew me. People asking what I was doing next, who I was seeing—what boy I was seeing.” She laughed once, sharp and humorless. “I got really good at dodging questions.”
She kept playing with Paige’s sleeve. “I kept telling myself I just needed time. That eventually it would feel worth it. That you were right—that I needed to see it so I wouldn’t spend my life wondering.”
She swallowed hard.
“But every day felt like I was playing a version of myself that didn’t exist,” Azzi whispered. “Like I was shrinking. Like if I stayed too long, I’d forget what it felt like to be honest.”
Paige pulled her closer, arms tightening around her.
“I missed you so much,” Azzi said, her voice breaking. “In stupid ways. In ways that didn’t even make sense. I missed the quiet. I missed being known without explaining myself. I missed laughing without checking who was watching.”
She turned her head, eyes glassy. “I kept thinking… Paige would hate seeing me like this.”
Paige’s throat closed. “Az…”
“I tried so hard,” Azzi said quickly, desperate to be understood. “I dated. I smiled. I showed up. I told myself this was growth. But none of it felt like mine.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It felt like if I ever came back to you… I had to earn it.”
She looked at Paige then—really looked at her. “Leaving tonight was the first honest thing I’ve done all year.”
Paige pulled her in, forehead resting against Azzi’s temple. “You don’t ever have to earn your way back to me,” she murmured. “You never did.”
Azzi closed her eyes, breathing her in. “I know,” she said softly.
They were leaning in, about to kiss again, when Azzi’s phone buzzed loudly on the floor.
“Leave it,” she muttered, glancing at it. She already knew who it was.
“Is that your parents?” Paige asked.
“Probably. Just let it go to voicemail. I’m changing my number tomorrow,” Azzi said with a tight laugh.
“You should pick it up. Just so they know you’re safe.”
Azzi rolled her eyes. “No way, you’re actually telling me this.”
Paige shrugged. “Do you want me to pick up?”
Azzi hesitated. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to deal with it right now—but she knew sooner or later she would have to. And honestly? She’d rather it be over the phone. Finally, she whispered, “Sure.”
Paige swiped and answered, her voice calm but firm. “Hello?”
There was a faint pause, then Azzi’s dad’s familiar, clipped voice came through. “I’m picking her up tomorrow morning,” he said casually, as if it were already decided.
Paige’s jaw tightened. She leaned closer to Azzi, careful not to let her see the anger rising. Her voice dropped into that quiet, unwavering tone she used when she meant business. “Sorry. Not going to happen. You are not picking her up. If you called to check if she’s safe—she is. And you will not involve yourself in her life without her consent ever again. She is not your possession.”
Another pause. Smooth, practiced. “Paige… I understand your concern, but you have to realize—Azzi has such a bright future. She can’t throw it away… following you around. She has opportunities, connections… everything she’s ever been promised. You can’t expect her to give that up. She had such a wonderful year—she even has a boyfriend. I’m sure you didn’t know that.”
Paige didn’t flinch. “Azzi’s future is hers to decide. Not yours. Not mine. And it’s not about opportunities or connections. It’s about her being happy. She’s safe. She’s loved. And I’m taking care of her. That’s all that matters.”
“Paige…” his voice dropped low and tense. “I just want what’s best for her. You have to understand—this—”
“This isn’t about you,” Paige interrupted, calm but hard. “She is not an object. She’s not a prize or a project. She is a person. You will not use fear or threats to control her choices. You will respect her from now on—and I will make sure you can’t interfere again. Not just between us, but in her life, in the choices she makes, in what she wants for herself.”
There was a long, heavy pause. Azzi’s face was buried in the crook of Paige’s neck, her small body trembling slightly. Finally, begrudging and clipped, her dad’s voice came through: “You know this isn’t going to last. She’s dramatic, she gets overwhelmed with everything. If she ever wants more than you can give her—because let’s be honest, you work on cars, you barely manage the bare minimum—then you’ll get tired. Tired of having to deal with her. Just don’t blame me if—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Paige said, her voice hardening just slightly, every word precise and unyielding. “You’ve made your point clear. And I couldn’t care less about what you think. The one losing here isn’t Azzi—it’s you. You just lost the most beautiful soul, and you’re not getting her back. You will never hurt her again. Not if I’m alive. Do I make myself clear?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you—”
Click. Paige hung up the phone, exhaling slowly. Her hand stayed pressed to Azzi’s back as she held her close, letting the tension in the room finally start to dissolve.
Azzi let out a shaky breath. Paige wrapped her arms around her, holding her closer, letting the silence settle between them.
Then, without warning, Azzi started laughing. It was small at first, a hiccuping sound, but it grew until she was doubled over against Paige, tears spilling freely.
“I can’t… I can’t believe that just happened,” she gasped between laughs, her shoulders shaking.
Paige laughed too, soft and shaky. “I know. Holy crap, I’ve never—never had to tell someone off like that and feel so… victorious.”
Azzi snorted, wiping her tears on Paige’s hoodie. “You’re insane. Absolutely insane. And somehow… amazing.”
Paige brushed her thumb under Azzi’s eye, wiping away the last tear before it could fall. She smiled softly, the kind of smile that said we’re okay now.
“Hey,” she murmured. “But keep telling me about your year.”
Azzi huffed a small laugh. “Why?”
“Because there’s no way,” Paige said, nudging her gently, “that not a single good thing happened to you. Statistically impossible. I refuse to believe it.”
Azzi rolled her eyes but relaxed back into her arms. “You’re really not letting this go, huh?”
“Nope,” Paige said, popping the p. “I survived twelve months of missing you. I’ve earned at least one happy story.”
Azzi thought about it for a second, staring at the ceiling. “I actually loved business,” she admitted quietly. “Which surprised me. I didn’t love Crestwood but I loved my classes.”
Paige hummed, fingers absentmindedly playing with Azzi’s hair. “You can always transfer your credits back.”
Azzi sighed. “I need a job that actually makes money. Real adult money. I don’t think I can do both. I know I had one before but that barely cover necessities.”
“Who said you need a job right now?” Paige asked somewhat shyly now.
Azzi laughed incredulously. “Bro, if we’re building a life here, that costs money. Money I need to help make.”
“Okay. I don’t like your tone,” Paige pouted.
Azzi giggled and kissed the pout away. “I’m sorry, baby. I just mean… I loved school. But I love us more. I want this to work.”
“It will,” Paige said softly. Then, firmer, “And you’re not dropping out.”
Azzi groaned. “Paige—”
“You’re already halfway done,” Paige continued, gentler now. “You worked too hard to walk away from it. The shops are doing well. We’re okay. Really. I’ll take care of it, whatever you need.”
Azzi searched her face. “And you’re sure you won’t feel like everything’s on you?”
Paige shook her head. “I’d feel worse watching you give up something you love because you think you have to.” She brushed her thumb along Azzi’s cheek. “Let me carry it for a bit. I want to. I want you happy more than anything. And if school does that, then that’s what we’re doing.”
She smiled softly. “Gotta get my future fiancée her degree.”
Azzi buried her face back in the crook of Paige’s neck, trying to hide her blush. “Oh my god. I was just getting used to being your girlfriend.”
Paige laughed quietly, already planning something far bigger—because if Azzi thought that was the proposal, she had no idea what was coming.
☆》 ━ author's notes: We’re getting there. I really enjoyed the live reactions yesterday, so if you can send them to me with this one too, I’d love that. Love you guys 🤍
It had been the hardest fucking year of Paige’s existence. Nothing — absolutely nothing — had gone her way. Well… maybe a couple things, but none of the ones that mattered. Not the important ones. Those had slipped through her fingers like sand no matter how hard she tried to hold on.
Every morning was the same: 9:30 alarm, shower that didn’t wake her up, coffee that tasted like nothing. She’d drive to work with the radio off because everything sounded like Azzi.
She tried. God, she tried.
She showed up. She clocked in. She smiled at customers. She pretended she wasn’t breaking in slow motion.
At night, she’d come back to her bedroom — fairy lights still taped on the wall, that stupid paint stain on the carpet from a school project, posters from a version of herself that didn’t know what heartbreak tasted like. Pictures of Azzi everywhere.
She’d sit on the edge of the bed and just… breathe through it.
One evening, she walked into the kitchen, dropped her bag, and leaned on the counter like she was holding herself up.
Her mom turned from the stove. “Sweetheart, you okay?”
“Yeah,” Paige answered too fast. Too practiced.
Her mom dried her hands on a towel, watching her. “Paige, this isn’t healthy. You barely talk at dinner. You’re losing weight. Do you want to—”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Paige.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Her mom stepped closer. “She’s going to be okay—”
“Can we not?” Paige’s voice cracked, barely. She cleared it quickly. “Please.”
Her mom softened, eyes sad the way only a parent’s can be when they know you’re lying but don’t want to push you off a cliff you’re barely clinging to.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But you don’t have to do this alone.”
Paige nodded, grabbed a glass of water she didn’t drink, and walked out before her face betrayed her.
Upstairs, she shut the bedroom door quietly, slid down the back of it, and pressed the heel of her hand against her chest. She missed her. So damn much.
She was trying. Trying to breathe. Trying to be normal. Trying not to miss someone she had lost by choice.
And the worst part? Her mom was right. This wasn’t healthy. But saying it out loud would make it real. And she couldn’t survive that. Not yet.
She had kept her promise, though. She bought the Briarwood apartment. Just waiting. Ready if Azzi decided to ever come back.
It took her almost four months to move into it — four months of avoiding it like it was poison. Every time she stepped inside those four empty walls, she fell apart. Because the place wasn’t just an apartment.
It was Azzi.
It was her laugh echoing down the hallway, the soft, sleepy grin she wore in the mornings, the way she used to stand in the kitchen wearing Paige’s oversized T-shirts and absolutely nothing else.
It was the feeling of Azzi falling asleep on her chest, letting Paige play with her hair until she drifted off. So when the day finally came and she moved in for real, she felt something inside her quietly shatter.
Paige stood in the doorway with her keys still in the lock, staring at the empty living room like it was a test she’d already failed. The late afternoon light spilled across the hardwood floor, warm and golden — the kind of light that should’ve made the place feel inviting.
It didn’t. It just made the empty space look bigger.
She set the first box down — clothes, mostly, shoved in without folding — and exhaled slowly. Her chest felt tight in that familiar, hollow way she was still getting used to. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked around at the bare walls, the untouched counters, the silence thick enough to drown in.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She dragged a hand through her hair and opened the first cabinet in the kitchen. Empty. Of course it was. Everything was. She took out a stack of plates from the box at her feet and placed them inside without even checking if they were straight.
Azzi was supposed to tease her about that.
“Baby, you know normal people don’t just throw plates in at random, right?”
“Good thing we’re not normal.”
Their stupid, soft, safe banter.
Paige shook her head, hard, like she could knock the memory loose.
She walked to the next cabinet. Put three glasses inside. Didn’t bother unwrapping the rest. What was the point? Azzi was the one who liked things organized — color coordinated, grouped by size, all the dumb stuff Paige pretended she didn’t care about but secretly loved watching her do.
They were supposed to be doing this together again.
Azzi was supposed to stand barefoot in this kitchen, hair a mess, sleeves too long, laughing while she unpacked mugs and told Paige where to put everything. She was supposed to complain about the lighting like she had months before. She was supposed to choose the shower curtain. She was supposed to sit on the counter with her knees tucked to her chest, talking about paint samples and how could they make this place theirs.
Paige swallowed hard.
She grabbed another box and carried it to the bedroom. The mattress was still wrapped in plastic. She stared at it for a long moment before dropping the box and tearing the plastic half-heartedly. It fell limp to the floor.
She didn’t make the bed. Didn’t unpack the nightstand. Didn’t open the curtains.
Why bother?
Azzi was supposed to help her choose the sheets. Azzi was supposed to fall back onto the mattress with her and test how soft it was. Azzi was supposed to curl against her that first night, claiming her side of the bed the way she always did — without asking.
Paige sat on the edge of the mattress and pressed her palms into her eyes until colors burst behind her lids. Her throat tightened. She forced a breath in, then another. It didn’t help.
She opened one more box — the one she’d labeled living room. Inside were picture frames she didn’t have the courage to look at yet. A blanket. A candle Azzi once said smelled like “warm clouds” or some ridiculous thing Paige didn’t understand.
She set the blanket on the floor. Left the candle unopened. Pushed the whole box aside.
Paige looked around the apartment again. Bare. Hollow. Waiting. She exhaled shakily.
This was the plan. She bought the apartment because she promised she would. Because she believed — stupidly, stubbornly — that when Azzi came back, they’d build this life together.
So she didn’t hang anything on the walls. Didn’t fully unpack. Didn’t settle in. She left space everywhere — in the drawers, in the closet, in the bed that still had no sheets.
She left space for Azzi.
Living in a space that once felt like the future — their future — and now it felt colder than a motel room.
She was four hours away from everything that grounded her: her family, her friends, her routines. Her heart. Yeah, that didn’t help either.
The only silver lining was the business. Her business now. She’d been managing the shop for nine months — had taken it on fully, proudly, because working with cars was the only thing keeping her upright most days.
She loved fixing things. She just couldn’t fix everything.
Part of what finally pushed her to move into the apartment was the opportunity to open a second location in Briarwood. A chance at growth, at proving herself. KK was running the original shop back home, and Paige drove back once a month just to check on everything, just to feel familiar air for a moment. Meanwhile she was the one in charge here — the leader, the one calling the shots. She didn’t lose her love for engines and grease and the quiet precision of problem-solving.
But the hurt of waking up every morning in a space she once hoped would become her home with Azzi?
That pain was still there. Always there.
She hadn’t heard from her. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a stupid meme Azzi would have normally sent at 3 a.m. She was keeping her part of the promise. But Paige didn’t know if the silence was good or bad. She just knew it hurt.
Azzi was trying to give the ‘Fudd lifestyle’ a fair chance. Paige saw it — from afar, because she never got brave enough to walk up to her, she knew that if she said something, there was no going back— but she saw it.
She saw five moments in the last year. Five glimpses. Five punches straight to her ribs. And she noticed everything: How Azzi’s smile looked more gentle, less forced with time. How her hair reached further down her back. How she had new friends. How she looked… older. Even more beautiful if that could even be possible.
Paige woke up every morning wondering if she made the right choice. Regretting letting her go. Every morning realizing Azzi’s smile wasn’t meant to be admired from across a room — it was meant for her. But she had made decisions and there was no turning back now. Even if her heart yelled every day to go get her girl.
———————————————————————————
The first time Paige saw her was a month after that conversation in the garage.
Paige was barely awake. She dragged herself into the coffee shop next to the garage after sleeping maybe four hours. Grief had a way of making mornings feel like wading through concrete, and today was no different. She scrolled absently through her phone, shuffling forward in line, eyes unfocused.
And then— “Azzi? Iced vanilla latte!”
The name sliced clean through the room. Paige’s head snapped up so fast her neck popped. Her heart jolted like someone hit her with a live wire.
No. No, no, no. Not today. Not when she felt this fragile. But she turned. Her body didn’t give her a choice.
And there she was.
Azzi.
Standing at the pickup counter, shoulders slightly hunched like she was trying to shrink herself. Her eyes were tired in a way that made Paige’s breath stutter. Not just tired — worn, dimmed, like someone who hadn’t laughed freely in weeks.
She picked up her cup with that familiar, nervous two-handed grip Paige used to tease her about. The same grip Paige used to gently replace with her own hands, whispering ‘breathe, baby, you’re okay.’
Now she stood alone. Paige felt a hit beneath her ribs — sharp, painful, almost nauseating.
She looked down fast. Pretended her entire world hadn’t just tilted sideways.
Then she took one last glance. Because she was weak.
Azzi didn’t see her. Didn’t look up. Didn’t know Paige was five feet behind her, falling apart. And then she walked out.
Leaving the door swinging behind her and Paige standing in line with her heart pounding against the bruises she swore weren’t there yesterday.
———————————————————————————
The second time Paige saw her, it didn’t feel like a moment. It felt like a collision.
She was walking back from lunch with a flimsy plastic cup in her hand, peeling the edge of the lid without thinking, humming under her breath just to fill the dead space in her mind. She was tired, but not the bone-deep kind — just normal tired, the type she didn’t complain about because it made her feel almost human again.
It was a good day. Or as good as days could be anymore.
The sun was high, painfully bright, reflecting off every car window in blinding flashes. Paige squinted at the asphalt. Her eyes were focused on the ground, not the cars, not the people, not anything that could hurt.
But then — something caught her eye.
A familiar shape. A familiar car. Her breath hitched before she could stop it. No way. She blinked, once, twice. But it was there. Azzi’s car.
The exact same little imperfection on the bumper from that one rainy night. The keychain Paige bought her, hanging from the rearview mirror, swaying gently in the breeze as if someone had recently touched it.
Paige’s heart dropped so fast her knees almost buckled. She slowed down, unsure whether she was walking or drifting, pulled forward by something she didn’t allow herself to name. Maybe instinct. Maybe longing. Maybe something worse.
She took another step. And saw her. Azzi. Inside the car. Paige stopped breathing.
Azzi’s hands were wrapped around the steering wheel — tight, white-knuckled, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered. Her head leaned back against the seat, face tilted up slightly, eyes closed. Her lips parted just a bit, like she was fighting to steady her breath.
She looked exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally. Utterly drained — like she had held herself together for everyone else and collapsed only once she was alone.
Paige froze on the sidewalk, halfway turned toward the car, body rigid, caught between running to her and running away. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the sound of cars passing nearby.
She could see everything — the sharp rise and fall of Azzi’s chest, the tremble in her fingers, the slight redness around her eyes that told Paige she’d been crying recently. She knew Azzi’s tells better than she knew her own reflection.
This was the Azzi she used to hold. The Azzi who let her see the cracks no one else got to witness. The Azzi who trusted her with her softness, her fears, her trembling breaths.
And Paige wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore. Her throat tightened painfully.
Azzi breathed out — a long, shaky exhale. Even from where she stood, Paige could see the way her shoulders sagged with the weight of it. Like the air hurt to release.
Paige stepped closer. One step. Then another. Close enough now that she could see the streaks of dried mascara under Azzi’s eyes, the way her thumb absently traced a small circle against the steering wheel — a grounding gesture, one Paige had once guided with her own hands.
Her chest constricted, sharp and agonizing. She wanted to knock on the window. Wanted to lean down and say her name softly. Wanted to ask, Did something happen? Are you okay? Even if she already knew the answer.
She wanted to protect her. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to do anything other than stand there like a stranger. But she wasn’t allowed to. Azzi wasn’t hers anymore.
Paige forced herself to stop. Right there. Right in front of the car, close enough to feel the heat of the sun bouncing off the hood.
For a brutal second, she let herself imagine it — Azzi opening her eyes, seeing her, whispering her name. Reaching out. Letting her in.
But then another thought hit her. A colder one. What if Azzi was mad? What if she ruined a moment Azzi needed to herself? What if she made everything worse?
Paige’s hand twitched uselessly at her side. She stared at Azzi like she was memorizing her for the last time — the freckles she loved, the shape of her jaw, the tiny crease between her eyebrows. The vulnerability Paige used to kiss away.
Her ribs felt like they were caving in. Slowly — painfully slowly — she stepped back. One foot. Another. Her heart cracking with each inch of distance.
Azzi breathed in again, chest shuddering, completely unaware that Paige was there at all.
Paige turned away finally. Her jaw clenched so tight it shook. Her eyes stinging with a pressure she refused to let fall.
She walked toward the garage on autopilot, every step heavy and wrong, as if the ground itself protested her leaving.
She didn’t look back. Not because she didn’t want to — but because she knew if she did, she’d run to the car, open the door, and undo everything she’d forced them both to survive.
Inside the shop, the lights hummed quietly. Someone asked her a question. Something about parts. About an order. Paige blinked at them, barely hearing. Her ribs still hurt. Deep, sharp, unrelenting.
Because Azzi had been right there. Breaking quietly.
And Paige for the first time had walked away.
———————————————————————————
The third time Paige saw her, it was by accident. She hadn’t seen her since the car dilemma and that had been seven months ago. Eight since the breakup.
She only went to the bookstore because the outside air felt too heavy to breathe. She needed quiet. She needed space where memories couldn’t find her.
She walked past the front tables, eyes scanning random covers without actually reading them. The place was busy — weekend busy — full of chatter and the soft rustle of pages flipping.
Then she heard it. A laugh. Bright. Effortless. Warm in a way that didn’t sound chipped or held together by tape or forced to seem fine. It sounded real.
Paige froze. She knew that laugh. She would’ve recognized it anywhere — the upward lilt at the end, the way it filled the space instead of politely fitting into it.
But this one… This one wasn’t hers. This one wasn’t meant for her.
She turned slowly, like her neck needed permission from her heart. And there she was.
Standing in the history aisle with a guy around her age — someone Paige had never seen before. He said something, some little joke, and Azzi laughed again, louder this time. Not the quiet, almost shy laugh she used to give Paige when she was trying not to melt. Not the soft one she had when Paige kissed her cheeks. Not the silly one Paige could pull out of her during movie nights.
No. This was a free laugh. A public one. It hurt more. She had never been the reason she heard this one.
Azzi’s head tilted back as she laughed, eyes crinkling. She nudged the guy lightly with her shoulder, like she was… comfortable. Like she wasn’t thinking about anything heavy. Like she wasn’t dragging heartbreak behind her like a shadow.
Paige stared at her, frozen between two bookshelves, feeling something inside her crack open again — something she thought had already broken all the way.
The guy flipped through a book and held it out to Azzi. She leaned in. So close. Close enough that their arms brushed.
Paige’s stomach flipped, sharp and mean.
She wanted to look away. She knew she should look away. But she couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on Azzi like they were anchored, like her brain needed evidence that this was real and not some nightmare.
Azzi laughed again at something on the page.
Paige’s fingers curled around the strap of her bag, tightening until her knuckles ached. Her throat felt tight, like every inhale got stuck halfway.
Azzi didn’t notice her. Didn’t glance up. Didn’t feel her there. And Paige didn’t move. Not at first.
She stood there long enough for the guy to reach out and tuck a stray piece of hair behind Azzi’s ear. She didn’t pull back. She didn’t look uncomfortable. She just smiled softly and said something Paige couldn’t hear.
That was when Paige stepped back.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, sad and bruised. She turned around, headed straight for the exit with her jaw clenched so tight it trembled.
She didn’t look back. Because she wasn’t sure she could handle watching Azzi laugh again — not like that, not with someone else, not when all Paige ever wanted was to be the reason she laughed at all.
———————————————————————————
The fourth time, Paige wasn’t even supposed to be in town but KK had called with a crisis and of course she came.
She had taken the long route home, through the park, earbuds in but no music playing, hands buried in her sweatshirt pocket.
The late afternoon sun made the grass look almost golden. Kids ran around. Couples walked their dogs. It was the kind of soft, ordinary day that shouldn’t have hurt.
Until she saw her. Sitting on a picnic blanket under one of the big trees, knees pulled up, hair in a loose braid, sunlight turning everything softer. She had a book open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it. She was talking to someone sitting beside her.
A man. That same man.
Paige’s breath stopped. She froze mid-step, half-hidden behind a row of bushes. Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure someone could hear it.
The man said something — Paige couldn’t hear what — and Azzi laughed.
Azzi nudged the guy with her shoulder playfully. He grinned, picked up a daisy from the grass, and tucked it behind her ear. She rolled her eyes, flustered, but she didn’t push him away.
Paige’s stomach twisted.
He leaned in to say something closer to her ear. Azzi tucked her chin down, a shy gesture Paige recognized too well — the one that meant she was flustered, trying to hide a smile.
Paige felt sick.
Azzi’s hand brushed the guy’s knee. Not a full touch — just the edge of her fingers. But it was enough to make Paige’s ribs ache like she’d been punched.
She had to look away for a second. The world blurred. She blinked hard, forcing her eyes to refocus on anything but them — the trees, the sky, the dogs barking. Anything.
But her eyes drifted back. Of course they did.
The man shifted closer. Azzi didn’t move away.
He said something that made her laugh again — louder this time — and then he leaned in and kissed her.
A soft, slow, familiar kind of kiss.
Paige’s breath stuttered. Her vision tunneled. She grabbed the strap of her bag like it was the only thing keeping her standing. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Azzi kissed him back. Not wildly. Not deeply. But she didn’t hesitate.
Paige stepped back like she’d been shoved.
Air rushed out of her lungs in one shaky exhale. Her legs moved on instinct, one step, then another, then faster. She didn’t run, but she walked with the kind of tight, rigid pace of someone trying very hard not to fall apart in public.
