Chapter Text
Paige Bueckers was 16 the first time she realized what it meant to love someone with her whole being.
Now 22, she’s still realizing what it means, and what it takes, to keep that love.
Paige had never been one for the dramatics of “love at first sight” or “saving herself” for somebody, or any of that bullshit. But then she met Azzi Fudd, and that all changed.
It’s not like she magically fell in love the first time she saw Azzi, but it nevertheless was a quick slide down until Azzi held Paige’s world in her hands. It stayed that way for years, Paige tethered to Azzi across miles and states or just a walk to the next dorm room. No matter the distance, they kept an unconditional love for each other, made possible by the bonds only two young teenage girls could make; it’s a special type of love, to become best friends with somebody so fast.
But when that love warped and started changing, Paige didn’t know what to do with it or herself. All she knew was that she never wanted to stop being a part of Azzi’s world.
And she’d take however much Azzi was willing to give, even if that meant keeping this new kind of love a secret.
Paige was never any good at secrets.
— — — — —
November 2023
Paige is sitting on the athletic trainer’s table in the treatment room getting her quad scraped. The contrast of the cool cream and the hard press of the scraper into her muscle hurts in the best way; plus, she knows it’ll make her feel better come morning. KK’s sitting on the table across from her, telling her a stupid story about her messed up food order from that morning.
She’s not really listening, just nodding and humming at the right moments. Her mind replays last night’s events on a loop, the reserved look on Azzi’s face as she ignored Paige and shut the door in her face.
KK notices, of course.
“Bro. Snap outta it. Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” KK literally snaps a hand in front of Paige’s face, and the room comes back into focus, mainly KK’s annoyed face.
Paige reaches out to slap KK’s hand away. “Yeah, yeah, something about your food?” She looks up to KK, waiting for her to confirm this.
KK’s face contorts in disbelief, and she throws her hands up.
“Yeah, maybe five stories ago. Where’s your head at?”
The trainer, Madison, working at her quad taps her hip in a signal to flip over so her other quad can get scraped, so Paige just quickly flips KK off instead of responding. She doesn’t really have the capacity to try and explain where her ‘head is at’ without wanting to bang her head into the wall.
Repeatedly.
Madison applies the cream to her left quad and starts scraping it into her skin. Paige grits her teeth at the first press of the tool digging into her sore muscles.
She hears KK scoff behind her, stand up, and move so she’s back in Paige’s line of vision.
“Nuh-uh. Nice try, Bueckers. You don’t get to straight up ignore me and then my question too.” KK puts her hands on her hips like a disappointed mom and it makes the corners of Paige’s mouth twitch up a little.
KK doesn’t like this either, and she puts a little determination into her voice as she prods Paige. “C’mon, bro.”
“Alright, alright. Calm down. It’s nothing. I’m just tired and sore and ready to go lay in my bed and do nothing for a couple of hours.”
It’s bullshit and KK knows it.
Luckily, KK seems to take note of the exhaustion Paige is sure is written all over her face, and gives her grace.
“Okay. I know there’s more, but I gotta head to my Econ class.” She looks at Paige like she’s trying to pry her way into Paige’s head.
It’s annoying and a little unnerving.
“Actually get some rest, will you?” KK adds as she turns to walk out of the room.
Paige has enough kindness in her to actually respond, so she just yells back “Will do.”
It’s a lie. Paige knows it, KK knows it, and Paige thinks Madison might know it too, because she blatantly laughs at Paige.
“What?” Paige asks. “Don’t tell me you don’t believe me either.”
Madison finally relents with the scraping, using a towel to wipe off the remnants of cream on Paige’s leg. She doesn’t seem to want to also relent with teasing Paige.
Madison sets down the tool as she responds, “Paige. We both know that whatever that was,” she references the general direction where KK was previously standing, “was not slick. I believe that you’ll attempt to get some rest, but you’re also a 20 year-old college kid on a Friday night.”
“22,” Paige mumbles, but she doesn’t have much else to say to Madison’s statement. She’s right about one thing– on a normal Friday night, she’d be hanging with the girls, maybe drinking a bit. The team has an away game on Sunday, so no going out.
