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azzifudd10 · 3 days ago

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Line of Scrimmage: Blitz

A/N: I enjoyed writing this one, send in ideasss plssss

TW: mentions of cheating, asthma attacks, hospital visits and pissed Paige

Azzi sat on the edge of the couch, the phone trembling in her hand. Her thumb hovered over the screen, the familiar number of her mother staring back at her. She’d avoided this call for weeks, maybe months, but now she couldn’t. Not with the storm swirling in her chest, threatening to spill over in ways she couldn’t manage alone. She pressed the call button, and the dial tone transformed into a sharp, ringing anticipation, each buzz of the line a drumbeat in her chest.

“Hello?” Her mother’s voice came through, calm, controlled, like she always had to be. Azzi braced herself, every nerve alight.

“Mom… I… I need to talk,” Azzi began, voice tight.

There was a pause on the other end. Azzi could almost hear the wheels turning, judging, calculating. “About what, Azzi?”

Her stomach twisted. “About… me. About Joe. About us.”

A sigh. “You’ve been doing fine, Azzi. Why are we having this conversation?”

Azzi closed her eyes, pressing the phone against her ear. “I… I don’t know if I’ve been fine. I… I can’t do it anymore.”

There it was. That sharpened edge. Her mother’s voice hardening, not with concern but with the weight of expectation. “Azzi, what are you talking about? You’ve done everything right. You have a good husband, a stable life. You’re supposed to focus on being the perfect wife. You can’t just—”

“I can’t do it anymore!” Azzi’s voice broke. “I’ve given everything to Joe! Everything! And it’s… it’s not enough! I’m… I’m invisible to him sometimes. I’m just… there!”

Her mother’s sigh was sharper now, tinged with irritation. “Azzi, I told you this would happen if you didn’t learn from my mistakes. I gave up everything for your father. I devoted my life to being the perfect wife, and look how that turned out. You’re making the same choices. You need to stay with Joe. You need to work on being a better wife.”

Azzi’s hands tightened on the phone, knuckles white. Heat rose in her chest, tears threatening to spill. “You don’t get it! You don’t understand! You think because Dad left, I need to sacrifice my happiness? That being his ‘perfect wife’ will make it different?”

There was silence for a heartbeat, then her mother’s voice, sharp as a whip. “You’re stubborn, Azzi. Just like I was. But life isn’t about feelings. It’s about duty. Commitment. Love isn’t enough. You need to learn that now, before it’s too late.”

The words hit Azzi like a physical blow, dragging her back into memories she had tried to bury: sitting in a kitchen as a child, her father’s empty chair across from her, her mother insisting she focus on school, on her appearance, on being the perfect daughter, the perfect child… the perfect shadow. The same lesson had followed her into adulthood, into her marriage, into every compromise she had made.

“I—” she choked on her words, gasping. “I… I can’t just… I can’t do what you did. I can’t just erase myself.”

“You’ll learn,” her mother said coldly. “You always do.”

The line went dead. Azzi stared at the screen, the ringing silence deafening. Her body sagged, trembling, tears spilling down her cheeks, hot and unforgiving. Her chest heaved with sobs she could no longer hold back.

And then she heard the soft sound of the front door opening. Joe’s presence filled the house before she even looked. He stood in the doorway, uncertainty etched across his face. “Azzi?”

She shook her head violently, trying to contain herself, but the sobs only grew. “No… it’s… it’s nothing.”

Joe’s steps were cautious, measured. He crouched beside her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s not nothing. I heard you crying. Talk to me.”

Azzi flinched, shoving at his chest instinctively. “No, Joe. Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“I just… I just want to help,” he said, voice soft, full of remorse.

“You can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You can’t fix this. No one can fix this.”

Joe’s hand lingered, trembling slightly. “I’ll try. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Azzi’s sobs broke through again, more violently this time. She twisted away, pushing him gently but firmly. “You embarrassed me, Joe! After everything, after every sacrifice I made for you, you humiliated me!”

Joe swallowed hard, guilt cutting through him like ice. “Azzi… I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you. I… I failed you.”

Her hands gripped at his wrists, trying to push him away while still seeking some form of connection. “You always fail me,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “Do you even see what I gave? What I sacrificed? I made you my world and I… I’m nothing in yours sometimes!”

Joe’s eyes glistened, and he shifted, letting her resistance soften him. He pressed closer, carefully, not forcing but just being there. “Azzi… I see you. I see every part of you. I love every part of you. Even when I mess up, even when I hurt you… I still love you.”

Her sobs hit a crescendo, her body trembling against his. “Love isn’t enough! You don’t get it! You don’t get what it cost me to be here, to be… us!”

“I do get it,” he whispered fiercely, pressing his forehead to hers. “I feel it too. I feel how much you’ve given, how much you’ve risked, how much you’ve loved me. And I’m… I’m sorry for every moment I made you doubt that.”

Her hands gripped him tighter, holding him like a lifeline and simultaneously pushing him away. “I… I can’t even… I don’t know if I can keep going…”

Joe’s voice cracked, soft and raw. “You don’t have to go anywhere. Not from me. Not from us. I’ll carry the weight with you. I’ll… I’ll bear it if it keeps you from falling.”

Azzi’s tears soaked his shirt as she finally allowed herself to collapse into him, the fight draining out of her in exhausted shudders. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight but gentle, whispering over and over:

“I love you… I see you… you’re my world… you’ve always been my world…”

Her sobs slowed, the rhythm of her breathing matching the heartbeat she could feel against her own chest. Exhaustion claimed her, and with it, a fragile surrender. Her body melted against his, clinging, trembling, and finally letting herself fall asleep in his arms.

Joe carefully lifted her, cradling her to the bedroom. Every movement was deliberate, tender, as though handling the most delicate thing in the world. He laid her down on the bed, watching her chest rise and fall, her face relaxed in sleep for the first time in hours.

He whispered her name softly, over and over, regret and love threading every syllable. His mind raced with the weight of what he’d done, the hurt he’d caused. How had he let things get this far? How had he ruined what they had with thoughtlessness, embarrassment, with careless words?

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it right,” he murmured, voice breaking. “I swear I’ll make it right.”

And as Azzi slept, exhausted and vulnerable, Joe stayed awake, keeping watch over her. The room was silent except for her breathing, the quiet sobs that had subsided into a fragile calm, and the quiet determination in him to never let her feel invisible again.

── .✦

Azzi heard the knock before she even fully registered it. Her head was buried in her hands, exhausted from crying, her body still shaking from the emotional storm that had raged through her over the past few days. She hadn’t expected anyone—especially Paige—but now here she was, standing at the door in jeans and a softest sweater vest Azzi has ever seen , the familiar warmth of her presence tugging at something deep inside Azzi.

Her eyes, swollen and puffy, gave her away immediately. Paige’s gaze softened, concern threading through the sharp edges of her expression. “Azzi… you’ve been crying,” she said gently, almost like a question, almost like a statement she didn’t need to ask aloud.

Azzi swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears that still clung to her lashes. “Yeah,” she admitted softly, her voice hoarse. “I… I didn’t expect anyone today.”

Paige stepped closer, offering a tentative smile. “Well, I’m here now. Mind if I come in?”

Azzi nodded, stepping aside and letting Paige into the house. The familiar warmth of her ‘friend’s presence filled the room, but Azzi couldn’t help but notice the flowers first. A dozen white lilies were arranged in delicate bouquets, scattered across the living room. The sunlight streaming through the windows made their petals glow almost ethereally, but their presence made Azzi’s chest tighten.

Paige’s eyes flicked to them immediately. “Flowers?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Azzi let out a dry, almost humorless laugh, shrugging. “Guilt flowers. Joe… keeps giving them to me. Every time he does something he thinks will make up for… everything. I guess he thinks if he surrounds me with lilies, it erases the hurt.” Her laugh was hollow, and her voice wavered.