She didn’t look back. Because she already knew what she’d see.
Paige blinked fast, but it didn’t stop the sting behind her eyes. Her throat ached. Her chest felt hollow.
For the first time, she let herself think the thought she’d been avoiding: Maybe Azzi was moving on. Maybe Paige wasn’t the person she came back to in the end.
———————————————————————————
Then the fifth time happened. The church felt wrong without him. Too quiet. Too still. Too final.
Paige stood near the front, hands clasped tightly in front of her, staring at the framed photo of Mr. Smith set beside the casket. His smile was the same — soft, warm, patient — but knowing it was only a picture made her chest tighten until she struggled to breathe.
Mr. Smith had been the kind of adult who made being a teenager a little less terrifying. He always had time for her. Always listened. Always treated her like she mattered even on days she didn’t believe it.
Losing him felt like losing a piece of her foundation.
She blinked hard, eyes stinging. She hadn’t cried yet. She didn’t want to cry here. Not in front of all these people. Not while everything already felt too fragile.
Azzi was standing near the far corner of the room, half-hidden behind a pillar. She wore black, her hair pulled back neatly, hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked small. Too small for the room. Too small for the grief sitting on her shoulders. She wasn’t talking to anyone. She wasn’t trying to be seen.
It was painfully obvious she wasn’t meant to interact — she was there because she needed to be. She couldn’t not be.
And Paige’s heart cracked in a different way.
Azzi’s eyes were trained on Mr. Smith’s photo, not moving, not blinking. Her jaw trembled like she was swallowing something heavy. Paige recognized that look. She had seen it enough times to know what it meant: Azzi was hurting. Azzi was trying to stay strong. Azzi was failing.
And Paige’s body reacted before her mind did — her breath catching, her chest tightening with a bittersweet ache she’d been trying to ignore for months.
Because this… This was exactly why she had loved Azzi. Why she was still waiting.
Even after everything, Azzi showed up for the people who mattered. Quietly. Gently. Without expecting anything back. She still came.
Paige remembered all the times Mr. Smith had praised Azzi’s kindness, her perseverance, the way she always noticed when someone was struggling. He used to say Azzi had “a heart too big for her age.”
And watching her now, standing alone, trying to hide her grief so she wouldn’t cause anyone trouble… Paige understood exactly what he meant.
Her vision blurred. Not just from losing him, but from seeing Azzi trying so hard to grieve quietly. To not make it about her. To be respectful of Paige’s boundaries, even though her own heart was clearly breaking.
Someone started a speech at the front. People bowed their heads. Paige didn’t hear a word. She kept her eyes on Azzi — the girl who used to hold her hand at scary moments and whisper “I got you,” who used to anchor her when she spiraled.
Azzi’s lip trembled. She reached up and wiped a tear quickly, almost angrily, like she was embarrassed by it.
And that was what finally undid Paige. That tiny, vulnerable gesture. That reminder of how deeply Azzi felt everything. How hard she tried. How much she cared.
Paige’s throat burned.
Moments like this reminded her exactly why she had fallen in love with Azzi — why she still was.
Azzi wasn’t perfect. But man did it feel like she was.
She came to say goodbye to a man who had been important to Paige.
It made Paige’s heart ache in a way that felt both familiar and impossible to let go.
Paige looked down, blinking away tears she couldn’t stop anymore.
She remembered why she was willing to wait her entire life if necessary. She was waiting because love that sincere didn’t just disappear. Not when it looked like this. Not when it showed up in silence, in the back of a funeral, with a broken heart and no expectation.
Paige wiped her cheek, inhaled shakily, and realized:
Loving Azzi hurt. But losing her forever would hurt more. And losing Mr. Smith reminded her exactly what mattered — what was worth showing up for — even when everything else felt impossible.
—————————————————————————
The apartment was too quiet again.
Paige sat curled in the corner of the cheapest couch she could find — the one that sank too much on one side, the one she hated, the one she never planned to keep. She was saving for the expensive one. The one she knew Azzi would’ve loved. The one they were supposed to go pick out together in the future.
She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the blank TV screen, her reflection faint and tired.
God. She missed her.
More than she let herself say out loud. More than she let herself think most days. But tonight, sitting in the dim light with nothing to distract her, the missing felt sharp. Not a dull ache, but a cut.
Every memory she’d pushed away came back like it had been waiting for the silence.
Azzi in the park, laughing with that man. Azzi kissing him back. Azzi laughing in the bookstore — really laughing — and not with her.
Paige pressed the heel of her hand against her sternum like she could hold herself together by force.
She knew she didn’t have the right to feel this way. She didn’t have the right to be jealous. Or angry. Or heartbroken. Or devastated every time she saw Azzi with someone else.
She was the one who let her go. For fuck’s sake she literally told Azzi to do all of those things.
And she had done it telling herself she was doing the right thing — giving Azzi freedom, giving her options, giving her a future she deserved. A future Paige was convinced she wasn’t good enough for.
She thought she was being noble. Selfless. Loving in the most painful way.
But all it did was leave them both bleeding.
Paige leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. Her throat burned. Her breaths came too uneven. The cheap couch creaked under her, the springs digging into her thigh — another reminder of everything she’d put on hold for a future she’d probably never get to have. A future she threw away with her own hands.
Tears finally slipped out, quiet and frustrated. She wiped them, angry at herself for crying now, months later, alone with no one to blame but the face staring back at her in the reflection.
She could still hear Azzi’s laugh. Still feel the weight of Azzi’s heartbreak at the funeral. Still see that kiss under the tree.
It all twisted together until it hurt to breathe.
“God,” she whispered, voice cracking, “I miss you.”
She missed Azzi in every version — the girl she held, the girl she lost, the girl she saw with someone else, the girl at the back of the church trying not to cry.
She missed the stupid inside jokes. The late-night talks. The versions of herself she only ever was with Azzi.
But the truth sat heavy and undeniable in her chest: She did this to herself. She ended it. She let Azzi go.
And no amount of missing, or aching, or crying alone in a half-furnished apartment could change that now.
So Paige curled tighter into herself, breathing through the ache, letting the tears fall — because there was no one left to hide them from — and whispered the truth she’d been avoiding for months: “It’s my fault.”
The words hung in the air like smoke.
She stayed there, on that awful couch, swallowed by the silence, by her choices, by the ghost of the girl she still loved with a heart that wouldn’t stop breaking.
———————————————————————————
Azzi had learned a lot in the past year. More than she ever wanted to.
She learned that growing up isn’t some clean, cinematic thing — it’s messy, it’s slow, it hurts in places you didn’t know could ache.
She learned that choosing yourself doesn’t always feel empowering. Sometimes it feels like standing alone on a cliff you didn’t ask to climb.
She learned what silence can do to a person. What pressure can turn you into. What loneliness sounds like at two in the morning.
She learned that you can miss someone so fiercely it becomes part of your every routine — like waking up, brushing your teeth, driving, breathing.
And most importantly? She learned that love’s supposed to be kind — and losing it shouldn’t feel like losing air.
And that was exactly why she hadn’t gone running back to Paige. Not because she didn’t want to.
God, she wanted to — every day, in every stupid moment, with every beat of her stupid heart.
But wanting wasn’t enough anymore.
Paige had let her go… but Azzi knew why.
She understood it now in a way she hadn’t back then, when everything felt like betrayal and heartbreak and panic.
———————————————————————————
At first, Azzi pretended she was fine. She told herself it wasn’t over. Not really. Paige wouldn’t leave her like that.
Azzi spent the first weeks convincing herself she wasn’t actually starting a new life.
Sure, she went to orientation. Sure, she bought the business textbooks. Sure, she let her parents hover over every part of her life.
But every time she walked into a room — a classroom, a café, a study hall — her brain whispered: This is temporary. This isn’t real. I’m going back to Paige.
She unpacked exactly one suitcase. Left half her clothes folded in the bottom drawer because she kept thinking, No point in putting everything away. I won’t be here long.
The girls in her classes introduced themselves, and Azzi smiled and nodded and said her name, but she didn’t learn theirs. Why bother? She wasn’t staying.
Her parents talked about internships, networking, careers. Azzi nodded like she was listening, thinking: I’m not building a future without her. I’m just… visiting.
She didn’t decorate her room like it was before. Didn’t hang the pinned-up mood boards the way she used to. Didn’t buy matching bedding.
No. Why make this place feel like home when she had no intention of making it one?
Every time her mind even suggested the idea that maybe she was supposed to build something here, something new, something that didn’t include Paige—
Azzi shut it down. No. I’m not doing that. I’m not replacing her with anything. I’m not living this life. I’m only here because she asked me to try.
It was a stubbornness so deep it felt like armor.
When her mom would ask, “How’s everything going?”
Azzi said, “Good,” with the flat tone of someone reading from a script.
Because the truth was messy. The truth was that she wasn’t even giving this world a fair chance. She was trying because Paige asked her to, not because she wanted to.
She’d take her classes, take notes, complete assignments, and the whole time think: I’m still hers. I’m still the girl who belongs in her arms after long days. I’m still the girl who wants a life with her, not this.
She walked through her days like someone wearing someone else’s skin. Doing the things she was told she should want — all while internally whispering: This isn’t my life. This isn’t me. I’m not staying here forever. When I’m done trying, I’m going back to her.
It was denial of change. Denial of growth. Denial of every expectation thrown at her.
And most of all, denial of the idea that there was a path — any path — that didn’t eventually lead her back to Paige.
———————————————————————————
Then anger came. It didn’t last long, but when it hit, it burned.
At the life she was supposed to want. At the expectations she’d been taught to treat like truth. At the schedule, the rules, the suffocating politeness of it all. At the way everyone around her walked like they had the world figured out… while she felt like she was pretending every second of every day. Because she was.
It built slowly, one small irritation stacked on top of the next: The stiff clothes she was expected to wear. The polished smile her mother nudged onto her face. The conversations about internships and legacies and “appropriate futures.” The way her father corrected her posture at dinner like she was a child. The way people at school talked about money like it was oxygen. The way every hallway felt too clean, too quiet, too cold. The way none of it felt like her.
She woke up angry some mornings — angry that she had to go back to that building, sit in those rooms, nod through things she didn’t believe in.
Angry at Paige for letting her go. For not fighting harder. For believing Azzi would be better off without her.
Angry that she was surrounded by people who would never understand why her heart felt like it was glued to a garage two streets over.
Angry that she had to pretend that this life was okay, that it was “for her own good,” that she was supposed to learn how to love it.
But the truth was: She hated it.
She hated the way money talked before she did. She hated the way decisions were made for her and dressed up as “opportunity.” She hated the way people kept telling her she was lucky.
Lucky. As if privilege automatically meant happiness.
As if comfort could replace purpose. As if she hadn’t already tasted what it felt like to be loved for who she was, not what she represented.
The anger buzzed under her skin, hot and restless.
Azzi was angry because this wasn’t living. Not for her. This was a cage disguised as a future.
And some days she couldn’t tell whether she was furious at her parents or furious at herself for still trying to fit into a world she already knew wasn’t hers. Mad at herself for not saying the right things when she had the opportunity. For not pushing back.
———————————————————————————
Bargaining wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud, or desperate, or anything like the movies said it should be. It was quiet. Subtle.
A slow, steady convincing of herself — little deals she made in her own head, like whispered contracts she hoped would magically make this life feel less wrong.
If I stick it out for one more week, maybe the routine will stop choking me.
If I make my dad proud just this once, maybe he’ll stop pushing so hard.
If I keep my head down, maybe the ache in my chest will soften.
If I try my absolute best, maybe I’ll start to believe this was the right choice.
She bargained with the life she was supposed to want — with the campus she was supposed to love, the degree her parents worshipped, the doors she was supposed to feel grateful for.
She tried. God, she tried.
She joined study groups. She sat through business mixers. She let her mother drag her to charity luncheons and networking dinners. She nodded and smiled and played the part until her jaw hurt. And every time something in her chest whispered, ‘this isn’t you’, she pushed it down and bargained again: Just give it time. Just breathe. Just try a little harder. Paige asked you to, remember? She wanted you to see the world. To live. To grow. Don’t be ungrateful. Don’t give up yet.
She even let herself date. That was the biggest bargain of all.
His name was Elias. Soft-spoken. Kind. Nothing like her world — but exactly the type of man her parents approved of.
He made her feel good. Not fireworks. Not butterflies. Not the dizzy, heart-racing warmth she used to get when Paige so much as brushed her fingers against her. But good. Good in the sense of comfortable. Predictable. Gentle.
He listened when she talked about classes. He asked how her exams went. He remembered her coffee order without making it a big romantic gesture. He made her laugh — real, soft laughs, the kind that made her lungs feel less tight.
And for a moment, Azzi allowed herself to believe that maybe this was the point of trying: finding comfort, finding ease, finding someone who didn’t make her parents flinch every time they looked at her.
Every time she felt that strange twist of guilt, every time her chest tightened with the memory of blue eyes and grease-smudged fingers and soft kisses in the garage, she bargained with herself again: It’s okay. Paige said to live your life. She wanted this for you. She wanted you to try. It doesn’t mean you’re replacing her. It doesn’t mean you don’t love her.
He wasn’t Paige. He didn’t challenge her. He didn’t scare her with how deeply he could see her. He wasn’t a storm she felt lucky to stand in. He was a gentle breeze. A steady current.
So when he leaned in that afternoon under the tree, when he paused long enough for her to say no, when he looked at her like he genuinely wanted to kiss her — she didn’t move away.
And that was her first mistake. Because the kiss wasn’t bad. It wasn’t sloppy or forceful or wrong in any traditional sense. It was simple. Warm. Careful.
Exactly what a first kiss with a good guy should be. But the moment his lips touched hers, something inside her recoiled so violently she almost flinched.
It felt wrong. Wrong on a level that wasn’t fair to him. Wrong in a way that made her stomach twist, not out of disgust but out of heartbreak.
He tasted like mint. Paige tasted like home.
He kissed her gently, the way someone would kiss a girl they were hoping to get to know better. Paige kissed her like a secret, like a future, like a truth she couldn’t hide from even if she wanted to.
Elias pulled back with a shy smile. Azzi felt sick.
Not because of him — he had done nothing wrong. He was trying. He was offering her a version of life that should have fit.
But as he leaned back, waiting for her reaction, Azzi realized something undeniable: She could kiss a hundred people. She could let herself be held, admired, wanted. She could try to build a new life, a new routine, a new version of herself that fit her parents’ mold.
But Paige wasn’t a habit. She wasn’t a phase. She wasn’t an old life to outgrow. She was the standard.
And everything — everyone — fell short.
Elias made her feel good. But the kiss? The kiss made her feel like she’d wandered miles from home without meaning to.
And worst of all? It reminded her, with brutal clarity, that she didn’t want good. She wanted right. She wanted Paige.
The more she bargained, the more painfully obvious it became: Elias wasn’t Paige. This world wasn’t hers. And the life she was trying to build wasn’t real — not for her.
She kept bargaining anyway, like someone trying to patch holes in a sinking boat with her bare hands.
If she just held on a little tighter…
If she just pushed a little harder…
If she just smiled a little longer…
Maybe she could make this life fit. Maybe she could become someone who didn’t feel like she was betraying herself every time she woke up.
But every bargain she made crumbled under its own weight. Because the truth slipped in through every crack: She didn’t want this life.
She wanted hers — the one she left behind, the one she wasn’t sure she deserved, the one she had walked away from only because Paige asked her to. The one she hoped was still waiting for her.
And no amount of bargaining could pretend otherwise.
———————————————————————————
Depression didn’t arrive all at once. It didn’t crash into her like anger or coil around her like denial. It seeped in quietly, like water coming through a crack she didn’t know was there.
At first, she just felt tired. Long days. Early mornings. Too many obligations. She blamed school. She blamed the town. She blamed her parents.
But then the tiredness stopped being physical. It became something else. Something heavier.
Her alarm would ring and she’d lie there for twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, telling herself to get up. To move. To try.
Some days she did. Most days she dragged herself through the motions, each one feeling like it belonged to someone else’s body.
She stopped going to the study group she joined. Stopped answering texts unless they were absolutely necessary. Stopped dressing up for her parents’ events, choosing plain sweaters instead of the carefully curated outfits her mother laid out.
She’d sit in lectures with her notebook open and her pen still, eyes fixed on the board but unable to process a single word.
Elias noticed first. He asked softly, “You okay?”
And she lied softly too, “Yeah, just tired.”
They both pretended to believe it. They broke up a couple of days later.
What hurt the most wasn’t that she was sad. It was that she was sad in a life she had promised Paige she would try. Sad while living the exact future Paige believed she deserved — one where she explored, learned, grew beyond their small world.
She tried. She really did. She did everything she thought Paige wanted.
But every night she lay in bed with the lights off, the truth peeled itself open: She wasn’t growing. She was disappearing.
The more she tried to mold herself into this world, the more it pressed in on her — expectations, obligations, the constant presence of her parents hovering over every choice she made.
Every day she felt a little smaller. A little less like herself. A little closer to breaking.
She stopped listening to music because everything reminded her of something — late-night drives, the garage radio humming while Paige worked, dancing barefoot on cool kitchen tiles.
She stopped eating dinners with her parents because every conversation felt like a report card on how well she was performing in this predetermined life.
And through it all, one thought repeated itself like a whisper she couldn’t drown out: Paige would hate seeing me like this.
Because this wasn’t living. This wasn’t trying. This wasn’t exploration or growth. This was survival. Barely.
Some nights she cried quietly into her pillow. Not loud sobs — just silent, shaking tears, the kind that come from a place so deep you can’t put a name to it.
Other nights she felt nothing at all. Which was somehow worse. She wasn’t angry anymore. She wasn’t bargaining. She wasn’t denying anything.
She was simply… empty.
A hollowed-out version of herself walking through a life she knew she didn’t want — but didn’t know how to walk away from yet.
Paige had asked her to go. To try. To live.
Azzi had done all of it. And now? Now she felt farther from herself than ever before. Farther from happiness. Farther from the girl she used to be — the one who laughed easily and loved loudly and believed in futures made with bare hands and stubborn love.
Depression was the stage where Azzi realized: Trying had broken her more than leaving ever did.
But over everything else the feeling that wrapped around her chest like a cold hand was fear — quiet, breath-stealing, merciless fear. What if Paige didn’t wait? What if the girl with the soft laugh and stubborn hope had finally stopped believing Azzi would come back? The thought made her stomach twist, made her heartbeat stutter. It was one thing to lose Paige because she stepped aside for Azzi’s sake… it was another to lose her because Azzi took too long to choose her back.
Every time Azzi pictured packing her bags, sneaking out, showing up at Paige’s door, another image followed — Paige opening it with someone else behind her. The possibility that running home to her now would mean facing the truth she wasn’t ready for: that Paige had moved on, that her heart had found somewhere safer to rest. Not because Azzi did anything wrong, not because Paige stopped loving her, but because sometimes waiting turns into living, and living turns into moving forward without realizing it. And Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to see that.
Then she got the news. A message from KK. She almost didn’t open it. Her brain was too foggy, too saturated with guilt and exhaustion.
But something — instinct, fear, something deeper — told her to click.
KK 😛: hey… i don’t know if you’ve heard yet. my grandpa passed away this morning. the funeral is saturday. i thought you’d want to know.
Azzi stared at the screen, heart dropping into her stomach. Mr. Smith. Paige’s mentor. Her anchor. The man Paige talked about with near reverence, the man who taught her half of what she knew and believed in her before anyone else did.
Azzi wasn’t close to him. She had only spoken to him a handful of times. But she knew what he meant. She knew what he was to Paige.
And without thinking — without hesitation — without asking herself whether it was smart or fair or safe — she typed back:
Azzi 😋: I’m so sorry KK. I’ll be there. 🤍
Because of course she would. Of course she had to be.
Loving someone doesn’t end because circumstances change. Respect doesn’t disappear because you’re not together. Showing up for the people they love… that doesn’t vanish either.
On the morning of the funeral, she stood in front of her closet for ten minutes before pulling out a black dress that felt too formal, too stiff, too much.
When she arrived at the church, she stepped inside quietly, staying close to the wall. She didn’t want attention. She didn’t want to intrude. She didn’t want Paige to see her if seeing her would hurt.
But the moment she saw the casket — saw the framed photo of Mr. Smith smiling the way he always did when he talked about Paige — her eyes burned. She swallowed hard.
This world… this life she’d been trying to fit into… felt so unbearably far from the one she wanted.
She stood near the exit, fingers twisting the funeral program until the edges bent.
And then she saw Paige. Azzi didn’t dare get closer. She didn’t dare breathe too loudly. But something inside her broke open — gentle, painful, familiar.
Seeing Paige in grief still taking care of everyone around her reminded her exactly why she loved her. Why she would always love her.
Azzi slipped out before the final prayer, not wanting to take up space, not wanting to be the reason Paige cried harder.
But as the door closed behind her, she realized something with absolute clarity: She couldn’t do this anymore. Not the life she was living. Not the pretending. Not the shrinking. Trying hadn’t helped her grow. It had hollowed her out.
And she was done disappearing.
———————————————————————————
One minute she was sitting at her desk, staring at a spreadsheet she no longer cared about, and the next she felt something inside her settle. Not break. Not snap. Settle.
She had tried. God, she had really tried. She’d gone to class, done the work, followed the routine. She learned she could survive in this world her parents built for her… she just didn’t want to live in it. Not if it meant carving herself into a shape that didn’t fit. Not if it meant pretending she didn’t already know where her home was.
The fear was still there — the fear that Paige’s life had shifted, that time had done what time always does. But acceptance meant understanding that even if it had, she still wanted to go. She still needed to go. Not to reclaim Paige, not to force anything back into place, but to show up for herself. To choose herself and what she wanted.
So she closed her laptop. She stood. She looked around her room — neat, expensive, suffocating — and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for a year.
This was the moment.
Acceptance wasn’t about what she couldn’t control. It was about what she finally could.
She grabbed a suitcase and began to pack. She packed slowly, not because she doubted herself, but because every folded shirt felt like a goodbye said properly. A deliberate choice. A final acknowledgment that the life in this house had never been hers — it had only been borrowed.
When the suitcase was full, she didn’t zip it right away. She sat at her desk, pulled out a sheet of thick stationery her mother loved, and stared at it for a long moment. Not to rehearse what she’d say. Just to breathe. To let the quiet settle around her one last time.
Then she wrote.
Mom, Dad,
This isn’t a declaration of war. And it isn’t an apology, either. It’s simply the truth — the clearest version of it I’ve ever been able to write.
I’m grateful for the opportunities you’ve given me, even the ones I never asked for. I know they came from a place of wanting the best for me and our family. I know you thought structure was safety, and expectations were love. I learned discipline from you. I learned strength. I learned how to keep my head high even when everything in me wanted to crumble. Those lessons mattered. I won’t pretend they didn’t.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped being able to tell where your dreams ended and where mine were supposed to begin. And I’ve spent the last year trying to figure it out — trying to see if the life you built for me was a life I could grow into. I tried. Truly. I went to class. I studied. I pushed myself. I tried to want the things you wanted for me.
And I learned something important: I can survive that life. But I cannot live in it. I don’t want to.
Not the way you expect. Not without losing pieces of myself I’m no longer willing to give up.
So I need you to understand something clearly: I’m not running away. I’m choosing. I’m choosing a different kind of future than the one you planned. A smaller one, maybe. A quieter one. But one that feels like mine.
The trust fund is yours. The privileges are yours. The obligations that came with both are yours too. I don’t want anything that roots me in a life I’m no longer trying to fit into.
My life, finally, is mine.
I hope, someday, when the dust settles and you look at me without the lens of expectation, you’ll understand that I’m not choosing “less.” I’m choosing something real. Something I want. Something that feels like home.
I hope you can be proud of that — if not now, maybe later.
— Azzi
She didn’t mention Paige by name. She didn’t have to. The shape of her was in every sentence.
When she finished, she folded the letter neatly, placed it on her pillow, and zipped her suitcase shut. The sound was soft, final, fearless.
Azzi stood, picked up the handle, and walked out — not as the daughter they molded, but as the person she finally allowed herself to be.
☆》 ━ author's notes: Here it is. I’m so sorry. TRUST THE PROCESS. Please live react — I’m dying to see you guys’ reactions. Love you, bye! 🤍
The last time she’d been home was six months ago. She’d come back to try to update her parents about everything that had been happening in her life — school, the move, the apartment — but the house had been empty. Lights off. Mail piling up on the counter. Silence settling into the walls.
