Chapter Text
Present Day - Target Center, Minneapolis
The lighting inside Target Center was always too bright, piercing in a way that made it nearly impossible to hide from anything. Not defenders, not cameras, or the tightness sitting just below Paige’s ribs.
The buzz of the crowd resonated with the kind of loyalty she used to be jealous of. She was born just outside the city, so she knew what it meant to love this place. But Minnesota didn’t belong to her anymore. Not professionally, and certainly not personally.
It belonged to Azzi.
Warm-ups were wrapping up, and Paige tore off her warm-up pants that covered her shorts and exhaled through her nose in an effort to anchor herself in the muscle memory. It was game time, time to focus. Still… her eyes had other ideas. They found Azzi instantly.
Azzi was stretching by the baseline, hair in a perfect bun, headphones over both ears, head tilted back toward the skyline like she could breathe her way up to it. Paige had seen her do this exact stretch a thousand times, maybe even two thousand. She knew how she breathed, how she flicked her wrist before sneaking her arm behind her head to stretch further.
God, she’d missed watching her like this.
They hadn’t spoken since the last time…the last city, the last bed. That had been weeks ago now. And this, this whole thing between them had been going on for years.
It had been four years since Paige was drafted, and three since Azzi.
They both agreed that they would end it when they were both in the WNBA. They had exchanged promises at airports, hotels, and elevators. But every time they were in the same city, every time one of them looked too long or didn’t say enough, it all came rushing back.
They never really said goodbye. They just stopped…until next time and there was always a next time.
“Ten minutes!” a staffer announced from the sideline. Paige blinked herself back into a place.
But then she saw her.
She was sitting courtside right behind the Lynx bench. Emma.
Azzi’s girlfriend. Still.
She was wearing Azzi’s jersey, white with teal lettering, number 35 stretched across her chest. Her hair was dark, wavy below her shoulders, and she was clapping politely while the announcer went through warmup intros. She somehow looked…comfortable. Like she belonged.
Paige’s stomach twisted.
She redirected her attention to her team’s shooting drill, nodding at a pass and knocking down a corner three with practiced form. Don’t look. Just played the game.
But as she jogged back towards the half court line, she saw Azzi again.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second, not long enough for it to be obvious. Not long enough for Emma to see. But it hit Paige right in the chest. That little break of recognition. That thing they never talked about but also couldn't stop doing. Azzi looked away first, she always did.
By the time the tip-off came, there was a dryness in Paige's throat.
The game was tight with scrappy defense, elbows in the paint, lead changes every two minutes. Azzi was on fire, crossing over with that trademark shifty-ness, and her step-back three was as clean as the first time Paige ever saw it.
Paige couldn’t help but track her like a second skin. She knew where she was, how her shoulders shifted before a drive, the slight hitch in her shot release when she got tired. Paige knew her tells better than anyone.
And Azzi knew hers.
At one point during the third quarter, Azzi slipped behind her on a backdoor cut, brushing her hip with her hand as she went up for the layup. The contact wasn’t necessary for the play. Just contact. A reminder. Paige didn’tt contest it, she just watched the ball drop through the net, trying not to think about the last time Azzi had touched her like that.
Minnesota won by two. Paige had a chance at a buzzer beater, a clean look from the wing, but it rimmed out.
After the game, Paige trudged toward the tunnel, sweat cooling too quickly on her skin, her heart beating too loud in her ears. She walked over to the bench and picked up a towel, flinging it over her shoulder, trying to forget the ache in her legs and the sharper one in her chest.
Then she saw them.
Azzi and Emma. Just a few feet ahead, just out of earshot. Emma was saying something, smiling that soft private smile she only ever wore for Azzi. Azzi laughed, hand brushing Emma's arm.
Then Azzi’s eyes shot up and found Paige again.
A beat passed. Paige didn't blink. Didn't look away. Just watched, and waited.
Azzi didn't say anything. Just held the gaze a second longer than she should have and turned back to Emma, letting herself be pulled toward the locker room.
Paige stood there for a moment, frozen in the hallway.
She's in Azzi's city. In Azzi's space. Like she's the one who belongs there.