Paige frowned, concern deepening. “Azzi…” she said softly, letting her gaze linger on Azzi’s tear-streaked cheeks. She moved to sit beside her, careful not to crowd, giving Azzi the space to decide if she wanted comfort.

Azzi finally sank into the couch, her hands still trembling slightly. She let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension in her body slowly easing, just a little, at Paige’s presence. “It’s… been rough,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “rougher than I thought it would be.”

Paige reached out, placing a gentle hand over Azzi’s. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of Azzi’s hand.

Azzi hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… I… I guess I need to.” Her voice broke on the words, and Paige gave her an encouraging squeeze.

She began with her mom. “I called my mom a few days ago… I haven’t really… talked to her in a long time. And I told her everything. About… Joe. About us. About how… hurt I’ve been.”

Paige’s eyes softened even further, urging her to continue.

“My mom… she didn’t react the way I thought she would. She… she told me I needed to stay with Joe, to work on being a better wife. She blamed me for not being ‘enough’ for him, said I was making the same mistakes she made when my dad left.” Azzi’s voice cracked, tears spilling freely now. She covered her face with her hands, trembling against Paige’s steadying presence.

Paige leaned closer, gently brushing Azzi’s hair from her face. “Oh, Azzi…” she murmured, her voice full of empathy. “That’s… that’s not fair. None of that is your fault.”

Azzi shook her head, the weight of years of repression pressing down on her. “It’s hard not to feel like it is. I… I tried so hard, Paige. For him. For everyone. I gave up parts of myself I didn’t even know I was losing, trying to be… perfect. Trying to be the wife he deserved, the woman I thought he wanted.”

Her hands shook as she spoke, her voice breaking on every other word. Paige didn’t say anything, just let her continue, her presence a steady anchor as Azzi poured out years of sacrifice, fear, and unmet expectations.

“I learned so young… from my mom, from the way she handled my dad leaving… that I had to be perfect to be loved. That I had to be perfect to keep someone from walking out. And I… I carried that into my marriage with Joe. I thought if I did everything right, gave everything, I’d be safe. I’d be loved. I’d be enough.”

Paige squeezed her hands, leaning in closer, her forehead brushing Azzi’s. “Azzi, listen to me. You are enough. You’ve been enough all along. You’ve given so much love and care, not just to Joe, but to everyone around you. And yes, sometimes people… even the ones who should see it… fail to recognize that. But that doesn’t make you less, Azzi. It makes you human.”

Azzi’s body trembled against Paige’s, the sobs hitting in quiet, broken waves. She leaned into Paige, resting her head on her shoulder, allowing herself the rare comfort of being vulnerable. Paige wrapped her arms around her, holding her gently, whispering soft reassurances.

For a long while, they simply sat there. Azzi crying into Paige’s shoulder, Paige stroking her hair and murmuring quiet, steady words. Every tear that fell, every shuddering breath, seemed to ease the tight coil of anxiety and guilt that had lived in Azzi’s chest for weeks.

After some time, Azzi pulled back just enough to look at Paige, her eyes red and swollen but calmer. “I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’ve been walking this tightrope my whole life, and now… now I don’t even know which way is safe.”

Paige reached up, gently cupping Azzi’s face, thumbs brushing away stray tears. “There’s no one right answer, Azzi. But you don’t have to figure it out alone. Not anymore. You have people who care about you… who see you. Even if Joe struggles to sometimes.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her throat tight. “It’s… hard to believe that.”

Paige leaned in, voice soft but firm. “I know. But it’s true. You’re allowed to feel all of this. To grieve, to cry, to be angry. You don’t have to hold it all in to be ‘perfect.’”

Azzi nodded, leaning into the warmth and support, allowing herself to imagine what life might be like if she didn’t have to carry the weight of perfection. “I… I think… I think I’ve been so scared of losing him, I forgot I could… be me. I forgot I could exist outside of being perfect.”

Paige’s hand brushed over Azzi’s cheek, thumbs brushing away tears. “You can. And you will. You’re allowed to exist, Azzi. You’re allowed to love, to feel, to be… messy. To be real.”

Azzi let out a shuddering breath, her head resting back on Paige’s shoulder. “I don’t even know if I… I can trust myself anymore,” she whispered.

Paige leaned closer, her lips brushing Azzi’s hair. “You can trust yourself, Azzi. And you can trust me. I’ve got you.”

They sat in silence, the house quiet except for Azzi’s soft breaths and Paige’s gentle hum of reassurance. The lilies around the room seemed almost like silent witnesses to their intimacy, their purity a stark contrast to the messy, emotional vulnerability happening on the couch.

Finally, Azzi pulled back slightly, looking at Paige with watery eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For… just being here. For… letting me… not be strong for a little while.”

Paige smiled softly, brushing a hand over Azzi’s hair once more. “Always. You never have to be strong for me, Azzi. Not ever.”

Azzi let out a shaky laugh, nodding. “I… I think I forgot what it felt like to be cared for… just… for me. Not for being perfect, or giving everything, or… I don’t know. Just… me.”

Paige squeezed her hand gently. “That’s exactly how I see you. Just you. And I always will.”

Azzi rested her head back on Paige’s shoulder, tears finally slowing, her body relaxing into the safety of the moment. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, she felt a tiny flicker of hope. A sense that she didn’t have to face the storm alone.

And Paige stayed with her, as she always had, letting Azzi be fully, vulnerably herself, no perfection required, no expectations, just presence, care, and unwavering support.

── .✦

Azzi sat on the edge of the couch, knees pulled close to her chest, staring down at her hands as if the answers she needed were written in the lines of her palms. Joe stood a few feet away, tense but gentle, trying to read her expression without pressuring her.

The silence stretched until Azzi finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know what to do, Joe.”

Joe’s brow furrowed, and he slowly lowered himself to sit beside her, careful not to crowd her. “Azzi… whatever you’re feeling right now… it’s valid. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. Just… tell me what’s on your mind.”

Azzi swallowed hard, tears threatening again. “For my own self-respect… I should leave. Maybe I have to leave. But…” Her voice faltered, and her gaze drifted toward the window, looking at nothing in particular. “…but I keep remembering us. How much you loved me… or at least how much you showed it when we first met, when you were just starting out in the league, your rookie year.”

Joe’s hand reached out tentatively, brushing her arm. “Azzi…”

She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. “No, I need to say it. I remember everything… how you used to bring me breakfast at 6 a.m. after I got off my night shifts at the hospital. You’d stand there with a tray—coffee, eggs, whatever I liked that day—just because you wanted to see me smile. I remember how you would laugh when I was half asleep, muttering nonsense, and you’d tease me anyway. I remember… your rookie year when you tore your MCL. You were devastated, but I stayed with you through it. I remember holding your hand, helping you to the car, making sure you iced it properly, making sure you didn’t push yourself too hard. I remember believing in you when you doubted yourself, and… you loved me so fiercely during that time, Joe.”

Her voice broke, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Joe reached for her hand, squeezing gently.

“I… I just need to know everything,” Azzi continued, voice trembling. “How did this… the other woman… how did it happen? When did it start? Were you… I don’t know… ever planning to leave me?”

Joe took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “Azzi… I never planned to leave you. You know that. I… I made a mistake—a horrible one. It started… months ago, after a really tough stretch in training and the media circus. I met her at an event, and it was… one thing led to another. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid of losing you, of losing what we had built. I thought… I thought I could contain it, control it, and I failed.”

Azzi let out a shuddering laugh, bitter but pained. “Control it…? Joe, that’s not how this works. You’re telling me now, and I… I just… I don’t know if I can forgive it. Not yet, anyway.”

Joe’s voice softened. “I understand. I don’t expect forgiveness, Azzi. I just… I want to be honest now. I want to do right by you… and by her, and… by the baby.”