So she’d spent that weekend with Bueckers instead.
Azzi had woken up to the sound of laughter coming from downstairs — not yelling, not tension, just easy, happy noise. The kind of noise that didn’t make her stomach tighten. The kind that made her feel like she was allowed to just exist. She padded down the hallway in socked feet and followed the smell of pancakes.
In the kitchen, Paige had flour on her cheek, a spatula in her hand, and an expression like she was in the middle of something very serious. Drew was sitting at the counter, swinging his legs, absolutely locked in. Her mom was drinking coffee in the kitchen table.
“Don’t rush me,” Paige told him. “This is art.”
“It’s burnt,” Drew said calmly.
“It’s golden,” Paige shot back.
Azzi smiled before she could stop herself. Paige turned when she saw her. Her face softened instantly. “Morning pretty girl.”
“Morning,” Azzi said back, voice quiet, warm.
By the time they got to the park, the sun was warm and the air was just cool enough to be perfect.
Drew ran ahead of them straight to the swings, yelling, “Push me! Higher than last time!”
Azzi jogged a little to keep up, grabbing the chains of the swing while Paige stood beside her, pretending to “supervise” like she was in charge of safety.
“Okay, be honest,” Paige murmured, leaning closer as Azzi pushed Drew gently. “You having fun?”
Azzi nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I am.”
They took turns pushing him, then sat in the grass while Drew made up a game involving imaginary lava and invisible monsters and the very real rule that nobody was allowed to step on cracks.
Later, they walked back with ice cream in hand — Drew wearing more of it on his face than in his mouth.
That night, they sat on the living room floor, legs tangled in blankets, one of Drew’s movies playing quietly in the background. Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder without thinking.
No pressure. No questions. Just warmth. Just breathing. Just a place that finally felt safe for a little while. Every second of it had felt like home.
This time, she dropped her bag at her house and walked straight to the small coffee shop where she’d agreed to meet Caroline. They hadn’t talked in forever, but when Azzi knew she was going to be in town, she’d reached out. For a long time, Caroline had been a good friend to her. Someone safe. Someone familiar.
Azzi found Caroline at the same coffee shop they used to sit in when they were younger. Nothing about it had changed. Too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who had never left. But Caroline had. She looked different.
Not in the way people talked about glow-ups. Softer, maybe. Tired in a quieter way. Her smile didn’t come as fast, like she had to build it first.
Caroline was standing by the counter, fingers drumming lightly against the glass display as she read the menu.
“Hey,” Azzi said, scanning the menu in front of them.
Caroline turned, surprise flickering across her face before it smoothed into something easy. “Hey.”
A beat. Just a regular beat. Not a dramatic one. Not a painful one. Just two people who knew each other once.
“How’ve you been?” Azzi asked, hands sliding into the pockets of her hoodie.
Caroline shrugged lightly. “Good. Busy. You?”
Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Same.”
That was it. No tension. No ghosts. Just a small, quiet moment between two people who’d learned how to survive the same story differently.
“You look…” Caroline started, then stopped. “Different.”
Azzi smiled politely. “Yeah. I feel different too.”
They talked about safe things for a while — classes, jobs, what people from their town were doing now. Whispers of their old lives that didn’t quite fit anymore.
When they stood to leave, it was raining lightly outside. The kind of drizzle that made the world feel smaller, quieter. They ended up sitting in Caroline’s car.
It was parked crookedly along a quiet street not far from the coffee shop. The engine was off, but the warmth of the seats lingered like it had been running not too long ago. It smelled faintly like vanilla air freshener and something older — maybe the ghost of old spilled drinks.
At first, everything felt normal. Comfortable in that awkward, childhood-friend kind of way.
Caroline laughed more than Azzi had expected. Azzi relaxed more than she thought she would.
Then Caroline went quiet. She rested her hands on the steering wheel even though she wasn’t driving.
“You don’t look scared anymore,” she said finally, staring at the dashboard instead of at Azzi.
Azzi blinked. “Of what?”
“Of everything,” Caroline said. “You used to look like you were always bracing for something. I never said anything because I didn’t know how to be a good friend to you.”
Azzi’s fingers tightened in her lap. The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable. Not yet.
Caroline exhaled slowly.
“I missed you,” she said, like it surprised her. Like she was hearing it out loud for the first time.
Azzi shifted in her seat.
“I didn’t think I would,” Caroline added. “I thought I’d just get on with my life. Senior year put this weird gap between us, but we still saw each other. I thought I’d be fine without… all of this.”
She let out a short laugh, but it didn’t sound real.
“I dated people,” she said, tapping her nails nervously against the steering wheel. “Boys. Cayden. Michael. Alex.”
Azzi nodded, unsure where this was going.
“But it was weird,” Caroline continued. “Because I didn’t pick them for… normal reasons.”
She finally looked at Azzi.
“They were boys who liked you. Boys who I knew were in love with you.”
The inside of the car felt smaller.
“I think I just…” Caroline swallowed. “I think I wanted to be close to you in a way I never let myself understand when you were still here.” She paused, then added quickly, “I know this sounds sudden. I know I never gave you any signs. But I don’t know how to act with you being this far away.”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I’ve driven to Briarwood a couple of times,” she admitted quietly. “Just to turn around. Because I didn’t know what I would say to you.”
Azzi’s heart started picked up.
“I think I’m in love with you,” Caroline said too quickly. “I have been for a while. I kept telling myself I just loved you as a friend because I didn’t think you’d feel the same. And because I knew there was no world where we could actually act on it.”
She inhaled shakily.
“But I want to try,” Caroline said. “I think we could actually make something real. Something good happen.” She said it plainly. No poetry. No softening. Just truth. Her truth. Her hands dropped from the steering wheel and folded together in her lap.
“I know it’s probably impossible,” she added, quieter. “I know your parents. I know the kind of world we grew up in. But we come from the same kind of life. We know how to blend in. If it was us… we’d be careful. We’d be believable.”
She stopped herself. Something unspoken lingered between them.
Then Caroline leaned in slightly. Not fast. Not dramatic. Not aggressive. Just slow enough to test the space between them.
Azzi felt it instantly. She moved back, calm but immediate.
“No,” she said, lifting her hand gently but firmly between them. “Caroline, no. It has never been like that for me. You’re great but…”
Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Caroline leaned back in her seat, hands returning to the steering wheel as if she needed something solid just to stay upright. She stared out the windshield.
The quiet stretched again. But this time it felt sharp. Different. Like something had cracked.
“That’s…” Caroline said, trailing off. She swallowed. Then nodded once. “Probably for the best.”
She didn’t smile. Azzi didn’t miss the way her jaw tightened.
“Thanks for being honest,” Caroline said after a moment. “I promise I won’t make it weird.”
Azzi nodded, though the air felt heavier than when they’d started.
When Azzi opened the car door to step out, the rain felt colder than it should have.
And she didn’t know why, but as she walked away, she felt it deep in her gut — whatever had just been said in that car was not going to stay there.
—————————————————————————
Azzi didn’t remember unlocking her phone. She just knew it was suddenly in her hand, her thumb hovering over Paige’s name like muscle memory had taken over before her brain caught up.
Her heartbeat felt wrong. Too loud. Too fast. She stared at the blank text screen.
What do you even send after something like that?
‘Caroline just tried to kiss me’ felt like too much.
‘She’s in love with me’ felt dangerous.
‘I feel weird’ felt stupid.
So she typed the only honest thing.
Az 💗: Something just happened and I don’t know how to feel about it.
Azzi pressed her back into the brick wall beside the coffee shop, the world feeling too big and too close at the same time. People passed her like nothing had shifted, like nothing had gone wrong.
She kept typing.
Az 💗: I need you.
She didn’t hit send right away. It felt dramatic. She sent it anyway.
Her chest tightened as she shoved the phone back in her jacket pocket like she’d said too much.
She walked without thinking. Down streets she knew by heart. Past houses that still felt like they didn’t belong to her anymore. Her brain kept replaying it. Caroline leaning in. The way her voice sounded too steady. The way the air had changed.
Azzi rubbed her hands over her face, trying to physically wipe the moment off. It stuck.
She found herself at the park before she realized she’d walked there. The stupid little park they used to go to as kids. She dropped down onto a cold metal bench and bent forward, elbows on her knees.
“What the fuck just happened,” she whispered, out loud, to no one.
Her phone buzzed. She didn’t pick it up immediately.
She was scared it wouldn’t be Paige. When she finally looked—
P 💗: where are you?
Azzi let out a breath that broke. Her fingers hovered. Shook.
Az 💗: The park.
Three dots. Gone. Back again.
P 💗: don’t move. omw
Azzi just stared at the words.
—————————————————————————
Paige was sitting on the edge of her bed, half-lacing her sneakers, when her phone lit up.
Az 💗: I need you.
That was all it said. No joke attached to it. No extra words. Just that.
Paige didn’t finish tying the second shoe. Her chest tightened so fast it felt like someone had reached inside and grabbed her heart. Her thoughts scattered — worst case scenarios lining up in her head without permission.
P 💗: where are you?
Az 💗: The park.
P 💗: don’t move. omw
She was on her feet before she realized she’d decided. Just movement. She grabbed her hoodie, shoved her phone in her pocket, and ran. Out the door. Down the stairs. Into the cold.
The air burned her lungs but she didn’t slow. Her shoes slapped the pavement, breath coming out in broken gasps as her mind locked onto one thought like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
She said she needs you. And that was more than enough. She ran faster.
—————————————————————————
Paige found her exactly where she said she’d be. Curled in on herself on the cold metal bench, staring at the ground like it had something to explain.
She didn’t say Azzi’s name. She didn’t have to. Azzi looked up the second she felt her.
Paige crossed the distance in three quiet steps and stopped right in front of her.
“You okay?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Azzi nodded.
“I got your text and thought you were dying,” Paige said trying to catch her breath, trying to soften the air.
Azzi let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“I feel like I am.”
Paige tipped her head toward her. “What happened?”
Azzi picked at the sleeve of her hoodie. Silence.
Then, “I saw Caroline today.”
Paige blinked. “Okay.”
There was no judgment in it. Just surprise.
“She… she told me things,” Azzi said slowly. “Things I didn’t think were ever there.”
Paige shifted slightly. “Like what?”
Azzi swallowed. “She said she missed me. A lot.”
Paige absorbed that. “That doesn’t sound bad,” she said gently.
“It was when she kept going.”
Paige stayed quiet.
“She told me she’s in love with me,” she said. “Not like— casually. Like, actually.” Azzi admitted.
Paige frowned slightly, not angry. Confused.
“She leaned in,” Azzi said softly. “Not in a scary way. It just… surprised me. I didn’t know where to look or what to do or when to say something without making it awful.”
Paige was quiet for a long time.
Then, gently: “What did you do?”
“I moved away, I didn’t let it happen. But I didn’t… stop the moment fast enough.” Azzi said.
Paige’s jaw tightened — not jealousy, just emotion.
“So why do you feel like this?” she asked softly. “Why do you feel like you did something wrong?”
Azzi’s eyes filled faster than she expected.
“Because she used to be safe,” she whispered. “She used to be just my friend. And now when I think about it, it feels like I crossed a line just by being there with her. Like I let it get too personal. It feels like I betrayed you.”
Paige shifted closer without thinking. “You didn’t know,” she said.
“I should’ve,” Azzi replied.
Paige huffed a quiet breath. That made Azzi finally glance up.
“You don’t get to blame yourself for things other people do,” Paige said. “That’s not fair.”
Azzi’s fingers tightened in her sleeves.
“I hated how I felt,” she said. “I hated that my brain even noticed the moment before I moved away. Like… why did I need a second to process it? Why wasn’t I faster?”
Paige went very still. Then she leaned in carefully until their foreheads touched. Not to close space. To steady it.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Azzi’s eyes closed.
“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” Paige said. “You don’t have to react like a movie character who already has a script.”
Azzi let out a shaky breath.
“I was scared you’d think—” she started.
“Think what?”
“That I liked her,” Azzi said.
Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. Her voice stayed soft.
“Do you?”
“No. God, no” Azzi said immediately. “I felt sick. I felt lost. I felt like I wanted to be anywhere but there.”
Paige searched her face. Then nodded.
“You still came straight to me. You didn’t betray me,” Paige murmured. “You were honest. You came and told me. You didn’t hide it. You didn’t choose it.”
Paige leaned her forehead back to hers. That tiny touch felt like a promise.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Paige admitted quietly. “I don’t have the perfect thing to say. I’m just… glad you told me and you’re here with me.”
Azzi’s hand slowly lifted, brushing the hem of Paige’s hoodie. Not grabbing. Just anchoring.
“I thought you’d be mad,” she said.
Paige let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Baby,” she murmured, “I could never be mad at your pretty face.”
They stayed like that. Breathing. Warm foreheads. Cold air around them.
—————————————-———————————
Caroline stayed in the car much longer than she meant to. The steering wheel was still warm under her palms, even with the engine off, and the silence inside the cabin felt louder than any noise outside. She caught her own reflection in the rearview mirror and barely recognized herself. What she’d done kept replaying in her head — the way she’d leaned too close, the way Azzi had leaned back, gentle but unmistakably clear. It hadn’t been dramatic, but it had been final in its own quiet way.
She told herself she needed to apologize. That she owed Azzi that much. Not to fix anything, not to make things what they used to be, just to make sure she hadn’t ruined the one friendship that still felt familiar. It sounded reasonable when she thought it.
She started the car and drove, not really thinking about where she was going, just following the familiar streets that her body seemed to remember better than her mind.
She didn’t mean to pass by the park. It happened naturally, like it always had back when they were younger and walking aimlessly after school. The streetlights had just flickered on, and the world felt dimmer and quieter in a way that made everything feel more honest. Her headlights swept across the benches, and for a second she almost kept driving.
Then she saw them.
Azzi was sitting there. Paige stood in front of her, close enough that the air between them looked different.
They weren’t kissing. They weren’t touching in a way anyone could call inappropriate. But their foreheads rested together, and the stillness of them felt like something sacred she’d walked in on by accident. It didn’t feel like a moment. It felt like something that had been happening for a long time.
Caroline slowed the car without meaning to. Her foot hovered over the brake as her heart began to beat in a way that felt unfamiliar. Before she could fully think about it, she reached for her phone.
It wasn’t calculated or planned. It was entirely instinctual. She lifted it just enough for the camera to catch what her eyes couldn’t seem to let go of. The soft click of the shutter sounded too loud in the quiet street. She let the phone fall onto the passenger seat without looking at the photo.
Her chest felt tight, and her thoughts moved slower than they should have. It was only a minute later, maybe two, that she picked it back up and looked.
The image felt like proof of something she hadn’t wanted to name. They looked real. Steady. Like they belonged to each other in a way she had never been part of.
She told herself she’d delete it. She really did. She sat there with her thumb hovering over the trash icon, breathing in and out as if that might calm the storm under her ribs. But instead of deleting it, she locked her phone and started the engine again.
This time, when she turned the car around, she knew exactly where she was going.
Azzi’s house.
It looked the same as it always had — too perfect, too quiet, the kind of place where secrets felt dangerous just by existing.
Caroline parked across the street and stayed in the car for a long moment before picking her phone back up.
Her hands were no longer shaking.
—————————————————————————
Azzi walked back toward her house slower than usual, hands buried deep in the sleeves of her hoodie, trying to bring her heartbeat back to something normal.
The night air felt heavier than when she’d left the park, as if the quiet itself had grown teeth. She kept thinking about Paige’s forehead pressed softly to hers, about the way her voice had sounded steady and real, like a promise. It should have calmed her. It should have anchored her.
Instead, dread kept crawling up her spine for no reason she could name.
The house looked exactly the same when it came into view — porch light glowing, curtains drawn halfway, everything picture-perfect and untouched. That almost made it worse. It felt staged. Too still. Like the air inside already knew something she didn’t.
She reached the front door and pushed it open slowly, the familiar soft creak of the hinges suddenly too loud in the quiet. Warm air met her face, smelling like clean furniture and something faintly floral. She stepped inside, and that’s when she saw her.
Caroline was already on her way out.
Her hand rested casually on the doorknob as if she’d been about to leave long before Azzi arrived. Her coat was buttoned, keys already in her hand.
There was no surprise in her expression when their eyes met — just something distant and cold, like she’d already let go of whatever version of the story Azzi was still living in.
“Hey,” Azzi said, out of reflex, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Caroline didn’t answer. She didn’t smile. She didn’t apologize. She just looked at her — briefly, coolly — and stepped past her shoulder.
The brush of the doorframe felt too loud when Caroline slipped outside. Azzi stayed frozen in the threshold for a second longer than she should have, her heart picking up speed without her permission. Caroline’s footsteps faded down the walkway, and through the glass, Azzi saw her walk straight to her car without looking back.
That’s when it hit.
The phone was in her hand before she consciously reached for it, as if her body moved on instinct before her brain could catch up. Her hands started shaking as she typed.
Az 💗: Something’s wrong.
Az 💗: I can feel it.
Az 💗: I don’t know what it is but I can feel it.
She stared at the screen, waiting for the familiar typing bubbles that didn’t come.
She slipped the phone into her pocket like she needed to hide it from the air itself and finally stepped fully into the house. The door clicked shut behind her, soft but final.
The living room lights were bright — too bright. Every lamp on, every shadow erased. Her parents sat on the couch side by side, their posture deliberate, unmoving. They weren’t pretending to watch the television. They weren’t pretending to read. They were waiting for her.
Her father spoke first, and his voice felt like something cold pressing into her chest.
“Sit down.”
Azzi did. Her knees felt weak when she lowered herself onto the chair opposite them.
Her mother folded her hands together slowly, like she had practiced this moment. “You’re not going back to Briarwood.”
Azzi blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“You will be finishing the semester online,” her father said calmly. “From this house. Crestwood has already agreed to transfer your credits.”
Her heart started pounding.
“I have an apartment,” she said. “I have a semester, I can’t just—”
“That apartment is being sold,” her mother interrupted. “You had no business living like that in the first place.”
Azzi felt something cold settle in her chest. Her father leaned forward slightly.
“You’ve been lying to us.”
Azzi shook her head. “What? No, I haven’t—“
“You have,” her mother said, sharper now. “You’ve been building a life you know we do not approve.”
Azzi swallowed. Her father’s voice hardened.
“You’ve been with that girl.”
Silence fell like something heavy. Azzi tried to speak, and nothing came out.
Her mother continued, calmer, colder.
“You will not continue that relationship.”
Her father didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“That is not the life we raised you for.”
Azzi’s hands curled in her lap.
“That is not normal,” her mother added, the word landing like a verdict rather than a description.
Azzi felt her chest tighten so much it hurt to breathe.
“It’s not just inappropriate,” her father said. “It’s embarrassing. It’s shameful.”
Her head started to spin. Her mother leaned forward.
“As long as you live under this roof, it ends.”
Azzi whispered, “You can’t just—”
“We can,” her father interrupted.
Then, quieter: “We already have.”
“You’ll be staying here,” her mother continued, folding her hands together in her lap. “You won’t be going anywhere we don’t know about.”
Azzi’s fingers curled around the arm of the chair.
“This is crazy,” she whispered.
Her father leaned forward slightly.
“This is necessary.”
Then, quieter. Sharper.
“Your phone,” he said, nodding toward the table. “Now.”
Azzi’s eyes flicked to where her phone sat heavy in her pocket like a heartbeat.
“You can’t do this,” Azzi said, her voice breaking. “I know you don’t get it. I know you don’t support it. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking you to let me go. Let me live my life far away from you. I won’t embarrass you, I promise. I’ll change my name if I have to. If that makes you guys happy. I don’t care. Just don’t do this to me. Let me just go.”
Her mother’s laugh was soft and sharp at the same time. She didn’t sound amused — she sounded tired of pretending.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said. “You leave and do what? Work as a waitress? Humiliate us even further than you already have just by existing like this?”
She stepped closer.
“No visitors. No calls. No messages.”
Then, quieter, colder: “You’re done.”
Her father finished it. “You’re staying right here.”
Their voices kept moving after that. Rules. Timelines. Control. Azzi barely heard them. Her mind was stuck on those last three messages.
And the terrible knowledge that Paige would never get an answer back.
—————————————————————————
Paige read the messages like they were written in a language she was about to forget.
She scrolled up. Then down. Then back up again.
Az 💗: Something’s wrong.
Az 💗: I can feel it.
Az 💗: I don’t know what it is but I can feel it.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, unmoving.
She tried to read them like normal words. Tried to hear Azzi’s voice in them instead of the quiet panic that leaked through every letter.
She imagined Azzi sitting on the edge of her bed. Maybe walking home. Typing fast. Overthinking. Deleting. Rewriting. Paige pictured her nervous lip bite. The way her shoulders would tense.
It didn’t help. It made it worse.
She tilted the screen slightly, like that small movement might shake loose a hidden meaning.
Can feel it. Feel what? Danger? Fear? Regret?
Paige’s jaw tightened. She read them again. And again. And again. Like if she memorized them perfectly, she could figure out what she’d missed.
The house felt too quiet. The air felt wrong. The ceiling felt too low.
She typed.
P 💗: r u okay?
Sent it.
She typed again.
P 💗: Talk to me, please.
She didn’t want to scare her. Didn’t want to make it worse. Didn’t want to be dramatic. But her heart wouldn’t settle. She kept aiting. Nothing came.
Paige locked the phone. Unlocked it. Read them again. Azzi didn’t do this.
Her thumb hovered over Azzi’s name, shaking just slightly, like her body had already made the decision before her brain caught up.
Call.
The phone lifted to her ear so fast she didn’t remember picking it up.
It rang once.
Twice.
She stared at the wall like she might be able to see through it. “Come on,” she whispered, barely audible to herself.
Third ring.
Paige held her breath without realizing it, like breathing might make the call drop.
Four rings.
Her stomach folded in on itself.
Five.
Voicemail.
Azzi’s voice filled her ear — softer, calmer, recorded on a day when nothing felt wrong.
“Hey, it’s me. Leave a message.”
Paige pulled the phone away from her face like it had burned her. She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted salt. She hung up.
Immediately called again.
This time the seconds felt heavier. Louder. Crueler. Nothing. She didn’t leave a voicemail. She just listened until the call died on its own. Phone still hot in her hand. Her chest felt too tight. She stared at Azzi’s name on the screen. And whispered into the empty room, “Please.”
Paige told herself to be reasonable. Azzi might’ve just been overwhelmed. Might’ve gone to bed early. Might’ve just needed a night to breathe. Today had been a lot.
That’s what she kept repeating to herself as she lay down. Give her the night.
She didn’t change out of her hoodie. Didn’t turn the light off. Didn’t plug her phone in across the room like she usually did. She kept it in her hand. Screen facing up. Brightness low. Volume all the way up. Just in case.
She lay there staring at the ceiling, blinking slowly, like if she relaxed too much she might miss the vibration.
Maybe she’d wake up to a missed call. Maybe a sleepy text. Maybe a voice note with that soft, apologetic laugh Azzi always used when she felt guilty for worrying her.
The phone stayed silent. Her fingers curled tighter around it anyway.
She turned onto her side and tucked it under her pillow, just close enough that she’d feel even the smallest buzz. Her eyes closed, but she didn’t really sleep. Not fully. Not peacefully.
She drifted in and out of shallow half-dreams where the phone did light up and she did hear Azzi’s voice and everything was okay. But every time she blinked back awake, the screen was still black.
Paige fell asleep like that. Phone in hand. Hope buzzing louder than the silence.
————————————————————————
Paige woke up to silence. Not the peaceful kind. The ugly, heavy kind.
Her phone was still in her hand. Her fingers were cramped around it like she’d been afraid to let go even in her sleep. The screen was dark. No new notifications. No missed calls. No texts lighting up her lock screen.
Nothing.
Her chest tightened before she even sat up. She unlocked it. Azzi’s thread was exactly the same as she’d left it. No follow-up. No “false alarm.” No sleepy “i’m okay.”
Paige swung her legs off the bed slowly. It was Monday. The thought landed like ice.
Monday meant Azzi was supposed to tell her parents today. Supposed to go back home. Supposed to be getting ready for class the next day. Supposed to be settling back into that little apartment with the unreliable heater and the crooked kitchen cabinet.
She tried to make herself breathe normally.
She’s probably just busy, her brain tried to reason. Probably asleep. Probably overwhelmed. Probably fine.
Her chest didn’t believe a word of it. She got dressed without thinking.
Didn’t fix her hair. Didn’t eat. Didn’t answer the text from work asking if she was coming in later. She just grabbed her keys. Her bag. Her phone.