But on this Friday night, she doesn’t plan to interact with anyone. Especially not the team. Because that’d mean Azzi would be there, and she doesn’t think she has the pride to see her so soon after last night.
Madison just gives her two taps in lieu of acknowledging Paige’s remark. “Go home, Paige. Good job today.”
Paige swings her legs so her body is facing the side of the table, her socked feet just barely touching the floor.
“I will. Thanks.”
A hum in response, footsteps padding to the back of the room where the offices are, the click of a door closing, then Paige is truly alone.
She sighs.
Life can be fucking confusing sometimes, and this past week has been exactly that. Hell, the past month. Paige has no idea when the shift first started– could’ve been a couple of weeks ago, one year, maybe even years.
She knows that’s when the shift started for her. Azzi, however, remains a mystery. She won’t acknowledge that there is a shift, which hurts the most.
It’s like she enjoys looking Paige dead in the eyes and denying that she feels even a little something for Paige. It’s killing Paige. It’s a gouge in her pride, in her heart. But like any cut, it heals itself eventually.
And Paige’s Azzi-laid wounds have learned how to heal themselves quickly over the years.
The issue is that the scarring has gotten too noticeable for Paige to let it keep happening. Actually, the worse issue may be that Azzi is noticing it now too. That’s what’s so fucked up about this whole situation.
Azzi now knows what she’s doing, how she’s hurting Paige, but she went ahead and did it again.
She sighs again, resigned.
Paige hops off the table, shoves her feet into her shoes, leans down to pick up her bag, and leaves.
She forgets to turn off the light.
— — — — —
July 2017
The low hum of the engine was covered up by the hustle of people walking down the aisle, light grunting as people lifted their bags into the overhead bin, and polite asks of ‘can I sit here?’ But Azzi blocked it out, choosing to instead focus on the blue baggage carts and the slow, lazy circles one is currently making around the tarmac. Her airpods are in, but no music is playing– she doesn’t know what she’d put on anyways. Her music taste needs some help these days, and after a long week spent at USA tryouts, she just needs to sit back and think.
She spoke too soon, though, as right as that thought crosses her mind, she hears a far too enthusiastic ‘Azzi!’ for this time in the morning. She turns her head, and sees blonde hair, a bright smile, and the six feet of gangly limbs that make up Paige Bueckers.
She hasn’t seen her since yesterday, when Team USA had one final team dinner.
Slightly out of breath from practically jogging down the aisle towards Azzi, Paige asks “What are you doing on this flight?”
Azzi gives her a quizzical look, shaking her head at Paige’s question. “Um…flying back home?” Azzi laughs at the further look of confusion on Paige’s face. “What else would I be doing?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Paige mumbles, looking slightly embarrassed. “I guess I just didn’t realize you also lived in Minnesota, like, how did I not know that…” she trails off, shaking her head at herself as she moves to put her own suitcase in the overhead bin.
Before Azzi can respond, she watches as Paige’s hoodie rises up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach, and she quickly averts her eyes, not wanting to feel like a creep.
Once Paige is finished, she shuffles sideways and plops down next to Azzi in the middle seat. She leans over and whispers, almost giddy, “If we’re lucky, no one will take the aisle spot and then we’ll have the whole row to ourselves.” Paige leans back, a smile on her face, “should I cough and act sick or something?”
Azzi laughs. “No! Oh my god, Paige, you’re so unserious. It’s fine if someone takes that spot, it’s not like it’ll be the end of the world.”
Azzi’s slightly overwhelmed with how energetic and happy Paige is to be sitting with her, and the sudden attention after hours of standing alone in long airport lines is dizzying.
Paige just rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “Coulda been fun, but whatever you say, Az.” She hesitates for a second, before clarifying, “Can I call you that?”
“Call me what?”
“Az.”
“Oh. Yeah. Some of my friends back home call me that, but not many.”
Paige’s smile returns at that. “So, I’m like, special?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Welllll…” Paige drags out the syllable, “I would.”
Paige’s assertiveness makes Azzi flush a little. No one’s ever been so quick to want to be her friend. Even though they’ve been spending time with each other the past few weeks, this feels different. It’s more concentrated, instead of brief talks between practices and games.
