Thirteen

The energy in the gym was winding down. Post-practice chatter echoed faintly off the walls as players gathered their gear and made plans for the afternoon. I was finishing up a quick review of my shots, deleting a few blurry ones, when a shadow fell over me.

"Whatcha working on, Baby Girl?"

I didn't even have to look up. Paige. That voice could cut through any crowd and somehow always find me.

"Just making sure none of these photos embarrass you," I replied without missing a beat, still scrolling through the images.

"Embarrass me?" she scoffed, settling onto the bleacher beside me, her knee brushing mine. "I don't embarrass, Inds. You know that."

I finally glanced up, and she was grinning down at me, her damp hair pulled back into a messy bun, her cheeks still flushed from practice. It was unfair how good she looked, even after hours of running drills.

"Well," I said, tilting my camera toward her, "this one might change your mind."

She leaned closer to look, and I regretted showing her instantly. The shot I had on display was a mid-sprint action shot, her face frozen in a weird half-snarl that was decidedly less flattering than the rest.

"Wow," she said after a beat, her voice deadpan. "Artistic. You really captured my essence here."

I laughed, unable to help myself. "See? Even you can't be perfect all the time."

"Speak for yourself," she fired back, and the way her eyes lingered on me a moment too long made my stomach flip.

The rest of the team was starting to filter out, their voices fading into the background as I packed up my camera. Paige stayed, though, leaning back on the bleachers and stretching out like she had all the time in the world.

"You sticking around, Mama?" I asked, zipping up my bag.

"Thinking about it," she said, her tone casual but her gaze steady on me. "What about you?"

I shrugged. "Probably heading back to edit these. Game day tomorrow, so I'm on a deadline."

Her lips quirked. "Dedicated. I like that."

"Gotta be," I said lightly, trying not to read too much into her words.

As I made my way toward the exit, she fell into step beside me, her stride unhurried.

"You hungry?" she asked, and the casualness of it caught me off guard.

"Are you?" I countered, glancing up at her.

"Always," she replied with a grin. "Come on. My treat."

I hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Fine. But only because I skipped breakfast."

She laughed, opening the gym door for me. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Baby Girl."

We ended up at a low-key spot off campus, one of those diners with sticky booths and a menu that hasn't changed in decades. It was cozy and quiet, the kind of place where no one would bother us.

Paige slid into the booth across from me, her long legs stretching out under the table. I barely had time to settle in before she was already scanning the menu like it held the secrets of the universe.

"You come here a lot?" I asked, setting my camera bag on the seat beside me.

"Sometimes," she said. "It's good for clearing my head."

I hummed, watching her. "And you needed that today?"

Her eyes flicked up to mine, and for a second, the playful mask she always wore slipped. "Something like that."

It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, even for a moment—and it tugged at something in me.

The food arrived quickly—pancakes for her, a burger for me—and the conversation turned lighter.

"So, how'd you get into photography?" she asked, spearing a piece of her pancake.

I leaned back, considering the question. "It started as a hobby. My dad gave me my first camera when I was twelve, and I just... never put it down. It's the one thing that's always made sense to me."

Her gaze softened. "Sounds like you were meant for it."

"Maybe," I said, feeling a little shy under her scrutiny. "What about you? Always knew you'd play basketball?"

She smirked. "Pretty much. My parents say I was dribbling a ball before I could walk."

"That tracks," I said, laughing. "You've got the confidence for it."

"Confidence?" she repeated, her grin turning cocky. "That's one way to put it."

As we finished eating, the conversation shifted to the game tomorrow.

"Tennessee's tough," I said. "You ready for it?"

She nodded, her expression sharpening. "Always. But it's not just about me—it's about the team. We've got each other's backs, no matter what."

Her words struck me, not just because of what she said, but how she said it. There was a fire in her, a quiet intensity that went beyond the court.

"You really love this," I said softly.

She looked at me then, her eyes searching mine. "I do. But it's not just the game—it's the people. The team. It's... everything."

On the ride back to campus, the car was quiet, the weight of her words lingering between us.

When she pulled up outside my apartment, she turned to me, her expression unreadable.

"Thanks for coming out tonight," she said, her voice low.

"Thanks for inviting me," I replied, gripping my camera bag a little tighter.