By the time she locked the door behind her, she already knew. She wasn’t going to work. She was going to Briarwood.
Because Monday was the day Azzi was supposed to be back. And something in her bones told her that if she didn’t go check, she wouldn’t be able to breathe for the rest of the day.
—————————————————————————
The car felt too quiet. Paige didn’t turn the radio on. She couldn’t. Music felt wrong when something inside her chest was pulling tight and fast and ugly.
Her hands stayed firm on the steering wheel even though she barely noticed the road in front of her. Traffic lights blurred. Stop signs came and went.
She only remembered them when the light turned red. Her phone sat in the cup holder. Face up. Screen black.
She kept glancing down at it at every stop. Still nothing.
She tried calling once more when she hit the first long stretch of road. Straight to voicemail. She dropped the phone back into the holder like it had burned her.
Her heart started beating faster the closer she got to the familiar streets. She recognized the gas station on the corner. The cracked sidewalk by the pharmacy. The bus stop with the broken bench where she and Azzi once sat in silence at two in the morning, sharing fries and secrets.
Everything looked the same. And that felt wrong. Because Azzi wasn’t answering. Because something wasn’t right.
The closer she got to the apartment, the harder it was to feel her fingers. The wheel felt slippery even though her hands were dry.
Her thoughts started spiraling. Maybe she forgot her phone. Maybe she slept in. Maybe her parents found out. Maybe— she cut that thought off immediately.
Don’t think that. Don’t think that.
The building finally came into view. Too familiar. Too still.
Paige pulled into a parking spot she’d used a hundred times before and turned off the engine.
The silence afterward was deafening. Her hands stayed on the steering wheel long after the car was off. She took one shaky breath. Then another. And she got out of the car.
Paige’s shoes clicked against the hallway tiles as she approached Azzi’s apartment. Her stomach felt like it had twisted into knots hours ago, and now every step made it worse.
She opened the door slowly.
The apartment was wrong. Every corner echoed with absence. The couch she had once curled up on with Azzi was gone. The rug Azzi loved, the pictures she had carefully placed—they were all gone. Paige’s stomach knotted as if the emptiness itself was pressing down on her chest.
The air smelled faintly of cleaning supplies, almost like bleach masked something, and in the corner a man was sweeping the last crumbs from the floor.
The man glanced up from his broom. His expression was polite, neutral, almost rehearsed.
“Azzi?” he repeated. “I… don’t know anyone by that name living here.”
Paige’s heart started hammering in her chest. “What do you mean you don’t know? She lives here. She—she was supposed to be back today. She—”
The man hesitated, clearly aware he was walking into something complicated. “There was a gentleman who came this morning. Took all her things. Said the apartment was being cleared out. It’s going up for sale now.”
“Wait… what? What do you mean? For sale?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know any details. Just that everything was packed and removed. The apartment is empty now.”
The broom in his hand moved slowly across the floor, methodical and casual, like sweeping away Azzi’s life could be as ordinary as cleaning crumbs.
Paige felt the air leave her lungs. Her phone slipped from her hand onto the floor with a dull thud.
Azzi was gone. And Paige had no idea why.
Then she heard a voice. Cold.
“You must be Paige.”
She spun around. And froze. The last person she wanted to see.
Azzi’s dad was standing in the doorway, tall, composed, and impossibly calm. In his hands, he held a picture frame—Azzi’s favorite picture of the two of them together. The one Paige had loved, the one that had made that apartment feel like home.
His voice cold but oddly measured, like a man delivering advice. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Paige’s throat tightened. “Is she okay?” she whispered.
His eyes didn’t waver. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it?” His tone was measured, almost clinical. “You want to see her. To talk to her. To interfere.”
Paige shook her head frantically. “I—I just… I need to know she’s okay. That’s all. She—she sent me a message… I—”
“She’s not yours to worry over anymore. And frankly, Paige…” He held up the picture, angled so she could see it. “…you’re her biggest problem.”
Paige felt her stomach drop. The frame in his hands wasn’t just a photo—it was proof. Proof that Azzi had a life, a love, a choice that he had decided she would never have. She tried to remember that.
Her throat tightened. “I… I just wanted to make sure she’s safe.”
He stepped closer, eyes sharp, almost studying her. “She is safe. And she will remain safe. You care about her,” he said. “I know that. But sometimes caring isn’t enough and you know it.”
Her heart sank, because she knew where this was going.
“Azzi…” He paused, choosing words with deliberate care. “She’s brilliant. More than you know. She has opportunities—things she’s destined for. And she… she just needs to believe it herself, Paige. She needs to reach her full potential.”
Paige blinked, trying to focus. The words were supposed to make sense—supposed to feel logical—but her chest ached. “I… I just love her,” she said, voice trembling.
“And I understand that,” he said, a faint, patronizing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But sometimes love… isn’t enough. Sometimes love can hold someone back without either of you realizing it. Don’t you see? You’re wonderful. I’m sure of that, she chose you for a reason. But she’s extraordinary. And if she’s with you, she might not soar the way she could.”
Paige’s fingers curled into fists. It felt like he was dismantling her from the inside, piece by piece. Every insecurity she ever had about their relationship coming out of his mouth. “I… I would never—”
He shook his head slowly. “I know you wouldn’t. But intentions don’t always matter. Reality does. Someday she might resent the choices she made. Someday she might look back and… see what she gave up. You might be the reason she stayed grounded when she was meant to fly.”
Her vision blurred, her chest tightening so sharply it hurt to breathe. He was speaking like it was truth, but it was poison. Every word landed like a stone on her ribcage.
“And this isn’t about you being bad,” he added softly, almost soothingly. “It’s about her future. And the hardest love sometimes… is letting go.”
Paige’s lips trembled. The world felt hollow. She wanted to fight, to argue, to scream that she loved Azzi more than anything, that nothing would hold them apart—but the weight of his words pressed down like an anchor.
Azzi’s dad studied Paige for a long moment, calm, deliberate. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card.
“Here,” he said, holding it out. “My number.”
Paige blinked, confused. “Why—what is this for?”
He didn’t hesitate. “If you want to break up with her… and do what’s right… if you want her to start the future we both know she’s destined for, the life she deserves without you holding her back…” His eyes locked onto hers, unyielding. “…then you call me. I will let you into the house. Or I’ll allow her to come to you. But only under that condition.”
Paige felt her stomach twist. His words were calm, almost logical, but there was ice underneath them. Control. Authority. The implication that she had no choice in what would happen to Azzi.
“I… I can’t—” Paige started, but he cut her off with a small shake of his head.
“You’ll have to,” he said simply, his voice cold but steady. “If you love her, you’ll choose what’s best for her.”
Paige’s chest tightened. The words weren’t a suggestion. They weren’t a question. They were an order wrapped in the guise of concern, and it hit her harder than anything he could have shouted.
He was already starting to leave when he paused and turned back just once. His eyes met Paige’s, sharp and calculating.
He held out the picture frame—the one Azzi treasured the most. “Oh, and Paige,” he said, voice deceptively calm, “don’t tell her about our little conversation. You know how dramatic she can get. If you want to let her go the right way… take responsibility for it.”
Paige’s chest tightened. The frame felt impossibly heavy in her hands, not just because of its weight, but because of everything it represented: Azzi, their life, and the control he now wielded over both of them.
And for the first time, she wondered if loving Azzi was actually the right decision.
—————————————————————————
Paige sank against the wall, her back sliding down until she was sitting on the cold living room floor. The picture frame rested on her lap.
Her hand went to the card in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the numbers, like they might change if she looked long enough. Her thumb traced the edges, and for a second, she almost wished she could tear it up, burn it, throw it away. But she knew she couldn’t.
The words Azzi’s father had spoken looped in her mind, sharper with each repetition: “If you love her, you’ll choose what’s best for her.” “Take responsibility for it.”
Paige’s chest tightened. The choice wasn’t hers—or maybe it technically was—but every option felt like a trap. Call him, do what he demanded, and maybe Azzi would be able to let go and build the life everyone knew she deserved. Don’t call him, and she’d lose her entirely.
Her thoughts raced, spiraling: What if she hates me for this? What if I never see her again? What if I can’t forgive myself?
Her fingers curled around the frame and the card at the same time. Her heart was pounding in her ears, loud and relentless. The apartment felt like a tomb, silent and suffocating, and Paige realized how completely powerless she was.
She pressed her face to the frame, inhaling the faint scent of Azzi’s favorite coffee, imagining her laugh, her smile, the warmth that had been stolen in an instant. Panic hit her stomach like a punch.
She couldn’t just sit there. But she also couldn’t move. Every possible decision felt like choosing a way to hurt Azzi, and Paige didn’t know how to survive that guilt.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t cry yet—she couldn’t. First, she had to figure out what to do. She had to decide, somehow, which path to take. And the knowledge that any choice would come at a cost made her feel like she was suffocating.
—————————————————————————
The drive home was a blur.
Paige gripped the wheel tighter than she realized, knuckles white, heart hammering in her chest. Every red light felt like it stretched for an eternity. Every car ahead of her was moving too slow, every pedestrian crossing the street felt like an interruption she didn’t have time for.
The city blurred past, shapes and colors blending together. She didn’t turn on music. She didn’t call anyone. She just drove, hands tense, stomach twisting with a mix of panic and helplessness.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, her chest felt like it might actually burst. She didn’t even take her keys out. She just ran up the stairs, the echo of her shoes too loud in the hallway. The moment she burst through the door, she went straight to her mom.
“Mom! Mom, I need you to listen. I don’t even know where to start—I’m shaking so bad I can barely—”
Her mom looked up, alarmed, and before she could even respond, Paige launched into it. Words spilled out in a rush.
Azzi’s messages. The empty apartment. The man sweeping. Her dad showing up. The picture frame. The card. His words. His conditions. Everything. Every terrifying, controlling, suffocating detail came tumbling out, raw and frantic.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how to help her. They’re controlling everything. She’s trapped. And I…” Paige’s voice broke. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”
Her mom reached out instinctively, placing a hand on her arm. “Okay, okay, slow down,” she said softly. “Breathe. Just breathe.“
Paige shook her head, tears slipping freely now. “It’s all happening at once, and I can’t—Mom, I can’t lose her. I love her too much.”
Her mom nodded, letting her vent for a few more seconds before speaking. “Paige… I get it. I see why you’re panicking. But listen—right now, letting panic take over won’t help Azzi. You need a plan, not just emotion.”
Paige shook her head. “A plan? Mom, it’s her life. He’s manipulating me just by giving me that number, that card. I feel like everything I do will hurt her.”
Her mom’s eyes softened. “I know. I know it feels impossible. But think about what Azzi would want. What does she need right now? You’ve loved her long enough to know her. You know her. You know that whatever you do, it has to come from a place of protecting her, not giving into their control.”
Paige’s breath hitched. “But how? How do I protect her when I can’t even get to her? I can’t… I can’t just call that number and do what he says. It feels… wrong.”
Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “Then don’t. Think bigger. Think smarter. Don’t let them dictate the way you show her you care. You want to help her? Step back for a moment. Watch. Listen. Collect everything you can. And when you act, make it count. Don’t rush. Don’t let anger or fear make the choices for you.”
Paige exhaled slowly, trying to absorb her mom’s words.
Her mom cupped her face gently. “Right now, you need to be steady. You need to think clearly. You can’t save her by panicking, Paige. You’ll save her by being smart. By being patient. By being the person she can trust to fight for her when she can’t fight for herself.”
Paige nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”
Her mom smiled faintly, brushing a hand through her hair. “Yes. And remember… you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out.”
—————————————————————————
Figuring out what to do was easier said than done. Paige had spent the last week turning over every possibility in her head. When you’re up against the richest, most controlling people in town, options feel like illusions.
Paige sat on the hood of her car with the door half open, cold air slipping in around her, but she didn’t feel it. She felt nothing except the echo of his voice.
If you care about her, you’ll walk away. It sat in her chest like something rotten.
She stared at the concrete floor, at the oil stains and the cracks she’d memorized since she first started parking here. Her hands were knotted together so tightly her fingers ached.
Okay. Think.
She ran through every option.
Leave her alone — and lose her.
Fight — and make him tighter with his grip.
Tell Azzi everything — and burden her.
She rubbed her face, breath hitching.
He didn’t threaten her. He didn’t have to. He’d just painted the future so vividly: pressure, expectations, opportunities — and Paige, apparently, as the obstacle.
She hated how much it almost worked. Because what if he was right? What if Azzi regretted it?
Paige swallowed hard, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.
She thought about soft options instead of loud ones.
She was wiping down a car absently, when Mr. Smith called her name.
“Wassup?” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Are you in a fight with Azzi? You look like she kicked your puppy.”
Paige managed a small, bitter laugh. “It’s… complicated.”
“I know. KK told me.”
Dammit, KK.
“Do you want to hear what I would do?”
Paige’s chest tightened. “Sure. At this point, I’ll take anything.”
He paused for a moment, watching her. Took a slow breath. “I’d… let her go.”
Paige froze. “WHAT?!”
“You’re so damn dramatic,” he said calmly. “But hear me out. Kid, you’re too young for this kind of war. Love isn’t supposed to feel like a battlefield. It’s supposed to feel… like air in your lungs. Warmth in your chest. Not a daily fight for survival.”
He took another breath, letting the words sink in. “I know you love her. I know she loves you back. But nothing in the future is guaranteed. You don’t know for a fact what her dad told you is a lie. Even if Azzi says it’s not what she wants… maybe it’s not what she wants right now.”
Paige’s hands gripped her knees. “You don’t get it. She’s everything to me. Every day I wake up regretting not telling her that I want forever with her, regretting not following her wherever she wanted to go… asking her to marry me. I can’t imagine anyone else. She’s it. She’s everything.”
He nodded slowly, taking his time. “Okay. Let me ask you this. If you asked her to marry you right now, to stay forever… would she say yes without a doubt?”
Paige hesitated. Her chest tightened. Her heart screamed yes, but the reality was… she didn’t know. Couldn’t know. She didn’t even know if she was put in that situation. If Azzi asked, if she would say yes without a doubt.
He exhaled, letting the pause hang between them. “Exactly. Give her the time to be sure. To be certain. Love isn’t about making someone choose when their world is being controlled. It’s about waiting until they can, freely, want you as much as you want them.”
“She may not be sure,” Paige whispered. “But I am. How do I… hold all this in?”
He took a step closer, tone softer now, patient. “You put it into the future. Buy that apartment. Make a life that isn’t hers or yours, but both. Azzi is smart. If she loves you the way I think she does, she will figure it out. But… you have to understand. This isn’t only your fight. She’s losing what she wants too. And you can’t save her from that—not now. Not ever. All you can do is be ready for when she’s ready.”
Paige’s hands shook as she reached for her phone. The weight of the picture frame, the card, everything pressed down on her chest. She dialed the number she already knew by heart.
“Sent her to me,” she whispered, voice tight with resolve.
—————————————————————————
Azzi’s parents didn’t say much when they handed her the phone. There was no lecture, no sneer, no pointed reminder about rules—just a small, almost imperceptible nod from her dad.
Azzi blinked. That was it. Nothing more. She took it cautiously, half expecting some hidden catch, but there was nothing.
As soon as her parents left the room, she unlocked it. Her heart skipped when she saw a new message waiting from Paige.
P 💗: Hey pretty girl ❤️, I’m not even sure you’re going to see this, but I’m in the garage. Please come if you can.
A grin spread across Azzi’s face. She typed back quickly, fingers flying over the screen.
Az 💗: Sneaking out right now. I love you
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, the tension of the past days melting just a little at the thought of seeing Paige. Every second that ticked closer to her being in Paige’s arms felt electric, charged with possibility, with the safe, thrilling intimacy they shared.
—————————————————————————
When Azzi got to the garage, she didn’t hesitate. One second she was in the doorway, the next she was already in Paige’s arms, holding on like she’d been starving.
“Hi, baby,” she breathed, lips pressing everywhere she could reach. “I missed you so much. I love you so much.” Soft, messy kisses along Paige’s jaw, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth.
Paige’s hands came up automatically. That was the dangerous part. Her body didn’t know how to not love her.
Azzi leaned back just enough to see her face, eyebrows knitting together. “What’s wrong?”
Paige tried to smile. It fell apart before it even formed.
“I need to talk to you. Can we… sit?”
Azzi nodded, confusion creeping in, but she followed without question. Paige guided her to the couch. Azzi, out of muscle memory, started to settle in her lap.
Paige’s hands stopped her gently. “Beside me… okay?”
That was the first crack. Azzi looked at her like she’d just spoken a language she didn’t understand. “You’re scaring me.”
Paige stared at the floor for a second too long. “I know I promised I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”
Azzi laughed once, breathless. “Then don’t.”
Paige looked up at her. “Az…” Her voice shook. “I’m going to.”
Silence. The kind that sits in your chest and won’t let you breathe.
Azzi’s jaw tightened. “No,” she said immediately. “No. We’re not doing this.”
“Please,” Paige whispered. “Just—just let me say it.”
Azzi stood up like she needed air. “You’re not breaking up with me. Not like this. Not now.”
Paige’s words came out broken. “Az...”
Azzi turned back to her, eyes already burning. “Why?”
Paige swallowed. “Because I love you more than I love being with you.”
That one landed hard.
“I can’t let you lose your life,” Paige continued, trying to keep her voice steady and failing. “Your freedom. Your future. Not for me. Not because of me.”
Azzi shook her head harder each time. “That’s not your decision. That’s not something you get to choose for me.”
“I know,” Paige said quietly. “And I hate myself for taking the choice. But I would hate myself more if I stayed and you lost everything.”
“That’s bullshit,” Azzi said, her voice cracking anyway. “You know you’re everything I want. Please. Don’t do this.”
Paige let out a breath that sounded like a sob she refused to let happen. “I wish that was enough.”
It wasn’t. Nothing was.
She lifted a hand toward Azzi’s face, then stopped. Like the space between them had turned into something dangerous.
“I can’t be the reason you wake up one day and think… she ruined my life.”
Azzi flinched. “I would never think that.”
“You don’t know that,” Paige whispered. “You don’t know what it feels like to want two lives at the same time.”
Azzi stepped closer again and tears finally slipped free. Paige cupped her cheek, brushing away tears.
“Let me say this,” she murmured, thumb brushing under Azzi’s eye. “Then you can hate me.”
Azzi just broke. “You promised me that you weren’t going to leave,” she whispered. “You promised me I wouldn’t be alone again.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Paige said. Her voice snapped in half. “I’m just… giving you an out.”
Azzi shook her head. “I don’t want a fucking out.”
Paige leaned in until their foreheads touched, breath shaky, desperate. She felt like she was holding the last thing she’d ever love because she probably was.
“I want you to try their world,” Paige said softly. “I want you to listen. To see it. To really feel it. Date. Kiss boys. Study business. And if you like it… if it fits you… Az, I want you to take it.”
Azzi sobbed.
“You deserve peace,” Paige continued. “Even if it isn’t with me.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper that felt like it was ripping out of her chest. “And if you decide it’s not what you want… you come home, but I need you to really try.”
Azzi let out a broken sound. Paige pressed her forehead tighter against hers.
“Not my house,” she said. “Our home. The apartment is ours. I’ll be there. I’ll be waiting. As long as it takes.”
Azzi’s hands fisted in Paige’s hoodie.
“I’m going to find my way back to you,” she whispered through tears. “I promise.”
Paige closed her eyes. This was the part she hadn’t prepared for. This was the part that actually killed her.
She pulled back just enough to speak, gently, like she was laying Azzi down somewhere soft: “You don’t have to.”
And that was worse. Because it wasn’t angry. It wasn’t loud. It was soft. And it felt like being buried alive.
Azzi’s breath hitched like she’d been stabbed. Paige didn’t move. Didn’t take it back. Didn’t fix it.
She just stayed there, forehead touching hers, falling apart silently. Because loving her meant letting her go. And it hurt like hell.
Azzi’s hands trembled as she gripped Paige’s hoodie. Her chest heaved with sobs she couldn’t hold back. “Please… just give me one last kiss,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
Paige froze, her own tears spilling freely. She wanted to say no, to protect Azzi, to make it hurt less—but her heart wouldn’t let her. Slowly, she leaned down. Their lips met, soft and hesitant at first, then desperate, clinging, trying to memorize each other in the taste and the warmth.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was months of love, of laughter, of small moments—the late-night walks, the kitchen floor cereal, the way Azzi’s hands always found Paige’s without thinking. It was a goodbye and a promise wrapped into one.
Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s after, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I don’t want to let you go,” she whispered.
Paige held her tighter, letting her cry, letting herself cry. “I know, baby. I know. I don’t either. But… I’ll be here when you’re ready. If you ever are.”
The air between them hung heavy, warm with their shared grief, aching with everything they couldn’t fix.
And when they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t just a kiss they left behind—it was a memory, raw and impossible to erase, that would burn in both their hearts until the day they found their way back to each other.
“You need to go beautiful,” Paige whispered, voice breaking.
Azzi nodded, though her own chest ached as if someone had punched it.
Azzi’s steps were unsteady as she moved toward the door. Every inch felt like moving through molasses, every heartbeat heavier than the last. She didn’t dare look back, didn’t want to see Paige’s face and have it burned into her memory even more than it already was.
Paige stayed where she was, leaning back against the counter, hands still pressed to her lips as if holding them could keep Azzi from leaving. Her whole body ached. She wanted to call her name, to run after her, to pull her back into her arms, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Azzi opened the garage door and stepped into the crisp air. She felt hollow, like someone had scooped out the part of her that breathed and replaced it with a weight she couldn’t lift. Her phone vibrated in her pocket but she didn’t stop to read it. She didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to feel it burn away like everything else.
Behind her, Paige stayed alone, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. She pressed her forehead there, letting herself crumble silently, mourning not just the separation, but the way it had to be. She whispered into the empty garage, “Come back to me, Az. Please… come back.”
And outside, Azzi walked into the night, each step heavier than the last, carrying with her the first real ache of loss she had ever known.
☆》 ━ author's notes: hii, let me know what you think :)
The email inbox didn’t look real. Ten subject lines. Ten congratulations. Ten different futures waiting to be touched. Azzi sat on the edge of her bed with her laptop balanced on her knees, staring at the screen like she was afraid it would disappear if she blinked too hard. Ten schools. Ten acceptances. Ten completely different lives she could live.
She let herself smile — slow, careful, like she wasn’t used to joy being this unguarded.
It wasn’t about just getting in. It was about being wanted.
She clicked through them one by one, reading phrases like “We are pleased to offer you…” and “Your academic excellence…” until the words started to blur together. Some were bigger names. Flashier. Closer. The kind her parents would like on paper.
But Briarwood felt different.
The acceptance email sat open on her screen like it was breathing.
Briarwood University. Full scholarship. Social Sciences & History.
Azzi read it again. And then again. She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile too hard like it might jinx the moment. She’d worked for this. For late nights and quiet resilience and all the questions she wasn’t supposed to ask but did anyway. Four hours away wasn’t just distance — it felt like breath.
She thought about the future instead of the fear.
She leaned back against her headboard and exhaled, long and slow, letting herself imagine it — her own city, her own mornings, unfamiliar streets, coffee cups and books stacked by her bed. her own future without someone watching every step. A place where she could raise her hand in class, speak freely, exist loudly.
A place where she could love freely.
She thought about Paige. But not in a way that hurt — in a way that felt like sunshine. Like a weight lifting instead of pressing down. She imagined weekends. Long drives. Laughter echoing through the apartment. Paige sitting on the counter while she cooked badly. Their shoulders brushing without flinching. Hands held without looking over their shoulders.
Four hours. It wasn’t far enough to feel safe. It wasn’t close enough to feel controlled. It was… a middle ground. A compromise shaped like a lifeline.
Her room felt too small after that. The walls looked expensive and perfect and unfamiliar. She closed her laptop slowly and lay back on her bed, staring at the ceilinhg. Everything about her life had been planned with Crestwood stamped on it like a brand. Business. Image. Legacy. She could almost hear her parents’ voices in her head before she’d even told them.
Why? Since when? We never discussed this.
She already knew what she would tell them. Business. Prestige. Opportunity. She would translate her freedom into a language they understood.
She sat back up and opened the email again. Her cursor hovered over the acceptance button. Not because she was scared but because she wanted to feel the moment longer.
Ten schools. And yet, her finger hovered over just one.
She wasn’t choosing a school. She was choosing air.
Her finger hovered over the “Accept Offer” button longer than she wanted to admit.
She clicked. The screen changed.