Not knowing exactly how to respond but still a little baffled at the girl’s confidence, Azzi’s turn rolls her eyes. “Alright, big time. Anyways, you got me sidetracked– I’m not actually from Minnesota.” She looks as Paige eyebrows turn down, looking somehow even more confused.
“Ok that’s what I thought, but why are you going there?” Her expression turns more teasing, “You keeping secrets or ‘sum?”
Azzi resists the urge to roll her eyes again. “No, my grandparents live there on the lake and my family visits them every summer.”
“Oh wait, that's sick! What part of Minnesota?”
Azzi's smile turns sheepish, “Uh I honestly don’t know, I just fly in to Minny then we drive to them.” She shifts in her seat, hoping Paige doesn’t notice her embarrassment at not knowing the town of a place she’s been to since she was a child.
Paige just laughs, “Fair. I’m not the best with directions either.” She leans down to shove her backpack under her seat as the flight attendant makes her rounds, then turns her attention back to Azzi.
“So, how long are you in Minnesota for?”
“A little over a week. Ten days, I think.” Azzi watches as Paige continues to situate herself, shifting in her seat and spreading her long legs out. She looks annoyingly comfortable, an effortless poise for someone about to be stuck in a floating box for the next 8 hours. It bothers Azzi, but she doesn’t really know why.
“Sick,” Paige responds. “What’s your favorite part of visiting your family?”
These back-and-forth questions go on for the entire flight, with Paige doing the majority of the questioning and answering. Azzi is amazed at her ability to always come up with a new topic, and it’s slightly overwhelming.
And endearing.
They end up waiting for their luggage together, a comfortable silence about them.
Azzi spots her suitcase and points, “Oh, thank god. I see mine.”
Paige turns her head in the direction Azzi’s pointing. “The black one with the pink tag?”
Azzi nods her head, affirming.
“Aight, lemme go get it.” Paige begins to move closer to the baggage claim, ignoring Azzi’s slight protest
“That’s really not nec-”
“I got it, Az. For real.”
Azzi notes Paige’s use of the nickname and her protests die out.
She watches Paige lift her 50 lb suitcase with minimal effort, the casualness of the act– both doing it and how she’s doing it– getting to her.
She decidedly chooses to ignore this, instead thanking Paige without really looking her in the eyes.
Out of courtesy, Azzi waits until Paige spots her bag, retrieves it, then rolls it back to where Azzi’s standing.
Looking her up and down as if making sure everything’s in place, Paige asks, “Okay, we good to go? I think we both gotta be in the same place for pickup.”
Jesus. Is Azzi ever gonna get away from this girl?
“Okay,” Azzi nods dumbly, following Paige to Terminal 2 where their parents are waiting to pick them up.
It feels easy, almost natural, to let Paige take the lead and for Azzi to follow her.
And as Azzi watches Paige’s blonde ponytail sway slightly with her movements, mesmerizing, she gets the sense she might be following her farther than she realizes.
— — — — —
November 2023
The following morning comes quickly, which is a blessing, to say the least. Paige successfully avoided the team last night, so no unexpected Azzi run-ins.
Reluctantly, Paige shoves her duvet off her body and starts getting ready for the day.
Morning lift, practice, recovery. Then the team leaves for their game against Villanova.
Fucking Villanova.
It’s not that it’s a rivalry or anything– UConn beats their asses every year. They just piss Paige off. Probably because they’re the Big East team that comes closest to beating UConn, and some of their players act like being able to beat all the other Big East teams grants them the opportunity to talk shit. It’s funny but infuriating that they can never back it up.
The one good thing Paige has going today is that it’s a Saturday, so no classes– there’s always a rough adjustment period when the season starts kicking in and the team is on planes and in hotel rooms more than they are in Storrs.
She reminds herself to get extra reps in after practice, both shooting and for her physical therapy– coming back from injury sucks, but Paige is on a mission this season. Geno’ll tell her to take it easy because of the game tomorrow, but Paige will ignore him.
She’ll pay for it later.
