Azzi Fudd thought she had her whole life figured out. One day, she was working at her dream job and dating an amazing guy who could be her forever. After one impulsive decision, she was packing up her whole life and running away. What started as an escape from reality quickly becomes a journey of self-discovery, confronting fears, and possibilities she didn't know she could want or have. As Azzi adjusts to her new life, these opportunities begin to reshape her ideas of happiness, love, and fulfillment. This could be the worst decision of her life, or the fresh start she never knew she needed.
They've been best friends for eighteen years. When Paige leaves for UConn, distance changes everything—until Azzi commits to the same school and gives them something to look forward to: eventually.
word count: ~2k words
warnings: one kiss · romantic tension · pining · mostly platonic friendship · no explicit content
A/N: One of you lovely people requested a one shot to “I Could Be A Florist” by Olivia Dean. Sending all the healing vibes to the Princess so she can kick ass on Wednesday 💕 I hope you love it!! xx Elle
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Paige glanced at the clock above the register. 4:47 PM. Just over an hour until closing, and the Sunday afternoon lull had settled over the shop like a soft blanket. She'd already swept the floor twice, rearranged the display of potted succulents by the window, and trimmed the stems on the roses that had come in that morning. Now she was just killing time, reorganizing the ribbon spools by color when she didn't really need to.
Sundays were always slow. Most people bought their flowers earlier in the weekend, and by late afternoon, Stockbridge went quiet in that small-town way that Paige had grown up with. She didn't mind it. The stillness gave her time to think, to let her hands work while her mind wandered.
The bell above the door chimed.
Paige looked up, ready to offer her usual greeting, and the words died in her throat.
The woman who walked in was –
Beautiful didn't even cover it.
She was fresh-faced, glowing in the golden late-afternoon light that filtered through the shop windows. Loose overalls hung easy on her frame, one strap undone and dangling against a cropped pink tank top that showed just a sliver of warm brown skin at her waist. Brown sandals, simple and worn-in. Her hair was pulled up into a curly puff, with soft face-framing pieces that moved when she turned her head to take in the shop.
Paige's hands froze on the spool of lavender ribbon she'd been holding.
Oh.
Oh no.
The woman's eyes swept over the buckets of flowers lining the walls, the dahlias and snapdragons, the eucalyptus and baby's breath, and then landed on Paige. She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made Paige forget she was supposed to be a functioning human being who ran a business.
"Hi," the woman said, her voice warm and a little tentative. "Are you still open? I know it's late."
Paige blinked. Nodded. Tried to remember how words worked. "Yeah. Yeah, we're open until six."
"Oh, good." The woman stepped further into the shop, her sandals soft against the wooden floor. "I wanted to browse for some flowers. For my coffee shop, actually. I just opened it a couple weeks ago, and I thought it'd be nice to have fresh flowers on the tables."
She owns a coffee shop. Paige filed that information away like it was vital. She's new in town. She wants flowers for her tables.
"That's a great idea," Paige said, finally finding her voice. She set the ribbon down and wiped her palms on her jeans, suddenly aware of the dirt under her nails, the way her hair was probably a mess from being in and out of the cooler all day. "Flowers make everything feel more alive."
The woman's smile widened. "Exactly. I want people to feel like they're somewhere special, you know? Not just grabbing coffee and leaving."
Paige nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that."
There was a beat of silence, and Paige realized she was just standing there, staring. She cleared her throat and gestured toward the rows of flowers. "So, uh, what kind of look are you going for? Something bright? Subtle? Seasonal?"
"I'm not totally sure yet," the woman admitted, moving toward a bucket of white roses. She reached out to touch one of the petals, gentle and careful. "I think I need to see what you have first. Get a feel for it."
"That works." Paige stepped out from behind the counter, her heartbeat doing something stupid and uneven in her chest. "Take your time. I can help you figure out what'll work best."
The woman glanced back at her, and there was something soft in her expression. Grateful, maybe. "Thanks. Oh, and – " She paused. "Would it be okay if I picked them up tomorrow? I didn't bring my car, and I don't want to carry a bunch of flowers all the way back."
"Yeah, of course," Paige said quickly. "I can have them ready for you in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever works."
"Morning's perfect." The woman extended her hand. "I'm Azzi, by the way."
Paige took her hand, and the warmth of it sent a jolt straight through her. "Paige."
"Nice to meet you, Paige."
"Yeah," Paige said, a little breathless. "You too."
Azzi's smile lingered for a moment longer before she turned back to the flowers, and Paige stood there, rooted to the spot, trying to remember how to breathe.
Get it together, she told herself. She's just a customer.
But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true.
There was something about Azzi. Something in the way she moved through the shop, the way she looked at the flowers like they were the most important things in the world. There was something that made Paige feel like the world had just shifted slightly off its axis.
And she wasn't sure she wanted it to shift back.
"So," Paige started, clearing her throat. "Small bouquets for the tables. How many are we talking?"
Azzi tilted her head, thinking. "Maybe eight? Ten at most. I don't want them to be too big – just something simple that makes people feel like they're somewhere special."
Paige nodded, already running through options in her head. "Okay. And what kind of vibe are you going for? Bright and cheerful? Soft and romantic? Rustic?"
"Soft," Azzi said without hesitation. "But not too precious, you know? I want it to feel warm. Inviting." She paused, her fingers brushing over the petals of a cream-colored rose. "Like home."
Paige's chest did something stupid at that. "Like home," she repeated quietly.
Azzi glanced at her, and for a second, their eyes met. Paige forgot what she was supposed to be doing.
"Yeah," Azzi said, her voice softer now. "I want people to walk in and feel like they can stay awhile."
Paige swallowed and forced herself to look away, gesturing toward the buckets lining the wall. "Alright. Let's start with colors. What are you thinking?"
Azzi moved through the shop slowly, her sandals soft against the floor. She stopped in front of a bucket of pale pink ranunculus, her expression thoughtful. "I like these. They're delicate but not too sweet."
"Good choice," Paige said, stepping closer. "Ranunculus are great for small arrangements. They last a while, and they're not too heavy."
Azzi smiled at that. "You really know your stuff."
Paige shrugged, trying to play it cool even though her heart was doing something ridiculous. "I mean, I've been doing this my whole life. My dad used to own this place before he passed it down to me."
"Really?" Azzi turned to her, genuinely interested. "So you grew up here?"
"Pretty much," Paige said. "Stockbridge born and raised. I used to help my pops arrange bouquets when I was, like, eight. Thought I was so cool."
Azzi laughed, and the sound was warm and easy. "That's really sweet."
Paige felt her face heat. "What about you? What brought you to Stockbridge?"
Azzi's expression shifted, something quieter settling over her features. "I needed a change," she said after a beat. "I was living in Boston, working at this corporate coffee chain, and it just wasn't me, you know? I wanted to do something that felt like Azzi."
Paige nodded, watching the way the late-afternoon light caught Azzi's face, the way it made her skin glow. "So you opened your own place."
"Yeah." Azzi's smile returned, softer this time. "It's terrifying, honestly. But it's mine. And I want it to feel like a place people want to come back to."
"I think you're gonna do great," Paige said, and she meant it.
Azzi looked at her, and there was something in her eyes that made Paige's breath catch. "Thanks, Paige."
They stood there for a moment, the shop quiet around them except for the faint hum of the cooler in the back.
Paige cleared her throat and gestured toward another bucket. "What about these? White lisianthus. They're soft, kind of romantic. They'd pair really well with the ranunculus."
Azzi stepped closer, her shoulder brushing Paige's as she leaned in to look. Paige's pulse kicked up.
"I love them," Azzi said. "What else?"
Paige led her through the shop, pointing out eucalyptus for texture, a few sprigs of lavender for color, and some delicate baby's breath to fill things out. Azzi listened intently, asking questions, her hands moving gently over the flowers like she was already imagining them on her tables.
"You really care about this," Paige said, watching her.
Azzi glanced up, a little sheepish. "Is it that obvious?"
"In the best way," Paige said quickly. "It's nice. Seeing someone care that much about something."
Azzi's smile was small but genuine. "I could say the same about you."
Paige felt her face heat again, and she ducked her head, pretending to adjust a bucket of daisies. "So, uh, I think we've got a good selection here. I can put together a few sample arrangements tonight, and you can pick them up in the morning. See how they look in the space."
"That sounds perfect," Azzi said. She hesitated, then added, "Thank you, Paige. Really. You've been so helpful."
"It's no problem," Paige said, even though her heart was doing backflips. "I'm glad I could help."
Azzi lingered for a moment, like she didn't quite want to leave yet. Paige didn't want her to leave either.
"I should probably get going," Azzi said finally, glancing at the clock. "But I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Paige said, her voice a little too eager. "Tomorrow."
Azzi smiled one more time before heading toward the door, and Paige watched her go, the shop feeling a little emptier without her in it.
When the door closed behind her, Paige let out a long breath and leaned against the counter.
Tomorrow, she thought, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't wait.
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Paige had stayed up too late.
She knew it was stupid. She had to open the shop at nine, and by the time she'd finished the last arrangement, it was well past midnight. But she couldn't help herself. She kept adjusting stems, switching out sprigs of eucalyptus, tilting blooms just so until the light caught them right.
She wanted them to be perfect.
For Azzi.
By the time she finally crawled into bed, her hands still smelled like eucalyptus and her mind was still replaying the way Azzi had looked at her in the golden afternoon light.
Now, standing behind the counter at 10:47 AM, Paige was paying for it. She'd downed two cups of coffee already, but her eyes still felt heavy, and she kept catching herself staring at the door like Azzi might walk through it any second.
She didn't even know what time Azzi was coming.
The bouquets sat lined up on the worktable in the back, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Eight of them, small and soft and exactly what Azzi had asked for. Paige had checked them three times already this morning.
The bell above the door chimed.
Paige's head snapped up, and there she was.
Azzi stepped inside, and Paige forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing a loose linen button-up today, the sleeves rolled to her elbows, tucked into high-waisted jeans that fit her just right. Her hair was down this time, curls falling past her shoulders, and she had on the same brown sandals from yesterday. She looked effortless. She looked beautiful.
"Hey," Azzi said, her smile immediate and warm.
"Hey," Paige managed, her voice coming out a little rough. She cleared her throat. "You're here."
Azzi laughed softly. "I said I would be."
"Right. Yeah. Of course." Paige wiped her palms on her jeans and gestured toward the back. "I, uh – I finished them last night. Let me grab them."
She disappeared into the workroom, her heart pounding stupidly hard in her chest. Get it together, she told herself. They're just flowers.
But when she came back out, arms full of the wrapped bouquets, and saw the way Azzi's face lit up –
It wasn't just flowers.