And instead of fear, the only thing she felt was a quiet, steady kind of hope — the kind that feels like the first day of real breath.
—————————————-———————————
They were sitting on Paige’s bedroom floor, backs against the bed, knees touching. The kind of closeness that had stopped feeling accidental a long time ago.
The room was dim, the only light coming from the little lamp on the floor. It made everything feel slower. Softer. Safe.
Azzi had been quiet too long. Paige noticed. She always did.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Paige said gently, resting her chin on her knees.
Azzi let out a small breath. “I think I made a decision.”
The word felt heavier out loud. Paige didn’t move. Didn’t push. Just tilted her head slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Azzi reached for the string of her hoodie and twisted it around her fingers like she was trying to hold herself together. “I got into 10 schools,” she added.
A beat. Paige’s mouth curved, instinctively. “Of course you did.”
Azzi’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t last. “But I think it’s Briarwood.”
Paige nodded. Thoughtful. Processing.
“I looked it up,” Paige said quietly. “Once. When you told me you liked old libraries. Seems perfect for you Az.”
That made something in Azzi’s chest ache.
“It’s… four hours away,” she said.
Silence. Not bad silence. Just real.
Paige’s eyes softened. She shifted even closer without thinking. “That’s not horrible,” she said, like she was talking herself into believing it as much as comforting Azzi.
Azzi swallowed. “They gave me a full ride.”
This time, Paige’s smile came back. Real. Proud. “That’s huge,” she said. “That’s… really huge. I’m so proud of you.”
But Azzi could still see it. The flicker. The fear. The quiet recalculation. Because this wasn’t just news. It was Azzi choosing distance.
Azzi pressed her palms flat against the floor like she needed something solid under her. “I don’t think I could’ve done this if I didn’t have you,” she said before she could stop herself.
Paige’s eyes searched Azzi’s face like she was trying to find the exact weight of the words.
“You could’ve,” Paige whispered. “You just needed a little push.”
Paige’s thumb brushed slow over her cheek, soft and sure. Azzi swallowed, nerves suddenly loud in her chest.
“You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Why?”
Because you feel like home. Because I don’t want to imagine doing this without you. Because if I didn’t tell you, it wouldn’t feel real. Because I’m doing this for you. For us.
Instead, she said, “Because it scares me.”
“You’re going to do great things, Az.”
Azzi’s chest tightened at the way she said it — like she wasn’t guessing. Like she knew. Like she believed it.
Azzi leaned in, her nose brushing Paige’s temple.
“You know… you’re part of everything I’m choosing, right?”
She didn’t say future. Didn’t say forever. But it was there, in the quiet.
Paige’s lips parted. Like she wanted to say something brave. Instead, she squeezed Azzi’s hand.
“I know,” she said.
And when their foreheads leaned together, it felt like a promise neither of them had to name.
—————————————-———————————
The dining room felt like glass. Everything polished. Everything fragile. One wrong move and something would shatter. Azzi sat straight, shoulders back, hands folded neatly in her lap. This wasn’t a family dinner. It was a meeting. And she knew how to survive those.
“I need to tell you guys something.”
Both of her parents looked at her, waiting. Silent. Assessing.
“I’m not going to Crestwood. I know that’s what we’ve planned my whole life, but it doesn’t feel right.” She paused, only long enough to control her breathing. “I applied to Briarwood. They accepted me.”
Silence. Not shock. Not anger. Calculation.
Her father’s voice cut through it. “I would like to know since when you make this kind of decision on your own and thought you could just inform us after the fact.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “You’re going to Crestwood.”
Azzi’s stomach dropped — not in defeat, but in recognition. She adjusted.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve told you sooner.”
She saw it: the slight release in their shoulders. Good.
She leaned forward just a fraction — softer tone, lowered eyes. She knew if she wanted to win this war, she had to win the small battles first. And the easiest way to win a battle? Letting them believe they still had control.
“I’m going for business,” she continued. “It’s a prestigious school. It’s ranked well — top programs, strong alumni network.”
Her mother’s fingers tightened around her glass.
“They usually make freshmen live in dorms,” Azzi added calmly, “but knowing our situation, they’ve agreed to let me live off campus. We could find an apartment. Together. If that makes you feel more comfortable.”
Her mother finally spoke. “It’s four hours away.”
Azzi didn’t panic. She waited.
“That’s still within driving distance,” she said quietly.
She could see it happening — prestige weighing against distance, reputation pulling against control. So she played the last card.
“Dad, you’ve always taught me not to put all my eggs in one basket. This way, I can make new connections. Experience new things. Bring new perspectives back to the company.” She held his gaze. “If you think about it, there’s only upside.”
For a long moment, he stared at her like he was measuring something invisible.
Finally: “I’ll speak to some people. Do my own research.” He leaned back. “Then we’ll discuss it.”
Azzi nodded. Not yes. Not approval. But not rejection. And that was a win.
She stood when dinner ended and walked away without looking back.
—————————————-———————————
The garage smelled like warm metal and the beginning of summer. Gasoline and dust and something faintly sweet from the open box of air fresheners on the workbench. The overhead light flickered softly, bathing everything in a lazy, golden glow.
Azzi sat on the hood of Paige’s car with her legs crossed, hands folded in the sleeves of Paige’s oversized hoodie.
“I told them,” Azzi murmured.
Paige didn’t ask how it went. That would come later. She just turned slightly toward her.
“And?”
“They didn’t say no.”
Paige’s mouth curved. Small. Careful. Relieved.
“That’s… something.”
Azzi nodded, but her fingers twisted in the fabric.
The quiet stayed between them — not awkward, not empty. Comfortable. The kind you earn. Azzi stared at the faint oil stains on the garage floor.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Going away?”
Her voice was softer now. Barely louder than the buzzing light. Paige turned fully toward her. She didn’t answer right away. She lifted her hand instead, brushing her pinky gently against Azzi’s sleeve like she was asking for permission. Azzi didn’t pull away. So Paige laced their fingers together.
“I think,” Paige said, “that every time you talk about leaving, your eyes look like they can finally breathe.”
Azzi’s throat tightened. “I feel like I’m lying to survive,” she whispered.
Paige squeezed her hand softly.
“I’m scared,” Azzi whispered. “I really think this is the best way to do things, pulling away slowly, but it feels… strange. I know it’s only a couple of hours away, but I’ve already imagined what our weekends could look like.”
She laughed softly, breath shaky.
“In my apartment. Just us. All day in bed. It’s far enough that we wouldn’t have to hide. No one knows me there — and even if they do, not enough to care. I could kiss you whenever I want, hold your hand, take you on real dates.” Her voice dropped. “I have it all in my head already.”
She squeezed Paige’s fingers tighter.
“I’m going to get a job,” she said. “Start saving. I want to stop depending on them completely.”
A beat. “But I’m still so scared.”
Paige didn’t hesitate. “Az, you’re allowed to want that,” she said softly. “And so much more.”
Her thumb brushed slowly along Azzi’s jaw.
“You’re not running away,” Paige added. “You’re running toward something.”
Azzi leaned into her touch. Paige lifted her other hand, slow and soft, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind Azzi’s ear. “You’re allowed to want more,” she whispered.
Azzi turned her face slightly, their cheeks brushing.
“You really think I’m not messing everything up?”
Paige smiled, small and warm, right near her.
“I think you’re brave in a way you don’t even see yet.”
The garage hummed quietly around them.
Azzi’s fingers tightened around Paige’s hand.
“What if I fuck up and get everything wrong?”
Paige leaned in closer.
“Then I’ll be there,” she said, her voice soft but steady, “catching you when you fall, cheering you on until you get everything you’re reaching for. You’re not giving up—not on my watch.”
Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s. The future felt less like a cliff and suddenly the fear felt smaller than the future.
—————————————-———————————
The air carried hints of sunscreen and fresh flowers. Rows of white chairs covered the green field, the fabric fluttering slightly in the wind. Caps sat tilted and crooked, tassels brushing cheeks, laughter leaking between nervous breaths.
Azzi’s fingers brushed over the gold honor cords resting against her chest. They felt unreal. They felt heavier than they looked. Not because of the weight — but because of everything they meant.
Her name was printed in the program.
Azzi Fudd — Honors Graduate
She traced it with her thumb when no one was looking.
She sat near the middle of her row, posture perfect, hands folded in her lap like she’d been trained to be composed even when her heart was trying to climb out of her chest.
Then she saw her. Two rows ahead. Paige.
Her cap sat a little crooked. Gown not quite sitting right. Hair tucked behind her ears the way she did when she was trying to look calm.
She turned, just slightly. And their eyes met. A small smile. Only for her.
The ceremony bled by in echoes. Speeches. Laughter. Parents standing, clapping. A sea of strangers who had no idea what this really meant. Azzi barely heard it. She was too busy tracking when Paige shifted, when she tucked her hair back, when she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too big.
The crowd was loud before her name was even called.
The second her name was spoken through the microphone, the world exploded. Too loud. Which was weird. Her parents would never make a big deal about this.
“THAT’S OUR GIRL!!!” someone screamed.
A whistle pierced through the air. Azzi’s head snapped up. She found them instantly. Paige’s mom was half-standing, hands thrown into the air like she’d won the lottery. Her dad had his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling without shame. Drew was jumping on the bench, nearly falling over. Azzi felt her chest crack open. They didn’t even know the half of it. And they loved her like it anyway.
“She did it!” Paige’s mom shouted again, voice breaking. Drew screamed loud enough to make people nearby turn and laugh.
Azzi stood slowly. Walked to the stage. Every step felt lighter. The applause wasn’t just polite now. It was real. Teachers were smiling. Students were laughing. The crowd had been infected by the energy.
She didn’t look at her parents. She couldn’t. She looked at Paige. Paige pressed her lips together, eyes glossy, trying not to cry.
She didn’t clap. She just watched. Eyes soft and proud.
She mouthed: I’m so proud of you.
Azzi’s chest tightened in the best possible way.
When Paige’s name was called, it was Azzi’s turn to hold her breath. She leaned forward without meaning to.
Watched the way Paige straightened her shoulders, walked across the stage like she wasn’t terrified, shook hands, smiled like she wasn’t trying not to cry. She looked perfect. When she reached the center of the stage, she paused for just a heartbeat, looking straight at Azzi. And in that moment, it was like the world had fallen away. No cheering. No camera flashes. No other graduates. Just them.
Azzi whispered, barely audible even to herself, “I love you.”
Paige’s lips twitched, a small, secret smile, before she turned to accept her diploma, but Azzi could feel it — the acknowledgment, the quiet promise — carried in that look.
Every step Paige took back down the stage felt like it was bringing her closer to Azzi, and Azzi’s heart swelled, full of pride and longing all at once.
When the ceremony ended they were released in a wave of noise. Families clashed into hugs. Phones rose into the air. Somebody screamed someone’s name from across the field.
Azzi slipped away. Paige found her before she could move far.
They ended up behind the bleachers — hidden, quiet, like all their best moments.
“You did it,” Paige whispered, her smile so big and bright it made Azzi feel like she could melt right there.
Azzi smiled even harder. “You did.”
They stood close. Close enough to feel each other’s warmth. But not touching. Not yet.
“You looked… insane up there,” Paige said, smiling.
Azzi shook her head. “You stared.”
Paige didn’t deny it. “Could you even blame me?”
Azzi’s pinky brushed Paige’s. Paige hooked it. Quick. Secret.
“I couldn’t be more proud of you,” Paige said with a smile.
Azzi smiled. The real one. The one reserved for Paige.
“I love you,” Azzi whispered.
“I love you more.”
They leaned their foreheads together for just a second.
Just enough. Just quiet enough.
—————————————-———————————
Paige’s house had never been this loud. Music spilled from open windows, bouncing off the walls. Someone had hung fairy lights across the backyard. Streamers twisted around tree branches. A big handmade banner sagged slightly in the middle:
CONGRATS, PAIGE!
There were too many voices. Too much laughter. Too many people touching her shoulders, hugging her, filling her hands with cups she didn’t want. She smiled through all of it.
“Graduated!” her aunt yelled, pulling her into another hug.
“You did so good,” her mom kept saying, touching her cheek like she wasn’t sure it was real.
Her dad walked around with a camera, trying to make everyone stand too close together for pictures.
It should’ve felt full. But something was missing. Someone.
She slipped through the side of the house quietly, out the back door, onto the small porch where the noise softened into muffled echoes. She sat on the steps, pulling her knees to her chest. Her phone felt heavy in her hand.
She thought of Azzi. Of the gold cords on her shoulders. Of the way her mouth trembled trying not to cry. Of their fingers brushing behind the bleachers.
Azzi should’ve been here. Inside. Loud like everyone else. Beside her. Leaning into her shoulder. Feet touching. Whispering jokes under their breath. Existing in the kind of quiet that felt like home.
Paige stared out at the backyard. At her parents laughing. At the people who loved her loudly and wondered what it would feel like to be with someone she could love loudly too.
She imagined it. An apartment that smelled like coffee and detergent. Bare feet on cold tile. Azzi stealing her hoodies because she liked how they fit. Hands laced together without checking who was looking. Stolen kisses. Weekends. Mornings. Normal. Her chest tightened.
Four hours, she thought.
It sounded far. It sounded like everything.
And at the same time, compared to what Azzi meant to her, it could’ve been fourteen hours — and Paige knew she’d still get in her car every weekend just to see her.
She unlocked her phone and typed: I wish you were here.
She didn’t send it. She stared at the screen.
Then whispered to the quiet: “One day.”
Someday, she wouldn’t have to imagine it. Someday, she’d open the door and walk into their life like it had always belonged to her.
The party behind her felt small compared to the future she wanted to build.
—————————————-———————————
The table was set perfectly. Polished silver. Heavy plates. Cloth napkins folded into neat little shapes no one ever touched. Azzi sat where she was told to sit. She always did. Her dress was too stiff. Her collar too tight. Her patience worn thin. Her mother tasted the soup, frowned slightly, and set the spoon down. Her father scrolled through his phone like the room didn’t exist. Jose leaned back in his chair, leg brushing lightly against Azzi’s under the table.
“Stop,” she whispered.
He murmured back, “You look miserable.”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t have the energy.
Her mother spoke without looking at her. “You should start thinking about how you’ll present yourself at Briarwood.”
Azzi nodded.
“We can’t have you looking… like that,” her mother added quietly.
Her father glanced up.
“I spoke with someone in admissions,” he said. “They’ll keep an eye on you.”
Azzi felt something snap inside her.
“I didn’t ask you to ask them to monitor me,” she said.
Her father’s gaze shifted to her. Cold.
“You didn’t ask before applying either.”
The room tightened.
Azzi laughed — once. It wasn’t humor. It was disbelief.
“I got a full ride,” she said. “With honors.”
Her mother folded her napkin slowly.
“And that should make us what? Grateful?” she asked. “You embarrassed us by taking control before we could shape the outcome.”
“That’s bullshit,” she said.
Their father raised his voice for the first time.
“You’re being disrespectful.”
Azzi leaned forward. “And you’re being controlling.”
Silence slammed into the room.
Her mother’s voice dropped. “We gave you everything.”
Azzi felt her hands shake. She shoved them under the table. “You gave me walls,” she said.
Her father stood. “Enough.”
Azzi stood too. Her chair scraped loudly — a crack in their perfect quiet. Her mother’s eyes sharpened.
“You’re emotional. Sit down right now.”
Azzi didn’t. “I’m going to Caroline’s,” she said instead.
Her mother laughed softly. Azzi felt something inside her burn.
“No, you are not. You will finish your meal. Then you will apologize.”
Azzi sat back down slowly. Not weak. Strategic. If she exploded now, she’d lose everything. She lowered her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
They believed it. Of course they did.
She ate two more bites she couldn’t taste. And all she could think was: Four hours isn’t far enough. I can’t wait to get the fuck out.
—————————————-———————————
The house went quiet in the way it always did when everyone was asleep — not peaceful, not warm, just empty and polished and too aware of itself. Azzi sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, staring at the dark window like she was waiting for it to tell her what to do.
Slowly, carefully, like every step might echo. She slid her feet into sneakers she kept hidden in the back of her closet and pulled a hoodie over the soft dress she’d put on in case she changed her mind. She lifted the window just enough for cold air to slip in, feeling it crawl over her skin as she climbed out onto the trellis, fingers tense against the metal and thorns of the roses. When she dropped onto the grass, she didn’t hesitate. If she hesitated, she’d stay.
She went to Paige’s house. Home.
Azzi stood below Paige’s window for a full minute before she touched the glass. The rosebush scratched softly at her legs as she leaned in and tapped once. Twice. Nothing.
Her heart started to hammer for all the wrong reasons. She almost turned around.
Then the curtain shifted. Paige’s face appeared in the soft glow of her desk lamp, confused at first — then stunned. She slid the window open so fast it made a soft, panicked sound. “You okay?” she whispered, leaning out. “It’s— it’s almost two in the morning.”
Azzi smiled, breathless, cold, exhilarated. “I just missed you.”
Paige blinked, like she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or drag her inside. “I missed you too baby,” she said. “You know you could use the front door like a normal person, right?” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
Azzi rolled her eyes but she had a smile creeping in. “Shut up. Let me in.”
Paige pushed the window up the rest of the way and whispered with a smile, “Climb.”
“Seriously?” Azzi asked, pulling an annoyed face.
“Yep. You wanted to do all this Rapunzel nonsense and knock on my window instead of the door like a normal human being, so now climb.”
When Paige saw Azzi actually start to try to climb through the window, she burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, big head. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Go to the front door — it’s unlocked.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but she did.
A minute later, they were sitting side by side on the edge of Paige’s bed, their knees touching. Paige’s room smelled like clean sheets and something soft and familiar, like comfort. The world outside felt far away now, like everything loud and demanding had been locked behind the door.
Paige finally whispered, “Did you have fun at your house?”
Azzi’s laugh was soft and bitter. “You know I didn’t.”
Paige’s hand hovered near hers, barely there. “I hate that you go there and come back looking emptier.”
Azzi leaned just slightly closer, their shoulders brushing. “I don’t feel empty right now.”
Paige swallowed. “Good.”
After a small silence, Paige spoke again. “You’re really going, huh?” she said with a hesitant smile.
Azzi nodded, she took a slow breath before answering, her fingers twisting lightly in the fabric of the comforter. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I have to.” There was no triumph in her voice, just honesty. “It doesn’t feel like running away anymore, but it does feel like jumping off something tall and hoping I don’t hit the ground too hard.”
Paige nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s face. She shifted just enough that their knees brushed. “I’m proud of you,” she said, and it sounded like truth, even though it hurt. “I just didn’t realize how real it would feel until right now.”
Azzi looked over at her then, really looked at her. “You’re the only part that scares me,” she admitted. “Not the classes. Not the city. Just the thought of not being able to reach for you when I need to breathe. Four hours doesn’t sound far until I think about not being able to see you whenever I feel like I’m falling apart.”
Paige’s fingers slid over the back of Azzi’s hand. “I keep picturing your place,” she said quietly. “Us cooking dinner in the kitchen. A couch that’s definitely too small for both of us. Your books everywhere. Me showing up on Fridays like I wasn’t think about it the whole week.”
Azzi’s lips curved into something soft. “I see it too,” she whispered. “Me stealing your hoodies. Bare feet. Music too loud. Late nights on the floor just talking.”
They both smiled, lost in the version of the future they were building in their heads.
“What about you?” Azzi asked softly. “What’s everything going to look like for you?”
Paige shrugged slightly, but her thumb never stopped tracing slow circles against Azzi’s hand. “I’ll work every day from Monday afternoon to Friday afternoon,” she said. “And wherever you are on the weekends, that’s my place. I might start looking at apartments eventually. But other than that… I’m staying right here, waiting for you.”
Azzi let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “You’d really drive four hours every weekend for me?”
Paige didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Twelve, if I had to.”
Azzi leaned in, her forehead hovering just a breath away from Paige’s. “What if the distance makes it easier for you to forget me?”
Paige lifted her free hand gently, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s jaw. “Az, I think there’s no version of this where distance makes anything easier,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out. Calls. Late-night drives. You’ll come to me, and I’ll come to you. From the second I leave work on Friday to the moment I drive back on Monday morning, you’re the only thing that’s going to be on my mind.”
Her voice softened even more.
“I love you so much it hurts,” she whispered. “But I know you need this. I know this is the first step to you being able to stand somewhere someday and feel like is yours. The first step so I can tell the whole world you’re mine, and show them how much I love you. I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
Azzi nodded. Paige moved first. She didn’t rush it. She just leaned in, slow and soft, like the moment had been waiting for her. Her lips found Azzi’s in a kiss that felt like relief more than hunger — warm, steady, certain. Like coming home after being lost.
Azzi smiled against her mouth before she even realized she was doing it. Her hands slid into the fabric of Paige’s shirt, holding on, laughing softly into the kiss like her heart didn’t know what to do with all the happiness.
When they pulled back, they stayed close, foreheads touching, breath tangled.
“I love you,” Paige whispered.
Azzi’s eyes softened, her smile brighter than the room. “I love you more,” she said right back, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Outside, the street stayed quiet. The house stayed asleep.
But inside that small, warm room, everything felt loud in the best way — like the beginning of something that wasn’t going to break easily.
———————————-—————————————
The key scraped against the lock before it finally turned. Azzi pushed the door open slowly, like the space might push back.
The apartment was almost empty — white walls, bare floors, the smell of fresh paint and something slightly metallic from new pipes. Her boxes sat stacked behind her like proof that she had really done this. That she’d crossed some invisible line. Her apartment.
She stepped inside and closed the door quietly, even though no one was there to be disturbed. The sound of the latch settling felt louder than it should have.
She dropped her bag by the door and didn’t move for a second. Just stood there with her hands curled at her sides, heart beating somewhere near her throat. She had imagined this a hundred times — the freedom, the space, the way it would finally feel like hers.
But standing in it now felt…big. Too quiet. Too real.
She crossed to the window and pressed her fingers to the glass. It was cold. Clean. Real. A street she didn’t know yet. Cars she didn’t recognize. People with lives that had nothing to do with her. A life that hadn’t started. She could be someone here.
That thought scared her more than it should’ve.
Her phone buzzed.
P 💗: did you get there??
P 💗: be honest is it ugly?
Azzi let out a breath that almost felt like a laugh. Of course Paige would be the one to pull her out of her own head, even from miles away. She had to work at the garage so she couldn’t help Azzi unpack, but she had promised to show up Friday night with Chinese food and enough motivation to fold a shit ton of laundry. That thought made Azzi’s mouth curve into a soft smile.
Az 💗: It’s not ugly, big head. And even if it was, I’d make it work
She turned back toward the boxes and grabbed the first one, letting the sharp cardboard bite into her palms. Then her phone buzzed again.
P 💗: i can’t wait to see your pretty face again
P 💗: it’s only been twelve hours and I already feel like I’m losing my mind without you
Azzi didn’t hesitate. She pressed the FaceTime button, and when Paige’s smile lit up the screen, everything felt like it was going to be okay. They talked while Azzi unpacked and Paige worked, filling the quiet with laughter, small updates, and stolen glances through a phone screen. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.
———————————-—————————————
Friday arrived the way all good things did — quietly at first, and then all at once.
Azzi had spent the entire day restless. She cleaned things that were already clean. Rearranged boxes that didn’t need touching. Folded a single hoodie three separate times.
By the time the sky started to fade into that soft evening blue, she was sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and pretending not to check her phone every thirty seconds.
A knock.
Her heart jumped into her throat. She stood up too fast, knees wobbling, and crossed the room in barely three steps.
She opened the door. Paige stood there with a plastic bag of takeout hanging off her wrist and a tired smile that was somehow still perfect.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” Paige said.
Azzi stared at her for half a second too long. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. Paige dropped the bag just long enough to hug her back.
Azzi breathed her in — oil and soap and the faint metallic smell of a garage that never quite left Paige’s clothes.
“You’re real,” Azzi murmured.
“I’ve missed you too beautiful,” Paige said quietly into her shoulder.
———————————-—————————————
Time didn’t rush after that first weekend. It unfolded.
Slow and strange and gentle, the way things do when you’re no longer running from your own life.
Azzi learned the small things first. She learned which grocery store had cheaper fruit on Wednesdays and which cashier smiled at her like she remembered her name. Which coffee place messed up her order the least and which barista always added too much sugar. Which night buses came late and which ones never came at all, leaving her standing under flickering streetlights with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets, breath fogging the air.
