Three

The energy in the locker room post-game was a different kind of chaos. Music blared from Nika's speaker—something bass-heavy and loud enough to vibrate through the floor. Aaliyah was perched on a bench, scrolling through her phone, while Azzi stood by the mirror fixing her ponytail, still hyped from the win. Even Coach Geno, who I imagined was usually all business, had cracked a rare smile during his final remarks.

I hung back in the corner, camera slung over my shoulder, trying to decide if now was the time to pack up or keep shooting. The candid moments after a game—exhaustion mixing with elation—were some of my favorites to capture. But blending into the background was a little harder with this group.

"Inds, you're still here?" Azzi's voice rang out over the music.

"Of course," I said, raising my camera. "The job isn't done until I have at least ten embarrassing pictures of you for the archives."

Azzi laughed, striking an exaggerated pose. "You mean ten incredible pictures of me. It's called being photogenic."

"Sure, if that's what helps you sleep at night," I teased.

The exchange caught the attention of Nika, who turned her head and grinned. "Oh, she's got jokes, huh? Careful, Azzi. Don't let Baby Girl here take you down."

My face heated. Baby Girl. Again with that nickname. Paige had made sure it stuck after last night, and now the entire team was using it like a personal challenge to see how many times they could make me blush.

Speak of the devil.

"Baby Girl still here? That dedication," Paige said as she emerged from the showers, a towel slung over her shoulders and her jersey half-tucked into her sweats.

I fought the urge to groan. She looked infuriatingly good, all fresh-faced and smug, her hair damp and curling at the edges.

"Just doing my job, Mama," I replied without missing a beat, throwing her nickname back at her.

Paige stopped mid-stride, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Careful, Inds. You keep calling me that, and people are gonna think you've got a thing for me."

Laughter rippled through the room, and I resisted the urge to hide behind my camera. Paige winked before joining the rest of the team near the lockers, her confidence somehow both irritating and magnetic.

"Paige, leave the poor girl alone," Caroline said, her tone light as she untied her shoes. "We don't want her quitting after her first game."

"Quit? Nah," Paige said, leaning casually against the lockers. "She likes it here too much. Don't you, Baby Girl?"

I rolled my eyes, finally snapping a candid shot of Paige leaning back, arms crossed, her smirk impossible to miss. "You wish."

After the team started to clear out, the energy winding down to a dull hum, I stayed behind to pack up my gear. The locker room was quiet now, save for the faint sound of water running in the showers. Most of the team had already left for the bus, and I figured Paige was probably long gone.

Until I wasn't alone anymore.

"You planning to camp out in here or what?"

I turned to find Paige standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a towel slung around her neck. Her expression was unreadable, but the teasing glint in her eyes told me she wasn't here just to grab her bag and leave.

"Just finishing up," I said, busying myself with my camera bag.

Paige took a few steps closer, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the tile floor. "You were good tonight."

I blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. "Good at what?"

She gestured toward my camera. "You didn't miss a thing out there. You're good at what you do."

Her words were simple, but the sincerity in her tone made my chest tighten in a way I wasn't ready to unpack.

"Thanks," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

"You're welcome," she replied, leaning against the edge of the bench. "But you didn't answer my question from earlier."

"What question?"

She tilted her head, her smirk making a slow return. "Do you like it here?"

My stomach flipped, but I refused to let her see how much she was getting to me. "It's...not terrible," I said, shrugging as nonchalantly as I could manage.

"Not terrible, huh?" Paige echoed, her smirk widening. "I'll take that as a win."

"Wins are kind of your thing," I shot back, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

She laughed, the sound low and warm. "Fair enough. But seriously, Inds..." Her voice softened, and for the first time, her teasing demeanor slipped just a fraction. "You're good. Like, really good. And I mean it."

I swallowed, the weight of her words settling over me. "Thanks, Mama."

Her laugh this time was softer, almost sheepish. "Alright, Baby Girl. I'll let you go before I say anything else to boost your ego."

"Too late," I said, flashing a quick smile before walking past her and out of the locker room.

The bus ride back to campus was mostly quiet, the team exhausted from the game. I sat near the front, scrolling through the photos on my camera.

There were dozens of shots—action, celebration, moments of raw emotion—but the one that stood out was Paige. That grin, that confidence, that infuriating spark that seemed to follow her everywhere.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat.

This job was going to be the death of me.

And Paige?

She was going to be the reason.