"Paige," Azzi breathed, stepping closer. "These are gorgeous."
Paige set them down carefully on the counter, suddenly nervous. "Yeah? You think they'll work?"
Azzi reached out, her fingers brushing over the petals of the ranunculus, tracing the soft curve of the lisianthus. She was so careful with them, like they were something precious. "They're perfect," she said quietly. "Seriously. They're exactly what I wanted."
Paige watched her, unable to look away. The way Azzi's hands moved over the flowers, the way her expression softened, the way she smiled like she meant it – it all made Paige's chest feel too tight.
"Can I – " Azzi glanced up at her. "Can I hold one?"
"Yeah, of course." Paige picked up one of the bouquets and handed it to her, their fingers brushing for just a second.
Azzi cradled it in both hands, bringing it closer to her face. She closed her eyes and breathed in, and Paige felt something shift in her chest.
"God, they smell amazing," Azzi murmured. When she opened her eyes again, they were bright, happy. "You really know what you're doing."
Paige shrugged, trying to play it cool even though her face was definitely turning red. "I mean, I try."
Azzi laughed, and the sound was so easy, so genuine, that Paige wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever.
"I can't wait to put these out," Azzi said, still holding the bouquet like it was something special. "People are going to love them."
"I hope so," Paige said, and then, because she couldn't help herself, she added, "I'm glad you like them."
Azzi looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment, the shop went quiet. The air between them felt charged, like something unspoken was hovering just out of reach.
Paige's pulse kicked up. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do with her hands.
"Thank you, Paige," Azzi said softly. "Really. This means a lot."
Paige swallowed. "Anytime."
Azzi smiled again, and then she carefully set the bouquet back down on the counter. "Okay. I should probably get these back to the shop before they wilt in the heat."
"Right. Yeah." Paige grabbed a box from under the counter and started packing the bouquets in carefully, making sure they wouldn't get crushed. Her hands were shaking a little, and she hoped Azzi didn't notice.
When she was done, she handed the box over, and their fingers brushed again. This time, neither of them pulled away right away.
"Thanks again," Azzi said, her voice a little quieter now.
"Yeah," Paige said. "No problem."
Azzi lingered for just a second longer, like she didn't quite want to leave. Then she smiled one more time and headed for the door.
Paige watched her go, the shop feeling emptier the moment she was gone.
She leaned against the counter and let out a long breath, her heart still doing something stupid in her chest.
Tomorrow, she thought. Maybe she'll come back tomorrow.
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Azzi came back the next Sunday.
Paige had told herself not to expect it. Told herself that Azzi had gotten what she needed – flowers for her shop – and that was that. But when 4:30 rolled around and the bell above the door chimed, Paige's head snapped up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.
There she was.
Azzi stepped inside wearing a loose white linen dress that hit just above her knees, the fabric catching the late afternoon light. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, a few curls escaping to frame her face. She had on those same brown sandals, and a canvas tote bag hung from her shoulder.
She looked softer than last week. Warmer. And Paige felt her chest tighten in that now-familiar way.
"Hey," Azzi said, her smile easy and genuine.
"Hey." Paige set down the watering can she'd been holding. "You're back."
"I am." Azzi walked toward the counter, her eyes sweeping over the new arrangements Paige had put out that morning. "The flowers lasted all week. Everyone kept asking where I got them."
Paige felt her face heat. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Azzi's smile widened. "So I figured I'd come back. If that's okay."
"Of course it's okay," Paige said quickly. Too quickly. She cleared her throat. "I mean – yeah. What are you thinking this week?"
They fell into an easy rhythm. Azzi wandered through the shop, pointing out blooms she liked, asking questions about what would last longest, what colors would work together. Paige followed her, offering suggestions, her hands busy arranging stems while her mind stayed fixed on the way Azzi's voice sounded when she laughed.
When Azzi left that day, Paige found herself already counting down to the next Sunday.
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The third Sunday, Azzi showed up in denim shorts and a sage green tank top, her hair pulled up in a curly ponytail, tendrils delicately framing her face. She had a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head, and when she smiled at Paige, it felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud.
"I'm starting to think you plan your outfits just to mess with me," Paige said before she could stop herself.
Azzi blinked, then laughed. "What?"
"Nothing." Paige ducked her head, pretending to adjust a bucket of daisies. "You just – you always look really nice."
"Oh." Azzi's voice went softer. "Thanks, Paige."
They spent longer talking that week. Azzi told her about how she got her first regular at the coffee shop who always ordered the same thing – a cortado with oat milk – and how she'd started having it ready before he even walked in. Paige told her about the time she accidentally ordered two hundred roses instead of twenty and had to scramble to sell them all before they wilted.
When Azzi left, she paused at the door. "See you next week?"
"Yeah," Paige said, her heart doing that stupid thing again. "Next week."
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By the fourth Sunday, Paige had started preparing for Azzi's arrival like it was an event. She made sure the shop was spotless, that the best flowers were front and center, that she didn't look like a complete mess when 4:30 rolled around.
Azzi walked in wearing overalls again – this time both straps fastened – over a white ribbed tank. Her hair was in two French braids, and she had a smaller dimple that Paige hadn't noticed before.
She looked so pretty it hurt.
"You're staring," Azzi said, but she was smiling.
"Sorry." Paige looked away quickly, her face burning. "I was just – thinking."
"About?"
About how I look forward to Sundays now more than anything else. About how you're the prettiest person I've ever seen. About how I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all these feelings.
"About what flowers to suggest," Paige said instead.
Azzi laughed, and the sound settled warm in Paige's chest.
That week, they talked about Stockbridge. About how Azzi was still getting used to the quiet, the way everyone seemed to know everyone. About how Paige had grown up here, how she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
"It feels like home already," Azzi said softly, running her fingers over the petals of a peony. "I didn't think it would happen this fast."
Paige watched her, something tender unfurling in her chest. "I'm glad you're here."
Azzi looked up, and their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Azzi smiled. "Me too."
But before Azzi left that day, she paused at the counter. "Oh, I almost forgot." She pulled a small cup from her tote bag, the lid still warm. "I made you something. A latte, but with a little vanilla and honey. I wasn't sure if you'd like it, so I brought it just in case."
Paige took the cup carefully, their fingers brushing. "You made this for me?"
"Yeah." Azzi's cheeks flushed slightly. "I've been thinking about what you might like. You mentioned you weren't really a coffee person, so I thought something a little sweeter might be better. But if you hate it, I can make you something else next week."
Paige looked down at the cup, then back at Azzi. There was something different in the way Azzi was looking at her – something more intentional, more personal. This wasn't just about flowers anymore.
"I'm sure I'll love it," Paige said softly.
Azzi's smile widened. "Good. I'll bring you something different next week. I want to figure out what you like."
After Azzi left, Paige stood in the shop holding the warm cup, her heart doing something she couldn't quite name. It wasn't just that Azzi had brought her coffee. It was that she'd thought about it. That she'd paid attention to what Paige had said weeks ago and remembered it. That she wanted to know what Paige liked.
Paige took a sip, and it was perfect – warm and sweet and tasting like something more than just coffee.
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The fifth Sunday, Azzi came in wearing a light blue sundress that made her skin glow. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and she had on delicate silver jewelry that caught the light when she moved.
Paige forgot how to breathe for a solid ten seconds.
"You okay?" Azzi asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah," Paige managed. "You just – you look really pretty today."
Azzi's smile was soft, almost shy. "Thanks, P."
P. The nickname landed somewhere deep in Paige's chest and stayed there.
Before they moved through the shop, Azzi reached into her tote bag and pulled out another coffee cup, this one with a small pastry box tucked under her arm. "I brought you something," she said, her voice a little tentative. "I made a vanilla latte with a hint of cardamom this week. I thought it might be a little different from last week's, but still sweet enough that you'd like it."
Paige took the cup, their fingers brushing again. "You're really doing this? Bringing me coffee every week?"
"If you want me to," Azzi said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I like thinking about what you might like. It's kind of become my favorite part of Sunday – figuring out what to make for you."
Paige's heart did something complicated in her chest. "I love it, Az. Thank you."
Azzi's smile widened. "Good. Because I have a whole list of ideas."
They didn't talk as much that week. Instead, they moved through the shop in comfortable silence, Azzi picking out flowers while Paige wrapped them carefully, their hands brushing more often than necessary. Between arrangements, Paige would take sips of the coffee, and each time she did, she'd catch Azzi watching her with that soft, intentional expression.
When Azzi left, she turned back at the door. "I'll see you next week, Paige."
"Yeah," Paige said, her voice quiet. "I'll be here."
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By the sixth Sunday, it wasn't a question anymore. It was a ritual.
Azzi would walk in around 4:30, always dressed in that effortless way that made Paige's heart stutter. She'd arrive with a new coffee creation in hand – something she'd spent the week perfecting, a small gift wrapped in a paper cup and genuine care. A latte with vanilla and honey one week. A cold brew with lavender syrup the next. Each one thoughtfully crafted, each one a reminder that Azzi had been thinking about Paige all week long.
They'd talk while Paige put together her arrangements – about their weeks, about the town, about nothing and everything all at once. Paige would sip whatever Azzi had brought, and the coffee would taste like possibility.
And every week, Paige thought Azzi looked a little prettier than the last.
Every week, she looked forward to Sunday a little more – not just to see Azzi, but to discover what new flavor combination Azzi had dreamed up for her.
Every week, she fell a little harder.
She didn't know what to do about it. Didn't know if she should do anything at all.
But when Azzi smiled at her – really smiled, the kind that reached her eyes – and asked if Paige liked this week's creation, Paige thought maybe, just maybe, it didn't matter.
Because Sundays had become hers and Azzi's. Their ritual of flowers and coffee and the unspoken language they were learning to speak.
And that was enough.
For now.
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The seventh Sunday, Azzi came in wearing a cream-colored sweater that hung off one shoulder and loose jeans that were cuffed at the ankles. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she had on small silver hoops that caught the afternoon light.
She looked tired, Paige noticed. Not physically – just something in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Hey," Azzi said, her smile a little softer than usual.
Paige set down the shears she'd been using to trim hydrangeas and stepped out from behind the counter. "Hey. You okay?"
Azzi hesitated, reaching into her tote bag. "Yeah, just a long week. I brought you – " She pulled out a coffee cup, but as she extended it toward Paige, something in her expression shifted. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and Paige could see the exhaustion written all over her face now that she was looking closer.
Paige gently took the cup from her hands, but instead of taking a sip, she set it down on the counter. "You know what? I think tea sounds better today."
Azzi blinked. "But I made you – "
"I know you did," Paige said softly, her hand finding Azzi's arm. "And I love that you did. But you look like you need to sit down, Az. Come on. I'll make you some tea while we figure out this week's flowers."