And maybe she is.
—
FLASHBACK - University of Connecticut - 2025
The door opened with a creak, as it always did, and Paige didn't look up from her laptop.
"About time," she muttered, while she highlighted another line in her textbook.
Azzi stepped inside without a word, her backpack sliding from her shoulder and landing with a soft thump beside the bed. Her jacket was halfway zipped up, and her hair was half up, half down, the way Paige liked best.
She didn't bother knocking anymore. Not here. Not with Paige.
Azzi slipped across the floor in her socks and silence and flopped onto Paige's bed face down, muffling a groan against Paige's comforter.
"Tough day?" Paige asked, still typing.
Azzi only reached out, grabbed a corner of Paige's shirt and pulled it, like a little kid wanting attention.
"You know I have an exam tomorrow," Paige said with a smile while she continued typing.
Azzi grunted, rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling like it had done her wrong. "I hate March."
"No you don't."
"I hate the pressure."
"You love the pressure."
Azzi didn't argue. Paige closed her laptop, and set it on the desk. Without saying anything, she pushed herself up and went over to the bed, crawling in beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because it was. This is what they did, steal quiet nights when the campus was only dreaming, when the sounds of practice and press conferences and expectations subsided just long enough for them to breathe in each other’s rhythm.
Azzi turned her head to meet Paige’s eyes. "You have that look again," she said softly.
"What look?"
"The one where you're gonna do something reckless."
Paige smirked, and leaned in until their noses brushed together again, then she kissed her. It was slow, like she was trying to tease more than take. But Azzi sighed into it, almost like this was the only time she ever found release.
Paige kissed her again, this time cupping her jaw with one hand and resting the other on the side of Azzi's ribcage, thumb brushing along bare skin where her shirt had ridden up and she didn't even realize.
It always went like this. Gentle, greedy. Familiar.
Azzi tasted like lemon Vitamin Water and the leftover peanut butter from the protein balls they kept in the locker room fridge, but Paige didn't care. She kissed her deeper, pushing her tongue slowly into Azzi's mouth, and Azzi pulled her closer by the back of her shirt.
They didn't even have to talk about it anymore. Azzi would show up, Paige would open her arms and all the tension they held would melt somewhere in between the tangled sheets of their breathy sighs.
But tonight, Paige wanted something different.
Not more. Just... different. She pulled away, just barely, and brushed her thumb against Azzi's cheek. “You ever think maybe we should stop doing this halfway?”
Azzi's brow furrowed just a little, the only sign that she wasn't completely caught off guard. She didn't immediately respond, just searched Paige's face like she was trying to find out which version of this question she was asking tonight.
"We've been doing this since you were a freshman," Paige said softly. "And it's not like we've stopped. We haven’t even slowed down. You’re always here. We’re always..." Her voice trailed off and she exhaled, brushing Azzi's hair from her forehead. "I just…don't you think it's time we called it something?"
Azzi looked past her, to the poster half ripped from the wall of the dorm room. Paige waited. She knew the rhythm of this.
"You've got the draft next year," Azzi said finally. "You're gonna go number one. Then I'll have my last year. And then the W, and then we’ll both have something to prove. All eyes will be on us."
Paige blinked slowly. "So...what?"
Azzi turned her gaze back to her. "So we can't afford to be messy."
Paige looked at her. "We're already messy."
Azzi didn’t disagree. She just reached out and played with the sleeve of Paige's shirt.
"And the team," Azzi added. “If people find out, if it becomes a thing…I don’t want to be a distraction. Not right now. Not when we could be winning a championship.”
Paige pushed back slightly, creating distance between them even though every cell of her being hated it. “So is this just nothing? Just practice?”
Azzi winced. “You know it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Paige asked, voice just above a whisper.
Azzi opened her mouth, but closed it. She looked elsewhere again.
Paige swallowed. “I don’t want to be something you only want when there’s no one watching.”
Azzi did not respond. Instead, she reached out and gently tugged Paige back onto her chest, her fingers mindlessly tracing patterns across her spine.
“I don’t know how to be what you need,” Azzi murmured.