Azzi closed her eyes, trying to process the storm of emotions. “I… I understand why you’d want to be there, Joe. I do. But… it just hurts. It feels… unfair.”

Joe reached out, gently cupping her cheek. “I know it does. And I hate that I caused you this pain. But I love you, Azzi. I love you more than anything. I just… messed up.”

Azzi let herself remember the moments that had kept her tethered to him all these years—the memories of puppy love and devotion, the small things that made their bond feel unbreakable.

Flashback: Rookie Year, First Game The memory hit her like a wave. Joe had come off the field clutching his knee, face pale and tight with pain. The stadium noise was a blur as Azzi ran onto the field, her hands trembling as she supported him to the bench. “Joe… oh my god… your knee,” she whispered, panic rising. He tried to smile, wince, and brush it off. “I’m fine… really.”

“No, you’re not,” Azzi said firmly. She sat beside him, rubbing his leg gently, helping him through every pang of pain and every tear he tried to hide. She held him when the doctor confirmed the MCL tear, her presence steady, unwavering. That rookie year had been a whirlwind, and she had been his anchor.

End Flashback

Azzi’s chest tightened with the memories, remembering all the nights they’d stayed up talking about hopes and fears, all the mornings he’d held her close after she’d worked a double shift, all the small, tender moments that made her feel seen and loved.

“I just… I don’t know if I can leave,” she admitted, voice cracking. “Because I remember us. I remember how much you loved me. And I… I can’t forget that.”

Joe leaned closer, his voice soft, yet firm. “Azzi… I never stopped loving you. Even when I screwed up, even when I was a fool, my heart was always yours. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I need you to know that I am here. I’m not leaving. I want to fix this… somehow.”

Azzi shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I just… I feel like I’ve been perfect for so long. Trying to be this perfect wife… perfect support… perfect partner. And now, I feel… broken. And I don’t know if I can ever go back to being just Joe’s wife. I don’t know if I can trust myself to be enough for you again.”

Joe’s eyes softened, and he took both her hands in his. “Azzi… you’ve never been broken. You’re human. You’re beautiful. And I… I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that I see you. That I love you. That you’ve always been enough.”

Flashback: Early Dating, Breakfast at 6 a.m.Another memory flooded her mind: Joe standing in her kitchen, tray in hand, the smell of fresh coffee and toast filling the room. She had laughed at the ridiculous hour, half-asleep, but he had just grinned and said, “You deserve breakfast, even if it’s before the sun.” She remembered the warmth of his hand brushing hers as he handed her the plate, the way his eyes shone with care and devotion. Those moments were small, but they had mattered so much—they had mattered more than anything else in the world.

End Flashback

Azzi let herself lean into him now, pressing her forehead against his chest. The tears came freely again, but this time they were mixed with something else—relief, longing, love, and confusion all tangled together. “I… I just… I don’t know what to do, Joe. I want to trust you. I want… us to be okay. But it hurts too much to pretend like this didn’t happen.”

Joe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like he had during all those small, perfect moments of their early relationship. “I know, Azzi. I know it hurts. And I don’t want to rush you. I just… I want to be here. I want to fix this, as best as I can. And I want to be honest, always, from now on.”

Azzi leaned into his chest, breathing in the scent that had always been home to her. “I want to believe that,” she whispered.

Joe kissed the top of her head gently. “You will. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you do. You deserve that, Azzi. You deserve everything.”

The hours stretched as they talked, Azzi recounting every memory, every fear, every ounce of doubt, and Joe listening with patience and care. They revisited old joys, relived small victories, and remembered the bond that had always been there—deep, unwavering, full of love.

Even as the shadows of the present loomed large, even as the uncertainty of the future pressed down on them, there was still… them. Still a shared history, still a love that had weathered everything so far, still hope that maybe, somehow, they could find a way forward together.

── .✦

The kitchen smelled faintly of burnt coffee, a remnant of the mug Sam had left. Paige perched on the counter. Her eyes were fixed on the steam rising from her coffee, but her mind was elsewhere, circling Azzi like a moth to a flame she couldn’t touch.

Sam had been unusually quiet this morning, frowning into his mug like he’d swallowed the world and it had gone sour. He finally broke the silence with a cautious, “You… really think she’s right?”

Paige’s jaw tightened. She turned to him, voice sharp but measured. “Sam, it’s not about right or wrong. Azzi—she’s been hurt. She gave everything to Joe, and he—” She swallowed hard, heart tightening in her chest. “He betrayed her. She doesn’t owe him forgiveness, and she certainly doesn’t owe him anything just because there’s… because of their history.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I get that. I really do. But she’s your friend, and he’s my best friend. You’re… defending her like she’s the victim of some stranger. Joe’s my best friend, Paige. You can’t just—”

Paige slammed her mug down, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. “I know he’s your best friend! And I’m not saying he’s evil, I’m saying Azzi deserves loyalty and someone to see her worth. And you defending him automatically… it’s like you’re forgetting she’s been by his side for years!”

Sam’s frown deepened, fingers tightening around his coffee mug. “I’m not forgetting! I’m trying to be logical. I want what’s right for both of them.”

Paige crossed her arms, pacing, the fabric of her pants brushing together with each step. “Logical isn’t always right! Sometimes the heart sees the truth your logic refuses to touch. Azzi—she gave so much. And now Joe has to face consequences for his mistakes. I’m standing with her because she deserves it, and I don’t care if it makes me seem biased.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, voice low. “It’s not that you seem biased… it’s that you are. You’re defending her like nothing else matters, Paige. Like I don’t even exist in this equation. Why are you so… so protective?”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Protective? Because she’s my friend, Sam! She’s smart, she’s strong, she’s beautiful, and she doesn’t need anyone treating her like she’s disposable! End of story.”

There was a beat of silence, Sam staring at her, trying to read the fire in her eyes without completely understanding it. Then he said, almost under his breath, “You really do care about her… don’t you?”

Paige froze, chest tight, arms still crossed. “Of course I care. And I’m biased, yes. Because I know how strong she is and how much she deserves better. That’s it. That’s all.”

Sam’s eyes flickered, conflicted. “It’s just… you’re so invested. You’re defending her in every argument, every detail. I’m starting to wonder why you’re so unshakable. Why you don’t even hesitate to pick her side no matter what.”

Paige stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, unwavering growl. “Because I know her. And I know she’s worth it. Worth more than anyone’s ego, more than anyone’s mistake, more than a dozen logical arguments. She’s worth standing up for, Sam. If you can’t see that, maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”

Sam ran a hand down his face, exhaling, feeling the heat of her words sink in. “I guess… I didn’t realize just how much you’d stake on her side. I mean, I knew you were loyal, but…” He hesitated. “You’re almost… ferocious about it.”

Paige’s lips twitched into a tight line. “Good. Maybe she needs someone to fight for her like she fought for everyone else in her life. Someone to remind her she’s not alone. Someone to remind Joe, if he’s listening, that he didn’t get a free pass.”

Sam sat back, silent for a moment, finally understanding the depth of her loyalty. He saw why Paige defended Azzi with such intensity, why she wasn’t wavering even when logic and friendship to Sam screamed otherwise. And slowly, he realized this loyalty wasn’t casual. It wasn’t simple. It was fierce, unwavering, and unrelenting—like a shield she carried for Azzi no matter what.

“You… you’re protecting her like no one else can,” Sam admitted quietly. “Even if it puts you at odds with me. Even if I’m trying to be fair, you’re still choosing her side.”

Paige gave him a sharp, steady look. “I’ve always chosen her side. I always will. You can be Team Joe all you want, Sam, but don’t lecture me about fairness when I’ve spent years in the same position as her. Don’t you dare tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sam’s jaw tightened. He leaned back, quiet, realizing just how fiercely Paige had claimed her loyalty. She wasn’t defending Azzi because it was easy or convenient. She was defending her because she knew the full weight of what Azzi had given.