She started recognizing the sounds of the building — the heavy footsteps of the neighbor upstairs who came home at exactly 10:47 p.m., the creak of the stairwell two doors down that whined when it rained, the hum of the heater that only worked when it wanted to and rattled like it might give up entirely.
She learned the sound of her own footsteps in the hallway of her building. She learned the exact rhythm of them.
She started walking to class with more purpose. Not looking at the floor so much. Not flinching when people brushed past her. Her backpack stopped feeling like something borrowed and started feeling like it belonged on her shoulders.
The days stopped stretching so long. They softened.
Paige had stopped feeling like a guest. She had a drawer — bottom left, never touched by anyone else. A toothbrush in a chipped white cup beside Azzi’s. A hoodie draped permanently over the back of the chair that always smelled like laundry detergent and her.
Azzi never moved them.
Not because she wanted to pretend Paige lived there. But because it made everything feel…anchored. Like if the world tilted too hard, there was something in this space that would keep it from breaking clean in half.
Paige came whenever she could. Sometimes just for a night, dropping her bag by the door like she’d done it a hundred times before, sliding in tired and quiet into bed just to drive back the next morning. Most of the time, she stayed full weekends, where time blurred into something soft and unmeasured.
She was always smiling like Azzi was something holy.
They built routines that felt dangerously like a future. Sunday mornings meant grocery lists stuck to the fridge with a crooked magnet and her knees brushing Paige’s as they sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, arguing about whether they really needed more coffee. Tuesday nights meant FaceTime calls when they were apart — Paige half out of frame, Azzi pretending to read the same paragraph for twenty minutes straight because Paige wouldn’t stop talking. Late-night walks meant hands together in the cold, heartbeats giving them away. Sometimes they sat on the kitchen floor at midnight, eating cereal out of mugs because all the bowls were dirty, talking about absolutely nothing. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all. Sometimes Paige just watched Azzi like she was memorizing her — the way she frowned when concentrating, the soft hum she made without realizing, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.
In between all of it, slowly, Azzi stopped feeling like a guest in her own life. She started feeling like she belonged to herself. She knew she’d created at least fifteen core memories over the last few months. But there was one she thought about every single day
They’d been walking because they were bored, and they didn’t want to sit inside anymore, because the air felt nice and the street felt safe. Paige had been talking about something stupid — a customer who tried to argue about oil filters or a song she’d had stuck in her head — waving her hands as she talked.
“You’re not even listening,” Paige accused, bumping her shoulder.
“I am,” Azzi said. “You just talk too much.”
Paige stopped walking. “Say that again.”
Azzi turned, smiling, mid-laugh, and somehow they were standing too close. Jackets brushing. Paige’s hands warm around the sleeves of her hoodie like she didn’t even notice she’d reached out. Neither of them said anything.
It just… happened.
Warm and easy and soft, like it was the most normal thing in the world. No fireworks. No hesitation. Just Paige’s lips against hers for half a second too long.
Azzi laughed when they pulled apart because she didn’t know what else to do.
“Hi,” Paige said, like they hadn’t been talking for ten minutes straight.
“Hi,” Azzi answered, breathless with a smile.
They kept walking. Hand still loosely laced. Shoulders still touching.
And the world didn’t crack open. Nobody stared. Nobody stopped them. Cars passed. People walked by. Someone’s dog barked across the street.
It didn’t feel dangerous. It didn’t feel brave. It felt normal.
And when Paige left, the apartment didn’t collapse. It stayed warm.
Azzi learned how to be alone without feeling like she was suffocating.
She put music on — soft songs, loud songs, songs she didn’t even know the words to. She read in the quiet, turning pages slowly instead of racing through them. She fell asleep without a pounding heart, without counting the seconds between her own breaths.
Sometimes she missed Paige so much it physically hurt — a dull ache under her ribs, a tightness in her throat when she saw something that reminded her of her. But it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t frantic. It was steady. It was warm. It was patient. Like love, not fear.
That memory stayed with her. Not like something fragile. Like something warm.
It would come back to her when she stood at her kitchen sink in the quiet. When she folded laundry alone. When she walked past couples holding hands.
The way it had felt so… normal. That was the part that changed her. Not the kiss. The fact that it hadn’t felt dangerous.
She would catch herself smiling at nothing sometimes, fingers brushing over the edge of the counter, thinking: We could exist somewhere where this doesn’t have to be hidden.
And then, slowly, another thought started growing behind it. Why am I still hiding? Every night it crept into her mind. One step closer to this being forever. Because it was.
She had a job good enough to afford the apartment, the groceries, the quiet little luxuries that meant peace to her. All the necessities. All the freedom she’d been told she couldn’t handle. She had control. Routine. Calm.
She wasn’t surviving anymore. She was living.
It had been eight months since she moved. Two weeks since the thought stopped feeling scary and started feeling right. She didn’t need their money. She didn’t need their permission. She didn’t need their quiet, conditional love. She just needed herself. And Paige.
Her phone rested in her palm like it already knew. She opened their thread.
Az 💗: I think I’m ready.
Az 💗: This weekend when I go home, I’m telling them.
She stared at the screen, heart steady. For once. Ready.
By the time spring settled over the town, everything felt too bright, too loud, too close to ending.
Azzi sat on the old couch in the garage, legs pulled up to her chest, watching the dust dance in the strips of sunlight cutting through the door. Paige was bent over the open hood of a car she’d been fixing for days, humming off-key to the music like she always did, hair tied up with a piece of red shop cloth. The scene was so familiar it almost felt fake—like a memory pretending to be real.
A few months ago, this garage had been a universe. Just the two of them, curled together in their own warm little bubble where the world couldn’t reach them. Where nothing mattered except Paige’s smile and the way she’d tug Azzi close by the belt loops, grease-stained fingers gentle against her hips.
But senior year didn’t care about bubbles.
Now there were college brochures stacked on Azzi’s nightstand. Deadlines on her calendar. Counselors asking questions she didn’t know how to answer. Parents watching her like a hawk, expecting her to follow the script they’d written before she was even born.
Paige wiped her face with her sleeve, smearing a little more grease across her cheek, and shot her a quick smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Azzi shrugged, cheeks warm. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Paige teased.
Azzi rolled her eyes, but her chest tightened. Because she was thinking. About everything. About how staying in this bubble forever sounded perfect, and how impossible that was. About how a future she didn’t want was getting closer every day. And how, for the first time in her life, the future she did want wasn’t made of money or reputation or her parents’ expectations.
It was made of Paige. Of independence. Of choices she finally got to make.
And the terrifying part was that she didn’t know how to fit all of that into the life her parents demanded of her. She didn’t know how to tell them. She didn’t know when to do it.
Paige slid out from under the car, wiping her hands on an old rag. “You’re quiet today,” she said, eyes narrowing just a little. Paige never pressed, but she always noticed.
Azzi stretched her legs out, toes brushing the concrete. “Everyone at school keeps talking about college,” she said lightly, like it didn’t bother her. “Majors, dorms, financial aid. All that.”
Paige raised a brow. “Welcome to senior year, princess.”
Azzi snorted. “Shut up.”
A beat. Then, quieter: “My parents want me at Crestwood. Business major, internship at my dad’s company. Same thing they’ve been saying since I was, like, ten.”
Paige tossed the rag onto her workbench. “And what do you want?”
Azzi hesitated—really hesitated—because no one in her life ever asked her that except Paige.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But… I don’t think I want that.”
Paige leaned against the hood of the car, arms folded, head tipped slightly like she was trying to read her.
“You don’t have to have it figured out right now,” Paige said. “But you get to choose, Az. Even if your parents pretend you don’t.”
Azzi’s throat tightened. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know but you’re allowed to want a life that makes sense to you.”
For the first time, the idea of choosing her future didn’t feel impossible. It just felt terrifying.
—————————————-——————————————
Dinner at the Fudds’ house was never loud. It was quiet in the way hospitals were quiet — controlled, sterile, and expensive.
Azzi was at the long dining table, her plate arranged like it came out of a magazine. Her parents sat at opposite ends, perfectly framed by the chandelier light, eating with the kind of practiced elegance that made Azzi feel like a guest in her own home.
Her dad cleared his throat softly, the sound sharp in the silence.
“So,” he began, slicing into his steak, “your mother and I talked about starting the Crestwood application with your counselor. She says everything could be aligned for early admission. After that, you’ll move into the apartment we’re arranging, and you can start the internship at the firm next summer.”
Her mother nodded like it was all a closed deal, not a plan for her life. “We’ve invested too much to have you delay your career track. Crestwood is the obvious choice.”
Azzi’s fork hovered in the air. She swallowed. Then set it down carefully — gently, so her hands wouldn’t tremble.
“I’m… actually considering some other places.”
The silence after that was instant. Heavy. Her father blinked once, slow. Her mother didn’t blink at all.
“Azzi.” Her name, delivered in that tone that made her feel six again. “We’ve already discussed your future. There’s no reason to introduce confusion now.”
“It’s not confusion,” Azzi said quietly. “I just want to look at options.”
Her mother’s fingers tightened around her wine glass.
“Options,” she repeated, voice cool. “You mean impulsive rebellion. You’re too smart to throw away the opportunities you’ve been given.”
Azzi felt the familiar pressure building behind her ribs, the invisible walls pushing inward.
She could feel Paige’s hands in her memory — gentle, steady, real — but here they felt painfully far away.
Under the table, she pressed her nails into her palm, trying to ground herself.
“I’m not rebelling,” she whispered.
Her parents exchanged a knowing look. The kind that dismissed her entire sentence without needing to say anything at all.
Her father took another calm sip of water, ending the conversation like it was nothing more than a scheduling conflict.
“We’ll revisit this once your Crestwood acceptance arrives.”
Not if. Once.
Azzi lowered her gaze to her plate. The food tasted like air. Her throat felt tight, but she stayed quiet.
She wasn’t ready yet. Not tonight. Not here.
But the decision she’d been building in spreadsheets and late-night searches pressed against the back of her mind like a heartbeat.
This wasn’t going to stay buried forever. And somewhere deep down, she knew: This dinner was the beginning of the end of pretending.
—————————————-——————————————
Azzi was sitting cross-legged on her bed. She couldn’t spend the night with Paige—her dad was in town.
Her laptop balanced against her knees, the glow washing her room in a pale bluish light. It was almost midnight. Her parents were asleep down the hall; she could tell by the perfect, unnatural silence of the house. No footsteps, no clinking glasses, no echo of her mother’s heels on polished floors.
The quiet made what she was doing feel dangerous. And necessary.
She typed out-of-state scholarships first-gen students into the search bar—even though she wasn’t technically first-gen. It just felt like she was starting from zero, like she was reinventing herself without the safety net she’d been born into.
Links loaded. She clicked one. Then another. Then bookmarked a third even though the requirements made her want to curl up and scream.
Her stomach knotted. She had read the same sites all week, refreshing the tabs like they might magically offer a different answer, a loophole, something that would make all of this easier. But it didn’t. If anything, the words felt heavier every time she saw them—like the pages themselves were pressing against her ribs, stealing her breath.
Azzi exhaled, pushing her hair behind her ear as she opened the spreadsheet she’d made two weeks ago. Columns labeled: cost of living, application deadlines, essay prompts, doesn’t require my parents’ tax info, far enough from home, close enough to come back if everything goes to shit.
Most of the boxes were still empty.
She hovered her cursor over an admissions page.
Three letters of recommendation. Right. From who? Her teachers thought she was polite, responsible, a good student—just… distant. And her parents’ friends only liked her when she was pretending to be someone she hated.
Another page wanted a personal statement. ‘Talk about the obstacles that shaped you’. She snorted quietly, but it came out brittle.
“Hi, I’m Azzi, and my biggest obstacle is that my parents would rather die than admit their daughter is in love with a girl.”
Too honest. Not usable. True.
She slumped back against the headboard, rubbing her thumb along the edge of her laptop.
Her mind kept drifting to Paige—grease-stained hands, soft eyes, that bright smile. Because that was the other big thing. She wasn’t just choosing a college. She was choosing a life she hoped Paige could fit into. And she didn’t know if Paige was ready to choose a life with her back.
She opened another tab. Typed mechanic schools near— Stopped. Deleted it. Paige had the right to have her own future. Azzi wasn’t going to drag her into something she wasn’t ready for.
Another scholarship link popped up—this one for students “seeking independence.” She bookmarked it instantly.
Azzi exhaled again, softer, pulling her knees to her chest as the laptop leaned against her shins.
Maybe this was how it starts. Not with a dramatic announcement. Not with a fight.
But with a girl in a too-big bedroom, quietly building her exit route. Quietly choosing herself.
——————————————-——————————
Azzi sat stiffly in the chair, hands folded so tightly in her lap her knuckles had gone pale. Mrs. Davenport glanced at her file, not unkindly, but with the same clinical efficiency she used on everyone.
“So, Azzi,” she said, adjusting her glasses, “your parents emailed me about scheduling this meeting. They mentioned you were having… questions about your path?”
Azzi’s stomach sank. Of course her parents had emailed first.
“I just wanted to talk through some things,” Azzi said quietly. “I’m not sure Crestwood is the—”
Mrs. Davenport cut in with a bright, practiced smile. “Oh, but Crestwood is an excellent option.”
Azzi blinked. “Yeah, but I just thought maybe I should look at other—”
“Crestwood has a very strong business program,” the counselor continued, turning her computer screen slightly as if Azzi needed to be shown proof. “And with your father’s company ready to offer you an internship… that’s an opportunity most students would dream of.”
Azzi felt her throat tighten. “I know. I just—”
“Your parents are right to encourage you toward a practical major,” Mrs. Davenport said, nodding like it was settled. “Business sets you up for stability. Comfort. The kind of life many students hope to reach someday.”
It sounded like a pitch. A very familiar pitch.
Azzi shifted, desperate to find words that wouldn’t get twisted. “I don’t know if that’s what I want,” she said softly. “I’m not even sure I want to go to Crestwood.”
For a moment, the counselor’s expression faltered—then she gave a small, polite frown, the kind adults use when a kid says something “naive.”
“Well,” she said, smoothing her skirt, “college isn’t about chasing uncertainty. Crestwood is safe. Respected. It aligns perfectly with the goals your parents have laid out for you.”
Their goals. Always their goals.
Mrs. Davenport continued, oblivious or ignoring the way Azzi’s shoulders were curling inward. “And realistically, Azzi, deviating at this point could close doors your family has worked very hard to open. It’s not just about you—sometimes our choices affect the people around us.”
The words hit with an awful familiarity. Her parents had said almost the exact same sentence last week.
Azzi nodded slowly, feeling the walls close in. “Right.”
“Good,” the counselor said, smiling again. “So I’ll move forward with Crestwood on your application list. We can discuss scholarships next month, and your father’s company internship will look fantastic on your résumé.”
Azzi swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay.”
“Wonderful. You’re a smart girl, Azzi. And Crestwood is the right move—trust me.”
Azzi forced a smile. “Yeah. Of course.”
She stood, thanking her with automatic politeness her parents had drilled into her. But when she stepped into the hallway, the air felt thinner.
No support. No options. No one willing to hear what she wanted.
It was like being told, again, that her life was already decided—that she was expected to follow it without question.
And for the first time, Azzi realized: If anything was going to change, she’d have to be the one to change it.
—————————————-—————————————
Paige knew something was off the second Azzi walked into the garage that afternoon.
Not because she said anything—Azzi was good at pretending everything was fine. Great at it, actually. Years of practice.
But Paige had spent too much time learning her. She knew the difference between Azzi tired and Azzi not sleeping because she’s spiraling.
Azzi hopped up onto Paige’s workbench, like she always did, legs crossed, ankles swinging. Same routine. Same smile.
Just… wrong around the edges.
Her eyes were puffy in a way makeup couldn’t hide, and she kept picking at the hem of her shirt, twisting it tighter and tighter around her finger.
Paige wiped her hands on a rag and leaned against the hood of the car she was working on. “You good?”
Azzi nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Liar, Paige thought gently.
Azzi was a lot of things—careful, stubborn, dramatic when she felt safe—but she only lied when she was scared.
Paige didn’t push. She set her tools down, crossed the short distance, and stood in front of her. Close enough that she’d have to look at her.
“Did your parents say something?” Paige asked quietly.
Azzi blinked, taken off guard. “No. Why?”
“You’re doing that thing,” Paige said.
Azzi frowned. “What thing?”
“That thing where you smile, but your shoulders are up here”—Paige touched the side of Azzi’s neck lightly—“like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”
She rested her palms on Azzi’s knees, grounding her. “Talk to me.”
Azzi shook her head, eyes dropping. “It’s nothing. Just… school stuff.”
School stuff. Paige almost laughed. The way Azzi said it made her stomach twist.
She lifted Azzi’s chin with two fingers. “If it was just school stuff, you’d be calling Crestwood stupid. Or telling me how your mother already picked your dorm room colors.”
Azzi’s lips twitched, but the joke didn’t land. There it was again—that tiny flicker of fear.
Paige’s chest tightened. She hated this. Hated that Azzi felt like she had to go through any of it alone.
Paige brushed her thumb over Azzi’s cheek. “You don’t have to tell me everything right now. But I can tell when you’re drowning, Az.”
Azzi swallowed hard.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” Paige said softly. “You’re thinking yourself in circles. And you keep looking at me like you’re scared I’ll disappear if you say the wrong thing.”
Azzi’s eyes filled, so fast Paige almost stepped back. But Azzi leaned forward instead, forehead pressing against Paige’s chest like she’d run out of places to hide.
Paige wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight, the smell of her shampoo mixing with the faint scent of gasoline in the shop. Azzi exhaled shakily, fingers curling into the fabric of Paige’s shirt.
Paige closed her eyes, one hand rubbing small circles on her back. She couldn’t fix Azzi’s parents. She couldn’t fight her battles for her. But she could do this. She could stay. She could hold her. She could notice every fear Azzi tried to swallow.
Azzi swallowed hard. “I was… researching colleges. All night.”
Paige’s chest tightened, not with shock but with recognition, like yes, I knew something was eating you alive.
Azzi continued, voice barely above a whisper. “Scholarships, too. Options. I just… I couldn’t sleep. I started thinking about everything, and then I just… kept going.”
“What did you find?” Paige said.
“Most of the scholarships are out-of-state,” Azzi murmured. “They cover more. And some of the programs are… really good.”
Out-of-state. Out. Of. State.
The words dropped into Paige’s stomach like ice water.
Azzi didn’t notice at first; she was still speaking, still trying to explain the logic behind the financial aid and the faculty bios and the late-night googling spiral she’d clearly been drowning in.
But Paige had gone still. Completely, entirely still.
Because suddenly the pieces aligned: The fear. The researching in secret. The way Azzi had looked at her this morning, almost guilty.
Azzi wasn’t just looking. She was preparing.
“…and they’re far,” Azzi added quietly, almost to herself. “Most of them are far.”
Paige’s breath caught, soft and involuntary. “Far like… out of Connecticut?”
Azzi’s eyes lifted slowly. She didn’t even try to dodge the question. She just nodded once, tiny and apologetic.
Paige felt something flicker in her chest — not anger, just hurt mixed with this sudden, aching fear she hadn’t expected.
“Okay. That’s more that I expected.”
“What about you?”
Paige blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah.” Azzi tugged at a loose thread on her jeans. “What do you want to do after we graduate?”
Paige grabbed a stool and sat in front of her, elbows on her knees. It took her a second to answer.
“I mean… I like the shop,” Paige said slowly. “I like working with my hands. Fixing things. It makes sense to me.” She rubbed her thumb along her palm. “Mr. Smith wants me to take over eventually, I just- I don’t know if that’s something I’m ready for yet.”
Azzi looked up at her. “So you’re staying here?”
Paige shrugged. “Probably. At least for a while. I’m not really the college type.”
Azzi bit her lip. “You don’t have to go to college to leave.”
Paige gave a small laugh. “Azzi, everything I own fits in a duffel bag. Leave and go where?”
“Anywhere,” Azzi said immediately, surprising even herself. “You could start your own thing. Work somewhere else. Move out.“
Paige reached out, fingers brushing Azzi’s knee. Gentle. Grounding. “This place…” Paige looked around the garage, eyes soft. “It’s just familiar for me. I like it here. Mr. Smith has always been honest with me, and the whole shop makes good money.”
Azzi watched her, quiet.
Paige rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been saving almost every dollar he’s given me since I was, like, fifteen. I figured I’d move out. Get my own place. My own life.” She gave a tiny shrug. “But there’s still a lot I have to figure out.”
Azzi’s chest tightened. “Like what?”
Paige gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Like… everything?”
She picked at the grease on her palm. “I think I want to learn a little more about running the shop before I take charge. Just to make sure I’m not gonna set the place on fire the moment it’s mine.”
Azzi huffed a soft laugh, but her eyes were warm. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that,” Paige said lightly, nudging her shoulder. Then, softer, “But I want to be ready. I want to feel like I can handle this. Like I’m not just winging my whole life.”
Azzi reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing Paige’s wrist. “You already do more than anyone else our age. You fix everything, you manage customers, you save money like a full ass adult. You—”
Paige looked over, and something in her expression made Azzi’s hand still.
“Az,” Paige said quietly. “You’re allowed to figure your life without me too. And you don’t have to be scared I’ll disappear while you’re doing it.”
Azzi blinked, breath catching.
Paige shifted closer, their shoulders touching. “Make your choice. College, scholarships, leaving home—whatever it is. And I promise you, we’ll figure out the rest together. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Azzi’s voice trembled. “You mean it?”
Paige squeezed her hand. “Yeah. I do.”
Azzi exhaled, slow and relieved, like the world had been holding her by the collar and finally let go.
—————————————-———————————
The garage was dim and warm, the way it always got at dusk — that soft honey–colored light slipping through the cracked window and settling over everything like a blanket. Paige was on the floor with her back against an old tool cabinet, legs stretched out. Azzi in a hoodie half–unzipped, hair messy like she’d been stress–running her fingers through it all afternoon.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just walked over and sat right between Paige’s legs, back pressed to her chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige wrapped her arms around her waist without thinking. Azzi melted instantly, settling against her with a sigh that sounded like she’d been holding her breath all day.
They stayed like that for a moment, quiet except for the faint buzz of a ceiling fan.
Then Azzi’s voice came out small, almost shy: “Do you think I could… actually do it? Be independent, I mean.”
Paige blinked, tightening her hold just a little. “What makes you think you can’t?”
Azzi let out a soft laugh but it wasn’t a happy one. “I don’t know. I’ve always had someone deciding things for me. My parents, teachers… even the counselor today.”
A pause. “And I keep thinking — what if I leave and I’m just… useless?”
Paige immediately shook her head and pressed a kiss to the curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her neck — slow, soft, reassuring. “You’re not useless,” she whispered. “You’re just… new to doing things for you.”
Azzi didn’t answer, but her fingers curled around Paige’s arm, holding on like she needed the touch more than the words.
Paige kept going, softer. “You weren’t raised to choose your own life. That’s not your fault. But you can learn. You just need some practice.”
Azzi huffed a tiny laugh — half embarrassed, half aching. “What, like homework?”
Paige smiled into her skin. “Yeah. Independence homework.”
Azzi turned her head slightly, curious despite herself.
Paige nudged her gently. “My mom could teach you how to cook without burning the house down. I can teach you how to handle your car, or run errands, or— I don’t know, all the stuff people learn slowly growing up and you never got the chance to try.”
Azzi’s breath hitched, and she whispered: “You’d really… do that with me?”
Paige slid one hand up to cradle her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. “Az, I would do anything that makes you feel stronger in your own life.” A beat. “I just want you to feel like you can stand on your own two feet. And I’ll be right here while you figure out what that looks like.”
Azzi turned fully then, climbing into Paige’s lap and cupping her face with both hands. Her voice was soft, trembling at the edges.
“I love you,” she breathed. “You make everything feel easier.”
Paige’s smile was small but certain, like she meant every syllable. “I love you more. And I want you to have whatever you want.”
Azzi leaned their foreheads together, closing her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.
Paige kissed her — slow, warm, steady.
—————————————-———————————
Over the next couple of weeks, Azzi learned a little bit of everything—pieces of information, bits of advice, scattered lessons from every direction.
Paige’s mom always cooked with the windows open. Azzi didn’t know if it was to let the steam out or to let the world in, but the breeze drifting through the kitchen made everything smell like basil and summer and something safe.
“Okay,” Paige’s mom said, tying her apron with a dramatic flourish, “so which one of you knows how to chop an onion?”
Both girls pointed at the other instantly. Her mom stared. Blinked. “Oh lord.”