And for a long, quiet moment, Paige allowed herself to ignore that those words hurt worse than silence.
She laid there, cheek pressed against Azzi’s collarbone, trying hard not to memorize the sound of her heartbeat beneath her ear. She should have pulled away. Should have told her to leave. Should have drawn a line and actually followed it for once.
But instead, she breathed her in. Citrus on her skin, the faint echo of her heart beating faster, the heat between them that was always burning too steady to ignore.
Because Azzi was always a temptation Paige couldn’t resist. Not even when she knew it would tear her open.
So when Azzi tilted her chin up and kissed her again…slow, hesitant, like asking for permission she knew she already had, Paige let her.
And when Azzi rolled into her and gently whispered her name like a secret, like an apology, Paige didn’t push her away.
She let herself be consumed.
Because that was always the part she said yes to.
—
Back in Present Day - Paige’s Hotel Room, Minnesota
Paige’s hotel room was too quiet, but not the kind of quiet that feels restful. It was restless, the kind that crawls into your ears and under your skin. The kind that made her twitchy and stuck inside her own head.
Paige sat on the edge of the bed with her hands on her thighs, staring at the television that was muted but still showing a cooking program to no one. She still had her shoes on, and she hadn't even changed her clothes yet.
She had showered after the game but still felt dirty. Not dirty in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense.
The knot in her stomach twisted again. The knot that had been there since tip-off, since she had seen her sitting courtside. Emma. Smiling in Azzi's jersey as if she belonged there, as if she knew she belonged there.
Paige had watched them laugh during shoot-around. Watched Emma lean close to whisper and watched Azzi smile in that soft, private way she once smiled for her, and still did sometimes. Just not in public where it counted.
She should have been used to this by now. Should have known not to expect anything different. But it still scraped at the inside of her chest like sandpaper.
Her phone lit up next to her.
She turned her head to glance at it without moving her torso, already half-expecting who it would be. Her heart had already begun to beat faster even before she had picked up her phone to see the name.
Azzi: You up?
Of course.
Of course, she was.
Paige stared at the message, feeling the tightening in her throat. She hadn't heard from her since their last meet-up. Two weeks ago? Three? She didn't know anymore. They didn’t talk, not unless they were both in the same place.
There was another message a minute later.
Azzi: Come over
And then…
Azzi: Emmy's going out of town for work. She left after the game.
Azzi: I'll leave the door unlocked.
The words punched her in the gut. Emmy. Not Emma. Emmy. A nickname. An intimacy Paige never had.
She didn't text back. Just stared at the screen, slow shallow breaths.
She should say no. She wanted to say no.
But her feet were already moving.
She didn't even know what she was grabbing…just a hoodie, her room key, and her phone. Before she knew it she was out the door. No make up. No second guessing.
No defense.
After a 15 minute Uber ride later, she was walking down the familiar hallway of Azzi's apartment. The door was unlocked, just as she had said. Paige stopped short of going inside and allowed the front door to make noise as it creaked open into a dim golden light.
The apartment was too quiet. Too still. The kind of still that felt staged. Like someone had tried to make it appear lived-in without actually using it.
Paige took a breath and walked into the apartment. The second she stepped inside, she was hit by the unfamiliar scent of flowers. Not what Azzi uses usually for body wash. Something sweeter. Something…Emma.
The space looked the same yet different. A little too neat. The throw pillows were recently fluffed. There was a new candle on the counter, just waiting to be lit. There were flowers in a slender vase near the sink, some type of flower that was a little too delicate for Azzi.
But it was the photo on the bookshelf that sealed the deal.
There was Azzi and Emma, arms wrapped around each other standing by some lake. Big, toothy, grinned smiles. Hair blowing in the wind. Happy.
Paige just stood there and stared.
The worst part wasn’t the photo, it was that it looked real.
And then, all of a sudden, she felt small again. Like she was a part of someone else's life, concealed in the corner.
Footsteps padded into the room, tiptoeing on the hardwood floor.
Azzi appeared in the hallway, wearing slightly wrinkled cotton shorts and an old camp shirt. Her hair was down and messy, eyes somewhat tired. Still so annoyingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.