Azzi didn't protest. She just nodded, letting Paige guide her toward the back of the shop.
They settled into the small break room Paige had set up in the back – a table, two mismatched chairs, and a kettle that had seen better days. Paige made chamomile, the way Azzi liked it, with a little honey.
Azzi wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in the steam. "Thank you."
"Always," Paige said, sitting across from her.
They settled into the small break room Paige had set up in the back – a table, two mismatched chairs, and a kettle that had seen better days. Paige made chamomile, the way Azzi liked it, with a little honey.
Azzi wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in the steam. "Thank you."
"Always," Paige said, sitting across from her.
They were quiet for a moment. Then Azzi spoke, her voice low. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
Azzi looked down at her tea. "Do you ever feel like you're running from something? Like you moved somewhere or started something new because you couldn't stay where you were?"
Paige's chest tightened. She thought about her answer carefully. "I think everyone's running from something. Or toward something. Sometimes both."
Azzi's lips curved into a sad smile. "Yeah. That sounds about right."
Paige waited. She didn't fill the silence. She just let it sit there, soft and patient, until Azzi was ready.
"I left someone," Azzi said finally. "In Boston. We were together for two years, and I thought – " She paused, swallowing. "I thought it was going to be forever, you know? But it wasn't. It was just exhausting. I kept trying to be the person she wanted, and I lost myself somewhere along the way."
Paige's throat felt tight. "I'm sorry, Az."
Azzi shook her head. "Don't be. Leaving was the best thing I ever did. It just took me a long time to realize I deserved better." She looked up then, her eyes meeting Paige's. "Coming here – opening the shop, starting over – it was the first time I felt like I could breathe in a really long time."
Paige didn't know what to say. She wanted to reach across the table and take Azzi's hand, wanted to tell her that she was brave and strong and deserving of everything good in the world. But instead, she just nodded. "I'm really glad you're here."
Azzi's smile was small but genuine. "Me too."
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The eighth Sunday, the conversation shifted.
Azzi came in wearing a burnt orange cardigan over a white tank, her hair down in loose waves. She looked lighter somehow, like something had lifted.
Before Paige could even offer her usual greeting, Azzi was already pulling something from her tote bag, her face bright with excitement.
"Okay, so I've been thinking about this all week," Azzi said, practically bouncing on her heels as she extended a coffee cup toward Paige. "I wanted to try something new. I made you a vanilla latte with a touch of cardamom and a hint of maple syrup. I know it sounds weird, but I promise it works. The maple brings out the warmth in the cardamom, and it's not too sweet, and – " She paused, laughing at herself. "I'm rambling. Just try it."
Paige took the cup, their fingers brushing, and she could feel the warmth radiating from it. More than that, she could feel Azzi's enthusiasm, the care that had gone into this creation.
"You made this for me?" Paige asked softly.
"Yeah." Azzi's cheeks flushed slightly. "I've been thinking about what you might like all week. I wanted to get it just right."
Paige brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. The flavors bloomed on her tongue – warm, complex, perfectly balanced. It was exactly the kind of thing Azzi would create: thoughtful and beautiful and entirely her.
"Az, this is incredible," Paige breathed.
Azzi's smile widened, and she looked genuinely pleased. "Really? I was so nervous you wouldn't like it."
"I love it," Paige said, and she meant it in a way that went beyond just the coffee. "Thank you."
"You look happy," Paige said, unable to stop herself from smiling as Azzi settled into the shop.
Azzi laughed. "I had a good week. One of my regulars told me my cortado changed her life. I think she was being dramatic, but I'll take it."
Paige grinned. "That's because you're magic."
"Stop," Azzi said, but she was blushing.
They moved through the shop together, Azzi pointing out blooms she liked while Paige pulled them from their buckets. It was easy now, the rhythm they'd fallen into. Comfortable.
"What about you?" Azzi asked, glancing over her shoulder. "You've been here your whole life. Do you ever think about leaving?"
Paige paused, a stem of delphinium in her hand. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But I don't know. This place – it's home. My dad built this shop from nothing. He used to say that flowers were his way of making the world a little softer, you know? And when he passed it down to me, I felt like I had to keep that going."
Azzi turned to face her fully, her expression soft. "That's really beautiful, Paige."
Paige shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it because I want to or because I feel like I have to."
"Do you love it?" Azzi asked.
Paige thought about it. About the early mornings and the aching hands and the way the shop smelled like earth and petals. About the way people's faces lit up when they walked in. About Sundays with Azzi.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."
Azzi smiled. "Then that's all that matters."
💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐
By the ninth Sunday, they weren't just talking about flowers anymore.
Azzi arrived with her usual ritual – a fresh coffee cup extended toward Paige before they even settled into their conversation. This week it was a caramel macchiato with a hint of sea salt, something warm and grounding.
"I've been perfecting this one all week," Azzi said, her smile soft as Paige took the cup. "Was hoping you might like something a little richer today."
Paige wrapped her hands around the warmth, breathing in the aroma. "You're spoiling me, Az."
"Maybe I like spoiling you," Azzi replied, and there was something in her voice that made Paige's chest tighten.
Once they'd settled into the familiar rhythm – Paige sipping her coffee while Azzi moved through the shop – the conversation deepened.
Azzi asked about Paige's dad – what he was like, what he taught her, what Paige missed most. Paige told her about the way her dad used to sing off-key while he worked, about the way he always knew exactly what someone needed before they even asked.
Paige asked about Azzi's family, and Azzi told her about growing up with two brothers who never let her win at anything, about her parents who still called her every Sunday morning without fail.
"They worry," Azzi said, smiling. "But I love them for it."
Paige asked what Azzi's dreams were, and Azzi said she wanted her coffee shop to feel like a second home for people. She wanted to host open mic nights and book clubs and maybe, one day, expand.
"What about you?" Azzi asked. "What do you want?"
Paige hesitated. She thought about saying something safe, something easy. But Azzi was looking at her with those warm brown eyes, and Paige felt like she could say anything.
"I want to feel like I'm doing something that matters," Paige said. "I want to wake up and feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
Azzi's smile was soft. "I think you already are."
💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐
The tenth Sunday, Azzi arrived with her usual ritual – a fresh coffee cup extended toward Paige before they even settled into their conversation. This week it was a cortado with oat milk, made exactly the way Paige liked it.
"I remembered," Azzi said softly, handing it over. "From that first week when you mentioned you weren't really a coffee person. I've been perfecting this one all week – oat milk, a touch of vanilla, just enough sweetness that it doesn't overpower the espresso."
Paige took the cup, their fingers brushing, and felt something shift in her chest. Azzi had been thinking about her. Had been paying attention. Had remembered.
"Az, this is perfect," Paige breathed, taking a sip. The coffee was warm and smooth and exactly right.
Azzi's smile was small but genuine. "I'm glad."
Paige realized something then, standing in her shop with the warm cup in her hands and Azzi watching her with that soft, intentional expression.
Because it wasn't just about how pretty Azzi was anymore. It was about the way she remembered that Paige liked her coffee with oat milk. It was about the way she asked how Paige's week was and actually listened to the answer. It was about the way she laughed at Paige's terrible jokes and the way she looked at flowers like they were something precious.
It was about the way Paige felt when Azzi was around – like the world was a little softer, a little brighter, a little more.
And Paige realized, standing there in her shop with her hands full of peonies, that she didn't just have a crush on Azzi Fudd.
She cared about her. Deeply. In a way that felt bigger than anything she'd felt before.
And the thought of Sundays without her felt unbearable.
"Paige?" Azzi's voice pulled her back. "You okay?"
Paige blinked, realizing she'd been staring. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."
Azzi tilted her head, her smile curious. "About what?"
About you, Paige wanted to say. About how much I look forward to seeing you. About how I don't know what I'd do if you stopped coming here.
But instead, she just smiled. "About how lucky I am that you walked into my shop."
Azzi's expression softened, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Azzi stepped closer, her voice quiet. "I'm the lucky one, Paige."
And Paige's heart, traitorous and hopeful, believed her.
It was about the way Paige felt when Azzi was around – like the world was a little softer, a little brighter, a little more.
And Paige realized, standing there in her shop with her hands full of peonies, that she didn't just have a crush on Azzi Fudd.
She cared about her. Deeply. In a way that felt bigger than anything she'd felt before.
And the thought of Sundays without her felt unbearable.
"Paige?" Azzi's voice pulled her back. "You okay?"
Paige blinked, realizing she'd been staring. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."
Azzi tilted her head, her smile curious. "About what?"
About you, Paige wanted to say. About how much I look forward to seeing you. About how I don't know what I'd do if you stopped coming here.
But instead, she just smiled. "About how lucky I am that you walked into my shop."
Azzi's expression softened, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Azzi stepped closer, her voice quiet. "I'm the lucky one, Paige."
And Paige's heart, traitorous and hopeful, believed her.
💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐☕️🪴💐
The eleventh Sunday, Paige woke up with a plan.
She'd been thinking about it all week – how to ask, what to say, whether she was reading everything wrong. But every time doubt crept in, she remembered the way Azzi looked at her. The way she smiled when Paige said something stupid. The way she'd started calling her P like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She got to the shop early, even though it was Sunday and she didn't technically open until noon. She spent the morning putting together something special – a bouquet that wasn't for Azzi's coffee shop. This one was just for her.
Paige worked slowly, deliberately. She chose soft pink ranunculus because they were Azzi's favorite. White lisianthus for their first conversation. Eucalyptus because Azzi said it reminded her of fresh starts. And tucked in the center, a single peony – pale and perfect and just beginning to open.
Her hands shook a little as she tied the stems with twine.
What if she says no? The thought made her stomach twist. What if I'm reading this all wrong and she just sees me as the florist who makes her weekly arrangements?
But then she thought about the way Azzi had looked at her last week. The way she'd said I'm the lucky one like she meant it.
Paige took a breath and set the bouquet aside.
By the time 4:30 rolled around, she'd reorganized the ribbon spools twice, swept the floor three times, and checked her reflection in the window more than she cared to admit. She'd settled on a simple white t-shirt tucked into jeans, her hair pulled back in a low bun. Nothing fancy. Just her.
The bell chimed.
Paige's heart kicked up before she even turned around.
Azzi walked in wearing a loose sand-colored sweater that hung off one shoulder and loose light-wash jeans. Her hair was down in soft waves, and she had on those same brown sandals. She looked like summer fading into fall, warm and golden and impossibly beautiful.
"Hey, P," Azzi said, her smile immediate.
"Hey." Paige's voice came out a little rough. She cleared her throat. "You're here."
Azzi laughed softly. "I'm always here on Sundays."
