Fourteen

The post-game buzz was still thick in the air as the team trickled out of the locker room, freshly showered and still riding the high of victory. I had tucked myself into a corner near the media area, sifting through the photos I'd taken during the game. Each shot told its own story: Azzi mid-shot with perfect form, Nika throwing a look that could kill after a missed foul call, Paige celebrating a crucial layup with a fist pump and that fierce determination etched across her face.

"Inds!" Nika's voice cut through the noise, pulling me out of my focus. "Did you get my celebration when I sank that three in the second quarter? That was all swag."

I smirked, turning my camera so she could see the sequence. "Swag, huh? I thought that was just your 'I hope this goes in' face."

She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "You wound me, India. You wound me deeply."

Azzi strolled over, shaking her head with an amused grin. "She's right though. That was a prayer, Nika."

Nika rolled her eyes, clearly used to the banter. "Whatever. India knows who the real star is, don't you, babe?"

"Sure," I replied with a laugh. "If by star, you mean the loudest person in the room."

"Hey!" Nika protested, but her grin gave her away.

As the rest of the team gathered around for post-game interviews and media obligations, I found myself snapping candid shots of them interacting. Lou and Aubrey were deep in conversation, their contrasting personalities somehow always in perfect sync. Aaliyah and Dorka were reviewing plays animatedly, their hands flying as they reenacted moments from the game.

And then there was Paige.

She stood a little apart from the group, casually leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her energy was different—calm, grounded, yet still carrying that quiet intensity that made it impossible not to notice her.

She caught me looking, of course. She always did. Her lips quirked into a slow, knowing smile, and she tilted her head slightly as if to say, What are you gonna do about it?

I quickly turned back to my camera, pretending to check something on the screen.

By the time the interviews wrapped up, the arena had mostly cleared out, the crowd dissipating into the chilly night outside. The team was still buzzing, making plans for a late dinner at one of their favorite spots downtown.

"Coming with us, Inds?" Nika asked, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

I shook my head. "Can't. I've got to start editing these."

Nika groaned dramatically. "You're always working. You need to live a little, babe."

"She's living," Paige interjected as she approached, her voice cutting through the chatter. "She's just doing it on her own terms."

Nika smirked, glancing between us. "Uh-huh. Sure."

Azzi grabbed Nika's arm, steering her toward the exit. "Leave her alone. She's an artist."

"An overworked artist," Nika called over her shoulder as they walked away.

"Need a ride?" Paige asked, her tone casual but her eyes anything but.

I hesitated. After last night, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to spend more time alone with her—not when she had this way of making me forget every rule I'd set for myself.

But then she gave me that look—the one that was equal parts challenge and invitation—and I knew I wasn't saying no.

"Sure," I said, slinging my camera bag over my shoulder.

The drive back to my apartment was quiet at first, the hum of the car filling the space between us. Paige had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the console. Her fingers drummed a lazy rhythm that somehow matched the rapid beat of my heart.

"You were in the zone tonight," I said, breaking the silence.

She glanced at me, her lips curving into a slight smile. "Had to be. Tennessee doesn't make it easy."

"You made it look easy."

Her smile deepened, and for a moment, she didn't say anything, just let the compliment hang in the air.

"You're pretty good at what you do too, Baby Girl," she said eventually, her tone softer than I expected.

I felt my cheeks warm, and I turned to look out the window, hoping the darkness would hide my reaction. "Thanks, Mama."

When we pulled up outside my building, Paige didn't immediately turn off the engine. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, her gaze steady on me.

"You working all night again?" she asked, her voice low.

"Probably," I admitted. "Why?"

She tilted her head, considering me. "Because I was thinking about that promise you made yesterday."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Promise?"

"You said you'd show me what you've got," she reminded me, her tone teasing but her eyes serious.

"Oh." My throat felt suddenly dry. "You meant the photos."

She smirked. "What else would I mean?"

The heat in her gaze told me exactly what else she might mean, but I wasn't about to call her out on it.

"Fine," I said, opening the door. "Come up for a bit. But only if you promise not to distract me."

Her laugh was low and rich as she followed me out of the car. "No promises, Baby Girl."

Back in my apartment, I set up my laptop at the dining table while Paige wandered around, taking in the space.

"Cozy," she said, pausing to look at a framed photo on the bookshelf. "Is this your dad?"

"Yeah," I said, glancing over. "He's the reason I got into photography."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful as she studied the photo.

"Okay," I said, clearing my throat. "Focus, Mama. You wanted to see the shots, right?"

She grinned, crossing the room to sit beside me. "Lead the way, Inds."

As I scrolled through the photos, Paige leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing mine. I tried to focus on explaining the shots, but it was impossible to ignore her presence—the warmth of her, the subtle scent of her cologne, the way she hummed appreciatively at the images.

"You're really good at this," she said after a while, her voice quiet.

"Thanks," I murmured, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were.

When I turned to look at her, I realized she wasn't looking at the screen anymore. She was looking at me.

"Paige," I started, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

Her gaze dropped to my lips, and the air between us felt heavy, charged.

I swallowed hard. "You're distracting me."

Her smile was slow, deliberate. "Told you I couldn't make that promise."