When Azzi saw Paige standing there, she hesitated. Paige stood there with her phone still in hand, looking like she hadn’t completely committed to being there yet.
"Hey," Azzi softly spoke as she stepped forward, stepping into the light of a nearby window. The way the light struck her skin made it glow. At that moment, Paige’s mouth went dry and her whole body reacted. It was years of muscle memory, desire and heartbreak, all happening all at once.
Paige didn’t move. She was afraid if she did, she’d collapse into her. "You shouldn't have texted me," she said, her voice quiet but sharp.
Azzi's face changed. A tiny crack of guilt seemed to pierce through her eyes.
"I know," Azzi whispered, but she didn’t step away. Her bare feet planted less than a foot away from Paige's shoes, a distance close enough to feel the heat from each of their bodies. A distance close enough that Paige could smell Azzi's shampoo. A distance close enough that she could remember what Azzi's skin felt like.
"I saw you," Paige said next, voice now deeper. "After the game."
Azzi nodded slowly. Almost like she had been waiting for this. "She wanted to come. She hasn’t seen me play in a while."
"She looked proud," Paige said, her words more pointed than she intended. "She looked like she belonged."
Azzi winced, just a little. "Paige…"
Paige cut her off with a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Don’t. Just… don’t make it sound like it means less because I’m here now.”
Azzi's hand twitched at her side like it wanted to reach out but wasn't sure how.
Paige stared at her for a long moment, letting the tension stretch, and then asked flatly, "Why’d you text me to come here?"
Azzi blinked. "I wanted to see you."
“That’s not new,” Paige said. “You always want to see me. And then I leave and everything goes back to normal.”
Azzi didn't argue, just closed the space between them and lightly brushed her fingers along the sleeve of Paige’s shirt. Her eyes were so tender Paige wanted to scream.
"I'm sorry," Azzi whispered. "I don't know how to stop."
Paige drew breath. "Then don't text me just because she's gone."
Azzi shook her head. "It's not that."
"Then what is it?"
Azzi didn't say anything. She leaned in and rested her forehead against Paige's for a moment. It was too close…too familiar.
Paige could’ve walked away. Should have.
But she didn't.
—
FLASHBACK - All-Star Weekend, Indianapolis - Paige’s Rookie Year
The hotel was cold, the kind of cold meant for the hot air that seeped through automatic doors every time yet another player walked in or walked out. Paige tugged at the sleeves of her Team Phee warmup jacket while leaning against the wall just off the stage and pretended to listen to the league rep read through talking points that would be asked during her next rookie spotlight segment.
She was worn out. Not from the travel, and not even from the practices. No, she was worn out from the cameras, the questions, the version of her that she was expected to be when she was marketed. Fun. Polished. Charismatic, somehow without effort.
Her eyes floated across the convention center floor in search of something, anything, that felt familiar. That was when she saw her.
Azzi.
She wasn’t with the league yet, and she wasn’t wearing a WNBA credential of any kind. She was standing under a ring light at a sponsor booth across the hall, laughing with a brand rep who was attaching a mic to her bright pink blazer.
Her hair was slicked back into a high pony, and she had two braids framing her face. The outfit was unmistakably her. It was playful but sharp, clean lines softened by the color she always gravitated toward. And somehow, even amidst the mass of people walking around the convention center, Azzi was the only one that stood out, and she seemed brighter than anything else in the building.
Paige’s chest tightened so quickly she forgot how to breathe.
Of course Azzi was here.
The most marketable college athlete in the country was present. All-Star Weekend was chock full of NIL sponsorships. Paige probably should have known, should’ve anticipated it. But she hadn’t. Seeing Azzi like this, in her own world but not apart from it, hit her like a truck.
Azzi stopped midsentence, probably looking for the next part of her schedule, and her eyes found Paige like they always did, like some internal compass spun her to face that way.
Her smile faltered. Only for a fraction of a second.
But Paige felt that split-second tremor all the way down to her ribs.
They hadn’t been in the same city, shared the same air, or reality for the past four months. Four months since Paige packed up her life into a suitcase and moved out of Storrs. Four months since they sat on a bench outside Gampel and agreed to end whatever undefined thing had been happening.
