Twenty One

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The clink of basketballs bouncing, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, the distant chatter of teammates warming up—all of it faded into the background as I stood there, watching Paige.

She was across the court, in her usual spot, going through her warm-up routine with a laser-focused intensity that always made my heart race. She had that effect on me. It wasn't just her skills on the court—though, damn, watching her handle the ball was like watching a piece of art in motion—but the way she carried herself. Confident, unapologetic. Strong.

It wasn't just physical strength; it was the way she owned every space she walked into, whether it was on the court or in the locker room, or even just here, in the gym, where I was trying to keep my focus on the task at hand—taking pictures of the team in action. But it wasn't working. Not today. Today, all I could think about was her.

I could see Paige out of the corner of my eye, glancing over every few seconds, as if she knew I was staring. And, to be honest, I couldn't really blame her. I'd been doing it for a while now. I'd gotten good at pretending to be focused on the shots I was getting, but every time she moved, my camera lost its focus, and I ended up capturing the empty spaces between us.

The sound of someone calling my name snapped me out of my daze.

"Inds! You in there?"

I blinked, catching sight of Nika standing near the edge of the court, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here!" I called back, raising my camera to cover my awkwardness. I adjusted the lens and took a few quick shots of the team, hoping it would help me look busy. Nika didn't miss a beat.

"Uh-huh, sure you are," she said, her voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "I can tell you're totally paying attention to the game right now."

I shot her a glance, but I couldn't keep the smile from tugging at my lips. Nika always knew how to call me out without making me feel too exposed.

"Whatever," I said, trying to deflect. "I'm working. Can't help it if my subject's a little distracting today."

"Oh? Who's the subject?" Nika asked with a raised eyebrow, her grin widening as she leaned in.

I knew where this was going. "Don't start with me," I warned, even though I couldn't hide the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

But Nika wasn't having it. "Oh, I think I will. So... who's distracting you, huh? Is it the lovely P?"

"Not funny," I muttered, trying to focus on my camera again, though my mind was still with Paige, my gaze inevitably finding her once more.

"I don't know, India," Nika continued, stepping closer, "Seems like you're looking at her like she's the one who can solve all your problems."

I shifted uncomfortably, pulling the camera strap tighter over my shoulder. "I'm not looking at her like that."

"Uh-huh," Nika teased. "You keep telling yourself that. Anyway, game's about to start. Just don't make me the one who has to explain it to everyone when you two can't keep your hands off each other."

"Nika," I warned, but she was already backing away, her smile growing even more wicked as she jogged off to rejoin the rest of the team.

I sighed, setting the camera down for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle in. What was happening between Paige and me? I still couldn't figure it out. One moment, we were just friends—teammates who had each other's backs, who shared jokes and sweat, who understood the grind. The next? There was this unspoken tension, a pull I couldn't escape. Every time she looked at me, or touched my arm, or smiled like she meant it—really meant it—I felt it.

Before I could spiral too much, a whistle sounded, and I quickly grabbed my camera again. The team was lining up for practice, getting ready for a drill, and I knew it was time to focus.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change—something bigger than either of us had realized.

The practice was intense, as it always was, but today it felt different. The players were pushing themselves harder, the energy in the room thick with anticipation. It was clear that everyone was gearing up for the big game this weekend. Coach was barking instructions as usual, but even his usual no-nonsense demeanor seemed more focused today, like he knew something was at stake. Maybe it was the pressure of the upcoming game, or maybe it was just the atmosphere that had gotten into everyone's heads.

As Paige moved through the drills, she stood out even more than usual. Her movements were fluid, like a machine working in perfect harmony, but there was a fire in her eyes—a certain edge that had sharpened over the past few days. She was playing harder, faster, and I could see it in the way her body tensed when she made a shot or blocked someone. Her game had always been good, but today? It was on another level.

And I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

"Inds!" Lou called out, snapping me from my trance. "Quit staring and get those shots! You're letting her steal your focus."

I chuckled, raising my camera. "Not happening, Lou. I'm trying to get some good shots of all of you."

"Sure, sure," she said, smirking, before running off to join the rest of the team.

But as I adjusted the lens again, my gaze kept drifting back to Paige. It was like everything else had fallen away, and all that mattered was her—her movements, the way she dominated the court, and the way she made me feel every time she glanced in my direction.

After a few minutes, Paige caught my eye again, her lips curving into a slight grin. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what she was thinking, but I didn't have time to analyze it because she was already back in the thick of the drill.

But then—then—she did something unexpected.

During a fast break, Paige broke away from her defender, driving toward the hoop with that aggressive, confident energy I'd seen so many times. But instead of taking the shot herself, she passed it mid-air to Nika, who was in perfect position to make a clean layup.

The play was flawless, but it was the look on Paige's face afterward that got me. She wasn't satisfied with just the execution of the play. She was looking at me.

And she didn't break eye contact.

I felt a jolt of heat shoot through me, and it wasn't just from the rush of excitement from the game. No, this was something different. Something deeper. My breath caught in my throat as Paige gave me that smile—just a slight twitch of her lips, but enough to make my heart skip.

For the first time, I realized I wasn't just watching Paige—I was feeling everything she was putting out. Every ounce of confidence, every pulse of electricity. The energy between us was palpable.

Before I could react, the drill ended, and the team huddled together, the usual post-practice debriefing taking place. But as I packed up my gear, my mind was still on her. And as I walked out of the gym, I realized that for the first time in a long while, I wasn't afraid of what was coming next.

Later that evening, after I'd managed to slip away from the chaos of the locker room, I found myself standing in front of my phone, hovering over a message I'd been meaning to send to Paige. I had no idea what I wanted to say. Nothing seemed quite right.

Hey, P. You good?

Simple. Direct. But maybe, just maybe, it was enough to show her that I was ready to take that first step.

With one last glance at the screen, I hit send.