Before Paige could respond, Azzi was already reaching into her tote bag, pulling out a coffee cup with the same care she always did. "I brought you something," she said, extending it toward Paige. "This week I tried a honey lavender latte. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I think the floral notes complement each other without being too sweet."
Paige took the cup, their fingers brushing, and the familiar warmth of the ritual settled over her. For a moment, everything felt normal. Safe. Like just another Sunday.
"Still spoiling me, Az," Paige said softly, wrapping her hands around the cup.
"I told you I like spoiling you," Azzi replied, and there was that soft smile again – the one that made Paige's chest ache.
They stood there for a beat, the shop quiet around them. Paige took a sip of the coffee, letting the honey and lavender bloom on her tongue. It was perfect. Azzi always made it perfect.
"Yeah." Paige wiped her palms on her jeans, suddenly aware of how nervous she was. "Yeah, you are."
There was a beat of silence. Azzi tilted her head, her expression curious. "You okay? You seem off."
Off didn't even begin to cover it. Paige felt like her heart was trying to climb out of her chest. "I'm good. Just – " She paused, then gestured toward the back. "Can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something."
Azzi's brows lifted, but she nodded. "Sure."
Paige led her through the shop, past the buckets of dahlias and snapdragons, past the worktable where she usually assembled Azzi's arrangements. She stopped in front of the small greenhouse attached to the back of the building – a space she rarely brought customers into. It was her favorite part of the shop, all glass and greenery and soft afternoon light.
She pushed the door open, and Azzi stepped inside.
"Paige," Azzi breathed, her eyes going wide. "This is beautiful."
The greenhouse was full of blooms in various stages of growth – roses climbing trellises, pots of lavender lining the shelves, hanging baskets of ivy trailing down from the ceiling. The late afternoon sun filtered through the glass, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.
"I wanted to show you this," Paige said quietly. "It's where I come when I need to think. Or when I need to feel close to my dad." She paused, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "It's my favorite place in the world."
Azzi turned to her, and there was something soft in her expression. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
Paige swallowed. "There's something else."
She walked over to the worktable in the corner and picked up the bouquet she'd made that morning. Her hands were shaking again as she turned back to Azzi.
"I made this for you," Paige said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not for your shop. Just... for you."
Azzi's lips parted, her eyes dropping to the flowers. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the petals. "Paige, it's gorgeous."
"It's ranunculus," Paige started, her words coming out in a rush. "Because they're your favorite. And lisianthus because that's what we talked about the first time you came in. And eucalyptus because you said it reminded you of fresh starts." She paused, her throat tight. "And the peony – "
"Is just beginning to open," Azzi finished softly, her eyes lifting to meet Paige's.
Paige nodded. "Yeah."
They stood there for a moment, the greenhouse quiet except for the faint hum of the ventilation system and the distant sound of birds outside.
"Azzi," Paige said, her voice trembling. "I need to tell you something."
Azzi's expression shifted, something careful settling over her features. "Okay."
Paige took a breath. "I look forward to Sundays more than anything else in my life. And it's not because of the flowers or because you're a good customer. It's because of you." She paused, her hands gripping the edge of the worktable. "I love the way you talk about your coffee shop like it's the most important thing in the world. I love the way you look at flowers like they matter. I love the way you call me P and the way you smile when I say something stupid."
Azzi's breath hitched, but she didn't say anything.
"I don't know if I'm reading this right," Paige continued, her voice breaking a little. "But I can't keep pretending that Sundays are just about flowers. Because they're not. They're about you. And I – " She swallowed. "I really like you, Azzi. And I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go out with me sometime. Like, on a date. A real one."
The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever.
Azzi's eyes were glassy, her lips pressed together like she was trying to hold something back. Then, slowly, she smiled. "Paige Bueckers."
Paige's heart stuttered. "Yeah?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
The relief that flooded through Paige was so intense she almost laughed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Azzi stepped closer, her hands coming up to cradle the bouquet. "I've been coming here every Sunday for months hoping you'd say something. I didn't know how much longer I could keep pretending I just needed flowers."
Paige let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "So, is that a yes?"
Azzi laughed, and the sound was warm and bright and everything Paige had been hoping for. "Yes, Paige. I'd love to go out with you."
Paige felt like her chest might burst. "Okay. Good. That's – that's really good."
Azzi's smile widened, and she looked down at the bouquet in her hands. "This is the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given me."
"You deserve beautiful things," Paige said softly.
Azzi looked up at her then, and there was something in her eyes that made Paige's breath catch. "So do you."
They stood there in the greenhouse, surrounded by blooms and soft light, and for the first time in weeks, Paige felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
"So," Azzi said after a moment, her voice teasing. "When's this date happening?"
Paige grinned. "How about next Sunday? After you pick up your flowers?"
Azzi laughed. "I think I can make that work."
And when Azzi left that evening, bouquet cradled carefully in her arms, Paige stood in the greenhouse and let herself feel it – the hope, the joy, the terrifying, wonderful possibility of what came next.
Summary: In the aftermath of a painful breakup, Azzi and Paige struggle to convince themselves, and everyone around them, that they've moved on. While Azzi throws herself into new connections and Paige can't stop watching from a distance, their closest friends begin to see through the façades they've built. As old wounds, lingering feelings, and unanswered questions resurface, both women are forced to confront whether they're truly ready to let go, or if they're simply running from the love they never stopped feeling.
Inspired by the song Hypocrite by Zolita 🙂
Chapter One Chapter Two
No Matter How Far:
Summary: Everyone knew Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd were inseparable. What no one knew was that every summer, every phone call, every shared laugh, and every goodbye was quietly becoming the foundation of a love neither of them had the words to explain. Before the headlines. Before the championships.
Chapter one (Coming Soon)
All The Things I Couldn't Say
Summary: A year after stepping away from the spotlight, Azzi Fudd has become the question no one can answer. While the world speculates about her disappearance from basketball, Paige Bueckers has mastered the art of saying exactly what people want to hear. Some secrets are worth protecting while others slowly become impossible to keep.In the end, it's the things left unsaid that have the power to change everything.
Author notes : Hey , this is my second pazzi fanfic and probably the longest one I wrote until now. I hope you'll enjoy it and have a nice day 🤍
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The steady thud of a basketball against the concrete drive was the soundtrack of their lives. For Paige, Minnesota had always meant two things: cold winters and Azzi.
When Paige was three, her parents’ divorce reshaped her world, leaving just her and her dad. They packed up their lives and found a quiet house tucked away in a suburban neighborhood. It turned out to be the best turn of fate Paige would ever know, because right next door lived Azzi.
Azzi was the girl with the instant smile who shared her crayons on the first day of kindergarten. From that moment on, they were inseparable. They spent their childhood carving out shared routines: late-night sleepovers whispering under fortress-like blankets, endless study sessions fueled by junk food, and thousands of hours shooting hoops until dusk swallowed the court. They knew every tell, every habit, and every scar the other possessed.
Yet, despite knowing each other inside out, they both carried the exact same secret—a deep, quiet love that neither had ever found the courage to speak aloud.
Everything shifted when Azzi turned fifteen and started going out with Bryan.
Paige hated him on sight, and her instinct wasn't wrong. Bryan was careless, arrogance dripping off every word, and it wasn't long before rumors swept through the high school hallways. Everyone knew he was cheating on Azzi, meeting up with other girls after practice while Azzi waited by her locker.
"You deserve so much better than him," Paige argued one afternoon, her voice tight with frustration as they stood near the edge of the driveway. "He doesn't care about you, Azzi. He doesn't treat you the way you're supposed to be treated."
"Just leave it alone, Paige" Azzi snapped back, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself.
The conversation ended the way it always did—in a heavy, painful silence that left them both bruised.
What Paige didn't know, as she watched Azzi walk away, was that Azzi already knew the truth about Bryan. She knew he wasn't loyal. But staying with him was easier than facing the terrifying reality of loving her best friend, a shield against feelings she was too afraid to name.
Despite the frequent arguments about Bryan, the underlying bond between Paige and Azzi remained as unbreakable as ever. But everything changed the day Azzi’s father received a life-changing job offer in Texas—an opportunity that meant her family would have to pack up and leave Minnesota behind.
Azzi’s father, Tim, had already called Paige’s dad to break the news. Understanding how heavy the moment would be, Paige’s dad chose to stay quiet, knowing his daughter needed to hear it directly from Azzi.
It happened on a crisp evening as they walked home from the local theater. It was, though neither wanted to admit it yet, likely the very last movie night they would ever share. The sidewalk stretched out before them in comfortable silence until Azzi finally worked up the courage to shatter it.
"Paige... I need to tell you something," Azzi murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the pavement.
Paige slowed her pace, looking over with an easy smile. "Yeah, go ahead. You know you can tell me anything."
Azzi didn't answer right away. She took a slow, deep breath, her voice dropping into a soft, fragile register when she finally spoke. "I... I don't really know how to say this."
She paused, the quiet between them suddenly feeling heavier.
"My dad got a job offer," Azzi said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a really great opportunity for our family... but it means we have to move to Texas."
Paige froze in her tracks, the breath catching in her throat. The world around them seemed to stop moving completely.
"What?" Paige whispered, staring at her best friend in total disbelief. "Tell me you're joking. Please tell me this is a bad joke."
Azzi stopped, too. She turned around slowly, her eyes meeting Paige's, glistening with tears she could no longer hold back.
"I'm so sorry," Azzi whispered, her own tears finally spilling over.
Paige felt her eyes fill with heat, the reality crashing down on her all at once. "What about high school? What about us? Are we really not going to see each other anymore?"
"They've already enrolled me in a school down in Texas," Azzi said, her gaze heavy with heartbreak. She reached out, trying to soften the blow. "We can text... we can call every day." She hesitated, searching for the right words to anchor them both. "Listen to me, Paige. You have always been the most important person in my life. I am so, so sorry this is happening, but I don't have a choice."
Tears streamed freely down Azzi’s cheeks now. "We might not get to see each other like this or do the things we always do, but I need you to know that I love you. I am so grateful to have you in my life, Paige Madison Bueckers."
Paige broke. She pulled Azzi into a tight, desperate embrace, clinging to her as if holding on tight enough could stop the world from moving forward. They stood on the quiet street, wrapped in each other's arms, crying until there were no tears left.
When they finally walked back, the grief followed them through their front doors. That night, Azzi collapsed into her mother's arms, sobbing quietly, while Paige found solace in a heavy, silent hug from her father.
Two days passed in a blur. Packed boxes stacked high inside Azzi’s house, marking the end of an era. Everything was ready—except for Azzi herself. Mentally, she was nowhere near ready to leave.
Needing one last normal moment, Azzi typed out a quick text: Do you want to grab pizza at our spot after school?
