Four

The morning after the game, I dragged myself into the gym for practice, clutching a thermos of coffee like it was my lifeline. The team might have been riding high off last night's win, but my body was already regretting the late-night editing session that had followed.

The sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor and basketballs hitting the hardwood echoed through the gym. Practice was in full swing, and as usual, the energy was a mix of focus and chaos.

Nika and Azzi were locked in a three-point shooting contest, their competitive banter echoing across the court. Aaliyah and Caroline were practicing screens, their movements sharp and deliberate. And Paige—because of course I noticed her first—was working on ball-handling drills near midcourt, her face set in that intense, laser-focused expression that somehow made her even more distracting.

"Morning, Inds!" Aaliyah called out as I walked in, giving me a small wave.

"Morning, Liyah," I replied, stifling a yawn.

"You look rough," Nika said, jogging over with a grin. "Late night?"

I held up my camera bag. "Just making sure I got all your good angles from last night."

"Good angles? Babe, every angle is a good angle," Nika said, striking a pose that would've been ridiculous if it weren't so effortlessly confident.

"Please," Azzi cut in, grabbing the ball from Nika. "India spends more time photographing Paige than any of us. I bet her whole memory card is just Paige's face."

My face went hot as I tried to play it cool. "I photograph what's happening on the court, and Paige just happens to...you know...be in the middle of it a lot."

Azzi and Nika exchanged knowing looks, but before they could grill me further, Paige's voice cut through the gym.

"Inds!"

I turned just as Paige jogged over, her eyes bright and her trademark smirk already in place.

"Hey, Baby Girl," she said, stopping a little too close. "How's the photo editing coming along?"

"Fine," I said, suddenly hyper-aware of the team watching us. "Why?"

She shrugged, her smirk shifting into something softer. "Just wanted to make sure you got the shot of me blocking that fast break in the fourth quarter."

"Got it," I said, pulling my camera out of the bag. "But I also got the shot of you tripping over your own feet during warmups."

The team erupted into laughter, and Paige's eyebrows shot up in mock offense. "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?"

"Just keeping it real, Mama," I said, biting back a grin.

Her eyes narrowed, but there was no mistaking the amusement in them. "Alright, Baby Girl. Game on."

I spent most of practice alternating between capturing photos and trying not to be completely distracted by Paige. It was harder than it should've been. She was a natural on the court—strong, agile, and commanding—and it didn't help that every now and then, she'd glance my way, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

By the time practice ended, I had a full memory card and a headache from trying to keep my thoughts professional.

As the team gathered their things and began trickling out of the gym, Paige lingered near the benches, fiddling with the straps of her backpack. I tried to ignore her, focusing on packing up my gear, but it was no use.

"Hey," she said, her voice softer now that the gym had quieted.

"Hey," I replied without looking up.

"You heading out?"

"Yeah, just finishing up here."

She hesitated, and when I finally glanced at her, she looked...uncertain. It was a rare look for Paige, and it caught me off guard.

"You wanna grab lunch or something?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes giving her away.

I blinked. "Lunch?"

"Yeah, you know, food. That thing people eat in the middle of the day," she teased, her smirk returning, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

I hesitated, caught between wanting to say yes and the nagging voice in my head reminding me to keep things professional. But then Paige did something unexpected. She reached out and gently tapped the strap of my camera bag.

"You've been working hard," she said, her voice quieter now. "You deserve a break, Baby Girl."

The sincerity in her words made my stomach flip, and before I could overthink it, I nodded. "Okay. Lunch sounds good."

We ended up at a little café a few blocks from campus, tucked into a corner booth with plates of sandwiches and a basket of fries between us. It was the first time we'd been alone outside of the gym, and the shift in dynamic was...unexpected.

"So," Paige said, leaning back in the booth. "How'd you end up as the team's photographer?"

I took a sip of my drink, trying to decide how much to share. "I've always loved photography, and I used to shoot a lot of local games back home. When the position opened up here, I figured why not?"

"Are you from Connecticut?"

"Massachusetts. Not too far."

She nodded, popping a fry into her mouth. "And you don't even play basketball?"

"Nope. Not unless you count that one season of middle school rec league where I fouled out every other game."

Paige laughed, and the sound was warm and genuine. "I would've paid to see that."

"It wasn't pretty," I admitted, grinning. "But what about you? Did you always know you'd end up playing for UCONN?"

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. "It was always the dream," she said, her voice quiet. "But sometimes dreams feel bigger than you, you know? Like you're not sure if you're ready for them."

I nodded, surprised by her honesty. "I get that."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the café filling the gaps in our conversation. Then Paige leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

"Thanks for saying yes," she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

"To lunch?"

"To this," she said, gesturing between us. "Getting to know you. I like it."

My heart stuttered, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to say. So I just smiled and hoped it was enough.

Because the truth was, I liked it too.