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latenighttalkinqwp · 7 hours ago

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The Deal

Paige Bueckers x OC (Noah Garcia)

Safe to say, Paige and Noah didn’t start off on the exact foot they would have both liked too— but what happens when Paiges make a stupid decision which could cost everything without thinking…

part 1 | part 2

loosely based on "The Deal" By Elle Kennedy

warnings: extreme slow burn as of rn..

paige

When I finally stumble into the library, twenty minutes late, the world feels like it’s spinning on a different axis. My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like regret, and my stomach is on thin ice.

I spot Noah immediately. She’s at a table near the back, surrounded by notes and textbooks, her headphones on and her arms crossed like she’s guarding the gates of hell.

She notices me the second I drop into the chair across from her. The way her eyes narrow sends a chill down my spine—and not the good kind.

“You’re late,” she says, pulling out one earbud.

“Yeah, well,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “Life happens.”

Noah leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she looks me up and down. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” I hiss, offended. “I’m just…tired.”

She scoffs. “Right. Tired. Because you were up late studying, I’m sure. seems like your book bit you while you were at it”

fuck— my hickey..

“I — Does it matter?” I snap, louder than I intended. A couple of people glance our way, and I lower my voice. “I’m here now. Can we just start? or are you just gonna lecture me on the shit i do in my life”

Noah’s jaw tightens. She looks like she’s two seconds away from packing up and leaving, but instead, she leans forward, her voice ice cold. “If this is how serious you’re going to take this, we’re done. I told you—I don’t have time for your bullshit, Bueckers.”

The way she spits out my name makes something in me snap. “Why do you hate me so much?” I demand, leaning forward to match her energy.

“I don’t hate you,” she says, her voice sharp and clipped. “I just don’t have patience for people who waste my time.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, throwing my hands up. “This isn’t just about me being late, and we both know it. You’ve had it out for me since—”

I stop myself before I can finish the sentence, but it’s too late. Her eyes flash, and I realize I’ve struck a nerve.

“Since what?” she says, her voice low and dangerous.

I shake my head, suddenly regretting everything. “Forget it.”

“No,” she snaps, leaning closer. “You brought it up. Say it.”

I hold her gaze, and for a moment, the tension between us feels almost unbearable. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them.

Finally, Noah sits back, her expression hardening. “That’s what I thought.”

Her words cut deeper than I want to admit, but I don’t have the energy to fight her. Not today.

“Can we just get this over with?” I mutter, flipping open my notebook.

Noah watches me for a moment, like she’s debating whether to call me out again. But then she sighs, pulling one of her books closer.

“Fine,” she says, her tone clipped. “Let’s start with chapter five. Assuming you even read it.”

I don’t respond, and the silence between us stretches like a rubber band about to snap.

—

I almost don’t show up for the next session.

After the train wreck that was yesterday—me hungover, Noah glaring at me like I’d personally insulted her family—I figured she’d cut her losses. Call it quits. It would’ve been easier for both of us.

But when I open my email in the afternoon, there’s a message waiting for me— of course she’d email me..

Library. 6 PM. Don’t be late this time.

No signature, no extra words. Just a demand.

I almost laugh. Of course, Noah wouldn’t let me off the hook that easily.

By the time I walk into the library—on time this time, thank you very much—I’ve decided I’m not going to let her get under my skin. She might have a chip on her shoulder the size of Connecticut, but I can handle it.

She’s already there when I walk in, surrounded by stacks of notes and textbooks. She doesn’t glance up as I sit down.

“You’re early,” she says, her tone neutral, like she’s making a casual observation.

“Yeah, well, figured I’d give you less reason to yell at me today,” I reply, dropping into the chair.

“Smart move,” she mutters, flipping open her notebook. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

She doesn’t waste any time. Noah dives straight into explaining classical conditioning, her voice sharp and steady as she gestures to her neatly drawn diagrams.

“The unconditioned stimulus is something that naturally triggers a response. Like food making you salivate.” She pauses to make sure I’m following. “The unconditioned response is the salivation itself—something automatic. The conditioned stimulus is what you pair with the unconditioned stimulus—like a bell. And the conditioned response is when the bell eventually makes you salivate, even without the food.”

She looks up at me, waiting.

I stare blankly at the page, trying to connect the dots. “So…the bell makes you hungry?”

Her expression hardens. “Not hungry. Salivate. It’s a physiological response, not a mental one.”

“Right, right,” I say quickly, even though I’m already lost again. “And the bell is, like…the trigger?”

She closes her eyes and exhales, clearly trying to summon the strength to deal with me. “Not like the trigger. It is the trigger. The bell becomes the conditioned stimulus because it’s paired with the food.”

“Okay, but what if the person isn’t hungry?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

Her eyes snap open, narrowing on me like I��ve just committed a cardinal sin. “It doesn’t matter if they’re hungry, Paige. Hunger isn’t the point. It’s about the pairing of stimuli and the response that follows. Did you even read the chapter?”

“I skimmed it,” I admit, leaning back in my chair.

Her jaw clenches so hard I think she might crack a tooth. “Of course you did.”

