#I HATE THAT I LET THIS DRAG ON SO LONG NOW I HATE MYSELF!!!!!!

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut 

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck. 

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink. 

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. 

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset. 

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another. 

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite. 

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.” 

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye. 

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants. 

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me. 

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom. 

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles. 

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?” 

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath. 

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run. 

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did. 

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal. 

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

[thetrap]

no more destiel edits to casual not because they're bad but because they make me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears.

[realmidwestprincess]

[qprpbj]

thinking about paul darry casual and good luck babe tonight.

[nooripoori]

[d3cayingdolly]

falling off of the table when I was two didn't hit half as hard as the 'casual' bridge does

[hunybody]

young daniel voice: young love i love being stupid dream of us in a year maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier i know baby no attachments but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out is it casual now

[thebluemoo]

Tips for crying: Listen to "Casual" and think of Stephanie Brown

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

maybe I'm a loser but I kind of hate how casual got memed because of "I fucked you in the bathroom" and "knee deep in the passenger seat" and that because ist genuinely a beautiful song about what its like to put your all into someone only for them to not even care and think of you only as a small blip in their life when, to you, they were your everything

[rainingincale]

.

[strawburrymeadows]

casual by chappell roan is so yaz core if yaz and the doctor fucked at one point and then had the beach convo.

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

brb crying to casual

[cashew-milkk]

why has jjk manga gone to absolute shit. it’s so ass. i’m reading it for the sake of completion, but i’m not enjoying any of it

[ofthecaravel]

It’s truly unfair only being able to think of You Don’t Go To Parties when listening to Casual by Chappell Roan

a) im extremely normal about any of my work being associated with Chappell in someones head oh my god thats the highest honor

b) jesus christ thats brutal but youre so so correct

[wheredidthe80sgo]

I meet one cute guy at uni and spotify immediately decides to play casual to remind me what happened the last time I got close to a man

[backtodecembertv]

for the past 8 months we keep either almost hooking up or actually doing it, then we fight, barely talk for a while, then eventually make up and pretend it never happened, except i resent him more and more. i think we’ve spent half this time in the barely-talking phase. why has he not found another girl in all this time. this is just the toxic pattern of two people with mutual attraction and, more importantly, severe attachment issues. he runs away at the first sign of conflict (but comes back when it blows over), and i cannot let anything go.