“And that’s exactly why I trust her,” Paige added quietly, softer now, almost under her breath. “Because she’s strong. Because she can choose what she wants. And I’ll stand with her, no matter what.”

Sam exhaled, letting her words sink in. The silence stretched between them, heavy but charged, as they both reflected on what loyalty really meant, how it could divide and unite, and how, in this storm of emotions, one thing was clear: Paige would never back down from standing by Azzi.

── .✦

The little café tucked into the corner of the street smelled of roasted coffee beans, fresh pastries, and the faint tang of citrus from the corner display of fruit tarts. The kind of place where the chairs were slightly mismatched, the tables a little wobbly, and the barista knew everyone’s order by heart. Azzi and Paige slipped in quietly, the din of morning chatter and clinking mugs wrapping around them like a soft blanket, temporarily shielding them from the weight of the week.

Azzi let out a shaky breath as she sank into the booth across from Paige, who immediately reached across the table, giving her hand a soft squeeze. It was small, casual, nothing that screamed intimacy, but it anchored Azzi in a way nothing else had lately.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” Azzi whispered, almost to herself. Her gaze flicked out the window, watching pedestrians pass, but not really seeing them.

Paige’s brow furrowed. “Do what, exactly?”

“Stay with him.” Azzi’s hand trembled slightly as she picked at the napkin in front of her. “I mean… Joe. I’ve tried, Paige. I’ve really tried. But it’s like every time I think maybe we’re okay, maybe we’re… enough… something else happens, and it’s like I’m just… a shadow. A footnote to someone else’s life.”

Paige leaned in, her voice low, steady. “Azzi…”

“I know what he’s done now. I know about her. And it… it breaks something in me every single time I think about it.” Azzi’s eyes glistened with the edge of tears she refused to fully let fall. “And the worst part is… I still love him in some sick, impossible way. But it’s… horrible.”

Paige stayed quiet, just letting her words settle in the air between them. Then she reached out, brushing her thumb over Azzi’s knuckles. “Azzi, you’re allowed to feel all of it. The hurt, the betrayal, even the love. None of that makes you weak. None of that makes you wrong. He screwed up. He made choices that were… completely unfair to you. And that—” Paige hesitated, searching for the right words. “That does not erase your feelings for someone else. Or the way you feel about me.”

Azzi’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “That’s the thing, Paige. You. Us. It doesn’t feel like… like some escape or fling or revenge. It feels… like more. So much more. And it terrifies me.”

Paige’s lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s supposed to scare you. That’s how you know it’s real. You don’t feel this with just anyone. You feel it with me because it means something.”

Azzi let out a shaky laugh, bitter and soft. “I feel… guilty, though. Every time I’m with you, I can’t stop thinking, I should feel guilty. And part of me thinks… maybe I should tell him just to absolve that guilt.” Her hands clenched in her lap. “But then… it wouldn’t be for the right reasons. It’d be a way to make myself feel better, a way to use this as an excuse.”

Paige leaned over, gripping Azzi’s hands this time, fingers threading together. “Azzi, you are allowed to feel everything without punishing yourself. You’re not using this as an excuse. You’re trying to figure out your life while someone else ruined the rules. And the feelings you have for me—real feelings—don’t make you a bad person. They make you human. They make you valid.”

Azzi’s lips quivered as she looked at her, the layers of guilt, fear, and longing all pooling in her gaze. “But… it’s so hypocritical. I’m mad at him for cheating, for lying, for… for ruining the trust. And here I am, feeling… this for you. And it’s like—how dare I feel joy in this? How dare I feel something that’s… right, when everything else in my life is falling apart?”

Paige shook her head gently, leaning closer, voices dropping to whispers despite the café’s hum. “Because feelings don’t wait for permission. They don’t check with morality committees or the universe. You can’t control what you feel, Azzi. You can only control how you act on it. And you’ve been thoughtful, careful. You’re not reckless. You’re not cruel. You’re just… trying to survive all the pieces Joe broke.”

Azzi let out a shuddering breath, the first tears finally spilling over. Paige’s hand flew to her cheek, brushing the wet trail softly. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to fix it right now. You don’t have to decide today. You just… have to be honest with yourself. With me, with him, with… whoever.”

Azzi swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to gather herself. “I… I don’t want to use this… us… as some easy way to justify what’s happening. I don’t want to feel less betrayed because I have you. That would make me… selfish, I think.”

Paige leaned in, voice just above a whisper. “And if that’s true, you’d still have to feel something for me. You can feel guilty and happy and scared and in love all at the same time. That’s not selfish, Azzi. That’s life. And right now, we’re living it together.”

Azzi let her breath hitch, the weight of all those conflicting feelings making her chest ache. She wanted to cling to Paige, wanted to disappear into her arms and forget everything else, but the guilt made her hesitate. “It feels… so different with you. More than just an affair. It feels like a… a chance to be seen for who I really am. And it scares me so much.”

Paige gave her a soft, knowing smile. “That’s because it is. And because it’s rare. And because it’s real. I’m here. We’re here. You’re allowed to feel that without apology. You’re allowed to explore it without guilt.”

They sat in the café, hands entwined, the world moving around them while inside their booth, time slowed, stretched, and became something fragile and dangerous and beautiful all at once.

Azzi leaned her head against the window, voice muffled. “I don’t know what the next step is. I don’t know if I stay, if I leave… I just know that being with you feels like… more than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Paige’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close, grounding her in the moment. “Then start with this. Just feel it. Just be honest. Whatever happens with Joe, whatever choices you make, we’ll face it together. I won’t push, I won’t force, I’ll just… be here.”

── .✦

The late afternoon sun lay low in the sky, a muted gold that draped over the fenced-in yard like a tired blanket. The grass smelled freshly cut, that clean, green tang mixing with the faint sweetness of lilies drifting from the open sliding glass door. Inside, Azzi’s vases—three of them just from this week alone—sat in the living room. Each one full of lilies Joe had picked out himself. “Guilt flowers,” Azzi had muttered when the first bouquet came in. The next two had gone unacknowledged altogether.

Joe sat on one of the patio chairs, shoulders slouched, a glass of bourbon sweating in his hand. Across from him, Sam had his own drink balanced against his knee, the other hand loosely gripping the armrest as if the air between them might turn to glass and shatter if he moved too quickly.

Neither spoke at first. The silence wasn’t comfortable—it was waiting.

Sam finally broke it. “You’ve been staring at the same damn patch of fence for five minutes. What’s going on in your head?”

Joe didn’t look at him. “You really want the answer to that?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Joe’s jaw worked, teeth grinding briefly before he answered. “Azzi’s at work. I’m here trying to figure out how the hell I get her to even look at me like she used to. Feels like I’m invisible unless I’m apologizing.”

Sam let out a humorless laugh. “You think this is just about you saying sorry enough times?”

“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” Joe’s voice sharpened, the defensiveness slipping through. “She doesn’t trust me. And I can’t exactly rewind time and erase what I did.”

“No, you can’t,” Sam said simply. He took a slow sip of bourbon, letting the weight of that truth settle before continuing. “But maybe you’re missing the bigger picture. She’s not just mad, Joe—she’s got someone in her corner who won’t let her be mad alone. Someone who’s keeping her standing upright when she’d rather collapse.”

Joe’s head lifted, his gaze narrowing. “…You’re talking about Paige.”

Sam didn’t flinch. “I’m saying Paige is… different with her. I’ve never seen her defend someone like that, not even herself when we’ve fought. She’s protective—really protective. And it��s got me wondering why.”

Joe sat back, the patio chair creaking under the shift of his weight. “…You think they’ve got something going on.”

“I think you should pay attention,” Sam replied evenly. “Because if they do—or even if they just could—we’ve got bigger problems.”