Four months since Paige convinced herself she had moved on.
Clearly, she had not.
And clearly, the universe had a dark sense of humor.
Because literally all weekend long they kept crossing paths. Not through assigned media, not through the league, just by proximity, through accident, through gravity. They walked through the same tunnel collectively. They shared the same sponsors’ brunch sitting at tables beside one another. They kept arriving at the different ends of the same hallway, pausing awkwardly to say soft hellos that always carried more history than sound.
Paige tried not to look for her, but she was unsuccessful every single time.
By late afternoon, the rookie clinic concluded and the players were instructed to head back to the hotel for another block of media availability. But Paige wasn’t ready to return to the craziness. She wandered into one of the practice gyms, the kind set up for VIP events earlier in the day and now mostly empty.
She didn’t expect to find Azzi there.
But Azzi was alone along the baseline, dribbling a ball between her legs with that quiet kinetic focus she always had when she needed to clear her head. Her promotional schedule must've ended a couple of hours ago or she could’ve been on a break. Her lanyard and badge sat in a chair beside her. She looked like herself again, no lights, no cameras, just Azzi.
Paige stayed hovering in the entrance of the gym, unsure if she should go any further.
Then Azzi looked up from the ball and into Paige's eyes, the ball still underneath her palm. Something flickered across her face, first surprise and then something softer.
“Hey,” she said, her breath still warm from exertion, voice softer than Paige had remembered it.
Paige crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware that she was breathing almost as heavily and that she felt her heart pounding too close to her throat. “I didn’t know you would be in here.”
Azzi started spinning the ball on her finger again, eyes lowering underneath a small, shy smile. “I needed a minute… too many cameras.”
“You still do that," Paige said before she could stop herself. Her voice came out softer than she had wanted. “When you’re nervous.”
Azzi caught the ball and tucked it under her arm. "I'm not...nervous."
"You're lying."
Azzi smirked, then looked down at her shoes. "You still wear your laces uneven."
"You used to untie them and do them for me," Paige said.
Azzi wouldn't look up. "Yeah. I remember."
The silence stretched far and wide between them, full of everything they hadn't said. All the things they couldn't let themselves say.
Finally, Azzi looked at her, really looked at her. Not the way she did across a court or in a handshake line after a game. Not a quick glance that the cameras might catch.
This wasn't the same.
Her eyes slowly, perhaps somewhat cautiously, swept over Paige, as if she didn’t trust herself to blink, or she hadn’t allowed herself to see Paige this way in quite some time.
"You look older," Azzi said, voice low, breaking up and uneven.
Paige let out a silent laugh. "You’ve seen me a few times in the last two months."
Azzi shook her head, slightly. "Watching you play basketball through a TV doesn’t count. "
Azzi’s voice softened, as if something was crumbling around the edges. "You just seem...different."
Paige's throat closed a little. "Yeah, you do too."
They didn’t move any closer, but the air between them shifted into something thin, tightened, and pulled. It was like there was invisible string snapping tight between their ribs.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet.
But they were both thinking about it.
Later that night in Paige's hotel suite, she didn’t expect to hear a knock. Most of the players were at a rooftop event about two blocks away sponsored by Gatorade, including all of her teammates. She ducked out early, said she had a headache. But she needed to get away and breathe.
The knock was quiet. Hesitant.
She didn’t need to ask who it was.
Azzi was in the hallway, hands in her pockets, hair damp from the shower. Her face was careful like she knew she shouldn’t be here, but somehow came anyway.
Paige stepped back, the door still open to let her fully into the room.
Neither of them said anything right away. Azzi walked in slow, looking around like she really expected this to feel more different than it did. Paige closed the door behind her and leaned on it.
Azzi turned back to face her. Her voice was soft. "I don’t know why I came."
Paige swallowed. "I do."
They stared at each other across the room, the air buzzing like something electric was between them.
"I’ve missed you," Paige said.
Azzi didn’t speak, she just took two quiet steps forward. Then another until she was close enough that Paige could feel her breath.
"I can’t stop thinking about you when I shouldn’t," Azzi whispered. Her voice cracked at the end.