I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” she snaps. “You’re just not trying.”

“I am trying!” I shoot back, sitting up straighter. “It’s just…complicated. All these terms sound the same. Stimulus, response, conditioning—it’s like they’re all blurring together.”

Noah stares at me, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Fine,” she says finally, her tone icy. “Let’s try something else. If you’re so confused, let’s simplify it. Ever heard of Pavlov’s dogs?”

“Yeah,” I say cautiously. “He rang a bell, and the dogs freaked out or something.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “They didn’t ‘freak out.’ They salivated. Because they associated the bell with food. That’s classical conditioning in its simplest form. Do you get it now?”

“Kind of,” I mumble, even though I’m still not entirely sure.

Noah lets out a sharp breath, leaning back in her chair. “This is hopeless.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say, crossing my arms.

“You’re the one who begged me for help,” she retorts, her eyes flashing. “If you’re not going to put in the effort, don’t waste my time.”

Her words cut deeper than I want to admit. “Why do you even care?” I demand. “It’s not like this affects you.”

Noah leans forward, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You think I don’t care? I’m putting hours of my life into helping you, Paige. And all I’m asking in return is that you meet me halfway. Is that really so much to ask?”

I don’t have an answer. At least, not one that won’t make me sound like an idiot.

She shakes her head, sitting back with a bitter laugh. “Typical. You’ve always been like this. Never taking anything seriously unless it’s basketball.”

“That’s not true,” I say defensively, though the words feel hollow.

“Isn’t it?” she challenges, her voice low and cutting. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve coasted through life without ever having to work for anything outside of a court.”

The tension between us is suffocating, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Why are you so hard on me?” I ask quietly, my voice breaking the silence.

“Because someone has to be,” she replies, her tone softer now but no less intense. “If you keep skating by, you’re going to crash. And when you do, no one’s going to be there to catch you.”

Her words hit harder than I want to admit, and for a moment, I can’t say anything.

“I’ll get it,” I say finally, my voice steady even though my chest feels tight. “Just…give me time.”

She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, flipping her notebook back open. “Let’s keep going.”

—-

The sound of basketballs pounding against the hardwood floor echoes through the practice gym. I run my hand through my sweaty hair, glancing over at Azzi, who’s casually sinking three-pointers like it’s no big deal.

“Okay,” I say, leaning over and resting my hands on my knees. “I need to vent.”

Azzi doesn’t even look at me as she releases another perfect shot. “Let me guess. Study session with Noah went horribly?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” I mutter, wiping my face with the hem of my shirt. “She’s impossible. I swear she’s like a robot. No humor, no patience, no…nothing.”

“That’s probably because you’re not giving her much to work with,” Ice calls from the other side of the gym, her voice teasing.

“I’m trying, okay?” I snap, shooting her a glare.

“Are you, though?” KK chimes in, bouncing the ball lazily as she walks over to join us. “Because from what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly the easiest person to tutor.”

“I don’t know why we’re blaming me,” I grumble. “She’s the one acting like she hates me for existing.”

“She’s probably just over it,” Morgan says, jogging up to join the circle. “You do have a tendency to drive people insane.”

Aubrey snickers as she walks over, wiping her hands on a towel. “Sounds like someone’s finally immune to the Paige Bueckers charm.”

I groan, flopping down onto the floor. “Don’t remind me. It’s like she doesn’t even notice how great I am.”

Azzi finally breaks her focus, turning to give me a skeptical look. “I’m pretty sure Noah notices you just fine. She just doesn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ice says, smirking. “And that’s why you’re losing your mind. You’re used to everyone fawning over you, and now you’ve met someone who doesn’t.”

“I’m not losing my mind,” I argue, though it sounds weak even to me.

Aubrey crosses her arms, grinning. “Oh, you so are.”

KK drops down onto the floor next to me, her grin wide and mischievous. “You know what I think? I think you need a little motivation.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What kind of motivation?”

“A bet,” KK says, her tone daring.

Azzi immediately groans. “Here we go.”

“No, hear me out,” KK says, holding up her hands. “We make it interesting. Paige has to get Noah to fall for her. Like, full-on swooning. She’s gotta crack the ice queen.”

The gym falls silent for a moment before Ice bursts out laughing. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“I hate all of you,” I mutter, though I’m already considering it.

“You won’t do it,” Morgan says, smirking. “You’d fold the second she gave you one of those death glares.”

“Oh, I’ll do it,” I snap, sitting up straighter. “If only to prove you wrong.”

Aubrey shakes her head, her grin widening. “This is going to end so badly.”

“Or,” KK says, her eyes sparkling, “it’s going to end in a complete victory for Paige. Imagine it. Noah Garcia—Miss Stone Cold herself—falling for you.”

Azzi leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “You realize this is going to blow up in your face, right?”

“Probably,” I admit, standing up and brushing off my shorts. “But I never back down from a challenge.”

KK claps me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Azzi mutters, shaking her head.

But it’s too late. The seed has been planted, and now there’s no turning back.

As we break apart and head back to practice, I can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

Because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s winning.

And Noah Garcia doesn’t stand a chance.

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