Two

The next morning, I was already regretting my decision to wear heeled boots. As I clattered down the hallway leading to the gym, juggling my camera bag, tripod, and a venti iced coffee I probably didn't need, my ankle buckled. I stumbled forward but managed to steady myself before disaster struck.

"Careful, Inds!" Azzi's voice rang out. I looked up to see her leaning against the gym doors, her usual cheeky grin plastered on her face. "We can't have our star photographer breaking an ankle before her first real game."

"Thanks, Fudd. Your concern is heartwarming," I muttered, straightening up and pushing past her into the gym.

Inside, the energy was palpable. Tonight's game wasn't just any game—it was the season opener, and the gym was already buzzing with staff, players, and the occasional fan sneaking peeks through the windows.

I scanned the room, taking in the chaos. The coaching staff was huddled near the benches, going over last-minute plays. Aaliyah and Nika were practicing free throws, the former focused and determined while the latter leaned into her usual theatrics, attempting backward shots that mostly failed. Caroline was stretching near the baseline, her earbuds in as she tuned everyone out.

And Paige?

Paige was center stage, of course.

She was running through layup drills, her movements smooth and calculated. She wore a black compression shirt under her practice jersey, and her ponytail swished with every pivot and jump. Even in warm-ups, she exuded a kind of controlled intensity that made it impossible to look away.

Which was exactly why I needed to stop looking.

I shook my head and found a spot near the baseline to set up my gear. Focus, India. This is your job, not a meet-cute.

But before I could even pull out my camera, a familiar voice interrupted.

"You brought that coffee again?"

I didn't need to look up to know who it was. "What's wrong with my coffee, Mama?" I quipped, smirking as I adjusted my tripod.

Paige crouched down next to me, resting her arms on her knees. "It's not coffee, Baby Girl. It's dessert in a cup."

"Says the girl who drinks chocolate milk before every game."

Her smirk faltered for half a second, and I relished the small victory.

"You've been here two days and already know my pre-game routine?" she shot back, leaning in closer. "Obsessed much?"

I rolled my eyes, refusing to let her proximity fluster me. "Please, P. Everyone knows about your chocolate milk obsession. It's basically a personality trait at this point."

Her laugh was low and genuine, and for a split second, I forgot we were surrounded by people. Then Azzi walked by and clapped Paige on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone, P. She actually has work to do."

"I'm just making sure she gets my good side," Paige said, winking at me before jogging back onto the court.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. This girl was going to be the death of me.

The game started fast and furious, the kind of pace that made me grateful for years of practice behind a lens. The UCONN women were in their element, dominating on both ends of the court. Paige, naturally, was the focal point.

She moved like water, her body flowing effortlessly from one play to the next. Every pass, every shot, every defensive move—it was like she was orchestrating the game in real time.

My job was to capture moments, and Paige was giving me plenty. Her fierce concentration, the way she barked orders to her teammates, the rare but genuine smile when a play went perfectly—it was all there.

But it wasn't just Paige. Aaliyah was a powerhouse in the paint, snagging rebounds like her life depended on it. Azzi sank three-pointer after three-pointer, her form picture-perfect. Nika was everywhere, her energy infectious as she trash-talked the opposing team with a mischievous grin.

Still, my lens kept drifting back to Paige. I caught her mid-jump shot, her face a mask of determination. I captured her celebrating after a particularly tricky assist, her fists clenched in triumph. And then there was the candid moment when she glanced toward the bench, a fleeting look of vulnerability that I couldn't quite place.

By halftime, UCONN was up by 15, and the energy in the gym was electric.

"India!" Azzi called, jogging over to me as the team headed into the locker room. "What's the verdict? Are we looking good out there?"

I laughed, flipping through the photos on my camera. "You're looking decent. I'd say Paige is carrying you, though."

Azzi gasped in mock offense. "Take that back, Inds. Right now."

"Make me," I teased, earning a laugh from her as she followed the team off the court.

The second half was even more intense. The opposing team made a brief comeback, cutting the lead to five. The crowd was on edge, and the players were locked in. Paige, as always, was at the center of it all, her voice cutting through the chaos as she rallied her teammates.

"Focus!" she shouted after a missed shot, her tone firm but not harsh. "We've got this!"

They did. By the final buzzer, UCONN had secured a 12-point win, and the gym erupted in cheers.

As the team celebrated on the court, I stayed on the sidelines, snapping shots of the joyous chaos. Paige hugged Azzi, high-fived Nika, and ruffled Aaliyah's hair, her grin as bright as the arena lights.

Then, as if sensing my gaze, she turned and looked right at me.

"Did you get it?" she called over the noise.

"Get what?" I shouted back.

She gestured around her. "This. The win. The moment. All of it."

I lifted my camera and snapped a shot of her standing there, sweat-soaked and victorious, her smile equal parts cocky and genuine.

"Got it," I said, lowering the camera.

Her smirk returned, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the gym.

"Good," she said, jogging off toward the locker room. "Wouldn't want you slacking on your second day, Baby Girl."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the smile creeping onto my face. Paige Bueckers was impossible.