Paige’s hand found her waist. "You think I’ve stopped?"
She kissed her before Azzi could answer. And it was like no time had passed, like nothing had ever changed. Azzi melted into her like she was still that freshman sneaking into Paige’s dorm after the lights out. Like her body remembered where to fit, where to hold, where to break.
They made it to the bed slowly, almost reverently, like they were scared it wouldn't last. Azzi clung to Paige like she had been holding on to this want for months. Paige kissed her like she was starving.
Afterward, they didn’t say anything for a while. They just laid there together, skin still damp with sweat, and breath still rattled.
Azzi curled into her body, resting her head on Paige’s chest. Her fingers drummed against her ribs. A rhythm Paige hadn’t felt in a year but knew by heart.
"I told myself I wouldn’t do this," Azzi murmured.
"I told myself I wouldn’t let you," Paige whispered back.
They both knew they were lying.
—
Back in Present Day - Azzi’s Apartment, Minnesota
They didn't intend for this to happen. At least, that's what Paige would tell herself later, when she was back in her hotel room, heart pounding with a kind of ache that can't be soothed away with sleep.
But now, Azzi's lips were on hers. Her fingers were wrapped up tightly in Paige's hoodie. Their bodies already remembering the familiar rhythm before they committed to any actual movements.
It was always like this.
Azzi didn’t just kiss her, she clung to her…like Paige was the only thing keeping her steady.. Like she hadn't just spent the whole day pretending to play house with someone else.
And Paige let herself be kissed. Let herself be pulled into the bedroom like a secret. Like a mistake that was already half made. Her pulse felt like it was pounding in her throat, louder than the faint music thumping in the hall, louder than the rational voice in her head screaming don’t do this again.
But she did.
Because her body didn't care about logic.
It only knew Azzi.
The lights in the bedroom were dim, maybe on purpose or maybe out of habit. But Paige could still see Emma's shadows everywhere.
A sweater thrown over the back of a chair. A pair of socks rolled up on the floor. A half burned candle on the nightstand that smelled like pumpkin, a scent that Paige knew Azzi hated.
Paige swallowed hard as her eyes caught the headboard. She thought back to the last time she'd been here, when the candle hadn't existed.
Azzi was reaching for her again, and Paige let herself forget.
Let herself fall.
They kissed harder now. Azzi's mouth was familiar and warm, their hands were grasping at anything they could in a way that felt frantic. Paige gently pushed her onto the bed, climbed over her like muscle memory, and swallowed the whine that escaped Azzi’s mouth when they connected at the hips.
Clothes were stripped away in a hurry, like they needed skin to speak what words couldn’t.
Azzi was warm and gasping underneath her, whispering Paige's name like it was something sacred, like it was the only thing that mattered.
Paige kissed a path down her body, slow and passionate, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She wanted to claim her. To brand her. To make her feel her long after the moment had passed.
But even with Azzi quivering beneath her, begging and arching and clutching the sheets, Paige could still smell Emma on the pillow, could still picture her in the closet door that was left half-open and could feel her in the way Azzi hesitated before saying her name too loud.
It’s like she was always in the room.
Afterward, Paige lay back, sheets sticky on her damp skin, chest still raising and falling like she was coming down from something she'd barely survived.
Azzi was curled on her side, one hand resting on Paige’s stomach, her breath ghosting over her shoulder.
It should've felt good. Safe. Familiar. Like falling into something soft after months of bracing for the fall.
But it didn't.
It felt like pretending. Like putting on an old hoodie that still stinks like someone else. Like saying I love you without opening your mouth.
Paige stared up at the ceiling, her chest still rising and falling slowly. Her skin was cooling, but the heat of Azzi’s body pressed close beside her hadn’t faded.
One of Azzi's fingers traced low circles over the curve of her stomach too lightly to be comforting. Too lightly to be real.
Her other hand was still curled in the sheets between them like she was struggling not to reach for more.
The silence stretched between them.
Paige's throat burned. Her fingers twitched where they lay on the pillow, restless, tense, and biting just under the skin. She turned her head slightly, eyes on the ceiling, voice quiet, unsteady.