Paige’s reply was instant: Of course.
They sat in their favorite booth, talking and laughing just like they always did. But beneath the familiar banter, an inescapable clock was ticking down.
On Azzi's final evening in Minnesota, they went to their secret spot to watch the sunset. Sitting side by side on the grass, Azzi leaned over, resting her head gently against Paige’s shoulder.
"I've always loved coming here with you," Azzi murmured quietly. "Honestly, I've loved every single second I've ever spent with you. I'm so grateful for you, Paige. I just want you to know that what we have is strong. We're going to survive the distance."
Paige offered a soft, bittersweet smile, turning her head slightly toward her. "Promise me something."
Azzi lifted her head off Paige’s shoulder, looking directly into her eyes. "Hmm?"
"When we finish high school—so two years for you, and one for me..." Paige paused, letting the weight of the vision settle between them. "I want us to end up in the same city. We’ll live together, just like we always planned, and make the most of our college years side by side."
A faint, tender smile touched Azzi’s lips. She gently rested her head back down on Paige’s shoulder.
"I promise," Azzi whispered.
And there they stayed, wrapped in a quiet, unbroken peace, watching the sun dip below the horizon together one last time.
The next morning, the silence inside the car was suffocating. Paige and her dad drove the Fudd family to the airport, the quiet highway stretching out ahead like a countdown neither girl wanted to face.
When they finally reached the terminal, reality set in. They stood near the departure gate, surrounded by the rush of strangers, until it was time to say goodbye. Paige couldn't hold back any longer. She threw her arms around Azzi, burying her face into her shoulder as tears spilled over.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Azzi Jazelyn Fudd," Paige choked out, her voice raw and fragile.
Azzi wrapped her arms tightly around Paige's waist, crying quietly as she closed her eyes, trying with everything in her to memorize the exact feeling of Paige holding her—the warmth, the scent, the comfort she was terrified of losing.
When the call for their flight sounded, Azzi slowly pulled away. Paige watched her family walk toward the security line, the tears flowing helplessly now. Her father wrapped a firm arm around Paige's shoulders, holding her close as he tried his best to soothe her shattered heart. Right before stepping through the gate, Azzi turned around one last time. She caught Paige's eye and offered a faint, bittersweet smile—a quiet final promise—before disappearing into the crowd.
That was the day everything changed.
In the weeks that followed, the neighborhood felt hollow. Every time Paige walked past the dark, empty windows of the Fudd house, her chest tightened and her eyes filled with tears. At school, the halls were a constant reminder of who was missing. There were afternoons where Paige couldn't keep it together, breaking down in the hallway, finding comfort only when Nika pulled her into a tight hug and let her cry it out.
Everyone at school knew Paige and Azzi were inseparable, and whenever someone gently asked how Azzi was doing in Texas, Paige’s throat would tighten up. She was overly emotional, her heart raw, carrying a quiet ache that only one person could ever heal.
The first two months of distance went smoother than Paige had dared to hope. They called each other constantly, filling hours with endless updates about their days, late-night phone calls, and an unbroken stream of text messages. For Paige, that steady connection was a lifeline. It proved that distance couldn't touch what they had.
Or at least, that’s what she told herself before the third month arrived.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the rhythm began to shift. Their conversations grew noticeably shorter. The late-night calls faded away, replaced by brief excuses about packed schedules, basketball practices, and heavy workloads. Life was getting busier for both of them, but while Paige fought to keep the line open, Azzi seemed to be drifting further onto the other side of the screen.
Even as the atmosphere changed, Paige kept her routine. Every single morning and every night, she sent a message.
Then, the replies stopped coming altogether.
At first, Paige tried to rationalize it. She’s just busy. She has practice, new teammates, a full schedule. She rehearsed every reassuring excuse she could think of, trying to silence the knot tightening in her stomach.
But as the days bled into weeks of unread messages and silence, a heavy truth settled over her: Azzi wasn't just busy. She was pulling away on purpose.
Paige spent countless sleepless nights staring at her phone, tracing back over every conversation, every text, frantically searching for something she might have said or done wrong. She sent quiet, careful messages asking if everything was okay, if she had hurt her somehow.
Azzi never answered.
The unanswered messages hung in the quiet dark of Paige's bedroom—a cold, agonizing silence that left her utterly heartbroken, deeply hurt, and terrified of what had happened to the girl who had promised her forever under a Minnesota sunset.
Late into the night, when the house was completely still, Paige found herself falling into the same painful habit. She would open Instagram, her thumb hovering over Azzi’s profile before giving in.
What she saw every time cut through her like a blade.
Azzi’s feed was filled with a whole new world—smiling photos with new teammates, candid tagged stories from high school hangouts in Texas, and inside jokes typed out in captions that Paige didn't understand. Seeing Azzi look so happy, so adapted to a life without her, solidified the cruel thought that had been building in Paige’s mind for months: Azzi had moved on. She had been replaced.
Yet, as much as it broke her heart, Paige could never bring herself to stop caring.
Whenever Azzi’s games were broadcast, Paige was sitting right in front of the TV, her eyes locked onto the screen, tracking every familiar movement, every jumper, every court-side smile. Every time Azzi had a stellar performance, Paige’s fingers instinctively typed out a message.
You played so amazing tonight. So proud of you, Az.
She would tap send, holding her breath for just a second, hoping against hope that this would be the time the small heart icon or a reply would pop up. But the screen stayed dark, her praise swallowed by the quiet space between them, unanswered just like all the rest.
Ten years had passed since the day Azzi’s family drove away from Minnesota. A decade of silence, lingering questions, and lives built on opposite ends of the country.
Now, at twenty-five, Paige was living in Connecticut. She had made a name for herself in the basketball world, her sharp court vision and relentless drive turning her into one of the most talked-about rising stars in the game. On the outside, her life was structured, successful, and complete. But deep down, buried beneath years of training and quiet focus, there was still a small, vacant space shaped exactly like her childhood neighbor.
She had stopped checking Azzi’s social media years ago, learning that looking back only reopened old wounds. She had accepted that some promises were just made to be broken under beautiful sunsets.
That was until the email arrived in her inbox on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
It was an official press release from the front office, announcing a mid-season trade to bolster the team's roster for a championship run. Paige scrolled down to read the newly acquired player’s profile, her breath catching instantly in her throat.
Azzi Fudd.
The room suddenly felt airless. The name echoed off the walls of her mind, dragging ten years of forgotten memories back to the surface—the late-night sleepovers, the laughter in their favorite pizza booth, the heartbreaking goodbye at the airport, and the crushing silence that followed.
They were going to be in the same city. Playing for the same team. Sharing the same locker room.
The very next morning, Paige stood near the entrance of the practice facility, her heart hammering against her ribs like a runaway basketball. The double glass doors slid open, and a tall figure stepped through, carrying a duffel bag over her shoulder.
Azzi looked older, her sharp athletic build matured, but the eyes—the soft, expressive eyes—were entirely unchanged.
Azzi froze the moment her gaze locked onto Paige. The chatter of the facility seemed to fade into a hum as the two of them stood just ten feet apart, bridged by a decade of unsaid words.They stood froze in the busy practice facility, the chatter of teammates and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on the polished court receding into a dull buzz. Ten years. Ten years distilled into this single, crushing moment of shared space.
Paige felt the ancient, practiced machinery of her emotional defenses snap into place. The hurt of those years, the confusion of the sudden silence, the sheer weight of her teenage heartbreak—it all crystallized instantly into an impenetrable, professional armor. She was no longer that vulnerable girl waiting for a text; she was an elite athlete, and this was just a job.
Slowly, carefully, maintaining total control over her expression, Paige closed the gap between them. She reached out, her hand steady.
Azzi looked at the outstretched hand for a heartbeat, her soft, expressive eyes unreadable, reflecting only a shadow of the shock Paige felt. Then, with a practiced grace of her own, she took Paige’s hand.
The grip was firm, cool, and utterly devoid of intimacy. It was the handshake of two strangers closing a business deal.
"Welcome to the team, Azzi," Paige said, her voice flat, professional, and completely steady. It was the greeting she would give any mid-season acquisition.
"Thanks, Paige," Azzi replied, her tone matching Paige's exactly—polite, distant, acknowledging the rank without recognizing the person.
The connection broke. Paige immediately dropped her hand and stepped back, creating a deliberate, uncrossable chasm between them. "Coach will probably want to see you before we start drills," she added, already looking past Azzi toward the main court.
"Right," Azzi nodded slightly, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Paige didn't wait for her to leave. She spun on her heel and walked away, headed straight for the three-point line, already calling out a defensive drill. Her wall was impenetrable.
For the next week, the silence between them was deafening. They shared a court, a locker room, and a locker room, yet they moved in completely different orbits. On the court, they were precise; Paige would throw a laser pass, and Azzi would be exactly where she needed to be to sink the shot. Off the court, it was a dance of avoidance. If Paige was in the training room, Azzi would wait until she left. If Azzi was eating in the cafeteria, Paige would grab her food to go.
They were colleagues. They were professional. And they were, once again, completely alone.The icy quiet lasted less than two weeks before the dam inside Paige began to crack.
Azzi’s strategy off the court was complete erasure. Outside of tactical huddles, she treated Paige like a shadow—invisible, unacknowledged, and forgotten. Yet, with the rest of the team, Azzi was the magnetic, glowing presence she had always been. She laughed freely with their teammates, shared inside jokes during warmups, and lit up the locker room with her easy smile.
Watching it unfold from across the room drove Paige insane.
It was a special kind of torture. Seeing Azzi smile at everyone except her brought back every bit of the aching rejection from ten years ago. But the worst part—the part that scared Paige to her core—was the terrifying realization that the feeling had never truly died. Ten years, a different state, and a broken heart hadn't changed a thing. She was still completely, hopelessly in love with Azzi Fudd.
Unable to carry the weight alone any longer, Paige dragged Nika into the empty film room after practice, slamming the heavy door shut behind them.
"I can't do this, Nika," Paige breathed out, her voice cracking as she collapsed into one of the leather chairs, burying her face in her hands.
Nika took a seat beside her, placing a steadying hand on Paige's shoulder. "What's going on, Paige? Is it Azzi?"
"She acts like I don't even exist!" Paige cried out, looking up with raw, bloodshot eyes. "She talks to everyone else. She laughs with everyone else. But when it comes to me, she turns into a wall. It's like she's doing it on purpose—like she knows exactly what she's doing to me."
Paige took a shaky breath, pressing her palms against her eyes as the confession spilled out, heavy and terrifying.