Flashback: Rookie Year

The yard blurred in Joe’s vision, and before he could stop himself, his mind slipped backward. He remembered the first winter after he’d been drafted—still reeling from the MCL tear, crutches leaning against the couch, the days stretching out endlessly. He’d been restless, frustrated, feeling useless.

Azzi had been working nights back then, long hours on her feet. He remembered her coming home one morning, hair messy under a knit beanie, cheeks pink from the cold, and her arms full of takeout breakfast sandwiches.

“They put extra cheese on yours,” she’d said with a small grin, handing him his coffee. She’d smelled like fresh air and coffee beans and the faint tang of antiseptic from the hospital she worked at. She’d sat on the couch beside him, letting him lean into her, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the seam of his sweatpants while they watched the muted morning news.

Back then, everything had felt simple.

The sound of Sam shifting brought him back to the present. Sam was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, looking like he was carefully choosing each word.

“You ever wonder how she sees you now?” Sam asked.

Joe’s throat felt tight. “…Every day.”

“Because from where I’m sitting? You’ve got maybe half a shot left. And part of that depends on Paige.”

Joe’s jaw tensed again. “You think your wife is trying to take her from me.”

“I think Paige could,” Sam said carefully. “And I think if Azzi decides you’re not worth the hurt anymore, Paige is the one she’ll fall toward without thinking twice.”

Flashback: First Apartment

Another memory rose unbidden. Their first apartment had been a tiny one-bedroom with peeling paint in the bathroom and a kitchen that smelled faintly of the last tenant’s cigarettes no matter how much they cleaned.

Joe had been in the middle of training camp and barely home. He remembered one late night, stumbling in after meetings, exhausted, and finding Azzi asleep on the couch with a plate of cold pasta on the coffee table.

She’d woken up when he sat beside her, mumbling, “I didn’t want you to eat alone.”

He’d kissed her hair and whispered, “You’re my favorite thing,” meaning every word.

Back in the yard, Joe took a slow drink and set the glass down. “She loved me when I had nothing. Before the wins, before the MVP crap. Just me, limping around a shitty apartment.”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “And that’s why what you did cut her so deep.”

Joe swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at his chest. “…And now she’s got Paige.”

Sam didn’t answer right away, just looked at him steadily. “If you don’t start fighting for her like you did back then, you’re gonna lose her. And maybe you deserve to.”

The words landed heavy, no anger in them—just truth.

Joe didn’t know what scared him more: the idea of losing Azzi entirely… or the thought that she might already be halfway gone.

── .✦

It had been one of those rare days where the air between them didn’t feel like glass about to shatter.

The sun poured in through the living room windows, warm stripes of light spilling over the couch where Azzi sat curled up, a blanket over her legs. Joe was on the other end, socked feet propped on the coffee table, pretending to scroll through his phone but really just sneaking glances at her.

Somehow, against all odds, they’d been… okay today.

It started with breakfast—Joe had actually made pancakes. Not perfect circles, a little too much batter in some, but the kind of thing that smelled like Sunday mornings. Azzi had teased him about using way too much syrup, he’d told her she was “the only one he’d ever cook for,” and she’d rolled her eyes but smiled.

She’d laughed—really laughed—when he’d told a story about Ja’Marr accidentally sitting in mustard on the bench. At one point, she’d even leaned her head against his shoulder while they were watching an old movie, her hair tickling his jaw.

Joe had barely breathed in that moment, afraid to move and ruin it.

The knock came when they were halfway through their second round of coffee.

Three quick taps. Not urgent, not impatient—just… there.

Azzi was closest to the door. She pushed off the blanket and started toward it, calling over her shoulder, “You expecting someone?”

“No,” Joe said automatically, not looking up from the mug he was holding. But something in his voice—just a thread—made her pause.

The door’s frosted glass gave the faintest outline of a figure outside. Slim. Still.

Azzi pulled it open.

The woman standing there couldn’t have been more than mid-twenties, dressed in a blue sweater, her hair tied back tightly. There was no smile, no neighborly introduction—just direct, steady eyes that flicked briefly to Azzi before locking on Joe, who was now standing halfway behind her.

Azzi’s first thought was that she didn’t know this person. Her second was that the stranger’s gaze didn’t waver.

And her third—the one that sank like a stone into her stomach—came when she felt Joe go still. Frozen.

She turned slightly toward him, her fingers tightening on the edge of the door. “Joe…?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, his hand tightening around the mug until she thought it might crack.

The stranger spoke first. “I think we need to talk.”

Azzi’s pulse picked up instantly. She didn’t need a script for this. She didn’t need a name. She knew.

Her eyes went back to Joe, searching his face for any kind of explanation, denial—something. But his silence was the loudest thing in the room.

“Who is this?” she asked, her voice steady but sharp.

When he didn’t answer, she turned to the woman. “Who are you?”

The woman hesitated only a moment before speaking. “I’m the one who’s been messaging you.”

It was like the floor tilted.

Azzi’s fingers went numb against the doorframe. The screenshots. The late-night DMs. The words she’d read over and over until her chest hurt. The woman’s voice wasn’t taunting, wasn’t smug—it was just… direct.

And behind her, Joe was still silent. Still frozen. Still not looking at her.

Azzi let out a short, humorless breath. “Of course you are.”

The stranger’s eyes softened slightly. “I’m not here to fight you. I just… thought you should know he stopped returning my calls.” Her hand shifted unconsciously toward her stomach. “And I’m keeping the baby.”

That was when Joe finally moved.

“Ava—” His voice cracked around her name, the one Azzi had never heard until now. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Azzi’s head whipped toward him. “You know her name.” It wasn’t a question.

He opened his mouth, shut it again, the tendons in his neck standing out. “Azzi—”

“No.” Her voice was sharper now, cutting through whatever pathetic explanation he might try to build. “No, don’t ‘Azzi’ me like I’m about to calm you down. This—” She gestured between him and Ava, “—this is exactly why I can’t even believe it when we have one good day.”

Her laugh was short and bitter. “One day, Joe. I laughed at your stupid jokes. I actually leaned on your shoulder. And all the while—this.”

Ava looked like she wanted to disappear. “I’m not here to cause problems—”

Azzi turned on her. “You already did.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and electric.

Then Azzi stepped back from the door, letting it hang open. “You two can finish this conversation without me.”

And she walked down the hall, her footsteps sharp against the hardwood, leaving Joe standing there between the woman carrying his child… and the wife whose trust he’d already shattered.

Azzi took the stairs two at a time. Not because she wanted to storm away dramatically—though God knew she’d earned the right—but because her chest felt tight.

She slammed the bedroom door shut, leaning back against it for just a second, willing herself to get enough air.

In. Out. In. Out.

Her breaths came quicker, shorter.

Not now. Not now, please, not now.

She crossed to the nightstand, yanking open the top drawer. Gum wrappers, lip balm, a random receipt—but no inhaler.

The pressure in her chest sharpened. She bent over the drawer, pawing through it, her fingers trembling so hard she dropped half its contents onto the carpet. Still nothing.

The room tilted slightly.

She moved to the bathroom, flinging open the cabinet. No inhaler. Her hands were shaking so violently now she could barely grip the handles. Every inhale was shallow, scraping against her throat like sandpaper.

Her vision was tunneling.

Downstairs, the muffled murmur of voices—Joe’s low tone, Ava’s quieter reply—felt a mile away and unbearably close at the same time.

She couldn’t focus on the words. Only on the simple, primal panic: I can’t breathe.

“Look, Ava—” Joe’s voice was flat, his eyes darting toward the stairs more than toward her. “You can’t just show up here. Whatever you think this is—”

“I told you I needed to talk to you,” she cut in, her voice quiet but firm. “And I told you I didn’t want to fight with her. I’m just… I’m scared. And I didn’t know what else to do.”

Joe dragged a hand down his face. “This isn’t the time or the place. You need to go.”

She searched his expression, then nodded slowly. “Fine. But you’ll answer my calls.”