Paige crossed her arms defensively. “I know how to cut an onion.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Paige, last week you cut a tomato like it had wronged you personally.”
Paige’s mom snorted. “Yeah, she slices everything like it owes her money.”
Paige dropped her head onto the counter with a groan.
“You’re gonna learn to cook. Both of you. No child of mine—biological or adopted by chaos—is going to survive adulthood on cereal.”
Azzi flushed at that—no child of mine—but she hid it by adjusting her hair.
Paige’s mom placed an onion in front of her. “Okay, sweetheart. Peel it.”
Azzi tried. She genuinely tried. She peeled a little. Then more. Then somehow… all of it.
Paige’s mom’s jaw dropped. “Az—baby—that’s naked. That onion is indecent.”
Paige burst into laughter so loud she almost fell off her stool.
Azzi covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“That’s okay!” Paige’s mom said, patting her back. “We’ll work on it. Paige—your turn.”
Paige grabbed the knife with confidence. Azzi braced herself. The first slice landed with a loud thunk. The second was crooked. The third looked like she tried to murder the onion.
Paige’s mom took the knife from her gently. “Honey… you chop like you’re disassembling a carburetor.”
Paige shrugged. “It works for engines.”
“This is food,” her mom said. “We don’t want it to fear us.”
Azzi giggled into her sleeve. Paige nudged her hip. “Oh, hush.” But Paige was smiling too.
Soon the kitchen was full of tiny disasters: Paige burning garlic twice, Azzi spilling salt everywhere, Paige’s mom lecturing them about “seasoning with love, not trauma”, Azzi crying from onion fumes while Paige fanned her with a paper plate, Paige trying to flip pasta like she was in a cooking show and nearly launching it across the room.
It was messy. Loud. Chaotic. And Azzi couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy.
Paige’s mom moved around them with easy affection, correcting their hands, guiding their movements, praising every tiny success like it meant the world.
And maybe to Azzi, it did.
When they finally sat down with two bowls of pasta (slightly overcooked, but edible), Paige’s mom looked at them with the softest smile.
“You two make a good team,” she said simply.
Azzi looked at Paige. Paige looked back, eyes warm, lips pulled into that small, proud smile she only ever wore for her.
And for the first time, Azzi thought:
Maybe independence didn’t have to mean being alone. Maybe it meant choosing your people. And maybe—just maybe—she’d already found hers.
—————————————-———————————
Next were groceries, which somehow became its own quiet lesson: choosing what she liked, what she wanted, not what someone else picked for her.
The grocery store was quieter than usual, the late-afternoon light turning the aisles gold. Azzi pushed the cart, even though she wasn’t very good at steering it in a straight line. Paige walked beside her, hands in her pockets, pretending not to laugh each time the cart veered slightly left.
“Okay,” Paige said, stopping in front of the produce. “Rule number one: don’t buy sad vegetables.”
Azzi tilted her head. “What’s a sad vegetable?”
“That.” Paige pointed at a wrinkled bell pepper. “That’s a vegetable crying for help.”
Azzi nodded seriously. “So we buy the happy ones.”
“The perkiest,” Paige confirmed.
They made their way through fruits, pasta, spices, and Paige’s very passionate argument about why real butter was not optional. Paige teaching her how to check prices per ounce, how to compare labels. Azzi tried to take it all in — the quiet decision-making, the small responsibilities, the fact that she was doing this for herself.
But the real test came in aisle nine.
Laundry detergents. A whole wall of them.
Bright colors. Flowers. Mountains. Totally unnecessary promises like “ultra-boost power fresh.”
Paige nudged her cart forward. “Okay, Az. Pick one you like.”
Azzi froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean pick the one you want.”
Azzi stared at the shelves like they were lined with nuclear codes. “My mom never let us choose,” she admitted quietly. “We always used the fancy hypoallergenic imported one.”
Paige grinned. “Cool. Pick something that smells like happiness to you.”
Azzi picked up one bottle, sniffed, winced. “Chemical death.”
She tried another. “That smells like… my grandma.”
Paige laughed. Azzi tried a third. Then her eyes lit up.
“Oh,” she whispered, smiling without meaning to. “This one smells like… cookies? But also clean?”
Paige leaned in, sniffed too. “Yeah… okay, that’s actually adorable.”
Azzi hugged the bottle to her chest like it was a puppy.
“This one,” she said.
“Perfect.” Paige took it and placed it in the cart.
At checkout, Azzi reached for her wallet, but Paige caught her wrist instantly.
“Nope.”
Azzi blinked. “What? Why?”
Paige leaned in, brushing her thumb across Azzi’s knuckles. “Just because you’re learning how to be independent doesn’t mean I’m letting you pay for anything,” she said softly. “Not now. Not ever.”
Azzi’s throat went tight. “That’s not how independence works,” she whispered.
Paige smiled, gentle and stubborn at once.“Independence is you choosing your life,” she said. “Choosing what you want. Choosing the detergent that smells like cookies. Not paying for all of the groceries.”
Azzi stared at her, warmth spreading through her chest so suddenly it almost hurt. “You spoil me,” she murmured.
Paige leaned closer, voice dropping to something soft enough to melt anyone. “I take care of what’s mine.”
Azzi flushed instantly. “Paige.”
“What?” Paige teased. “I’m not wrong.”
When everything was scanned, Azzi tried one last time to grab her wallet.
Paige raised an eyebrow. “Put it away, Az.”
Azzi huffed. “Fine. But I’m paying one day.”
Paige leaned down, kissed the top of her head. “When you graduate with honors, maybe I’ll let you buy me gum.”
Azzi shoved her playfully.
When they carried the bags to the car, Azzi watched Paige’s hands, the easy way she loaded everything, the quiet protectiveness written into every movement.
And she realized: Independence meant choosing someone who made the hard parts feel easy.
—————————————-———————————
Paige’s house always smelled like fresh detergent, even when nothing was actually clean. Azzi suspected it was because the laundry room was small so the scent just lived there permanently.
Paige shoved the door open with her hip, flicking on the light. “Welcome,” she said dryly, “to the valley of doom.”
Azzi blinked at the washer and dryer like they were machines from a sci-fi movie. “There are too many buttons.”
“There are literally four,” Paige said.
“That’s too many. Why does it say perm press? Delicate? Ultra-delicate? What’s an ultra-delicate?!”
Paige laughed under her breath and reached for the laundry basket. “This one’s yours,” she said, holding up a hoodie Azzi definitely “borrowed” and never returned.
Azzi clutched it to her chest. “We’re washing her?”
“She’s gray, Az. She used to be white.”
Azzi frowned. “She’s vintage.”
“She’s dirty.”
Azzi sighed dramatically and dropped it in the washer.
Paige stood behind her, guiding her hand when she reached for the detergent they had bought.
“Okay, so this part’s easy. You pour it into—”
Azzi immediately poured way, way too much.
Paige grabbed her wrist mid-pour. “Az! Baby! I said pour, not drown it.”
Azzi stared at the blue puddle gathering in the dispenser. “It came out fast!!”
Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing. “Yeah, because it’s liquid.”
Azzi groaned and hid her face against Paige’s shoulder. “I’m a disaster.”
Paige kissed her hair. “You’re adorable. Terrible at laundry. But adorable.”
Azzi peeked up at her. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Paige scoffed. “Az, my first load of laundry overflowed, my mom made me mop the living room like Cinderella. You’re doing great in comparison.”
Azzi snorted. “Can we just… start it?”
“Yes. Press ‘normal.’”
Azzi pressed the wrong button.
“No, baby, that’s— okay. That’s sanitize. We’re not sanitizing your hoodie. She is not that dirty.”
Azzi grinned sheepishly and pressed the right one this time. The machine rumbled to life. ñShe took a tiny step back, like she’d just accomplished something huge.
Paige leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with this soft, proud expression she didn’t bother to hide.
“You did it,” Paige said.
“It’s just laundry.”
“It’s not,” Paige corrected gently. “It’s you taking care of yourself. That’s kind of a big deal.”
Azzi felt it in her chest — warm, sudden, overwhelming.
She stepped into Paige’s arms without thinking. Paige caught her instantly. Kissed the side of her head. “See? You don’t need a mansion or a maid doing it for you.”
Azzi breathed her in. “I just need you?”
Paige smiled against her temple. “You need you.” Then softer: “But yeah… I’m here. Every step.”
The washer hummed behind them, a quiet, rhythmic reminder that Azzi wasn’t as helpless as she thought.
That she could learn. That she could grow. And that Paige would be right there, laughing at her mistakes, teaching her, loving her through all the tiny, important things.
—————————————-———————————
Azzi’s car sat in the middle of the garage like it was waiting for judgment. Paige circled it with her hands in her pockets, nodding like a doctor preparing to deliver bad news.
Azzi followed her anxiously. “Why are you looking at her like that?”
“Because,” Paige said slowly, “I’m trying to decide whether she’s a car… or a cry for help.”
Azzi gasped. “She’s fine!”
“She’s tragic, Az.”
Azzi clutched her chest. “Take that back.”
Paige got to work, sliding under the car like it was second nature. Azzi sat criss-cross on the garage floor, watching her like she was watching something sacred. Paige rolled back out and handed her a flashlight.
“Okay, lesson one: you need to know what anything under here looks like.”
Azzi angled the light… directly into Paige’s eyes.
Paige flinched. “Az!”
“Oh my god, sorry!” Azzi dropped the flashlight. It rolled away dramatically.
Paige covered her face with both hands, laughing so hard her stomach hurted. “We’re off to a terrible start.”
Azzi crawled to get the flashlight, embarrassed. “Third lesson in and you’re regretting everything, huh?”
Paige reached out, hooked a finger under Azzi’s chin, and pulled her close enough to kiss her nose. “Not even a little,” she whispered.
Azzi’s heart flipped.
Tire pressure was next.
Paige guided Azzi’s hands gently, standing behind her as she pressed the gauge into the valve.
“Firm, but don’t push sideways,” Paige murmured, her breath warm on Azzi’s neck.
Azzi tried again — steadier this time. The gauge clicked. Paige grinned. “Look at you.”
Azzi beamed. “I did it?”
“You did,” Paige confirmed proudly. “You’re basically a mechanic now.”
Azzi laughed, leaning back into her. “I like when you teach me stuff.”
Paige wrapped her arms around her waist. “Good. You’re going to be learning a lot.”
Checking the battery ended up with Azzi asking if it would electrocute her. Paige blinked. “Az… it’s not a fence.”
“I’m just checking!”
“You’re safe,” Paige said, squeezing her hip. “I won’t let anything zap you.”
Azzi tried to hide her smile.
Finally, Paige closed the hood and wiped her hands on a rag. “That’s it,” she said simply.
Azzi blinked. “That’s… everything?”
“That’s everything that keeps you from getting stranded or blowing up the engine,” Paige said. “We’ll work our way up.”
Paige slid her palm along Azzi’s cheek, thumb gentle.
Azzi melted into her touch, hands settling on Paige’s waist.
Paige kissed her — grounding and proud.
“You’re learning,” Paige whispered against her lips.
“And I’m right here. Every time you try. Every time you mess up. Every time you get better.”
Azzi breathed out, soft and sure.
—————————————————————-
It happens on a night that isn’t special. No lesson. No checklist. No errands.
Just the two of them in Paige’s bed, after making dinner, smelling like the detergent Azzi chose, the lights off, the room breathing around them.
Paige is behind her, one arm tucked under Azzi’s pillow, the other curled around her waist, holding her like she’s something Paige doesn’t want to risk losing in her sleep. Their legs are tangled. Paige’s nose is pressed against the back of Azzi’s neck in that way she does when she’s half-asleep.
Azzi should be asleep too. But she’s awake, staring at the soft glow of the alarm clock, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breaths against her spine.
It’s the quiet that gets her. Not the silence — the quiet. The kind that only comes when she feels safe.
Paige shifts in her sleep, pulling Azzi a little closer, thumb brushing absentmindedly over her hip. Not intentional. Not purposeful. Just instinct. Just affection that exists even in unconscious moments.
And that’s when it hits her. Not like a dramatic realization, not a gasp or a shock. It settles like a warm weight right in the center of her chest.
She likes this. She loves living like this. Small. Soft. Close. Nothing big or fancy. No pressure. No pretending.
Just Paige behind her, breathing slow. Just the warmth of someone choosing to stay right next to her. Just the comfort of knowing she doesn’t have to be perfect or impressive or ready for anything.
Azzi brings Paige’s hand up to her chest, holding it there. She presses a tiny kiss to Paige’s knuckles — so gentle Paige doesn’t even stir.
And Azzi thinks: I could live like this forever. In a small room. In a quiet night. In someone’s arms who doesn’t want anything from her except exactly who she already is.
Loved, not for the life she’s supposed to have. Loved, simply for being herself.
She exhales softly, her body melting further into Paige’s hold, and it’s in that moment — simple, still, unremarkable to anyone else — that she knows:
This… this is the kind of future she’s been searching for without knowing it.
—————————————-———————————
Paige wakes up without meaning to. Not fully — just enough. Enough to feel Azzi’s fingers loosely holding her hand against her chest. Enough to feel the tiny kiss Azzi left on her knuckles, the ghost of it still warm. Enough to hear the way Azzi exhales when she finally relaxes.
Paige doesn’t move. Doesn’t open her eyes. Doesn’t even shift her breathing.
She just… feels.
Azzi in her arms. Azzi trusting her in her sleep. Azzi choosing to stay.
There’s a tightness in Paige’s throat, sudden and overwhelming, like a feeling too big for her ribcage. Something she’s never had words for — not in eighteen years, not in any moment before this one.
But now she does. She wants this forever. Not the bed, not the room, not the moment. The person. Her.
She wants Azzi for a lifetime — even if they’re too young to be saying forever out loud, even if it feels ridiculous, even if it scares her.
She wants mornings with her, the kind where Azzi steals the covers and pretends she doesn’t. She wants grocery trips and laundry lessons and Azzi sitting on the counter while she burns pancakes. She wants Azzi laughing in her kitchen, crying in her arms, calling this place her home without hesitating.
She wants a future with her. A long one.
And the thought hits her so fast she almost startles.
I want her to be my wife someday.
The realization is too big, too early, too much — but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like something she’s known her whole life and only just remembered.
Paige shifts an inch closer, nudging her nose into the back of Azzi’s shoulder, breathing her in.
She imagines rings, a shared apartment that’s too small, a dog. Kids maybe — if Azzi wants them. Little ones with Azzi’s eyes and her smile and the same stubborn streak that makes Paige fall more in love every time she argues.
It should be terrifying. It isn’t. It’s grounding.
Azzi squeezes her hand in her sleep, soft and unconscious. Paige’s heart clenches.
She presses a slow, careful kiss to the back of Azzi’s neck and whispers — so quietly Azzi will never hear it: “Yeah… it’s you. It’s always gonna be you.”
And Paige closes her eyes again, holding Azzi closer, already knowing: She’s too young for forever. But she wants it anyway. And she wants it with her. This is it.
For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t even breathe too loud. The room felt warm, heavy with the kind of quiet that only comes after a night where nothing was held back — not the kissing, not the words, not the fear.
Azzi was curled into her like she belonged there, one leg thrown over Paige’s, her cheek against Paige’s bare shoulder, hair messy and soft against her skin. The blanket had slipped halfway down their bodies, and Paige could feel the heat of her everywhere — chest, stomach, thigh.
It made her smile. It made her want to cry a little, too.
She lifted her hand and brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face, letting her fingertips linger on her cheek. Azzi stirred at the touch, eyelids fluttering, nose scrunching the way it always did when she was waking up slowly.
“Hi pretty girl,” Paige whispered, voice rough with sleep.
Azzi blinked up at her, still half-asleep, and her hand slid instinctively around Paige’s waist — like her body remembered before her mind did.
“Morning baby,” she whispered back, sleep-dazed and warm.
Her voice did something to Paige. Something soft. Something final.
“I like waking up like this,” Azzi whispered.
Paige laughed softly. “Naked in my bed? Yeah, I bet you do.”
Azzi covered her face with her hands, groaning, and Paige grabbed her wrists gently to pull them down — because she wanted to see all of her, all the softness she tried to hide.
“It was…” Azzi started, then made a helpless gesture with her hands. “It was really… you know.”
Paige grinned. “Oh, I know.”
Azzi slapped her arm. “Stop!!”
“What? I’m just agreeing with you.”
“Paige, PLEASE.”
Paige laughed and pulled her into a hug before she could hide under the blanket. Azzi let herself fall into her chest, still flustered but smiling so hard Paige could feel it against her skin.
After a moment, Azzi whispered: “Can today just be… us?”
Paige rested her chin on her head. “Yeah. It can be just us.”
Azzi exhaled, soft and content. And Paige thought, yeah… this is the best morning I’ve ever had.
———————————————————————————
Paige was the first one out of the bedroom, mostly because Azzi insisted she needed “ten minutes to emotionally prepare herself to be clothed again.”
Paige was laughing all the way down the stairs.
The kitchen felt different without her parents there — quieter, warmer, like the house knew it only belonged to them today. She opened the fridge, grabbed eggs and butter, and was halfway through searching for a pan when she heard footsteps.
Azzi appeared in the doorway, drowning in one of Paige’s big shirts that hit mid-thigh and absolutely nothing else.
Paige almost dropped the spatula.
Azzi laughed softly and padded over, wrapping her arms around Paige’s waist from behind. She rested her chin on Paige’s shoulder.
“Whatcha making?”
“Trying,” Paige said, “to make scrambled eggs.”
“Trying?”
“I’m still deciding if I’m awake enough to not burn the house down.”
Azzi snorted and kissed her shoulder. “Move.”
Paige stepped aside, hands up. “Woah. Chef mode?”
“Someone’s gotta save breakfast.”
Azzi opened the fridge like she lived there, grabbed things Paige didn’t even know were in the drawers, and started cracking eggs with way too much confidence.
Paige leaned on the counter, watching her with a small smile.
Azzi noticed. She always noticed.
“What?” she asked, whisking.
Paige shrugged. “Nothing. Just… you look cute.”
Azzi pointed the spatula at her. “Do not start. I’m already embarrassed from earlier.”
Paige raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you screamed into my pillow because you remembered we had sex?”
“PAIGE.”
Paige cackled and dodged the kitchen towel Azzi threw at her.
Azzi shook her head, but she was smiling — that soft, shy smile that made Paige’s chest warm.
While the eggs cooked, Paige moved behind her, sliding her hands around Azzi’s waist, fitting their bodies together easily. Azzi leaned back into her like it was instinct.
“You know,” Paige murmured against her neck, “we’re redoing our whole day today.”
“Hmm?” Azzi tilted her head slightly, giving Paige more space to kiss her skin.
“Everything we were supposed to do yesterday,” Paige said. “Food, bake cookies, ice cream run, movies… all of it.”
Azzi’s cheeks flushed. “And making out in between everything?”
Paige smirked. “Especially that.”
Azzi giggled — an actual giggle — and bumped her back with her hip.
The eggs started sizzling a little too aggressively, and Azzi scrambled to stir them before they turned into burnt rubber.
Paige laughed into her shoulder. “Chef mode my ass.”
“Shut up,” Azzi said, trying to look serious but biting back a smile.
Paige reached past her to turn down the heat, and somehow that small motion ended with them pressed chest-to-back, Azzi’s breath catching just slightly.
“Paige…” she whispered.
Paige kissed her cheek. “Eat first. Kiss later.”
They finished the eggs — a little uneven, a little messy — but it didn’t matter. They sat at the table, knees touching under it, sharing a plate like two people who forgot where the edges of their bodies ended.
And it was stupid how happy they looked at something as simple as breakfast.
—————————————-——————————————
They finished eating slowly, mostly because every time Paige tried to take a bite, Azzi would say something that made her choke-laugh and nearly drop her fork.
When the plates were finally empty, Paige stood up to grab them.
“Don’t,” Azzi said quickly, reaching across the table and taking the plate out of her hands. “I’ll clean.”
Paige raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because you think I’ll break something?”
“No,” Azzi said, walking toward the sink, “because you will break something.”
Paige put a hand over her heart. “I can’t believe you have so little faith in me.”
Azzi shot her a look over her shoulder. “Paige, fifteen minutes ago you almost set scrambled eggs on fire.”
“It’s hard!”
Azzi laughed — the laugh Paige would happily swim in if physics allowed it — and turned on the water.
Paige walked up behind her, Azzi didn’t even flinch; she just softened into her, letting her head tip back against Paige’s shoulder.
“You know,” Paige murmured, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “you can just leave the dishes for later.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because,” Paige whispered, swaying her side to side just a little, “there are more interesting things to do.”
Azzi snorted. “Like what? Watching you almost burn something again?”
Paige gently turned her around until Azzi was leaning against the counter, hands sliding up the back of her shirt, fingertips warm against her spine.
“No,” Paige said softly, “like this.”
She tugged her closer, and Azzi stepped right into her like it was instinct. Their hips brushed. Their noses almost touched.
Azzi’s voice dropped. “Oh. This.”
Paige grinned. “Yeah. This.”
Azzi tried to look unimpressed, but her hands were already curling into Paige’s shirt.
“Paige,” she whispered.
“Mhm?”
“We have to do the dishes.”
“They can wait,” Paige said, leaning in until their foreheads touched.
Azzi’s lips twitched. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Paige kissed her — not deep, just soft, teasing, a promise more than anything. Azzi smiled against her mouth, pulling Paige closer until their bodies were pressed together, warm from breakfast and from everything else.
Paige peppered a few more little kisses along Azzi’s jaw. Azzi let out a tiny sound she definitely didn’t mean to make.
“Okay,” Paige whispered, smug. “Dishes are not happening right now.”
———————————————————————————
They migrated to the couch without really deciding to. One second they were cleaning up breakfast, the next Paige was dropping onto the cushions with a dramatic groan, tugging Azzi with her by the wrist.
Azzi didn’t even pretend to resist. She practically folded herself into Paige’s side the moment she sat down, head tucked under Paige’s chin like it was muscle memory.
The TV was on, some random movie they weren’t actually watching. Paige couldn’t remember the title, and she genuinely didn’t care. Azzi was warm against her, tracing lazy lines on Paige’s thigh with the pad of her finger—absentminded, innocent, but also not innocent at all. It made Paige’s breath catch every single time.
Azzi’s legs were thrown over Paige’s lap, one of Paige’s hands resting on her shin. Their ankles tangled without them noticing.
“Do you actually like this movie?” Azzi mumbled into Paige’s collarbone.
“I don’t even know what it’s about,” Paige admitted, thumb brushing over Azzi’s skin in slow circles.
Azzi snorted. “We’ve been watching for forty minutes.”
“No we haven’t.”
“Yes we have,” Azzi said, lifting her head just enough to glare at her. “You literally laughed at something twenty minutes ago.”
Paige blinked. “…I did?”
Azzi dropped her head back onto Paige with a sigh that was half fondness, half disbelief. “You’re impossible.”
“Or maybe you’re just distracting,” Paige said, letting her fingers slide up Azzi’s side, light enough to make her squirm.
Azzi jerked, laughing out loud. “Stop—P!”
“I didn’t even do anything!”
“You breathed, and somehow that was teasing,” Azzi accused, swatting at her.
Paige grinned, satisfied. “You love it.”
Azzi didn’t answer immediately. She just went quiet, her hand finding Paige’s again, fingers lacing automatically like she didn’t even have to think about it.
And then, softly, “I do.”
Paige’s stomach flipped. She tugged her closer, kissed the top of her head, then the side of her forehead, then—because Azzi tilted her face up—her mouth.
When they finally pulled apart, Azzi dropped her head back to Paige’s chest, breathing out a tiny content sigh.
“We really have been watching this movie too long,” she whispered.
Paige wrapped both arms around her. “Yeah. But I’m not changing anything.”
Azzi smiled against her skin. “Me neither.”
And they stayed there, movie forgotten, completely tangled up in each other, the entire afternoon threatening to disappear just like that.
——————————————-—————————————
It happened slowly at first. Like the kiss they’d shared had left a thread between them—thin, invisible, pulling tighter and tighter until one of them finally gave in.
Azzi shifted, trying to get “comfortable,” though Paige wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly what she was doing. Azzi’s thigh slid over hers, warm and deliberate, and Paige’s breath hitched immediately.
“Comfortable?” Paige asked, voice too soft to be teasing.
“No,” Azzi said simply—and then kissed her.
It wasn’t slow this time. It was hungry all at once, like every minute they’d spent pretending to focus on the movie had been building to this exact second. Paige’s hand instinctively cupped Azzi’s jaw, guiding her in, deepening the kiss while Azzi fisted the front of Paige’s shirt like she needed the anchor.