Paige is consistently the first player in the gym every day, and the lights are normally still off when she enters the facility. Today, she can see light seeping in from the gym, the faint sound of a ball hitting hardwood signalling one of her teammates must’ve gotten here before her.
Curious, she pushes open the gymnasium’s doors, and their eyes meet immediately.
Azzi looks startled, like this was the last thing she expected. Which, considering she knows Paige more than herself, so she knows Paige gets to the gym early, she should’ve anticipated this, if Paige is being honest.
“Oh, I- sorry,” Azzi starts. She still looks like a deer in headlights, and it makes Paige want to laugh. Normally, she would. Not today. “Did you…” Azzi trails off, trying her best to look anywhere but at Paige.
Paige clears her throat. She wasn’t expecting to see anyone yet, let alone Azzi. Azzi’s still out for injury, so she’s just shooting from the free throw line, knee still wrapped. Paige has no idea what to say or if she should even say anything; she’s still bent out of shape about two nights ago.
UConn did a wonderful job of constructing this practice facility, and Paige is suddenly appreciative of the early morning light streaming through the windows that are illuminating part of Azzi’s face. Even upset with her, even angry, Paige will always appreciate Azzi’s beauty. She looks tired– hair in a messy bun, shirt rumpled, eyes downcast, but the light is making her hair glow on the ends and she still looks beautiful, and Paige, well.
Paige is still in love with her.
“Nah, you’re good.” Paige can hear how rough her voice sounds, and she refrains from wincing.
Azzi looks up at her response, nodding slightly. She bounces the ball once, twice.
Paige awkwardly nods back and turns around to leave, sensing this conversation isn’t going anywhere.
As she’s pushing the door open, already thinking of what warmup she should do in the lifting area instead, she hears a soft “Bye, Paige” from behind her. Paige halts at the door, one foot out. It sounds like Azzi sighed the two words, a little guilty and hesitant. Paige understands the feeling.
“Bye, Az.” Paige keeps moving, letting the door close behind her.
Paige tries her best to shake off the interaction, getting to work on her dynamic warmups before the rest of the team trickles in for their lift. As per usual, the team brings good vibes and energy, and soon the gym is bustling with activity. By the time Azzi enters, Paige is preoccupied with the others, but she doesn’t miss the way Azzi purposefully avoids getting too close.
Paige just hopes everyone else misses it. The last thing she needs is KK prodding her for more information like she was doing yesterday. Paige absolutely despises drama and gossip– she likes to keep the main thing the main thing. Not everybody needs to be in everybody’s business all the damn time, but KK loves doing exactly that. God bless her.
Speaking of which, KK leads the pack to get ready for their practice, yelling out chants no one but her knows.
Practice is good. Paige likes the burn in her lungs and her legs when Geno runs them ragged, likes when practice is hard and unenjoyable. Paige can feel Azzi’s eyes from the sideline, tracking her when she’s shouting out plays or when she makes a drive to the basket.
Paige has always had a sixth sense for Azzi, whether on the court or off. She misses Azzi on the court. She misses Azzi in her bed. She misses Azzi everywhere. Azzi’s right there, ten feet away, but the distance has never felt so far.
Geno’s voice pulls Paige out of her thoughts. “Paige, come here.”
Paige nods, jogging towards him, slowing down as she approaches. “What’s up?
“You ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He gives her a long look. “You gonna try and overwork yourself today before we leave?”
“No.” Paige has started to pick up on a pattern in her life recently– she keeps spitting little white lies to people who know she’s not telling the truth. Her left arm aches and her leg muscles feel tight. Geno knows this even if he doesn’t really know it.
He just huffs a laugh, seeing right through her. “It’s your funeral.”
Paige knows this, of course she does. “Don’t worry, I’ve been going easy,” she adds. She’s not a complete idiot– she’s not going to literally overwork herself coming back from injury, much less 24 hours before a game. It's just…extra practice.
Basketball has been the one constant in Paige’s life for as long as she can remember, and she turns to it when life gets hard. This past week has been hard, and the only way she knows how to cope is to work hard and play hard. So.
Paige ends up putting up extra reps.