"I thought I was over it. I thought ten years of silence meant it was dead," Paige whispered, her chest heaving. "But I look at her across the court, Nika, and it’s right back. All of it. I’m still in love with her, and she won't even look me in the eye."Across the facility, locked in a dimly lit trainer's room, Azzi was falling apart just as fast.
She pressed her forehead against the cool surface of a locker, her phone held tightly to her ear as the line rang. The moment the call connected, she didn't even wait for a greeting.
"Sarah, I can't keep doing this," Azzi breathed out, her voice trembling, stripped of all the cool professionalism she had put on display for the past two weeks.
On the other end, Sarah listened quietly as Azzi paced the small room, her hands shaking.
"I tried," Azzi continued, her chest tight. "I swear I tried to keep my distance, to just be a teammate and act like none of it mattered. But Coach keeps pushing us. He wants us doing extra drills together, talking through plays, building this 'chemistry' he thinks we need to work on."
She let out a dry, bitter laugh, resting her hand over her face.
"The joke is, the chemistry never left, Sarah. It’s right there. It was there the second I stepped through those doors. Ten years of complete silence, ten years of pretending she was just someone from my past... and the moment I look at her, it’s like no time passed at all."
Azzi sank down onto the bench, burying her face in her hands.
"I act like she doesn't exist because if I look at her for more than two seconds, if I actually speak to her like a friend, everyone in that locker room is going to see it. I never stopped loving her, Sarah. Not for a single day in ten years. And being this close to her without being able to hold her is completely destroying me."
The crack in their walls didn't come from a dramatic confrontation, but from a absurdly mundane training room argument.
It happened after a grueling double session. The locker room was quiet, most of the team having already cleared out, leaving only Paige and Azzi icing their knees on opposite ends of the training tables. The silence between them was as thick as ever—until the auxiliary speaker system began blaring a chaotic, distorted remix of a song they both hated.
Paige groaned, sitting up to look for the remote on the counter, but it was out of reach.
"If that track plays for one more second, I’m going to throw a basketball through the speaker," Paige muttered, mostly to herself.
From across the room, Azzi, without thinking, let out a tiny, genuine snort. "You wouldn't hit it anyway. Your range from the training table is terrible."
Paige froze, turning her head slowly to stare at Azzi. It was the first unscripted, informal sentence Azzi had spoken directly to her in over a decade.
"Excuse me?" Paige raised an eyebrow, a familiar, playful spark flickering in her eyes before she could stop it. "I’ll have you know my bank shot off the wall is elite, Fudd."
"Keep telling yourself that, Bueckers," Azzi replied softly, a faint, undeniable warmth breaking through her guarded expression.
Neither of them brought up the past, the missing decade, or the unanswered texts. But something shifted that afternoon. The silence between them ceased to be a weapon and became a quiet bridge instead.
Over the next few weeks, the ice melted in microscopic increments. It started on the court during film study. Paige would slide a printed scout sheet across the desk toward Azzi without a word, pointing to a weakness in the opposing team's pick-and-roll defense. Azzi would glance at it, nod, and slide it back with a minor adjustment written in the margin.
Then came the subtle teasing.
During a light morning walkthrough, Azzi missed an easy layup off a crisp pass from Paige.
"Nice touch, Texas," Paige called out as she jogged back, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Did the rim hurt your feelings?"
Azzi caught the ball as it bounced, rolling her eyes, but she couldn't hide the smile tugging at her mouth. "Pass was short. Work on your delivery, point guard."
"Pass was perfect. You're just rusty," Paige shot back, bumping her shoulder lightly against Azzi's as they crossed paths.
It was a delicate, unspoken dance. Neither girl explicitly acknowledged that they were becoming friends again, let alone addressing the deeper feelings still humming beneath the surface. If anyone asked, they were just getting comfortable as co-captains. But in the small glances, the shared smirks across the gym, and the gentle nudges on the sideline, the old foundation was slowly, surely rebuilding itself.While Azzi was on the far end of the court working on free throws, Paige found herself standing near the baseline during a water break, her eyes lingering a second too long on the way Azzi wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Nika stepped up beside her, leaning against the wall and taking a slow sip from her bottle. She didn't miss where Paige was looking.
"So," Nika began softly, keeping her voice low so it didn't travel across the gym. "You two actually talked today. I saw the shoulder bump earlier."
Paige blinked, quickly snapping her gaze back to her water bottle, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "It wasn't a big deal. She missed a layup, I called her out. Standard team banter."
"Standard team banter?" Nika let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Paige, two weeks ago you couldn't even stand in the same zip code without looking like you were about to throw up from anxiety. Now you're smirking at her like you're fifteen years old again back in Minnesota."
"It's not like that," Paige muttered, though there was no real conviction in her voice. She leaned back against the wall, tracing the pattern on her basketball shoes. "We’re just... being co-captains. Finding a rhythm so Coach stays off our backs. We haven't talked about anything real."
Nika turned to face her directly, her expression softening with genuine concern. "Are you sure you can handle this 'rhythm,' Paige? Because from where I'm standing, you're stepping right back onto the same track. You're falling for her all over again—if you ever even stopped."
Paige swallowed hard, the tough exterior slipping away for a fraction of a second. She looked over at Azzi again, watching her sink three smooth jumpers in a row.
"I never stopped, Nika," Paige whispered, the confession quiet and terrifyingly honest. "That's the problem. Just hearing her laugh, just having her reply to my jokes... it feels like relief and torture at the exact same time. I know we’re dancing around ten years of silence, but right now? Just having her smile at me again is enough to keep me going, even if I'm terrified of what happens when the dance stops."Nika didn't push any further, but her quiet nod spoke volumes. She knew Paige too well to force a reality check when Paige was already hovering on the edge of it.
Over the next month, the unspoken dynamic between Paige and Azzi stabilized into something dangerously comfortable. On the court, their connection was electric—the kind of telepathic execution that coaches dream about. Off the court, the playful ribbing expanded into quiet routines. They started grabbing coffee together after morning shootarounds, sitting in the back of the team bus during road trips, and exchanging quick, quiet comments on the bench during games.
To the rest of the roster, they were the ultimate captain duo. To Paige and Azzi, every interaction was a delicate exercise in self-control.
The bubble finally cracked on an icy Tuesday night in Chicago.
A severe blizzard had grounded their post-game flight, forcing the team to spend an extra night in a downtown hotel. Because the sudden booking was last-minute, room assignments were shuffled, and by a twist of fate, Paige and Azzi ended up sharing a double room on the ninth floor.
The room was quiet, save for the muffled howl of the wind pressing against the windowpane. Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, towel drying her damp hair after a shower, while Paige stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered skyline, a lukewarm cup of tea resting in her hands.
The silence between them wasn't hostile anymore—it was heavy, thick with ten years of unasked questions that neither had dared to bring up during their daytime banter.
"It feels like Minnesota out there," Azzi said softly, breaking the quiet. Her voice was low, stripped of the defensive, lighthearted tone she usually wore like armor.
Paige turned around slowly, resting her lower back against the window frame. "Yeah," she replied, her eyes tracking Azzi’s movements. "It really does."
Azzi set the towel aside, her hands coming to rest on her lap. She looked up, finally meeting Paige’s gaze directly, without the buffer of a basketball court or teammates surrounding them.
"Paige," Azzi began, her breath hitching slightly. "We can't keep doing this forever."
Paige’s grip tightened around her mug. "Doing what?"
"Pretending," Azzi whispered. "Pretending we just met three months ago. Pretending there isn't a ten-year hole between us that neither of us is talking about."
"If you wanted to talk about it, you should have started ten years ago," Paige said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin quiet that sliced through the room.
She set her mug down on the nightstand with a sharp click, her hands trembling slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. The playful, easy warmth from earlier was gone, replaced by the raw, jagged hurt she had kept buried for a decade.
"You don't get to act like we're just sweeping it under the rug now, Azzi," Paige continued, her eyes glistening under the dim hotel lighting. "You left. You stopped answering my texts. You disappeared from my life without a single word of explanation, leaving me to wonder what I did wrong for months. If you hadn't just cut me off overnight—if you had just talked to me, even once—we wouldn't have a ten-year hole to begin with."
Azzi flinched as if Paige had physically struck her. She looked down at her hands, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the mattress. The weight of Paige’s words settled heavily in the room, suffocating and true.
"I know," Azzi choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. Her chest heaved, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "I know, Paige. And I am so, so sorry."
"Then tell me why," Paige pleaded, taking a half-step forward, her guarded expression cracking completely. "Just tell me why you pushed me out."
Azzi closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly as a tight knot formed in her throat. She wanted to tell her—wanted to confess that every single unread message had torn her apart, that Bryan had been a mistake, that the fear of loving Paige from thousands of miles away had terrified her into shutting down completely. But the words felt too massive, too terrifying to spill out on a random night in Chicago.
"I can't," Azzi whispered softly, her voice breaking. "I... I'm not ready to talk about that yet, Paige. I can't."
Paige stared at her for a long, silent moment, the pain in her chest deepening. She let out a soft, humorless breath and nodded slowly.
"Okay," Paige said quietly, turning toward her own bed and pulling back the covers. "Then don't ask me to stop pretending."
A few days after Chicago, the tension between them remained fragile and quiet. That weekend, after a decisive home win, their teammate Ice invited the entire squad over to her townhome for a post-game gathering. Music echoed through the main floor, but as the night wore on, the noise grew overwhelming for both Paige and Azzi.
Seeking air, Paige stepped out onto the cold, quiet balcony overlooking the city skyline. She wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the railing. A minute later, the glass door slid open, and Azzi stepped out into the chill, holding two jackets. Without a word, she handed one to Paige.
They stood side by side in the silence, watching their breath mist in the night air. The distance between them felt unbearable, but this time, Azzi didn't walk away.
"I was terrified," Azzi said softly, her voice breaking the quiet night.
Paige turned her head slightly, keeping her gaze fixed on the lights below. "Terrified of what?"
"Of loving you," Azzi confessed, looking directly at Paige, her eyes glistening. "When I moved to Texas, being away from you was killing me. Every time I heard your voice on the phone, or read your messages, it hurt so much because I knew I couldn't hold you. I knew I loved you—not just as my best friend, but as something more—and I was convinced that if I kept talking to you, I’d completely fall apart."
Azzi wiped away a tear, her breath coming in ragged hitches. "Cutting you off was the worst mistake of my life, Paige. I thought if I put up a wall, the feelings would go away. But they never did. I just ended up hurting the person I loved most."
Paige stared at her, the sharp edges of her decade-old anger slowly melting into a quiet, profound relief. The unanswered questions that had haunted her for ten years finally fell away.
"You should have just told me, Az," Paige whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I would have waited. I would have understood."
"I know," Azzi replied softly. "And I'm so sorry."