He didn’t reply. Just stepped back so she could leave, the cool February air rushing in through the door.

The second it shut, he exhaled hard and turned for the stairs.

“Azzi?” he called, halfway up.

No answer.

By the time he hit the landing, he could hear it—a faint, ragged wheeze from down the hall. His stomach dropped.

He pushed open the bedroom door and froze.

She was sitting on the floor beside the bed, one hand gripping her chest, the other trembling on the carpet. Her lips were pale, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Azzi—” He was already on his knees in front of her. “Where’s your inhaler?”

She tried to speak but it came out as a choked gasp.

“Okay, okay, don’t talk. Just—hold on.” His hands were already moving—drawer, bathroom, desk—nothing.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He dropped back down beside her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other hovering uselessly. “Stay with me, baby, c’mon, just breathe for me—”

Her pupils fluttered. Her head tilted back against the wall, eyelids heavy.

And then her body went slack.

“Azzi!” His voice cracked, raw. He didn’t even register that he’d scooped her into his arms before he was reaching for his phone with his free hand.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My wife—she’s—she’s having an asthma attack, she’s unconscious—she’s not breathing right—” His voice was breaking in a way he hadn’t heard since his rookie injury, but worse, so much worse.

They walked him through it—check her pulse, keep her airway clear—while the distant wail of sirens began to close in.

He kept his forehead pressed to hers between instructions. “Stay with me, Azzi. Please. Please don’t leave me like this.”

The medics were a blur of movement—oxygen mask, stretcher, vitals shouted over the noise. Joe followed the gurney into the back of the ambulance, his knees pressed together, hands wringing in his lap like he could physically keep himself from shaking apart.

She was still out. Still not answering him.

When they wheeled her through the ER doors, he was forced to stop in the waiting area, the empty space at his side screaming at him.

── .✦

Sam had one hand on the wheel when his phone buzzed against the console. He tapped the answer button without looking—Bluetooth picking it up instantly.

“Yo, what’s up?”

On the other end, Joe’s voice was raw, too loud in the confined space. “She’s in the hospital.”

Sam straightened instantly. “Who?”

“Azzi—she had an asthma attack, she passed out—she hasn’t woken up yet—” His voice cracked.

Beside Sam, Paige froze.

“What do you mean she hasn’t woken up?” Her voice cut in sharp over the speakers.

Sam glanced at her. “Paige—”

“No, what do you mean?” she demanded, her hands clenching in her lap. “Where is she? Which hospital?”

“University,” Joe said, his voice breaking again.

Paige’s breath hitched. “We’re going. Sam, turn around—”

“We’re twenty minutes out—”

“I don’t care. We’re going. Now.” Her voice wavered on the last word, tears already spilling hot down her cheeks. “I can’t lose her, Sam. I can’t—”

Sam reached over, squeezing her hand even as he flipped on his blinker to change lanes. He’d never seen her like this—like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

The automatic doors of University Medical Center slid open, washing Paige and Sam in that too-bright, too-sterile light. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt coffee from the vending machine in the corner.

Paige’s pulse was already in her throat. Her boots squeaked against the tile as she nearly jogged to the reception desk.

“Azzi Burrow-fudd,” she blurted before the woman behind the counter could even greet her. “Where is she? What room? She came in a few minutes ago—ambulance, asthma attack—she’s—” Her breath caught. “She’s not—”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist said gently, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “I’ll need you to slow down.”

“I can’t slow down,” Paige snapped, panic making her voice too sharp. “She’s—she’s—”

Sam stepped up beside her, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Paige. Breathe.” He turned to the receptionist. “We’re friends of the family. She was brought in unconscious. Can you tell us where she is?”

“I’m sorry, I can only release that information to immediate family or with their consent,” the woman said, not unkindly.

Paige’s chest tightened. “You don’t understand—”

And then she saw him.

Joe.

He was sitting in one of the plastic chairs against the wall, elbows on his knees, both hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. His hat was pulled low, but even from here, Paige could see his eyes—red-rimmed, hollow.

She didn’t even excuse herself from the desk. Her feet carried her across the lobby until she was standing right in front of him.

── .✦

He’d been staring at the same patch of tile for God knows how long, the sounds of the ER—phones ringing, pages overhead, a distant cough—muted under the roar of his own thoughts.

When movement broke through his peripheral, he looked up.

Paige.

Her expression shifted from worry to something sharper the second their eyes met.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“She—” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in hours. “She couldn’t find her inhaler. By the time I got upstairs…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “She was already—” He shook his head. “She wasn’t breathing right. She passed out before I could—”

“Is she okay?” Paige’s voice cracked on the last word.

“They’re… they’re working on her.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “She’s still out.”

Paige’s gaze flicked toward the double doors leading to the treatment area. “Take me to her.”

“I can’t. They said—”

“Take me to her, Joe.” Her tone was deadly serious now.

Before he could answer, a nurse appeared. “Family for Azzi burrow-fudd?”

Joe was on his feet instantly. “That’s me.”

Paige moved right with him. “And me.”

The nurse hesitated, glancing between them.

“She’s my wife,” Joe said, then nodded toward Paige. “This is… she’s like family.”

Paige didn’t even register the implication—only that the nurse finally led them through.

The beeping was the first thing Paige heard. Steady. Mechanical. In rhythm with the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest beneath the thin hospital blanket.

She looked smaller somehow, her usually vibrant skin pale, her lips still faintly tinged with blue at the edges. An oxygen cannula trailed from her nose, and an IV snaked into her arm.

Paige froze at the doorway, one hand gripping the frame.

Joe moved to the bedside, his large hand wrapping around Azzi’s limp one. “Hey, baby. I’m here.”

Paige stayed rooted to the spot, her throat closing at the sight. She wanted to go to her, to run her fingers through her hair and tell her it was okay—but she wasn’t sure she could trust her voice.

Sam stepped in behind her, resting a hand on her back.

“How long?” Paige managed.

“About forty minutes,” Joe said, not looking away from Azzi. “They said she’s stable now. Just… worn out.”

It happened slowly—first a faint twitch of her fingers in Joe’s grip, then a tiny crease between her brows.

Joe leaned forward instantly. “Azzi? Hey, baby, you with me?”

Her eyelids fluttered, the harsh fluorescent light making her squint. “Wh—” Her voice was a rasp, almost swallowed by the oxygen hiss.

“Don’t talk yet,” Joe said quickly. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Her gaze drifted unfocused for a moment before landing on him. “What… happened?”

“You had an asthma attack,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You couldn’t find your inhaler. You passed out. They brought you here.”

She frowned faintly, her eyes sliding toward the doorway—and catching Paige.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige’s breath caught, the relief so sharp it almost hurt.

“Hey,” Paige whispered finally.

Azzi blinked at her. “…You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.”

Her lips curved faintly—half-smile, half-grimace—before her eyes drifted shut again, exhausted.

Joe smoothed a hand over her hair, glancing toward Paige. “She needs rest.”

Paige didn’t move from the doorway. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #line of scrimmage #paige bueckers

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azzifudd10 · 4 days ago

Text

this series is soooo good!!!

Chapter 10

Paige Bueckers UConn x Azzi Fudd Notre Dame

wc- 3.1k

a/n: Honestly, idek how i feel about this chapter, i could write a million words of them just talking but i needed to cut it a little. LMK what yall think. Hope you guys are somewhat happy.

Azzi had promised herself she wouldn’t fold so quickly the next time she saw Paige—wouldn’t let herself be drawn to the girl as if nothing had happened. But the moment she heard the word chocolate, her resolve crumbled.

“Chocolate ice cream, huh? How’d you know?” Azzi asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. She accepted the ice cream, her fingers brushing Paige’s for the briefest moment, before settling into the space right beside her on the floor—not close enough to touch, but close enough that the space between them felt charged.