For a moment, it felt like she might say more, but then she just smiled—soft and a little crooked.

"See you tomorrow, Baby Girl."

"See you, Mama," I said, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind me.

As I watched her drive away, I couldn't shake the feeling that something between us had shifted again—subtle, but undeniable. And this time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to stop it.

I stood outside my apartment building for a moment longer than necessary, staring down the street where Paige's car had disappeared. The night was quiet, the distant hum of traffic the only sound, but my thoughts were loud, buzzing with the kind of energy Paige always seemed to leave in her wake.

It wasn't just what she'd said tonight—it was how she'd looked at me, like she was peeling back the layers of something neither of us had been ready to acknowledge until now.

I sighed and adjusted my camera bag, heading inside. The fluorescent lights in the hallway were harsh and unflattering, a stark contrast to the soft glow of Paige's smile still playing in my mind.

Once inside my apartment, I set my bag on the table and powered up my laptop. Editing was usually my escape—a way to lose myself in the rhythm of color correction and cropping. But tonight, I was restless.

I scrolled through the photos from practice, pausing on one of Paige. It was a candid shot, taken in a moment when she wasn't the center of the action. She was standing near the sideline, a towel around her neck, laughing at something I hadn't caught on camera. Her expression was open, unguarded, and so distinctly her that my chest ached.

"Get it together, India," I muttered to myself, leaning back in my chair.

But the truth was, I couldn't. Not when it came to Paige.

———

The next morning, I was up early, caffeine pumping through my veins as I finished the last round of edits. Game day always felt electric, and I thrived on the pressure of getting everything ready in time.

When I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor and the rhythmic thump of basketballs echoed in the cavernous space.

"Morning, Inds!" Nika shouted, waving as I set up my equipment.

"Morning," I called back, giving her a quick thumbs-up.

The rest of the team followed suit, throwing greetings my way as they ran drills. Azzi jogged over to peek at my setup, her curiosity as endearing as always.

"Got my good side yesterday?" she asked, grinning.

"Always," I said, flipping through a few shots on my camera to show her.

"Damn, you're good," she said, nodding appreciatively. "We're lucky to have you."

I smiled, brushing off the compliment. "You make it easy."

Paige was the last to arrive on the court, and as soon as she walked in, the atmosphere seemed to shift. There was something about her presence—commanding without trying, effortless in a way that made everyone stand a little taller.

She spotted me almost immediately, her eyes narrowing playfully as she jogged over.

"Morning, Baby Girl," she said, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret just between us.

"Morning, Mama," I replied, glancing up from my camera.

"Get my good side yesterday?" she teased, echoing Azzi's earlier question.

"Always," I said, smirking.

"Good," she said, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Because I'm feeling extra photogenic today."

Before I could respond, she was gone, joining the rest of the team for warm-ups.

The game was intense. Tennessee came out strong, their defense relentless, but UConn matched their energy at every turn. The arena was packed, the roar of the crowd vibrating in my chest as I darted along the sidelines, capturing every moment.

Azzi hit a clutch three-pointer in the second quarter that sent the bench into a frenzy. Nika was everywhere, her energy infectious as she dished out assists and harassed the opposing guards. Lou and Aubrey held it down on defense, their chemistry undeniable.

And Paige—Paige was unstoppable.

She played with a fierceness I hadn't seen in her before, her movements sharp and precise, her focus unbreakable. Every time she scored, the crowd erupted, and every time she glanced my way, my heart skipped a beat.

By the time the game ended, UConn had secured the win, the team celebrating at center court as the crowd chanted their names. I stayed on the sidelines, capturing every smile, every hug, every moment of pure, unfiltered joy.

Paige found me afterward, her hair slicked back with sweat, a grin stretching across her face.

"You get all that?" she asked, her voice breathless but triumphant.

"Every second," I replied, holding up my camera.

"Good," she said, stepping closer. "Because tonight, I want to see what you've got."

My eyebrows shot up. "You want me to show you the photos?"

Her grin turned teasing. "Among other things."

Before I could respond, Nika and Azzi crashed into her, dragging her back toward the team for post-game interviews. Paige threw me a wink over her shoulder, and I just stood there, my pulse racing and my cheeks burning.