Azzi shifted again, climbing fully into Paige’s lap now, straddling her, knees sinking into the couch cushions. Paige’s hands found her hips automatically, steadying her, pulling her closer until there was no space left at all. Azzi broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, forehead resting against Paige’s.
“This is why we can’t watch movies,” she whispered, slightly breathless. “We can’t even watch half of it without—”
Paige cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time. Azzi melted into it instantly, fingers threading through Paige’s hair, tugging just enough to make Paige’s pulse jump. A soft sound escaped Paige’s throat—half surprise, half need.
Azzi smiled against her lips. “You like that?”
Paige’s answer was a low, helpless laugh. “Shut up.”
But she kissed her again, slower this time, gentler—because as much as this was heat, it was also the warmth curling in her chest, the intimacy that still felt new and unbelievable after last night.
Azzi pulled back only to kiss her cheek. Her jaw. The corner of her mouth. Each one soft, like she was memorizing her.
Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s back, fingertips tracing the line of her spine through the thin cotton of Paige’s own shirt—the one Azzi had stolen this morning.
Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s shoulder, laughing under her breath. “We’re supposed to be productive today. Do everything we didn’t do yesterday.”
Paige kissed her temple. “We are.”
“Paige…”
“Kissing is productive.” Paige tried so hard not to smile. She failed. Completely.
“Fine,” she said, leaning back, tugging Azzi with her until Azzi was lying half on top of her, their legs tangled, breath mixing, lips brushing. “Five more minutes.”
Azzi kissed her again, slow and sure. “You always say that,” she murmured.
And Paige—already lost, already gone—whispered into her mouth, “I know.”
————————————-———————————————
They walked into the kitchen still holding hands, still a little flushed from the couch, still wearing the kind of soft smiles you can’t really hide even if you tried.
Paige stopped in the middle of the room dramatically. “Alright,” she announced, “today… we bake.”
Azzi stared at her. “You don’t know how to bake.”
Paige shrugged. “I know how to follow instructions.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t.”
Paige gasped. “I follow most of them!”
“Mmhm.” Azzi opened the pantry, already looking amused. “Where’s the flour?”
Paige scanned the shelves, squinting like she was cracking a code. “Uhh… probably the bag that says ‘flour’?”
Azzi gave her a look. Paige grinned.
They gathered the ingredients, lining them up on the counter like they were professionals. Paige pulled her hair up into a messy bun; Azzi rolled up her sleeves. They looked entirely unserious.
“Okay,” Azzi said, reading the recipe. “First step: cream the butter.”
Paige nodded with confidence she absolutely did not have. “Easy.”
She grabbed the stick of butter, unwrapped it—and slapped it onto the bowl with the palm of her hand like she was spiking a volleyball.
Azzi blinked at her. “Paige.”
“What?”
“Why did you… hit it?”
Paige shrugged again. “It felt right.”
Azzi laughed so hard she had to lean on the counter. “Oh my God, we’re gonna burn this house down.”
Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Azzi. “But like… in a cute way.”
Azzi melted instantly. “Unfortunately, yes.”
They got through mixing the butter and sugar with minimal disaster—until Paige decided she was going to mix the dough by hand.
She plunged both hands into the bowl with full confidence. Too much confidence.
“Paige!” Azzi yelped. “Use the spoon!”
“It’s fine,” Paige said, kneading aggressively. “This is how they do it on cooking shows.”
“That’s bread dough, baby,” Azzi corrected, already trying not to laugh.
Paige kept going, determined… until the mixture got thicker, heavier, and increasingly uncontrollable. By the time she tried to lift her hands out, long strings of half-formed cookie dough stretched up with her like edible spiderwebs.
Paige stared at the mess dangling from her fingers. “Okay. This is… not ideal.”
Azzi pressed a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Paige.”
“Don’t laugh at me.”
Azzi absolutely laughed at her. Loudly.
Paige lifted her hands to show the dripping dough strings. “Azzi, help me.”
Azzi grabbed a spatula and tried to scrape her palms clean, but every swipe just moved the dough around, smearing it up Paige’s wrist.
“This is worse,” Azzi announced.
“You’re making it worse,” Paige replied, very serious, even though she was also definitely holding back a laugh.
“You’re the one who decided to knead cookie dough!” Azzi shot back.
Paige lifted one sticky hand in a plea. “Okay, I messed up. Fix me.”
Azzi scraped harder, failing spectacularly. “I can’t fix you—this is who you are now.”
Paige gasped dramatically. “A dough monster?”
“Yes,” Azzi nodded, barely breathing from laughing. “This is your final form.”
Paige lifted her dough-covered hands. “Hug?”
Azzi backed up instantly. “Don’t you dare.”
Paige lunged forward with both hands. “Come here.”
“No—Paige—don’t—”
But the thing about Azzi was she could never actually run from her. Paige caught her at the edge of the counter, wrapped her arms around her tight, and Azzi shrieked.
“PAIGE—YOU’RE GETTING IT ON ME—”
“That’s the point!”
They toppled into the counter, laughing like it was the only thing they had to do today.
Azzi shoved her lightly. “You’re impossible.”
Paige kissed her jaw. “You love me.”
Azzi didn’t even try to deny it.
That softened Paige immediately. She went for the kiss, slow and warm, the kind of kiss that made Azzi lean in helplessly.
When they broke apart, Azzi tapped Paige’s nose with a flour-dusted fingertip. “Go wash your hands.”
Paige pouted. “But we were having a moment.”
“We can have another one after you stop being a walking cookie.”
Paige reluctantly went to wash the dough off. When she came back, Azzi was forming neat little dough balls on the tray, focused, tongue poking slightly out in concentration.
Paige leaned against the counter, watching her like she was something holy.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Azzi looked up. “Yeah?”
Paige smiled. “I love you.”
Azzi smiled back. “I love you more.”
———————————————————————————
They’d finished baking, eating way too much cookie dough, and making a ridiculous mess of the kitchen. By the time the cookies were cooling, both of them were dusted with flour, streaked with chocolate, and somehow sticky in places neither of them could explain.
Azzi poked at a smear of chocolate on Paige’s arm. “You need a shower.”
Paige poked her back. “So do you.”
They stared at each other for a beat.
Then Paige tilted her head. “Together?”
Azzi didn’t even pretend to think about it. “Together.”
They climbed the stairs hand in hand, still laughing under their breath at how chaotic the whole afternoon had been. When they reached the bathroom, Paige turned on the water, steam slowly filling the room while Azzi leaned against the counter, watching her with that soft look she reserved only for her.
Once the temperature was right, Paige stepped inside. Azzi joined her a moment later, sliding her arms around Paige's waist from behind. "Mmm, this feels nice," she murmured, nuzzling into her neck.
Paige hummed in agreement, leaning back into her touch. “Definitely needed this.”
“We were covered in dough,” Azzi responded.
“You were covered in me being covered in dough,” Paige corrected.
Azzi laughed, the sound echoing softly against the tile.
“You okay?” Paige whispered.
Azzi nodded, but her eyes softened. “Yeah. Just… happy.”
Paige cupped her cheek, thumb brushing gently at water droplets. “Me too.”
They stood like that for a moment — quiet, warm, the sound of the water filling all the spaces words couldn’t.
Paige turned in Azzi's arms, capturing her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Azzi moaned into her mouth at the feeling of hands sliding down to grip her ass.
Paige grabbed a washcloth and lathered it gently, running it along Azzi’s arms, her back, her shoulders — careful, slow movements that felt more like caring than cleaning. Azzi relaxed into every touch, hands resting lightly on Paige’s hips. By the time she reached Azzi's ass again, Azzi was practically trembling with need. "Please," she panted, pressing into Paige's touch.
Paige took her time, massaging and kneading the firm muscle of Azzi’s ass before finally slipping a finger between her thighs to tease her entrance.
"Please," Azzi begged, hips rocking against her hand. "I need you inside me."
Paige obliged, sinking one finger deep inside her in one smooth thrust. Azzi cried out, head falling back as Paige began to pump her fingers in and out of her tight heat.
"God, you're so tight," Paige murmured, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside her. "And so wet. You're absolutely drenched. So perfect for me."
Azzi could only moan in response, lost in a haze of pleasure. Paige took her time, exploring every inch of her with slow, deliberate strokes.
When she finally curled her fingers to hit Azzi's G-spot, Azzi nearly sobbed with pleasure, hips bucking wildly against her hand.
"Right there," she panted, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the slick tile. "Please don't stop."
Paige didn't plan to. She continued to stroke and tease Azzi's pussy, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Paige shifted onto her knees, hands guiding one of Azzi’s thighs over her shoulder, she sealed her mouth over Azzi's clit and sucked hard. Azzi came with a sharp cry, pussy clenching and fluttering around her fingers. Paige gentled her touch as Azzi rode out the waves of her orgasm, letting her come down slowly before pulling back.
"God, you're beautiful when you come," Paige murmured.
Azzi pulled her up and moaned into her mouth at the taste of herself on Paige’s lips, her hands sliding up to tangle in Paige’s hair. “Your turn.”
She turned Paige around. Then Azzi took the cloth, tracing Paige’s skin like she was learning her all over again, soft and focused. Paige let her eyes fall closed, leaning into it. “Please, touch me.”
Azzi obliged, sliding a hand between Paige’s legs. Paige cried out, head falling back against Azzi's shoulder as she began to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
"Fuck, that feels so good," Paige panted, hips bucking against her hand. "Don't stop."
When she slipped two fingers inside her, Paige clung to her while she came, breath stuttering, body tightening as waves of pleasure took over, her whole frame shivering through it while Azzi held her steady, grounded, safe.
They made out lazily for a few minutes later, hands roaming and caressing each other's bodies as the warm water continued to rain down on them. When they finally pulled apart, Azzi rested her head against Paige’s chest, arms wrapped around her waist. “I’m gonna fall asleep in here,” she mumbled.
Paige laughed, fingers running through her wet hair. “Then I’ll carry you to the room.”
“You would not.”
“I absolutely would.”
Azzi smiled against her skin. “Yeah. You would.”
They stayed wrapped around each other for a while longer, letting the water wash away everything except how close they felt right then.
Then Paige kissed her temple. “Come on,” she whispered.
Azzi laced their fingers. “Okay.”
And they stepped out together — soft, warm, entirely wrapped up in each other.
———————————————-————————————
Steam still drifted out of the bathroom as they stepped into Paige’s room, both wrapped in towels, hair dripping, cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower.
Azzi sat on the edge of the bed, towel tucked securely around her chest, legs under her like she was trying to make herself small. Paige was rummaging for lotion when she heard Azzi’s quiet:
“Paige?”
Paige turned. “Yeah?”
Azzi swallowed, fingers picking at the edge of her towel. “I think we should talk. About… you know. My parents. Us. Everything.”
Paige froze.
Not because of the topic. Well, of course because of the topic. But big part because Azzi was sitting there—fresh out of the shower, bare shoulders still damp, towel barely hanging on—trying to have a serious conversation while looking like that.
Paige blinked, then blinked again. “Baby… no. No, we can’t do a heavy conversation while you’re—” she gestured helplessly at her—“toweled and glowy and distracting.”
Azzi frowned. “Paige. I’m being serious.”
“That’s the problem,” Paige said, pointing accusingly. “You’re being serious while you’re naked. My brain cannot multitask like that.”
Azzi’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not naked, I’m in a towel—”
“Same thing!” Paige groaned dramatically. “My attention span is currently in the ICU.”
Azzi laughed despite herself, covering her face with one hand. “Paige.”
“Nope,” Paige declared, already backing toward her dresser. “You’re too pretty, this is rigged, I refuse to have an emotional conversation like this—put on clothes, and then I will let you ruin my day.”
Azzi threw a pillow at her. “I’m not trying to ruin your day!”
Paige caught it, stuck her tongue out, then tossed it back softly. “Fine. Clarify that after you put on something.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now—small, relieved, a little shy. “Okay. I’ll change.”
They both turned away, slipping into soft clothes. Paige threw on shorts and a T-shirt; Azzi pulled on one of Paige’s sweatshirts, sleeves too long, the hem almost swallowing her shorts.
When she finally sat back down on the bed, hair still damp, face calmer but serious again, Paige joined her—cross-legged, knee touching her knee.
Azzi drew in a breath. Her fingers found Paige’s almost immediately, like they always did. “I just… I don’t want to keep hiding forever. And I know we said we’d wait until things felt right but… I think we need to actually talk about what that means.”
Paige’s expression softened instantly.
She shifted closer, brushing her thumb over the back of Azzi’s hand. “Okay. Let’s talk about it.”
Azzi nodded, eyes flicking up to Paige’s. “I love you,” she said quietly.
Paige didn’t hesitate. “I love you more.”
“And that’s why I want to do this right.”
Paige squeezed her hand. “Then we will.”
“I know we’ve been hiding us,” Azzi said, voice low. “And I understand why. I understand the timing, the pressure, the expectations, everything. But I’ve been thinking about it, and…”
Her voice thinned out for a second.
“I don’t want to keep doing this forever.”
Paige didn’t speak. She didn’t interrupt. She let Azzi talk.
“I hate feeling like I’m choosing between you and them,” Azzi continued, fingers twisting anxiously. “I hate pretending you’re a stranger. I hate watching what I say, how I look at you, where I stand. I hate all of it.”
Her eyes flicked up briefly.
“And I know they’re never going to picture someone like you for me. Not because of you, but because of their world. Their reputation. Their expectations. None of it matches the life I want. The life we’re building.”
Paige’s jaw tightened at that — quietly, protectively.
“But I also know,” Azzi said, voice trembling slightly, “that I’m not ready to tell them. Not yet. And I’m scared that waiting… or hiding… might hurt us.”
Azzi swallowed, voice barely above a whisper now. “You could be with someone whose parents adore you,” she whispered. “Someone who doesn’t come with complications or expectations or… whatever mess my family is.”
Paige’s lips parted, ready to reassure her — but Azzi kept going, voice tight.
“And I know they won’t understand us. I know they won’t approve. I know they’ll think you’re a distraction or a mistake or—”
“Azzi.” Paige said her name gently, just enough to stop the spiral.
Paige took a slow breath herself, grounding the moment before she spoke.
“Listen to me carefully,” Paige said. “I don’t need your parents to approve of us for this to be real. I don’t need them to love me. I don’t need them to understand.”
She brushed her thumb over Azzi’s knuckles — soft, sure.
“I just need you.”
Azzi’s shoulders dropped a little, like some of the weight slipped off.
Paige breathed out slowly, steadying, calm. Then she reached over and cupped Azzi’s cheek.
“Look at me,” she murmured.
Azzi did.
“We are not going to break because of them,” Paige said. “I’m not rushing you. I’m not pushing you. This isn’t a countdown. You tell them when you’re ready — not when you’re scared, not when you’re pressured, when you’re ready.”
Azzi blinked fast, chest tightening.
“I won’t lie,” Paige admitted softly. “I’d love for the world to know you’re my girl. It’s hard acting like we’re nothing when you’re literally everything to me.”
Azzi’s breath hitched.
“But,” Paige continued, thumb brushing slow circles over Azzi’s knuckles,
“I’d rather be with you quietly than without you loudly. Every time.”
Azzi blinked, expression breaking just slightly.
“I don’t want to be someone you have to hide for,” she whispered.
“And I don’t want to be someone you lose everything for,” Paige answered softly. She leaned in slightly, not kissing her, just grounding her. “So we take our time. We figure it out slowly. You tell them when you’re ready, and not a second before.”
Azzi exhaled shakily. “Okay.”
“And hey,” Paige said gently, “you don’t have to decide everything right now. You don’t have to figure out when or how or what you’ll say. All you have to know is that I’m here. With you. For as long as you want me.”
Azzi closed her eyes, a soft, grateful sound leaving her. She leaned into Paige, forehead against her shoulder. Paige scooted closer, thigh to thigh.
“I’m not rushing you. I’m not pushing you. Whenever you’re ready — really, actually ready — I’ll be right there with you. If that takes weeks, months… years…” She shrugged. “Then that’s what we do.”
Azzi leaned forward, forehead resting against Paige’s. “Thank you.”
“And,” Paige added, lips brushing hers with a teasing smile, “next time you want to talk about emotional trauma? Put clothes on first. I’m begging you.”
Azzi snorted. “Shut up.”
———————————————————————————
The air outside hit them in a gentle wave — warm enough to feel good on their still-damp hair, cool enough to make the skin on their forearms prickle. It felt like the whole world had quieted down with them.
Paige locked the door behind them, then nudged Azzi with her shoulder.
“You good?” she asked, voice soft but not heavy.
Azzi nodded. “I’m good.”
And for once, she actually meant it.
They walked down the sidewalk, hands brushing, not fully held — easing back into being light again. Paige bumped her hip.
“So, what flavor are you gonna get? And why is it something boring like vanilla?”
Azzi gasped. “Excuse me? Vanilla is a classic.”
“It’s also what plain toast would pick if it were ice cream.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curled up. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet,” Paige said, “you keep dating me.”
Azzi tried not to smile. Failed.
By the time they reached the tiny corner shop — the one with the faded strawberry decal and the squeaky door — they were back to their usual rhythm. Comfortable. Steady. Easy.
Inside, the cold air wrapped around them and they both shivered at the same time.
“Cute,” Paige said. “Now we’re shivering at the same time—couple goals.”
Azzi elbowed her and laughed.
They stepped up to the counter, scanning the menu. Paige squinted.
“Oh my god, Az. They have matcha. This is a sign.”
“It’s a threat,” Azzi murmured.
“You’re just uncultured.”
“You’re just wrong.”
Paige grinned, flipping her a look over her shoulder. “You gonna try a bite?”
“Nope.”
“You’re so gonna try a bite.”
“No—”
But she always did. Paige knew it. Azzi knew it. The poor guy behind the counter probably knew it.
They ordered — vanilla for Azzi (“classic,” she insisted) and matcha for Paige (“chaotic,” Azzi said) — and sat on the curb outside because the small metal tables were all taken.
Sun on their legs. Ice cream dripping too fast. Knees touching. They didn’t grab each other’s hands—there were still people around, that tiny instinct to stay careful—but their hands brushed once… twice… and on the third time, Azzi let her pinky curl outward just a little. Paige noticed instantly. Without looking at her, without saying a word, Paige hooked her pinky around Azzi’s. It was small. Barely a touch. But it felt like a whole confession.
It wasn’t hand-holding. It wasn’t hiding, either. It was something in between—quiet, tender, just for them.
Azzi took a cautious spoonful of Paige’s matcha, face tightening dramatically.
“I hate that I don’t hate it.”
Paige beamed. “You love it.”
“I like you. Not this.”
“You love both.”
Azzi sighed like this was a tragedy.
They fell into a quiet moment then, both eating slowly, watching cars roll by, listening to distant laughter from someone down the street. Paige nudged her foot with hers.
“Thank you for talking to me,” she said gently. “For trusting me.”
Azzi didn’t look at her immediately. She swallowed her bite, wiped a drop of vanilla from her thumb, and then turned.
“I always trust you,” she said simply.
The words settled between them — warm and certain.
Paige’s voice went softer. “Good. Because I’m gonna be here for all the hard parts. And all the easy ones.”
She scooped a bit of matcha and held it out in offering.
“Starting with this extremely important moment.”
Azzi rolled her eyes but leaned forward, lips brushing the spoon as she took a small bite. She hummed thoughtfully.
“…Fine,” she said. “It’s good.”
Paige grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Told you.”
Azzi nudged her shoulder, playful and fond. “Shut up.”
Paige leaned in. “Make me.”
The tension of earlier was gone — not forgotten, but transformed into something lighter. Something shared. Something they’d face together.
——————————————-—————————————
The house felt different when they walked inside. Not louder. Not quieter. Just… settled. Like everything heavy they said had finally found a place to rest.
Paige kicked her shoes off first, then pointed dramatically toward the stairs. “Bedroom. Now.”
Azzi raised a brow. “Bossy.”
“Someone’s gotta keep us from melting into the couch again,” Paige said, already heading up.
Azzi followed, rolling her eyes but smiling the whole way.
In Paige’s room, the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, turning the whole space warm. The bed looked stupidly comfortable — rumpled from this morning, blanket half-hanging off the side like it had been waiting for them.
Paige grabbed the remote, tossed it onto the bed, and then flopped down face-first with a groan.
Azzi laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”
Paige turned her head just enough to look at her. She mumbled into the pillow, “you love me anyway.”
Azzi climbed onto the bed, nudging Paige until she rolled onto her back.
“Unfortunately,” Azzi said, lying beside her.
Paige reached over blindly and tugged her closer. “Shut up and pick a movie.”
Azzi scrolled through the options, not really paying attention, because Paige kept tracing slow, absentminded shapes on Azzi’s stomach under her shirt. Every time Paige drew a tiny circle, it made Azzi’s breath hitch just a little.
Eventually, they landed on something old and comforting — a movie they’d both seen a million times and didn’t actually need to watch.
Once it started, Paige shifted down and let her head rest on Azzi’s chest. Azzi wrapped an arm around her automatically, fingers slipping into Paige’s hair like they’d been made for that.
For a few minutes, they actually watched. Then Paige’s hand found Azzi’s, and their fingers tangled. Azzi’s chin dropped onto Paige’s head. Paige exhaled one of those long, slow breaths she only ever did when she felt completely safe. Azzi tightened her arm around her.
The movie kept playing in the background, but neither of them cared.
The warmth of the blankets, the hum of the TV, the soft rhythm of Paige’s breathing — it all blended into the kind of quiet that only existed when they were alone like this. Paige’s voice came out small and sleepy.
“Are you thinking?”
“A little,” Azzi whispered.
“About earlier?”
“Not in a bad way.”
Paige nodded, her cheek brushing against Azzi’s chest. “I’m proud of you,” she murmured.
Azzi’s heart pulled tight, but in a good way this time. “I know.”
Paige’s fingers loosened, her breathing deepening.
Azzi glanced down — Paige’s eyes were already closed, lashes soft against her skin, hair falling over her nose.
A small smile tugged at Azzi’s lips.
———————————————————————————
Paige was asleep. Really asleep.
Azzi could tell by the way her whole body softened — by the tiny puff of air she exhaled against Azzi’s collarbone, by the way her fingers loosened but never let go fully. And normally, that would’ve made Azzi smile and then close her own eyes. But tonight her mind wouldn’t quiet.
She ran her fingers gently through Paige’s hair, slow, careful, trying not to wake her. The familiarity of the motion grounded her — the softness of Paige’s wavy hair, the warmth of her skin, the weight of her pressed so trustingly against her.
She still couldn’t believe this was real. Not the sex. Not the kissing. Not the making cookies or getting ice cream or pretending matcha was a crime.
It was this. This part. Paige asleep on her. Paige comfortable. Paige safe. Paige choosing her without hesitation.
Azzi swallowed, feeling her chest pull tight.
Sometimes she wondered what she had ever done to deserve something like this. Someone like this. Someone who didn’t shrink away when things got complicated or heavy. Someone who didn’t make her feel like a problem that needed fixing.
Paige never flinched. She just stayed. Steady. Warm. Unmovable in the best way.
Azzi wasn’t used to that.
She thought of her parents — the expectations, the image, the choking pressure of never being enough in the right way. She thought of the future and how terrifying it felt to picture herself standing between worlds she cared about.
But then she looked at Paige. Really looked at her. The relaxed lines of her face. The faint freckles she always forgot she had. The way her lips parted just slightly when she dreamed.
And Azzi realized something quietly, painfully true:
She didn’t want a life her parents approved of more than she wanted this. She didn’t want a version of herself that kept Paige hidden. She didn’t want to keep loving someone this deeply in silence.
I love you, Azzi thought, the words blooming in her chest like something she couldn’t stop.
God, I love you more than I know what to do with.
It terrified her. And yet… it steadied her too.
Because if love could feel like this—quiet, gentle, honest—then Azzi could face anything. She could face the noise, everything that was waiting outside this room.
She would figure it out. For her. For them. For this feeling that made her hold Paige a little tighter, like she was holding the future she wanted.
Paige sighed in her sleep, her lips brushing the base of Azzi’s throat, and Azzi felt her whole heart lean forward, choosing her without hesitation.
I’ll make it work, she promised silently.
I’ll find a way. Because you’re the one thing I’ve ever been certain of.
Azzi tightened her arms around Paige and shut her eyes. She loved her, and that simple, steady truth was enough to carry her through whatever came next.
———————————————————————————
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