Paige’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Soni. She mentioned it today when we practiced together. Thought it could be a good truce.”

“If anything, I should be the one bringing you ice cream. I’m the one who yelled at you, after all.” Azzi’s voice softened, her mind flashing back to that night when nothing had felt right. Tonight, though—tonight felt different, like something broken was quietly clicking back into place.

Paige chuckled low in her throat. “True. But I think my actions and my words… haven’t exactly been in sync.”

Azzi blinked, surprised by the confession. “It’s alright. We were all over the place, both of us. Trying to get our teams well, here—it’s stressful. And I know you understand the pressure.”

“Do I?” Paige’s tone was sharp with irony. “It’s practically all I think about… all I feel.” She hesitated, eyes locking on Azzi’s, pupils widening. “Except when I’m thinking of—um…” She cut herself off, breath catching.

Too soon.

She quickly redirected. “Why didn’t you wear the shoes I gave you?”

Azzi exhaled a small laugh. “Getting right into it, I see…” She didn’t have a neat answer—only fragments. “Soni, I guess.”

Paige arched an eyebrow. “Wow. And here I thought me and her were starting to be friends.”

Azzi’s mouth tugged into a grin at the image of Soni and Paige as actual friends. “It wasn’t like that. It’s just… you’ve never exactly been nice to us before. Especially me. So Soni made a good point—why would you change now?”

Paige tilted her head, considering. “Huh. Logical.” A smirk formed as she leaned back against the wall, gaze fixed on Azzi with eyes so disarmingly beautiful that Azzi’s stomach tightened. To break the tension, Azzi started to ramble.

“Yeah, and then Sonia started speculating they could be ruined or something—like maybe they’d be glued to my feet. And then this weird thought hit me—what if you never killed that spider and put it in my bed? I ended up sleeping in Soni’s room the rest of the trip.” She finished in a rush, out of breath.

Paige didn’t look away. Her stare was steady, drinking in every word, as if the sound of Azzi’s voice was something she’d been starving for.

“That makes sense,” Paige said evenly.

“What? Which part? ’Cause I just said a lot.” Azzi’s laugh was nervous, her cheeks warmed.

Paige’s turn to ramble came. “One day, I went for a run, bumped into Sonia. She said you kick in your sleep.” Paige let out a self-deprecating laugh. “When I heard that, I thought… I don’t know. Maybe you two were dating. That same day I saw you in the gym, and—” She broke off, swallowing the word jealous. “I guess I was just… confused.”

Azzi’s gaze softened. “Paige…” The sound of her name on Azzi’s lips dismantled something inside Paige. She would’ve given anything to hear it again.

“Paige.”

“Yeah?”

“So… did you actually kill the spider?” Azzi said with a grin.

The shift caught Paige off guard. “Of course I did, Azzi. I wouldn’t ruin your shoes on purpose. I’m terrified of spiders. That’s why I threw the shoe.”

Azzi’s hand found Paige’s forearm, her touch light but electric. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve found someone else.”

Paige’s laugh was soft, almost shy. “I didn’t want to let you down. And I knew no one else was on our floor—except Geno. Imagine me knocking on his door, waking him up to kill a spider for the captain of our rival team? He’d probably slam the door in my face.”

Azzi laughed, low and raspy. “True.”

“Wait—you really thought I ruined your shoes on purpose and put a spider in your bed?” Paige asked.

Azzi gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah. I did. Thats why I yelled at you that night. Sonia heard you telling KK you did it on purpose, to ruin my game.”

“Huh. Guess I need to work on my kindness. Don’t want people thinking I’m out for revenge when I’m not. I said that to KK so she would get off my case, she’s so nosy and I needed an excuse for her and the team.”

“I’m sorry. I just… don’t trust easily.”

“Well, you’re trusting me right now. That’s something.”

Their smiles lingered, slow and warm, the kind that said they were both stepping into unfamiliar territory.

“You know,” Azzi said, “I really wanted to wear those shoes. They were just… wow.”

Paige’s mouth quirked. “I would’ve let you keep them, you know.”

Azzi’s eyes widened. “Oh no, that’s way too much. And they don’t even have my number on them.”

“True—but they match the whole Notre Dame color scheme.”

“Where do you even find shoes like that? I was considering buying them myself.”

Paige scratched the back of her neck. “They were… a gift.”

“A gift from who?”

Paige hesitated. “A basketball player.”

Azzi arched a brow. “Which basketball player, Paige?”

“Kyrie.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped. “Kyrie—as in Kyrie Irving?”

Paige winced. “Yeah… kinda.”

“You gave me your specially gifted, custom-made Kyrie Irving shoes? From your favorite player?” Azzi’s voice spiked loud enough to make heads turn.

“Shhh, Azzi, people are sleeping,” Paige whispered, half amused. “And how do you know he’s my favorite?”

“You talk about him all the time. Everyone knows.”

Paige pointed at her accusingly. “Rival or not, you’re not supposed to know that.”

“Nope, you’re not changing the topic. You gave me custom Kyrie shoes.”

Paige smiled wide. “Yeah. Only pair in the world, actually. He was training with me, saw I liked them, and gave me the prototype—number and all. He even joked about it because they were green, trying to piss me off a little in the process.”

“And you never wear them?”

“No. Too special.”

“But you would’ve let me?”

“You needed green shoes. I had them. Simple.”

Azzi shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you… seriously. Thats like giving me you first born child.

I would like you to have my first born child. PIAGE WHOA,

“Wait—did you just say training with Kyrie?” Azzi asked.

Paige froze. “Please don’t tell anyone. Not even Geno knows.”

Azzi felt like she’d just been handed the Pandora’s box of Paige Bueckers—so many secrets, not nearly enough time.

“Okay, I promise. But… that’s incredible. How did it feel?”

Paige’s smile softened, a flicker of something thoughtful passing over her face. “Terrifying at first,” she admitted. “I’ve picked up some of his moves over the years, sure—but doing them right in front of him? God.” She shook her head with a quiet laugh. “But he was incredible—helpful, patient… and since I’m projected to go to Dallas, he told me he’d keep working with me.”

Azzi’s eyebrows rose. “That’s huge. But… why the secrecy?”

Paige leaned in slightly, voice dropping like she was sharing a secret that didn’t leave the room. “We’ve got a collab coming. It’s under wraps for now, but… yeah.”

Azzi nodded slowly, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Makes sense.”

Paige tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “How about you? Working with your idol?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

“Steph Curry?” Paige prompted, her tone teasing but her gaze sharp.

“Yeah,” Azzi said, her voice softening. “It was terrifying too. Mimicking his game is brutal—especially because we started working together when I was so young. I remember our first session… I was shaking so badly he literally had to leave the room so I could make a three.” She laughed quietly, almost to herself. “Now he’s like an uncle to me. Always checking in, making sure I’m okay.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first, just studied her like she was trying to commit the moment to memory. “I remember when the news broke about you partnering with him. My dad thought it was the coolest thing. I…” Her voice dipped. “I was insanely jealous.”

Azzi arched an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “The Paige Bueckers? Jealous of me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Paige smirked faintly. “No why?”

“I don’t know.” Azzi’s gaze drifted away for a beat before returning. “Everyone loves you, respects you. And you’ve got your own shoe—that’s pretty amazing.”

Paige’s lips curved in a modest smile. “I mean… yeah I love my shoes.And being awarded the opportunity to make my own shoe was amazing.” Paige paused remembering something. “And get this, after the game, Nike wanted to meet with me to pitch another shoe model. It’s all been so overwhelming, but it feels great.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up, leaning in. “So you had a meeting you couldn’t miss.”

“Exactly,” Paige said, almost relieved she understood. “That’s why I didn’t show up. Sonia told me you were waiting, but the meeting dragged forever. Then I went straight to this dinner, and I couldn’t leave. Everyone thought it was for UConn, but it was kinda for me. So… yeah, I couldn’t just dip.”