"Do you love her?"
The weight of the question settled like a rock dropped into still water. Everything stopped.
Azzi didn't move, she didn't breathe. The circles paused, her fingertips stood still taping and teasing, inches above Paige's skin.
The air between them thickened. It was dense with unspoken things, and memories that didn’t belong in this bed.
Paige let the silence fill the air. She didn't try to cut it short or break it, she just let it stretch and push against her ribs as though it wanted to see what would break first. When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige finally turned her head.
Azzi's jaw was clenched, still staring at the blanket bunched around her waist. She looked like someone either about to jump off the roof of a very tall building or just waiting to be pushed.
Paige didn't look away.
One beat passed. Two.
Finally, Azzi broke the silence. Her voice was soft and worn. "No."
Just that. Nothing else.
But Paige heard it. The way she'd caught her breath. The way her lips stayed parted like there was more trying to crawl out.
Her gut twisted. She narrowed her eyes just a little more. "But..?" she whispered.
Azzi pressed her lips together again and curled her shoulders like she always did when she was trying to disappear. She didn’t lift her head, or meet Paige’s eyes.
"It's complicated,” she said.
Paige laughed, bitter and humorless. She pushed herself up, and the sheet slid down her bare back in the process, as she roughly pulled her hair out of her face in frustration. The heat from Azzi's fingers still burned on her skin, and the heat in her chest felt like a totally different thing.
Two years. That's how long it had been. Two years with Emma. Of toothbrushes in the bathroom, framed pictures, shared furniture and shopping lists, and Instagram posts that made it seem so effortless.
Paige stared across the room at nothing in particular, and let the words force their way out.
“You’ve been with her for two years,” she said quietly, her voice flat. “So that has to mean something, right?”
Azzi blinked at her, already beginning to curl the blanket around her body like armor.
Paige didn't wait for an answer. "That's not a casual thing. You don't just accidentally spend two years with someone."
Azzi opened her mouth in objection, but instead shut it tightly. Her hands were gripping the blanket with white knuckles.
“She’s funny,” Paige continued on, her voice trembling. “She’s good to you. She roots for you. You always got someone to go home to after a loss, someone who doesn’t make all of this so… complicated.”
Azzi flinched, the last word sliced through the air of the room. "Paige..."
"No, I mean it," Paige cut her off, speaking softer, sounding almost physically pained that she had to say the words but needed to. “I get it. She’s easy. I’m not. I never was.”
Azzi sat up slowly, her eyes searching, her throat was tight. "It's not about easy."
"Isn't it?" Paige asked, looking back over her shoulder, as she turned to face her sleepily. “You and I… we were never light. We were fire and pressure and things we never said out loud. And maybe it was too much. But with her, you don’t have to think too hard. You don’t have to feel everything all at once.”
Azzi turned her head away, afraid to look into those blue eyes.
Paige drew in a tight, shaky breath. "If I’m the thing holding you back from something real with her...I don't want that."
Azzi's head snapped back around. "You’re not."
Paige rolled her eyes at this declaration. She wasn't angry, just so worn down. "But maybe I am. I can't keep doing this if it means you’re staying stuck between a thing that's real and something you won’t let go."
Azzi had no words to say. Her hands twisted and knotted in the edge of the blanket. Her shoulders curled inward, like she was trying to make herself small enough to escape the questions that hung in the air like a full balloon, waiting for someone to pop it.
Paige watched her, with no intention of breaking the silence. She could still taste Azzi on her tongue. She could still feel the shape of Azzi's body pressed against her from moments ago. She could still hear Azzi straining breathlessly to say her name.
But even with all of that, she had no clue what Azzi wanted.
She wasn't sure Azzi did either.
The silence stretched around them until it ached. Then slowly, Azzi reached out, fingers brushing the back of Paige's hand. It was careful. Like the featherweight touch had weight, like she knew she didn't deserve to be held but couldn't help but reach out anyway.
Paige hesitated and her jaw tightened.
But then, slowly…she let their fingers tangle.
Because as much as it hurt, as much as she hated what this had become, she still wasn’t ready to walk away.
Not yet.