Azzi reached out, hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently placing her hand over Paige's on the cold railing. Paige didn't pull away; instead, she turned her palm up and laced their fingers together.
"We missed so much time," Paige said quietly, looking down at their joined hands. "I want us to fix this, but we have to take it step by step. Can we... can we just agree to be best friends again first? Build back what we lost before we try to figure out anything else?"
A genuine, radiant smile broke across Azzi’s face—the first real smile Paige had seen from her in ten years. "I'd love nothing more."
Standing together under the stars, the heavy burden of the past ten years finally lifted. They spent the rest of the night talking, laughing, and sharing stories about the years they had missed, the old effortless warmth instantly returning. They were Paige and Azzi again—inseparable, grounded, and ready to face whatever came next together.
The return to being best friends felt as natural as breathing, but after weeks of shared glances, late-night texts, and unspoken lingering touches, Paige decided she was done waiting.
It was a Tuesday evening when Paige walked up to Azzi after practice, tossing a sleek black envelope onto her bench. Azzi looked up, raising an eyebrow as she picked it up. Inside was a simple card printed with a time, a dress code, and an address.
"What's this?" Azzi asked, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
"I promised we'd take things step by step," Paige said, leaning down slightly with a mischievous spark in her eye. "Consider this the next step. I'm taking you on a date, Azzi Fudd. Be ready by seven."
Azzi’s breath hitched, her heart fluttering like she was fifteen all over again. "Okay," she whispered, her eyes glowing. "I'll be ready."
When seven o’clock rolled around, Paige was a nervous wreck. She stood outside Azzi’s apartment door, adjusting her collar for the fifth time. In her right hand, she clutched a stunning bouquet of white roses and soft purple peonies—Azzi’s absolute favorite flowers. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so hard she could hear it in her ears. She was an elite athlete who played under pressure in front of tens of thousands of fans, yet the simple act of knocking on Azzi’s door had her palms sweating.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Paige finally knocked.
A moment later, the door swung open, and Paige’s breath left her lungs completely.
Azzi stood in the doorway, and for a solid five seconds, Paige forgot how to speak. Azzi was wearing an elegant, form-fitting emerald green satin dress that caught the warm light of the hallway perfectly. Her hair fell in soft, loose waves around her shoulders, and her smile was radiant, carrying that same effortless beauty that had captivated Paige since they were kids—only now, it completely took Paige's breath away.
"Hey," Azzi said softly, a tiny, shy blush creeping up her cheeks at Paige's stunned silence. "You okay?"
"You... you look unbelievable, Az," Paige managed to choke out, her eyes soft with complete adoration as a genuine smile broke across her face. "Seriously. Wow."
She held out the bouquet, suddenly feeling like a teenage boy on prom night. "These are for you."
Azzi’s eyes lit up as she took the flowers, leaning down to smell them. "Paige... they're gorgeous. My favorites. Thank you." She set them carefully on the entryway table before stepping out into the hall and slipping her hand naturally into Paige's, her touch instantly grounding Paige's nervous energy.
When the town car pulled up to the venue a little while later, Azzi stared out the window in complete disbelief. It was a cozy, high-end Italian spot tucked away in the city—the exact restaurant Azzi had mentioned in passing weeks ago as her absolute favorite.
As they stepped inside, Azzi noticed something unusual. The ambient music was soft, the candlelight warm, but the tables were entirely empty. There were no other guests, no noise, just a head chef and a private server standing at attention.
"Paige... where is everyone?" Azzi asked, looking around in awe.
Paige smiled softly, taking Azzi’s coat and handing it to the host. "I wanted it to just be us tonight. No distractions, no fans, no team. Just you and me."
Azzi turned to look at her, her chest tightening with an overwhelming swell of affection. "You booked the entire restaurant?"
"Only the best for you, Az," Paige said softly, pulling out Azzi’s chair.
Dinner was magic. They started with wine and appetizers, but the atmosphere was completely different from their usual post-game banter. The air hummed with an electric, tender intimacy. They weren't just two childhood best friends recounting memories; they were two women completely, deeply in love, finally letting the pretense wash away.
Paige kept her eyes locked on Azzi, hanging onto every word, her hand resting openly on the white tablecloth between them. Halfway through the main course, Azzi reached across the small divide and slid her hand into Paige’s, intertwining their fingers.
"Thank you for this, Paige," Azzi whispered, her thumb gently tracing the back of Paige's hand. "For everything. For not giving up on us."
Paige squeezed her hand back, her soft eyes holding Azzi's gaze with zero hesitation. "I could never give up on you, Az. Not ten years ago, not now, not ever."
Under the dim, warm lights of the quiet restaurant, the line between best friends melted away completely, leaving behind only the promise of everything they had been waiting a lifetime to build together.
Unfortunately tumblr completely distorts and compresses anything over 720p and/or a video recorded with hdr to hell 😔 best bet is to downscale it to 720p and upload it
A/N: Hoping I still have the Azzi fic juju. Even if I don't I hope you love it! xx Elle
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Azzi was late.
She hated being late. But in all of her anger, Taylor took all of the charges out of the apartment before heading to a hotel for the night. Azzi didn’t really understand wasting that much money when they had a beautiful guest room that could have been used, but she just shrugged as her ex fled.
But Azzi didn’t realize there were no chargers in the house until it was after midnight, and her mom had always told her not to leave the house by herself at a certain time.
And apparently, to be extra vengeful, Taylor unplugged her alarm clock, which means not only did Azzi not have a dead phone, but also a non-functioning alarm clock.
Which would have been fine because Azzi had always been one to wake up with the sun, but she hadn’t taken Stewie and Curry out because she woke up later than she wanted, and instead of just going and coming back, the two dogs wanted to play instead.
So yes, Azzi was late – ten minutes late – to meet at the first property with her realtor.
Her outfit definitely wasn’t anything she wanted to wear when meeting someone for the first time. Her jeans were a little wrinkly and her forces were kinda dirty, but at least her tank top didn’t have any stains or holes.
She held a tube of mascara in her teeth as she coated her lashes at a red light. She didn’t have the time – or the desire really – to put on anything else. She pulled her curls up into a high bun, not really having the time to do anything else.
Azzi threw her car in park, not bothering to grab anything from her car before rushing to the front door. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants before knocking softly. While she waited, she took a minute look at the detail on the door. The rich oak had beautiful swirls carved onto it – she only hoped the rest of the house had the same amount of character.
Then, the door opened.
Now, Azzi didn’t know very many realtors, but she did know that there was no way that all realtors looked like…that.
She was tall, taller than Azzi. And she was already 5’10, so that meant that the realtor was at least 5’11. She was lean too, but her shoulders were board – she definitely worked out. Her hair was dark blonde, tightly pulled back. But what captured her attention the most were her eyes. They were beautiful, the clearest blue she’d ever seen. These endless pools of cerulean that she’d have no problem falling into.
“Come on in, Ms. Fudd,” the woman said,
Azzi could feel her lips part in surprise. Even her voice was fucking hot. God, Azzi was such a useless lesbian.
“I – I’m sorry for being late. My ex girlfriend has a vendetta and she took all the chargers out of the house before she left.” She explained. At the blonde’s raised brows, Azzi continued. “Not that you needed to know that. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. You don’t need to apologize. Things happen,” she stepped out of the way so Azzi could enter. “I’m Paige,” she continued, holding her hand out.
Azzi took her hand, and the contact sent a jolt through her system that she absolutely was not prepared for. Paige's palm was warm, her grip firm but not aggressive. Professional. But there was something in the way her thumb brushed against Azzi's knuckles – so brief it might have been accidental – that made Azzi's breath catch.
"Azzi," she managed, though Paige clearly already knew that. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." Paige's smile was easy, genuine, perfect, and Azzi wanted to marry her. She released Azzi's hand and gestured toward the interior of the house. "So, this is the first property on our list today. Three beds, two baths. Built in the seventies but it was renovated about five years ago. Let me show you around."
Azzi followed her through the entryway, trying very hard to focus on the house and not the way Paige's shoulders moved beneath her button down or the way her voice had this low, smooth quality that made everything sound important.
The house itself was fine. Neutral walls, hardwood floors, a kitchen with granite countertops that looked like every other kitchen Azzi had ever seen. It was clean. It was functional. It was completely unremarkable.
Paige led her through the living room, pointing out the natural light from the bay window, the updated fixtures, the closet space in the hallway. When they reached the master bedroom, Paige turned with a small grin.
"And here's the primary suite. Plenty of room for a California king, if that's your thing." She paused, eyes twinkling. "Or, you know, two twins pushed together if you're still figuring things out post-breakup."
Azzi blinked. Then she laughed. A real, surprised laugh that bubbled up before she could stop it. "Did you just make a joke about my relationship status?"
Paige shrugged, looking pleased with herself. "Too soon?"
They moved through the rest of the house quickly. Azzi asked the appropriate questions, nodded at the appropriate times, but she knew this wasn't the one. It was too sterile. Too forgettable.
When they stepped back outside, Paige locked up and turned to her. "Ready for house number two?"
"Lead the way."
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The second house had more character. A brick exterior, a front porch with enough space for a couple of chairs, a backyard that wasn't huge but had potential. Azzi could picture Stewie and Curry running around out there, could imagine herself sitting on that porch with a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning.
Paige walked her through each room with the same easy confidence, pointing out the original crown molding, the updated electrical, the way the kitchen opened into the dining area.
"This one's got good bones," Paige said as they stood in the living room. She tapped the wall lightly with her knuckles. "Solid. Unlike my last relationship."
Azzi's head whipped toward her, eyes wide. "Did you just – "
"Make a self-deprecating joke to make you feel better about your morning?" Paige's grin was lopsided, a little sheepish. "Maybe."
Azzi felt her chest warm. She didn't know if it was the joke or the fact that Paige was trying to put her at ease, but either way, it was working. "You're very good at this."
"At real estate or at making people laugh?"
"Both, actually."
Paige's smile softened, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Paige cleared her throat and gestured toward the stairs. "Want to see the upstairs?"
Azzi nodded, following her up. The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom with a clawfoot tub that Azzi immediately loved. But even as she admired the space, she felt herself getting distracted by the way Paige leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with this quiet attentiveness that made Azzi feel seen in a way she hadn't in a long time.
She liked this house. She could see herself here.
But she wasn't ready to say yes yet.
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The third house was different.
Azzi felt it the moment Paige pulled up to the curb. It was a Craftsman-style bungalow with a wide front porch, dark green shutters, and that same kind of beautiful oak door with carved swirls that she'd noticed at the first property. But this one felt warmer somehow. More lived-in. Like it had stories to tell.
"This one just came on the market yesterday," Paige said as she unlocked the door. "I think you're going to love it."
She was right.