Azzi relaxed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No, I get it. And that explains why you were in every single photo—everyone was practically orbiting around you.”

Paige grinned, leaning forward slightly. “You saw those?”

“Of course I saw them. Well… Hannah saw them first, and she was lowkey pissed. So naturally, she showed the rest of the team.” Azzi chuckled.

Paige’s brows lifted. “I’m just surprised you even saw them—you haven’t been active in days. I was scared it was all the pressure about the shoes.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, catching the slip. “And how exactly do you know I haven’t been active?”

Paige hesitated for a fraction of a second—long enough for Azzi to notice—before smirking. “I was bored, y’know? Soni posted this… very interesting story of you.”

Azzi crossed her arms, half-amused. “Oh my God, let me see.”

Paige pulled out her phone, and when she went to the search bar, Azzi caught it—the Notre Dame roster already queued up.

“So,” Azzi said, a knowing glint in her eye, “you must have been super bored, Paige.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, a small smile betraying her. She clicked on Sonia’s story.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna kill her,” Azzi groaned, half-joking, half-serious.

Paige laughed, the sound warmer than it had any right to be. “No, it was good to see you resting. I was worried all the fan pressure was getting to you.”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” Azzi admitted quietly. “I haven’t been on social media.”

“Well,” Paige said gently, “maybe we should keep it that way.” Her voice softened further, as if she were speaking more to herself than to Azzi. “But I have to ask—why did you really wear them?”

Azzi’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Funny thing is, the second I walked into the store, your face was everywhere. And this was the day after I yelled at you, so I was still pissed. I swore I’d never even try on those shoes. But then I ended up trying on like a million pairs and they were all so uncomfortable, and finally I thought, ‘Screw it, I’ll try the PB1’s.’ And they were perfect. Seriously, you make a good shoe.”

“Thank you,” Paige said, and there was a faint pink in her cheeks now.

Azzi leaned in just a little, her tone lower. “Why’d you wear your shoes? Far as I know, you haven’t worn them since they came out.”

Paige shrugged, but the corner of her mouth lifted. “Honestly? Last-minute decision. But… I don’t regret it.”

Azzi held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary. “Me neither.”

The hallway outside Azzi’s hotel room was quiet except for the sound of their voices. Hours had passed without either girl noticing. They’d talked about everything—childhood stories, music, basketball, the random little details people only share when they’ve stopped guarding themselves.

There was something unspoken between them. Respect, yes, but also a strange familiarity, as if this conversation had been waiting years to happen. It flowed so easily, neither of them seemed ready for it to end.

Paige shifted against the wall, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Okay… how’d you pick Notre Dame?”

Azzi gave a small, knowing smile, the kind that hinted she had a story tucked away. “Honestly? I had some great offers, and I couldn’t decide. So… I wrote them all down on slips of paper, tossed them in a hat, and pulled one out.”

Paige straightened. “That’s how you decided?”

“Not exactly.” Azzi’s laugh was soft but tinged with something more. “The paper I pulled said ‘UCLA.’ And… I was disappointed. I wanted it to say ‘Notre Dame.’ That’s when I knew. I’ve never told anyone that before. My parents still think I picked Notre Dame out of the hat.”

Paige’s brows lifted, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “So… was UConn one of the offers?”

“Actually? No. I think Geno was so wrapped up in you, he didn’t even bother with me.”

Paige let out a scoff, leaning in a little. “Oh please. He probably just assumed you’d say no.”

Azzi tilted her head. “I might have considered it, if it had been on the table.”

“Really? Why?” Paige asked, curious now.

Azzi’s gaze flickered over her. “I don’t know… playing on the same team as the Paige Bueckers would’ve been cool.”

Paige blinked at her, voice dropping just a touch. “So… you didn’t always hate me?”

Azzi shook her head. “Paige, I never hated you. You hated me.”

“That’s not true—” Paige started, then hesitated. “Remember our first game against each other? You elbowed me in the chest. It felt… personal. And you didn’t apologize.”

Azzi’s mouth fell open. “You are kidding me. I remember that game—you tripped me first. And then you stared at me and laughed.”

Paige’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “I would never trip you on purpose. And I didn’t laugh at you—” She stopped mid-sentence, her tone softening. “I laughed because you were so… small your freshman year. I promise, I didn’t even see you coming. Total accident.”

Azzi smirked faintly. “Funny how the same moment can look so different to two people.”

“Very,” Paige agreed. She paused, her gaze lingering a beat too long. “Did you ever think we’d be here, right now, after all those years?”

“Absolutely not. If I told my parents, they’d be shocked.”

“My dad wouldn’t be,” Paige murmured. “He’s always admired the way you play. Drove me crazy… but he was right. You’re amazing.”

Azzi tilted her head, lips curving into a teasing smile. “Well, your dad also mentioned you were kind of a big fan of mine. What’s that about?”

Paige groaned softly, rubbing her face. “God, that man. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” But then her voice softened, more hesitant. “When I was out with my injury—your sophomore year, by the way, you were a beast that year—I switched to online classes so I could stay home with my dad and brother. I watched a lot of basketball, just to fill the time.

“One day, a Notre Dame game came on. I almost changed the channel, but… you had the ball. Defender all over you, crowd in your ear. You still took the shot. And it went in. I couldn’t stop watching after that. Pretty soon, I’d seen every replay of you guys.”

Azzi’s brows arched. “So I really do have my own personal fan.”

Paige leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “You do. But don’t tell my teammates—they’d never let me live it down.”

Azzi chuckled, not realizing until that moment that Sonia was walking toward them.

“Oh, hey,” Sonia said, glancing between the two. “Azzi, I texted you and you didn’t answer. I thought you’d passed out. Guess you just had… good company.” Her eyes flicked meaningfully to Paige.

Azzi startled slightly. “Wait—what time is it?”

Sonia checked her phone. “Three fifty-three a.m.”

Azzi groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She stood, and Paige followed almost immediately, stepping into her space.

“Well… I should go,” Paige said, though her tone didn’t quite match the words.

“Thanks for taking care of my girl,” Sonia said to Paige.

Paige gave a quiet laugh.

“And I see you took my advice,” Sonia added, nodding toward the untouched ice cream.

Both girls looked at it like they’d just remembered it existed.

“Oh, right,” Paige said. “I still owe you ice cream that hasn’t melted.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Azzi replied.

Sonia started toward the room. “I’ll leave the door open, Azzi,” she said, giving Paige a small but knowing smile before slipping inside.

Paige bent to pick up the melting cups.

“Wait,” Azzi said, stopping her. “What are you gonna do with those?”

“Throw them away?”

“No way. I’m not letting ice cream go to waste.” She took them from Paige, and their fingers brushed—just for a second, but long enough for Paige to notice the warmth.

“Thanks,” Paige murmured.

“Thank you,” Azzi replied softly.

Paige hesitated. What should I do now. Hug? Wave? Just walk away?

Before she could decide, Azzi smiled. “So… when you’re ready to take me for real ice cream, text me.”

Paige blinked. “I… don’t have your number.”

Azzi tilted her head with mock disbelief. “Right. Give me your phone.”

Paige handed it over, watching her type. She couldn’t help it—her eyes caught on the glow of her skin, the bounce of her curls, the depth in her eyes. It wasn’t the outfit—it was her.

“Text me anytime,” Azzi said, handing the phone back.

“I will,” Paige promised, voice low. “Bye, Azzi Fudd.”

“Bye, Paige Bueckers.”

The door closed softly behind her, but not before she gave one last lingering look.

Paige glanced at her phone and saw the contact name: My Idol. She laughed, but didn’t change it.

Walking back to her room, she replayed the night in her head. Every word. Every glance. Every almost-touch.

And then, a final thought settled in her chest, heavy and certain.

I miss her already.

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