The interior was everything Azzi didn't know she wanted. Exposed wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. The floors were original hardwood, scuffed in places but full of character. The living room had a fireplace with a stone mantle, and the kitchen – God, the kitchen – had open shelving, a farmhouse sink, and windows that overlooked a backyard full of trees.
Azzi moved through the space slowly, taking it all in. She ran her fingers along the countertop, peeked into the pantry, stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and imagined what it would feel like to wake up here every morning.
"There's a reading nook," Paige said from behind her, and Azzi turned to see her pointing toward a small alcove near the back of the house. It had built-in bookshelves and a window seat with cushions that looked like they'd been there for decades.
"A reading nook," Azzi repeated, something in her chest tightening.
"Yeah. I figured you for a reader." Paige's voice was soft, almost tentative. "Was I wrong?"
"No." Azzi's voice came out quieter than she intended. "You weren't wrong."
They stood there for a moment, the afternoon light filtering through the windows and casting everything in gold. Azzi could picture herself here. She could picture Stewie and Curry sprawled out on the living room floor. She could picture herself curled up in that reading nook with a book and a cup of tea.
She could picture a life here.
And that terrified her.
Because she wasn't supposed to fall in love with a house on the first day. She was supposed to be practical, to weigh her options, to take her time.
But more than that – she wasn't ready to stop seeing Paige.
"So?" Paige asked, and there was something hopeful in her voice. "What do you think?"
Azzi turned to face her, and for a split second, she almost told the truth. Almost said, This is perfect. I want this one.
But then she thought about not seeing Paige ever again. About not hearing her laugh or watching the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. About going back to her empty apartment with her two dogs and her broken heart and no one to make stupid jokes about her ex-girlfriend.
"It's really nice," Azzi said carefully. "But I don't think it's quite what I'm looking for."
Paige's face fell, just a little. "Oh. Okay. What's missing?"
Azzi scrambled for an answer. "I think – I think I need something with a bigger backyard. For the dogs."
It was a lie. The backyard was plenty big enough.
But Paige just nodded, professional mask sliding back into place. "Got it. No problem. I've got a few more listings we can look at next weekend, if you're free?"
"Yeah." Azzi's heart was pounding. "Yeah, I'm free."
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They stood outside the house as Paige locked up, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the driveway. Azzi shoved her hands into her pockets, suddenly unsure of what to say.
"Thanks for today," she finally managed. "I know I didn't find anything, but – "
"Don't apologize." Paige turned to her, and there was something warm in her expression. "Finding the right place takes time. I'm not going anywhere."
Azzi's breath caught. She didn't know if Paige meant that literally or if there was something else underneath the words, but either way, it made her chest feel tight.
"Next Saturday?" Paige asked.
"Next Saturday," Azzi confirmed.
They stood there for a beat longer than necessary, and Azzi swore she saw something flicker in Paige's eyes, something that looked a lot like the same uncertainty she was feeling.
But then Paige smiled, easy and bright, and the moment passed.
"I'll text you the listings," she said, already heading toward her car.
Azzi watched her go, and when she finally got into her own car, she sat there for a long moment, staring at the house she'd just lied about.
She was so fucked.
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The following Saturday, Azzi woke up at six in the morning with a plan.
She'd spent the entire week thinking about Paige – about the way she laughed, the way she made Azzi feel like she wasn't completely falling apart, the way her eyes had lingered on Azzi just a little too long in that third house.
So she did what she always did when she didn't know what else to do: she baked.
By the time she pulled up outside the first house at nine, Azzi was balancing a container of fresh blueberry muffins and two thermoses of coffee in her arms. She lightly kicked at the front door, afraid to drop any part of her creation.
When she opened the door, Paige's eyes went wide.
"Did you – did you make muffins?"
"I did." Azzi tried to sound casual, like she hadn't spent an hour perfecting the crumb topping. "Figured we'd be out all day. Thought you might be hungry."
Paige's smile was slow, spreading across her face like sunrise. "Azzi Fudd, are you trying to bribe me with baked goods?"
"Is it working?"
"Absolutely."
They spent the day touring houses, and Azzi couldn't help but notice the way Paige kept sneaking glances at her between properties. The way her hand would brush against Azzi's when they walked through doorways. The way she laughed a little harder at Azzi's jokes than she probably needed to.
At the third house, a modern build with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sterile kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine, Paige leaned against the island and took a bite of her muffin.
"These are incredible, by the way," she said, mouth still half-full.
Azzi felt her cheeks warm. "Thanks."
"No, seriously. Like, life-changing." Paige took another bite, closing her eyes like she was savoring it. "If the whole marketing thing doesn't work out, you could just open a bakery and I'd be your first customer."
"You're just saying that because I fed you."
"I'm saying it because it's true." Paige's eyes opened, and there was something soft in her gaze. "You're really talented, Azzi."
Azzi didn't know what to say to that. She just stood there, heart pounding, wondering if Paige could hear it from across the kitchen.
They toured two more houses after that, and by the time they were done, Azzi's feet hurt and her head was spinning. Not because of the houses – though they were all fine – but because she couldn't stop thinking about the way Paige had looked at her in that kitchen.
Like she was something worth savoring.
When they said goodbye in the parking lot, Paige's hand lingered on Azzi's arm.
"Same time next week?" she asked.
Azzi nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
As she drove home, she replayed the day in her head. The way Paige had smiled at her. The way she'd laughed. The way she'd said you're really talented like she meant it.
But she still couldn't tell if Paige was just being nice. If this was just how she was with all her clients.
Or if maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.
❣️🏡🔑❣️🏡🔑❣️🏡🔑❣️
By the third weekend, Azzi was starting to lose her nerve.
They'd toured what felt like a hundred houses at this point, and she was running out of excuses. Running out of reasons to say no to perfectly good properties just so she could spend another Saturday with Paige.
The last house of the day was a split-level with a fenced yard and a two-car garage. It was fine. It was more than fine, actually. It checked every box on Azzi's list.
But when they finished the tour and stepped back outside, Azzi felt the weight of the inevitable settling over her.
This was it. She was going to have to pick a house. And once she did, she'd have no reason to see Paige again.
They stood by their cars, the late afternoon sun casting everything in amber. Paige was scrolling through something on her phone, probably already thinking about her next client, and Azzi felt panic rising in her chest.
"Paige."
The blonde looked up, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"
Azzi opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
And then, before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out.
"I want to go on a date with you."
Paige blinked. "What?"
"A date. Like – like dinner or something. I don't know." Azzi's hands were shaking. "I just – I really like spending time with you, and I know you're my realtor and this is probably super unprofessional, but I can't stop thinking about you and I – "
"Azzi."
" – and I know I should probably just pick a house and move on with my life, but I don't want to stop seeing you, and I – "
"Azzi."
" – I'm sorry, I know this is weird, I just – "
"Azzi." Paige stepped closer, and there was a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Breathe."
Azzi sucked in a breath, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Paige's smirk widened into a full smile. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Wait, what?"
"I've been flirting with you for three weeks, Azzi. I was starting to think you weren't interested."
Azzi's mouth fell open. "You – you were flirting?"
"Uh, yeah." Paige laughed, and it was the best sound Azzi had ever heard. "Did you think I make jokes about my ex with all my clients?"
"I didn't know!"
"Well, now you do." Paige reached out, her fingers brushing against Azzi's. "So. Dinner?"
"Dinner," Azzi repeated, still trying to catch up.
"Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at seven."
"Okay."
"Okay." Paige squeezed her hand once before letting go, and Azzi felt like she might float away.
As she drove home, she couldn't stop smiling. Couldn't stop replaying the way Paige had looked at her, the way she'd said I thought you'd never ask.
She'd spent three weeks pretending she didn't want any of the houses she'd seen.
But the truth was, she'd found exactly what she was looking for.
❣️🏡🔑❣️🏡🔑❣️🏡🔑❣️
Azzi woke up in the third house – the house – the one with the oak door and the reading nook and the kitchen that had made her heart ache the first time she saw it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, and for a moment, she just lay there, taking it in. The weight of Paige's arm draped across her waist. The sound of her breathing, slow and steady. The way the sheets smelled like lavender and something distinctly Paige.
They'd gone to dinner to celebrate their six month anniversary the night before, a little Italian place downtown where Paige had ordered too much wine and Azzi had laughed so hard she'd cried. And then they'd come back here, to the house Azzi had fallen in love with on that first day, and everything had felt right in a way she hadn't expected.
Paige stirred beside her, her arm tightening around Azzi's waist as she nuzzled into her shoulder.
"Morning," she mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
"Morning," Azzi whispered back.
Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes still half-closed, hair a mess. She was beautiful. Azzi's chest ached with it.
"So," Paige said, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "You gonna tell me the truth now?"
Azzi's brow furrowed. "About what?"
"About how you toured like a million houses just to spend more time with me."
Azzi felt her cheeks heat. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Azzi." Paige propped herself up on one elbow, grin widening. "You loved this house the first time we saw it. I could tell."
"You could not."
"You stood in the reading nook for like ten minutes. You ran your hand along the countertop like you were already imagining yourself cooking here. You looked at me like – " Paige paused, something soft flickering in her eyes. "Like you were picturing a life here."
Azzi swallowed hard. "Okay. Fine. Maybe I did."
"So why didn't you just say yes?"
"Because." Azzi's voice was quiet now, vulnerable. "I wasn't ready to stop seeing you."
Paige's expression melted into something so tender it made Azzi's throat tight.
"You're ridiculous," Paige said, but there was no heat in it. Only affection.
"You're the one who kept making jokes about your ex."
"Because I was trying to flirt with you, Azzi. I thought I was being obvious."
"Well, you weren't."
"Clearly." Paige leaned down, pressing a kiss to Azzi's forehead. Then her nose. Then, finally, her lips.
It was soft and slow and perfect, and when they pulled apart, Azzi felt like she could breathe for the first time in weeks.
"I'm glad you said yes," Paige whispered against her mouth.
"To the date or the house?"
"Both."
Azzi smiled, her hand coming up to cup Paige's cheek. "Me too."
They lay there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the morning stretching out before them like a promise. And when Paige finally kissed her again, deeper this time, more insistent, Azzi felt something settle in her chest.
She was home.
Not just in this house, with its oak door and its reading nook and its kitchen full of light.
But here. With Paige. With this woman who made her laugh and made her feel seen and made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could have everything she'd been too afraid to ask for.
"I love you," Azzi said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Paige pulled back, eyes wide. And then she smiled – soft and sure and so full of warmth that Azzi felt it all the way down to her bones.
"I love you too, Azzi Fudd."
They kissed again, and the morning light spilled over them, golden and perfect.
And for the first time in a long time, Azzi felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
